A Death by Arson (17 page)

Rory, with the disdain of a perfect servant, did not turn a hair. Bertram, on the other hand, choked. ‘Good God!' he exclaimed. ‘For the love of God, please Richenda, never eat haggis again.'

‘Please,' I said, ‘can we be serious? If I am right we may have a lynch mob at the gates any moment.' Rory's handsome face went pale and Bertram, ever a martyr to his blood pressure, turned an unbecoming puce. Richenda, in alarm, again broke wind from both ends. She turned on me, demanding, ‘How on Earth do you keep being dragged into situations like this, Euphemia!'

As she is my employer, I could not retort that in fact, this time, the cause of our situation could be laid at her husband's door. Bertram voiced my thoughts. ‘If it hadn't been for your husband's insistence, I would have been quite happy in spending New Year in my own home, waterlogged though it may be!'

‘And miss your brother's wedding?' asked Rory, surprised.

Bertram did not bother to speak. The look he gave Rory spoke volumes. ‘Aye, well, I guess yous are not close,' commented Rory, slipping slightly into Scotch as he tends to do under stressful circumstances.

‘For the sake of expediency,' I said, cutting through the chatter, ‘can you please confirm, on your honour, Mrs Lewis, that you did not set this fire?'

‘I did not,' said Mrs Lewis in a composed manner.

‘And the previous fire under the last Laird's ownership?'

‘I do not see how that is relevant,' said Mrs Lewis.

‘What!' exclaimed Rory. ‘You did set that one?'

‘I have no comment to make on the subject,' said the housekeeper, sitting very straight in her chair.

Richenda cocked her head to one side. ‘Oh, I know this game. Richard used to make me do this when I was little.' She turned to look at Bertram. ‘He must have tried it on you too, Bertie. You know he'd have done something naughty, like broken a vase or killed one of the house dogs…'

‘Killed a dog!' I interjected, surprised.

‘Oh, he killed two – at least, I think,' said Richenda blithely. ‘He said it was an accident, but now – well, you have to wonder.'

‘Sounds like the man was always a monster,' said Rory.

‘Yes, never mind that,' said the single-minded Richenda. ‘We are talking about Mrs Lewis.'

‘I thought you were talking about Richard,' said Bertram, bemused. ‘Has she killed a dog too? Only I am rather fond of dogs and I wouldn't want…'

‘Shut up, Bertie,' said Richenda. ‘She hasn't killed any animals except the odd chicken.'

‘Chickens are quite sweet really,' said Bertram.

‘Yes,' said Richenda pointedly. ‘Especially in stew.'

‘Oh, I see what you mean,' said Bertram, ‘but you said…'

I felt like covering my ears to block out their bickering. I could feel a blistering rebuke building inside me when Richenda continued, ‘I was trying to say that when Richard did not want to take the blame for something, he used to persuade me to refuse to say I hadn't done it.'

‘How did he pay you?' asked Bertram. ‘In cake?'

‘Cake at first. Later, threats,' said Richenda darkly, ‘but you see my point. Mrs Lewis is protecting someone.'

I spent a moment joining up the mental dots only to realise that, despite her seemingly inane chatter, Richenda had provided a worthy insight. Especially as I perceived that Mrs Lewis had begun to redden. Even more strange was that Rory had moved silently to the back of the room and appeared to be sidling towards the exit. Rory has made the study of butlering his whole world for several years and has nigh on perfected the butler's silent glide, despite his tall frame, but someone who is ever conscious of his presence cannot slip away quite so easily as he might do with the master of the house. ‘Rory,' I said sharply. ‘Where are you going?'

‘If Mr Bertram is going to attend dinner tonight, it is time for me to draw his bath.'

‘I think we have more important matters on our minds than Bertie's bath,' said Richenda.

‘Indeed,' I echoed. ‘One might almost think this discussion of baths was a smoke-screen.' I admit it was an unfortunate turn of phrase, but I was distracted.

‘Could you please stop talking about my bath as if I am a toddler?' exclaimed Bertram. ‘I am still in the room and I do
not
require a bath!'

‘Forgive my saying so, sir. But it is vitally important to bathe before dining.'

