A Death by Arson (11 page)

‘Exactly,' said Bertram. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment with the contents of a cocktail shaker. Try and stay with the herd, Euphemia, I don't want to see Richard getting cocky and trying to take you out as an encore. You know you've always been a thorn in his side.' And with that extraordinary statement he set off across the room, weaving easily between the guests. It was only when he tried to walk straight that his state became most apparent.

‘I take it he has told you everything,' said Hans' voice at my elbow.

I spun around. ‘It is true? Are they both safe? Richenda and her baby?'

Hans' rather grim expression broke into a smile. ‘The doctor said he had never met a tougher lady. He has no fears. Though he did suggest Richenda might cut down on her intake of cake.'

‘And he still lives?' I asked, with a shaky smile.

‘I pointed out that Richenda has a constitution that needs cake and all was well. I think he quickly realised his error. The look she gave him could have felled an army.'

‘I know you are making light of the situation to put me at my ease, but do you agree with Bertram's theory?'

Hans shook his head. ‘I cannot believe it. I think it much more likely that our new nursery maid is slipshod at her work. I blame myself for engaging her on so little knowledge.'

‘Perhaps no one is to blame,' I said, putting a hand lightly on his arm. ‘Sometimes accidents simply happen.'

‘Perhaps,' said Hans, ‘but I appear to have married into a family that has more issues than one would find in an old-fashioned gothic novel.'

I smiled at him. ‘And yet I am sure you regret nothing.'

Hans smiled back at me. ‘Almost nothing,' he said. ‘Why don't we defy convention and sit together at dinner?'

‘And upset Richard's careful table arrangement?'

Hans gave a flicker of a wink. ‘I feel it is the least I can do.'

I laughed and agreed, which I was soon to regret, for our seating arrangement drew some attention. Even Bertram looked shocked. No one commented aloud, but I realised that perhaps accompanying my handsome, charming employer into dinner while his wife was indisposed and pregnant was not my wisest decision. I decided that there was nothing to do but brazen it out. Accordingly, I regaled Hans with Enid's colourful stories, causing him not inconsiderable amusement. Bertram's looks became darker and darker.

Once dinner was over, the ladies withdrew to take tea, but in a very short period of time some of the gentleman joined us. The wedding was to be tomorrow and there was too much to discuss for the party to stay separate. Bertram, who now seemed remarkably sober, came over to me, clutching his teacup so tightly his knuckles showed white.

‘Where is Hans?' he demanded.

‘Perhaps he has gone up to see Richenda?' I suggested. ‘Or is playing billiards?'

‘You don't know?'

‘No.'

Bertram uttered what can only be described as a snort. ‘Well, we need to find him. Rory has something to tell us.'

 

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Having now attended more than one grand party, and being related to some of the denizens of said world, I could not and still cannot understand his ambition.

Chapter Sixteen
A mathematician sees a ghost

‘Do we need Hans?' I asked. ‘You know how they rub each other up the wrong way.'

‘I don't need Hans,' said Bertram.

‘Do you have something in your eye? You appear to be squinting.'

‘That, Euphemia, is my disapproving look,' said Bertram. ‘I suppose we had better do without him. Meet you by the servants' stairs nearest the kitchen in ten minutes.'

‘Can we not meet him in your room? I would rather not be caught skulking around the backstairs.'

‘Oh no,' said Bertram, ‘you had much better be caught in my chambers.'

‘But Rory would be there.'

Bertram shook his head slowly from side to side. He appeared to have learned his lesson from earlier about waggling it too fast. ‘Oh, Euphemia, you know so little about the ways of the world.'

‘That's quite a change from what you said earlier,' I replied tartly.

‘It is not my fault that your behaviour often leads others to unfortunate conclusions,' said Bertram.

Before I could muster a reply he had slunk off. I would have to save my ripostes until later. I lingered by the tea tray in the hope that my upcoming exit would not be linked with Bertram's.

‘I need to thank you for speaking to Lucy last night. She is now much more settled in her mind.'

