A Death in the Highlands (9 page)

There was more laughter. Mr Smith rose. ‘I shall return to the site and prepare myself.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Fitzroy. He had been so quiet during the meal I had quite forgotten he was there.

A cork popped and Rory appeared with the new bottle. I gazed in dismay at a large dish covered in the melting remains of aspic.

‘Miss,’ said the bootboy. ‘There’s a stream nearby. We could wash the worst off.’

I looked down at the boy. He was little more than ten and looking quite contrite. ‘Is that where you went earlier, Bobby?’

The boy hung his head. ‘I was only having a bit of a scout about, miss. I ain’t never been off the Stapleford estate before.’

I smiled slightly, remembering my own childhood. When I was his age, I had been my mother’s despair, climbing trees and building dens. While this poor little mite slaved over his so-called betters’ boots and other menial tasks. ‘Never mind, Bobby,’ I said quietly. ‘I won’t say anything to Mr McLeod unless you do. Now show me this stream.’

Bobby grinned and fairly ran off. He led me to a shallow, wide stream, flowing under the shade of trees. The bank was gentle and dry. It was a lovely spot. ‘Perfect,’ I said. ‘Go and fetch Merry and the worst of the dishes.’

It was foolish of me, but this idyll was so like the settings of my childhood that I could not resist sitting down by the bank for a moment to enjoy the beauties of nature. It was at times like this that I realised acutely that I had not been brought up to a life of service and that, by entering it, how very much I had lost. Lord Richard owed me these few snatched moments.

Time passed and my enjoyment of my stolen moments turned to concern. I rose thinking to return to the others when I heard someone approach. I turned, ‘Where have you …’

The words died on my lips as I encountered not Merry’s friendly face, but that of Max Tipton. Though I am loath to say this of any gentleman, I cannot describe his expression other than as a drunken leer. ‘Sir, I am expecting my associates at any moment …’

‘Oh come now, my dear. There’s no need to be shy. I’ve heard about you from Rolly. Bertie’s gone back to bag a few birds.’ He approached closer and I backed away. Within three short steps I found my back against a tree.

‘Personally,’ said the abhorrent Tipton, ‘I’ve had my fill of bagging feathered birds. Time for me to move on to more lively specimens.’

Damn Lord Richard and his loose accusations! ‘Sir, I don’t know what Lord Richard has told you, but I am sure you have misinterpreted it.’

‘Don’t worry. You won’t find me any less generous than your Mr Bertram.’

He advanced towards me. I inhaled deeply ready to scream. Mr Tipton regarded my heaving breast in appreciation. ‘My God, but you’re a bit of special.’ He placed his hand upon my waist. I screamed.

My scream was cut off in mid-cry as he placed his large hand across my mouth. ‘C’mon, my dear, no need for that.’

I bit him.

He started back. ‘You little vixen,’ he cried. He shook me off and struck me hard across the face. I fell to the ground, momentarily stunned.

‘I think, sir, it is time for you to return to the shoot,’ said Rory’s voice.

I struggled to my feet. ‘Rory. He …’ I began.

Rory held up his hand at me. His eyes were locked on Tipton. ‘It would be a shame for you to miss the sport, sir. The first flurries have been most encouraging.’

Tipton regarded Rory and something unsaid that I could not decipher passed between the two men. I was reminded of the time my mother’s Jack Russell had attempted to face down a fox. Needless to say the dog had been the first to retreat. Tipton shrugged. ‘Suppose I should show the others how it’s done,’ he said. Rory nodded and stepped aside for Tipton to precede him.

I ran up to Rory and clutched at his arm. My only excuse for my behaviour is simply that I was not used to being struck and thus somewhat overwrought. I wasn’t prepared for Rory to shrug me off roughly and say, in a voice clearly full of suppressed fury, ‘I will speak with you later.’

‘But he …’ I began and two tears rolled down my face.

It was at this point that our discussion was terminated by the roar of a loud explosion. Both men exchanged very different looks and then set off at full pelt towards the noise. I followed as quickly as I could, hampered by my long skirts.

I was some moments behind them when I broke from the trees into the clearing where luncheon had been held. Merry’s prone form first caught my attention. ‘She’s only fainted. The sound. It was so loud,’ said Willie, the footman. I noticed he was pale and shaking. ‘I’ll look after her.’

‘What’s happened?’ I asked.

‘One of the loaders said how there’s been an accident, miss.’

‘Mr Bertram?’ I asked. I didn’t wait to hear his answer but rushed down towards the shooting site.

It was closer than I had realised. I almost catapulted myself into the midst of the gory tableau.

