Read A Death in the Asylum Online
Authors: Caroline Dunford
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Crime, #Women Sleuths, #Traditional British
A Death in the Asylum (10 page)
There was no mention of Miss Wilton’s notebook. I sighed. How exactly was I meant to travel so far? I would have no choice but to show the telegram to Mr Bertram and I rather feared that in his current mood he would forbid me to go, which would make the journey all the more awkward. I decided to seek Rory’s advice.
‘There’s only one way we can do this, Euphemia,’ he said casting his eyes over the paper. ‘We’ll have to take the automobile.’
‘But Bertram?’
‘You’ve not told him?’
I shook my head. ‘I told him of my intention to visit Mr Edward, but he appears to think it was only my natural shock and distress at discovering yet another corpse.’
‘Doesn’t know you as well as he thinks he does, does he?’ said Rory a trifle smugly.
‘His mind is elsewhere, but not sufficiently that we can confiscate his vehicle. Why he is out in it most days!’
‘He’ll be part of the funeral cortege, won’t he?’
‘We can’t! Not then!’
‘They’ll never notice if you’re at the back of the church or not,’ said Rory. ‘You certainly won’t be getting any thanks for all the work you’ve done.’
‘But I need to pay my respects.’
‘You didn’t like the woman.’
‘All the more reason,’ I said stubbornly. ‘I regret I wasn’t kinder.’
‘Look at it this way; you’re honouring her by following her line of enquiry.’
‘But I don’t know that this
was
her line of enquiry!’
‘If Mr Edward is advising you to go there then you can be assured it’s something to do with this mess. It can’t be coincidence that it’s another asylum he’s suggesting.’
‘Merrit will have to drive. What do we tell him?’
‘Leave that to me,’ said Rory.
I did not at all like our plan and on several occasions I determined to tell Mr Bertram all, but each time we spoke, and this was far from frequently, he was clearly preoccupied and grieving. I, in turn, was unreasonably short tempered because of my guilt and, in short, our relationship – whatever it was – was not going well. The day of the funeral advanced relentlessly towards us and I knew I could not tell him on such short notice. Rory had been most noticeable in his absence from my office.
It was the afternoon before Miss Beatrice Wilton’s memorial service and of our clandestine adventure when Rory reappeared with a tea-tray.
‘I’ve something to tell yous and I think yer gonna need a biscuit,’ he said depositing the tray on my table in the middle of my papers.
‘Rory!’
‘Donna tell me meist of the work is not already done?’
‘You’re being alarmingly Scotch,’ I said. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘I had a wee thought about yon Tipton being away from the hall. I don’t know if you know this but there are several men’s servants’ clubs in the city. I managed to track down the one Tipton’s valet belongs to and, after a sufficient number of pints, I managed to extract some information from the man. Seems Tipton had sent him back to town when he learned of the funeral.’
‘Rory, you’re a marvel.’
‘Aye, well,’ said Rory pouring the tea. ‘It wasnae that hard. The man fair loathes his master and was well up to moan about him. I tried not to make my questions too direct, so I got a lot of useless stuff about Tipton’s vanity and his weak nature.’
‘It might not be useless,’ I said. ‘Anything that gives us insight into his behaviour.’
‘There was a lot of talk about how Tipton would come to his room and shout about how unfair the world was to him. How no one appreciated what he did for them. Not many specifics. A lot of rage against Lord Stapleford.’
‘That he wouldn’t ever say to his face! What a coward.’
‘Don’t forget he was arguing with him on the night of Mrs Wilson’s attack. Although, from what the valet said that does seem very out of character.’
‘Like he’d reached breaking point?’
Rory nodded. ‘What’s more he’d been known to throw things at the valet when in a temper. Typical action of a coward. Striking someone who cannot strike back.’
‘Was the man hurt?’ I asked in horror.
‘No, he said all Tipton’s servants knew they needed to be nippy on their feet when he was in a mood. But it was more brushes or glasses. Small things that lay to hand. I understand they keep his apartments especially tidy.’
‘I see,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘So a man who might lash out in rage, but not a fighter.’