I turned to find Mary Hill standing before me, a glass of what looked remarkably like port in her hand.

‘As I said at the time, I am unconvinced it remains a good night's work.'

‘And, as I said, Lucy's options are limited.' Although she had approached me with words of thanks, I detected in Miss Hill's eyes and general manner her continued dislike of me.

‘Is there anything else I can help you with?' I asked.

‘You need to understand that, intellectually, Lucy is not well-endowed. Neither is she a girl of spirit.'

‘Ah, I see. You are not happy about the situation either,' I said.

‘You mistake me, Miss St John. I make no excuses for persuading her into the marriage. She is unlike us. She does not have strength of character.'

‘Why, Miss Hill, is this a compliment?' I smiled.

‘One should never confuse character with goodness or even with intelligence,' retorted Mary.

‘But I thought you excelled at mathematics?'

‘I do,' said Mary. Then she sighed. ‘It was not my intention to quarrel with you. It is only that I have been hearing the strangest stories about the castle, and am now somewhat concerned…'

‘If you are referring to the fire,' I answered, ‘it happened long before Sir Richard took ownership. I believe it has been fully and safely restored.'

‘That is something of a relief.'

‘Which part?' I asked, but Mary ignored my question.

‘I have also learned that the locals believe in ghosts and are certain this place is haunted. I would not like Lucy to learn of this. It will distress her.'

‘The castle being one of her main inducements to marry Sir Richard,' I suggested.

Mary had the grace to blush. ‘I do not believe in such things, but I would rather Lucy was not frightened by such tales.'

‘From my experience of visiting the Highlands, and the Scottish in general,' I said, mentally excluding a certain butler from my list, ‘the local people are most keen on the telling of ghost stories. A great many of them claim to have “the sight” and to be in general communion with the dead. But the weather is so very bad up here, and they have neither of the resources of good shopping nor theatre to entertain them: I fear it is a necessary pastime. While there are many people clustered around the castle, Scotland is in general, I believe, a sparsely populated land. I have had occasion to walk through some of the wilder, wooded parts of the country, and it is not difficult to understand where the local belief in superstitions may spring from.'

‘But you do not believe in such nonsense?' demanded Mary.

I hesitated. ‘I have seen enough of life and death to make me perhaps more receptive to such ideas than I once was, but I am in no way a believer.'

‘That is no answer at all,' said Mary, giving me a look that reminded me her mathematical world was one of absolutes.

‘I am sorry. I do not have a better one.'

‘I suppose I am left with no option but to tell you what I saw,' said Mary. ‘Please, do not give sway to groundless superstition. Lucinda is too nervous about everything for me to confide in her and Sir Richard is obviously much engaged with his guests. It seems I have no option but to rely on your opinion for guidance.'

I repressed the urge to apologise again.

Mary sighed. ‘Although it is winter and the night comes quickly this far north, I have also found that the moonlight appears more effective than in England. I have come to the conclusion that this is something to do with the general darkness of the castle and its environs and our eyes adjusting to the dark, coupled with the lack of streetlamps. This gives the illusion of many things outside being outlined in silver and surprisingly visible.'

I probed through her sentences, trying to make sense of them. ‘Do you mean you have seen a ghost?' I asked, surprised.

‘I do not believe in such things,' said Mary hotly. I raised an eyebrow and, giving another large sigh, she continued. ‘The first night I was here I drew my curtains open after dark to inspect the stars. I have a minor interest in astronomy, and, as I have indicated, there are scientific reasons why the heavens are clearer up here…'

‘But you saw something else?'

‘I would have thought nothing of it, but I saw the same thing again last night and I have a growing suspicion I will see the same tonight.'

This time I suppressed an urge to shake her. ‘And that was?'

‘A silver figure walking towards the area of the castle that is yet to be refurbished since the fire. I believe it was a stable block.'

‘Could it not have been a servant?'

‘Why would someone be heading towards a deserted part of the castle late at night? I am afraid some villainy is afoot. I thought, considering your propensity to see murderers everywhere, that you would be more concerned. I have no idea to whom I should report my sightings.'