I broke past Rory, stopping on the edge of the circle of gentlemen who were crowded around another prone form. At first, I couldn’t understand what I was seeing. I took in the man’s neatly tailored clothing, but as my eyes swept up his body where his head should be someone had emptied a bucket of raw meat. Bile rose in my throat and the world swayed. ‘Oh dear God, that’s his head,’ I cried.

An arm slipped around my waist steadying me. ‘Cover him up, for pity’s sake,’ said Rory from beside me.

‘Who is it?’ I asked.

‘Smithy,’ said Mr Bertram.

Fitzroy broke the stillness and threw his jacket over the shattered head.

‘How could it happen?’ I asked.

‘His gun exploded,’ said Bertram shortly.

‘Does that happen often?’ I asked. By this point I was acutely aware only Mr Bertram and I were speaking. Mr Fitzroy was watching us closely and had thankfully covered the body, but Lord Richard, Tipton, Muller and McGillvary were still frozen in horror. The other loaders had retreated to the treeline muttering and shaking their heads.

‘No, by God, it doesn’t,’ exclaimed Muller suddenly. ‘Dickie, who checked these ruddy guns?’

Lord Richard shook himself as if waking from a trance. ‘McLeod and myself. There was nothing wrong with any of them.’

‘Could it have been an invisible fault in the metalwork?’ I heard myself ask. Why couldn’t I keep my tongue still?

Bertram looked over at me. ‘It’s possible, but unlikely.’

‘Who was his loader?’ asked Fitzroy.

‘I was,’ said Rory, who had remained at my side. The warmth of his arm around my waist gave me guilty comfort.

‘Then you were damned lucky you weren’t standing beside him when it went off,’ said Mr Bertram. ‘Or you’d be lying there too.’

I stifled a small cry.

‘Why weren’t you there?’ asked Fitzroy.

‘I was with Euph– Miss St John.’

‘How convenient,’ said Mr Bertram.

‘Leave it, Bertie,’ said Tipton awkwardly. ‘I was there too.’

‘It’s a damned rotten show,’ said Muller. ‘His family will be devastated.’

‘Oh God, the Sand Man,’ said Tipton. ‘He was always deuced good to us as kids.’

Rory removed his arm from my waist and stepped forward. He picked up Mr Smith’s cartridge bag and said, ‘Gentlemen, may I suggest I arrange for a hurdle to remove the body.’

‘Just a minute,’ said Mr Fitzroy suddenly.

‘Give me that,’ said Lord Richard snatching the bag from his hands. ‘Don’t you touch him.’

‘If I might have a look,’ said Mr Fitzroy.

Mr Bertram paled. ‘Ye gods, Fitzroy, you don’t think …’ he began and hurried to Mr Fitzroy’s side. Together they opened the bag and sorted through the contents.

‘Nothing wrong,’ said Mr Bertram.

‘One more thing,’ said Mr Fitzroy. He reached down and checked the dead man’s pockets. Mr Fitzroy held up two cartridges. ‘Wrong size.’

Bertram fairly snatched these out of his hands. ‘Damn it, you’re right. It’s murder,’ said Mr Bertram.

Like a hungry pack of wolves scenting prey, all the men turned their eyes to Rory.

As one, the gentlemen moved towards Rory. The butler took a step back then held his ground. He raised his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. ‘I assure you, gentlemen, I had nothing to do with this.’

‘Get him!’ yelled Lord Richard. There was an unseemly scuffle during which Rory offered no resistance to a rough and amateur subduing. I have no doubt if he had chosen he could have thrown his assailants to the ground, but he didn’t. Moments later, sweating from their unnecessary and brutish effort, Tipton and McGillvary were grinning in victory as they pinned Rory’s arms behind his back.

‘But it makes no sense,’ I cried. ‘Why would Rory harm Mr Smith?’

‘What’s happened?’ Merry’s quavering voice came from behind me. For reasons that only Willie could fathom he had brought her down to the site. Perhaps he wished to help, but bringing Merry with him was decidedly a bad idea.

‘Will someone get these bloody women out of the way?’ blustered Lord Richard. ‘McLeod – no, not you, obviously,’ he stopped confused.

‘But what do we do?’ asked Tipton hopelessly.

‘Like the man said we need to get a hurdle from the house,’ said Lord Richard. ‘You, Willie, see to it.’

‘Shouldn’t we summon the police?’ said Mr Bertram.

‘Damn it. We can’t leave the man lying on the ground.’
⁵

‘But you’ll disturb the crime scene,’ I said.