‘But there’s more,’ said Rory. ‘It turns out Tipton was in town on the day Miss Wilton died. The valet says Tipton was in a right mood about coming up as if it wasn’t his idea at all, but it was all done in a terrible rush. It quite caught him out because he’d been in London only two months ago between the 12th and 19th and Tipton had sworn he hated the place and was never coming back. And guess where he stayed?’
‘Here,’ I said.
‘Correct,’ said Rory.
‘Are we really suggesting Tipton could be a killer?’ I asked.
‘Weak men can surprise you when they are pushed hard enough, but I can’t see it myself.’
‘You don’t happen to remember what colour his eyes are, do you?’
‘Ach, Euphemia, it’s rare to notice anyone’s eye colour. It’s one of those things you see all the time, but tend not to pay attention to.’ He turned his head away. ‘What’s mine?’
‘Why, green,’ I said astonished. As if anyone could miss his strangely luminous and attractive eyes. ‘What’s mine?’
‘Grey,’ he said gruffly.
I felt myself blushing. ‘I suppose we have been in each other’s company much more frequently than either of us has been with Mr Tipton.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Rory.
‘I cannot believe Tipton is a killer. Besides, what reason would he have?’
‘Tipton,’ said Rory slowly, ‘is very much Lord Stapleford’s pawn.’
‘Richenda.’
‘Aye, maybe. She’ll be a rich woman soon.’
‘Isn’t she already?’
Rory pulled a face. ‘I don’t like spreading gossip.’
‘What have you heard? It might be important.’
‘You know the late Lord Stapleford set up a mighty odd bit in his will?’
I nodded impatiently. ‘We’ve been over this.’
‘Aye, but that’s about the hall and grounds. There’s a lot more to the Staplefords than that.’
‘Of course,’ I said feeling very stupid. ‘The bank and armaments investments.’
‘I don’t rightly know what it is, but I do know both brothers received their share on the death of their father.’
A cold chill swept down my back – so that was how Bertram had bought White Orchards! After all his protestations about not using or accepting blood money!
‘However,’ Rory continued, ‘Miss Richenda, being a woman, has to wait until she reaches a suitable age. This autumn, it turns out. Until then her money is held in trust by her brother. But if she marries, it will go directly to her husband’s control.’
‘What!’ I gasped astonished.
‘It’s the normal way of things, Euphemia.’
‘But that’s terrible! How did you find out?’
‘Merry heard her raging about it.’
‘And told you?’
‘You know Merry and I were getting along. I told you I fancied she wanted a wee bit more. Which is why I was gey glad Merrit appeared on the scene. She’s a lovely lass, but not my type at all. Besides, it wouldn’t have been professional.’
‘Of course not,’ I said coldly. ‘We servants are not allowed lives of our own, let alone relationships.’
‘Would you want one?’ asked Rory.
‘I hope one day to marry and have my own family,’ I said as evenly as I could.
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ said Rory.
I felt myself blushing from my head to my toes.
Chapter Nine
A Stapleford Secret
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ I said gently. ‘I don’t believe it would be proper.’
‘Fine. Suit yourself.’ Bertram turned on his heel and walked away quickly without a backward glance.
Rory appeared beside me. ‘Did I hear the man asking you to be his escort for the funeral?’
I nodded. There was a lump in my throat too large to speak.
‘The man’s out of his mind! You’re a servant not his equal.’
‘I don’t think he sees it like that.’
‘Well, he should,’ said Rory angrily.
‘I like that about him,’ I said equally angrily.
‘Good God, Euphemia! Don’t you see? Everyone would think you were his mistress! And besides the sheer bad manners of bringing his mistress to his lover’s funeral it would ruin your reputation for life!’
‘His mistress?’ I gasped.
‘I’m the one who used to belong to the communist party and I wouldn’t do such a thing in his position. You’re constantly courting disaster around that man. He doesn’t think.’
I bowed my head. ‘I believe you were right when you told me not to accept the position at White Orchards.’
‘Aye, well,’ said Rory in a mollified tone. ‘Now the nobs are away let’s get on with the real business of today.’