‘I don't see Richie's or Euphemia's maids here bleating about baths,' said Bertram. ‘Or are you suggesting I am particularly grubby!'

‘I am suggesting that your valet-butler is attempting to leave the room before Mrs Lewis is forced into admitting who she is protecting.'

Mrs Lewis' lips set in a grim line.

Rory's shoulders sagged. ‘You might as well admit it, Mrs Lewis,' he said. ‘I gave my word I would not tell on you, but it seems to me like they already know.'

Mrs Lewis gave a huge sigh. Then she said, ‘Yes, I set the fire.'

 

²¹
As this appears to be a frequent occurrence in drawing rooms, one might have assumed they would, by now, have worked out what to do. But no. The sight of one fainting woman and the males of our species appear to lose their wits.

²²
He is forever taking the side of what he perceives as vulnerable females. It is most annoying and frequently lands him in more hot water than he can handle!

Chapter Twenty-five
Richenda's rare insight

‘This one or the original?' asked Bertram with remarkable calm.

‘The original one,' said Mrs Lewis. ‘You have my word I have nothing to do with the more recent conflagration.'

‘Why?' asked Bertram.

‘I prefer not to say,' said Mrs Lewis.

‘I don't believe her,' said Richenda. ‘I still say she's covering for someone.'

Rory shook his head. ‘Leave it, Richenda. She did it. I have information from a reliable source.'

‘A source?' asked Bertram. ‘Who?'

‘I am not at liberty to say, sir.'

‘That's ridiculous,' said Richenda. ‘You don't know the people up here anymore than we do. Unless you have recently become involved with someone – and even if you had, why should she know about Mrs Lewis? Were you seen?' She directed the last half of her query at the beleaguered housekeeper.

‘No, I was not.'

‘You are very sure about that?' I said.

Mrs Lewis inclined her head.

‘And yet, Rory has met someone who knows you started that fire all those years ago. I don't believe you have left the castle, except to go to the garage, since we have been here, Rory, and you would hardly be dallying with a woman old enough to remember the fire, so…'

‘Leave it, Euphemia,' said Rory roughly.

‘I am right!' cried Richenda triumphantly. ‘Don't you see – neither of them did it!' We all looked at her blankly. ‘Oh come on!' said Richenda. ‘You're meant to be the brainy ones. Bertram, you remember when you were seven and you broke Mama's pink vase? And Richard and I got the blame?'

Bertram stuck a finger under his collar and tugged. ‘Ah, yes, shouldn't have done that. Wasn't cricket.'

‘Richard was even more beastly to me than usual for weeks, because he thought I'd done it and I thought he'd done it. It was ages before we worked it out.'

‘That was why you cut up Bumble!'

‘Who the hel – heck is Bumble?' said Rory.

‘My teddy bear,' said Bertram. ‘Or he was. Do you mean Mrs Lewis had been duped?'

‘Finally,' said Richenda, giving a little whoop. ‘She is protecting someone
she
thinks did it, but from what Rory says, whoever is his source thinks Mrs Lewis herself did it!'

‘So?' said Bertram.

‘Neither of them did it,' I said.

‘Exactly,' said Richenda.

‘But who is your source, Rory?'

‘It can only be whoever Mrs Lewis is trying to protect,' said Richenda.

Mrs Lewis turned pure white and grasped at her throat. ‘No,' she whispered. ‘No, he died.' And then she slid from her chair in a dead faint.

‘Her husband,' said Bertram.

‘Aye,' said Rory. ‘Give me a hand to get her back on her seat, man! I've had my fill of fainting women today.'

‘But how do you know him?' asked Richenda. ‘Is he a relative?'

‘Not all Scots are related,' said Rory sourly.

‘Oh, good heavens,' I said, making a startling leap. ‘It cannot be the tramp? The man the Highlanders thought was a German spy?'

‘What are you talking about?' snapped Richenda. ‘I thought I'd made a breakthrough and now you're spouting nonsense about Germans. If you are about to accuse my Hans –'

‘No,' said Rory. ‘When Euphemia and I were up in the Highlands minding the Stapleford Lodge staff for Bertram, you remember?'

‘Someone drowned in a loch?'