Fitzroy gave me an odd look. Everyone else ignored me. ‘I suggest I return with the women to the house,’ he said quietly. ‘If I use my contacts at the Department I should be able to get us someone discreet.’

‘Good thinking, Fitzroy,’ said Lord Richard. ‘The last thing we want is the local plod stomping round here.’

‘Euphemia has a point about not moving the body,’ said Mr Bertram, who apparently had heard me after all.

‘Indeed,’ said Fitzroy, ‘but I am very much afraid that an inspector of the kind we require is unlikely to be local and thus even more unlikely to be with us today.’

The others looked at him blankly. ‘So?’ said Mr Bertram.

‘Foxes,’ said Fitzroy casting a glance at the very pale Merry.

‘Oh gad! You mean …’ said Tipton. He plastered his hand to his mouth and then ran from the scene.

Merry looked at me for explanation. I said nothing. Unfortunately Lord Richard did. ‘Yes, by God, can’t leave the man’s brains as an entrée for the local wildlife.’ He stopped at the sound of a thump and swung round. ‘What?’ Merry had swooned to the ground. ‘Will someone get these damned women out of here!’

‘As I said,’ said Fitzroy in a firmer voice, ‘I would be happy to escort the housekeeper and her assistant back to the house. If Willie will come with us we can arrange for a hurdle to be sent back. I will summon the police from the house.’

‘Dammit, I’m coming with you,’ said Muller. ‘I’m not staying here with that.’

‘I regret that with the women, McLeod, Willie and myself there will be no more room,’ said Fitzroy smoothly. ‘If I might suggest most of you retire to the clearing? I can summon the police from the house phone. If this would be agreeable to you, Lord Richard.’

‘Fine,’ said Lord Richard. ‘I need a drink.’ He stalked off in the direction of the clearing.

‘I’ll stay with the corpse,’ said Mr Bertram.

Mr Fitzroy nodded. He approached Rory, who was still being held by McGillvary. ‘I am sure we could find rope to bind you,’ he said, ‘but if you will give me your word you will not try to escape I do not think it will be necessary.’

‘Good gad! You can’t expect this murdering bast … er, bounder to simply sit in the carriage,’ said Mr Bertram.

‘I will take a gun,’ said Fitzroy.

‘There will be no need,’ said Rory gruffly. ‘I did not kill this man.’

Fitzroy smiled. ‘Innocence is the second-best defence,’ he said obscurely.

The journey back was extremely unpleasant. Rory kept his face averted from me. Willie didn’t know where to look as he sat next to the man who, only moments before, had been the subject of his admiration. Merry kept the edge of her apron pressed to her mouth. Her eyes flickered from side to side as the combination of natural horror and her travel-sick stomach constantly threatened to overwhelm her. Fitzroy was the only one of us to seem relaxed. He sat with the gun across his knee as if it were the most natural accessory to a gentleman’s costume. I remembered Rory had said Fitzroy had come from humble country gentry. My thoughts whirled around my head as busy as a hive of angry bees.

As I alighted at the lodge I drew Mr Fitzroy to one side. ‘Sir, I cannot believe this of Mr McLeod. I …’

‘I do not believe at this time you can have more information to offer unless McLeod has confessed to you. Has he?’

‘No, he has not!’

‘Then, if you will not think it impertinent of me, I will suggest that you see to taking up the reins of Lord Richard’s staff. The house is bound to be in chaos for some time, but I have often remarked how the orderly presentation of meals and preservation of the semblance of manners help smooth things quickly towards a natural conclusion, even in a place as isolated from city living as this.’

His voice was back to its previous soft and smooth tones, but I read a warning in his eyes. ‘Hunting can put up the blood of even the most civilised man.’

The memory of how the men had leapt upon Rory as the murderer was fresh in my mind. I felt myself grow a little dizzy. ‘You mean the men might decide to take the law into their own hands?’

‘I would never suggest a gentleman would forget his honour, but in cases such as this, emotion can overshadow reason.’

‘You don’t think he did it either!’ I cried.

‘I think, for all our sakes, you must secure Mr Rory McLeod in a room to which only you hold the key and as quickly as possible.’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Willie! Rory! This way!’

I fairly bustled them through the hall, but not before I had occasion to hear Fitzroy say into the telephone in strangely clipped and terse accents, ‘Fitzroy. I need Edward. It’s happened.’

I chose the second pantry as the site for Rory’s incarceration. It was far enough removed from the general servants’ quarters that no one should have reason for hanging around in the area. He would be left alone. It was empty and of a size to have a truckle bed erected easily. I had Willie do this and provide the necessary amenities. I attempted to ask Rory if there was anything else I could do for him, but he turned his face to the wall.