‘And you do not want to be thought foolish?' I asked.

‘I do not wish to raise unnecessary alarums on the eve of Lucinda's wedding, but neither do I wish to overlook something I may later have cause to regret.'

‘So you want me to look into it?' I asked.

‘I want you to tell me who to inform!' she said. ‘I have little reason to trust your detective abilities.'

I bit my lip. I could understand her sentiment, but unfortunately, I was prevented from explaining that, in the end, I had indeed caught the murderer who had landed us all in jail. The person in question had taken their own life and the matter, for the sake of their family, was closed. ‘I met a footman called Rupert. I think he has duty on our floor. He might be the one to question. He worked at the castle before the fire. I believe Sir Richard's Land Agent might also be here, but he does not have an approachable personality.
¹⁴
I am afraid I have not yet encountered the butler. He would be the person to deal with this kind of situation. But there are so many of us guests and, it appears, at least twice as many staff!'

Mary looked a little startled. ‘More than one servant per person?'

I gave her a pitying look. It never failed to surprise me that no matter how intelligent the speaker they generally failed to appreciate how very many people were needed to keep any great houses, or even middle-sized houses, running. ‘Swans,' I muttered under my breath. Among the privileged, it all glided along smoothly, while below stairs the servants toiled and sweated. Despite this, my sojourn of working below stairs had yielded my closest friends and some of the people I rate most highly. Despite her support of the Suffragettes, the women's group intended to encompass all classes, Mary clearly remained unaware of the lot of the lower classes.

‘Or, if you prefer, you could go straight to the housekeeper, Mrs Lewis,' I added. ‘She previously worked at Stapleford Hall and is a very straight forward and sensible woman, not in the least given to gossip.'

‘Yes, I suppose that sounds best. How would I go about it?'

‘If you want to do such a thing quietly, I would ask the maid who has been allocated to you to mention to Mrs Lewis that you wished to speak to her. She would respond as soon as she was able, I am sure.'

‘Very well, that is what I will do.'

‘I confess I do not understand your concern, Mary – Miss Hill, I mean. It is probably only a wandering tramp seeking refuge from the cold.'

‘Yes, no doubt,' said Mary. ‘But I will feel happier when someone investigates.'

‘If you will excuse me, I have arranged to meet up with an acquaintance this evening,' I said.

‘Thank you for your time, Miss St John,' she said, and turned away. I walked slowly to the door and once it closed behind me, bolted down the hall. I was late to meet Bertram.

 

¹⁴
Ha!

Chapter Seventeen
Rory is suspicious

I found both Bertram and Rory waiting for me by the servants' stairs. Rory was standing impassively, hands behind his back, while he examined the vaulted ceiling. Bertram was pacing back and forth, fob watch in his hand. He turned at the sound of my footsteps. ‘Where have you been?' he hissed in a loud whisper. Then he grabbed my arm and pulled me through the baize door into the servants' passage. Rory followed, but I thought I heard him sigh.

We stood on a little landing, the bare stone steps curling up and down what appeared to be a servants' turret. ‘Where have you been?' repeated Bertram.

I leaned over the iron rail and peered down the staircase. No electricity or even gas lamps lit this stairway. What little light we had came from Rory keeping his foot half in the doorway, allowing some light from the castle hallway to creep in. I sneezed. The stone felt gritty under my shoe.

‘Same as ever,' said Rory. ‘All show on the front and behind the scenes a somewhat more dire situation.'

‘It's too dark,' I said. ‘We cannot know if we are being overheard.'

‘Does it matter?' asked Rory.

‘As Bertram has dragged us into this dingy …' I sneezed again, ‘and extremely dusty hole, I assume he does not want to be overheard.'

‘And a slightly ajar servant's door and loud whispering will naturally bar all notice,' said Rory wryly.

‘Could we not simply find one of the lesser-used rooms?' I asked. ‘The place seems big enough.' I sneezed again. ‘My eyes are starting to water.'