‘Yes, but that's not the important bit,' I said. Bertram gave me a rather shocked look. ‘There was a man the locals kept seeing – well, not seeing, but seeing evidence of. They made up quite a lot of stories about him and we did think for a while –' I caught Bertram's eye. ‘Yes, well never mind that. Rory came and told me one evening that we didn't need to worry about who or what he was. That was because you had met him, wasn't it?'

‘Her husband,' said Richenda in a revelatory voice.

‘I said that,' said Bertram, sounding irked.

‘Aye, he was the butler here at the time of the fire. He thought she had set the fire, by accident mind – and she obviously thought he had done it.'

‘But why …' I began.

‘He's even more disfigured than she is, Euphemia,' said Rory. ‘He wanted her to remember him the way he was, so he let her believe him dead. He was in hospital for a long time; sent far away to get his burns treated, unconscious. There was so much going on that night that when he woke up they had to ask him his name. He realised he was far away from the castle, so he gave them a false name. But years later, when he heard she was working for the Staplefords, he couldn't resist trying to take a peek at her. Still loved her, o' course. But he thought he was protecting her. Only she never came up to the lodge. It was I who found him.'

‘And you never said a word?' asked Bertram.

‘It wasnae relevant to anything we were doing and, besides, the man had his pride.'

‘It's not like she's much of a looker herself,' said Richenda. ‘Was it the fire that made her that way?'

‘Aye, and him too,' said Rory, ‘carrying her out of the burning building.'

‘That's tragically romantic,' I said.

‘It also means that neither of them were reasonable, then or now,' said Bertram.

Mrs Lewis stirred. ‘My bath,' said Bertram.

‘Indeed sir,' said Rory and both men bailed on us, leaving us to explain to the now-conscious Mrs Lewis that not only was her husband not dead, but neither was he an arsonist.

Chapter Twenty-six
Richenda does it again

After dinner, during which I pettily refused to pass Bertram the bread rolls, no matter how many times he looked mournfully at me, Richenda, Bertram and I adjourned to our favourite small sitting room. This time Hans accompanied us. Mrs Lewis was, of course, needed below stairs. It transpired that although the Chief Inspector had told her not to leave the castle, he had yet to actually arrest her.

‘The man is clearly throwing out accusations left and right to try and stir us all up,' said Rory.

‘And darling Richard has been helping him along,' said Richenda. ‘Euphemia, it is safe for Amy to be with Ellie, isn't it?'

I hesitated.

‘No lynch mobs at the door yet, Euphemia?' broke in Bertram, who was clearly still smarting from the lack of dinner rolls he had consumed.

‘I think we need to speak to my maid, Enid,' I said. ‘And perhaps her grandmother.'

‘What on earth are you gabbling about?' said Richenda rudely.

‘I think Euphemia has been doing some stirring-up of her own,' said Hans with a smile.

‘Oh, do you know who did it?' asked Richenda eagerly.

I shook my head. ‘What I know doesn't make sense, but I will be happy to share it with you. From what I've understood there were two bodies found, but only one was recent?'

Hans nodded. ‘Once we had you safe I went back out to see what I could do to help.'

‘It was Hans' idea to dig the ditch,' said Richenda proudly.

‘It is a common way to contain fires. I am surprised it is not known up here,' Hans said.

‘Too damn wet in this country,' said Bertram, earning himself a scowl from Rory.

‘From what you have described there were a great many people panicking. It appears the previous fire was within recent memory?' I asked.

‘About five years ago, from what the servants say,' said Rory.

I considered. ‘I could still be right.'

‘About what?' asked Bertram irritably.

‘Two things. I was thinking that with so recent and devastating a fire awakening old memories – or not so old ones – the locals and staff may have been liable to panic until they received clear direction.' I nodded at Hans. ‘The other guests do not strike me as having much of a practical turn of mind.'

Hans smiled slightly. ‘I am probably the only one who takes a close interest in his country estate. The others no doubt see me as more of a farmer than a financier!'

‘If anyone dares –' bristled Richenda, but Hans laid a restraining hand on her arm.

‘Let Euphemia continue. She seems unusually unsure of herself.'

‘I have to admit, after getting so much wrong in my last escapade, I am wary of jumping to the wrong conclusions.'

‘There's a first time for everything,' said Rory quietly, but not too quietly that I did not hear him.