Merrit was waiting for us in the automobile. Rory opened the door and handed me in. He tapped on the glass and Merrit drove off without a word.
‘I told him where we’re going,’ said Rory, ‘but not why. He won’t ask any questions.’
All men like to have some mystery about them, so I didn’t enquire further. I preferred not to think about the possibility that Rory might be proposing poaching one of my staff. I suspected from the way Merrit’s face lit up whenever Merry was mentioned that he might do a great deal to be with her. Better, of course, would be for Merry to transfer to White Orchards. But could I really have my old friend and colleague as a junior member of my staff? I mused over this for some time when Rory, who had been equally lost in thought, suddenly said, ‘Have you considered what we will do when we get there?’
‘No,’ I said. The realisation made me feel very foolish. ‘I was hoping that things would resolve themselves.’
‘That isn’t like you,’ said Rory, not unkindly.
‘When
things
have happened before it’s all been quick and dangerous and often dark without candlesticks.’
Rory grinned. ‘That’s one way of describing our adventure in the Highlands.’
‘There’s been more than that,’ I said quietly. ‘When that attacker knocked me to the ground it was quite like old times. When poor Miss Wilton died it was different. We still don’t know if there was anything nefarious about her demise, but I have this nagging feeling that something is very wrong.’
‘And how accurate are your feelings generally?’ asked Rory still smiling.
‘My instincts are frequently acute, but my surmises based on these sometimes in error.’
‘That’s very honest.’
I sighed. ‘I know you don’t want to hear this, Rory, but I cannot help but feel that behind all this is the hand of Richard Stapleford. He has become like some dark monster to me and I fancy I see his shadow everywhere.’
‘Isn’t that a little melodramatic? I admit he’s not a likable man, but he seems no worse to me than many masters.’
‘He works in armaments and banking and was raised in blood money. He has few scruples and has recently become a member of parliament.’
‘How apt,’ murmured Rory.
‘But Mr Bertram and I suspect he murdered his own father.’ There, it was said. It was out there. I waited for Rory to protest. He didn’t.
‘We had good reason to believe it. Enough evidence to convince a police inspector to arrest him.’
‘So why isn’t he in jail?’
‘When I say evidence I mean we had pieces of the puzzle. We could make a convincing argument he had done it. And the fact that Richenda and he had kidnapped me and locked me in a cupboard added to the conviction, but in the end when the case was reviewed it was decided there wasn’t enough evidence to prosecute.’
‘They locked you in a cupboard?’
‘Yes.’
‘They presumably know you believe this of them?’
‘I don’t believe Richenda knows or cares what happened to her father, but she is loyal to her twin.’
‘For God’s sake if even half of this is true why haven’t you left the Staplefords?’
‘I went to White Orchards.’
‘So you don’t believe your Bertram is involved in the death of his father in any way?’
‘We were working together to try and prove his brother’s guilt.’
‘You can’t tell me that wouldn’t have been convenient for him?’
‘I think you’re right this is all about inheritance,’ I said evenly. ‘That and the money Richard hopes to make should there be a war.’
‘Should there be a war?’ Rory looked aghast.
‘I believe much of Mr Edward’s interest concerns a fear that Richard will be investing in and selling weaponry to the wrong side. The Germans. In this I think he is mistaken. I do suspect that Richard favours the German empire over our own for philosophical reasons, but I think he is more than happy to supply weaponry to both.’
‘I’m a butler,’ said Rory. ‘This is beyond me and it should be beyond you. Why on earth haven’t you got as far away from the Staplefords as you could?’
‘It has been suggested,’ I said carefully, ‘that any trip I took might end precipitously and not well.’
‘You mean Richard would arrange to have you killed?’
‘If any of the surmises we have spoken of are correct it seems a possibility I would be foolish to discount.’
‘Then why …’ Rory paused. ‘This is incredible. Are you suggesting the man keeps you around to keep an eye on you?’
‘It would be too inconvenient to kill me on his own doorstep. The number of deaths surrounding the Staplefords have already drawn a lot of attention. Their friends can only keep so much quiet.’
Rory rubbed his hand through his hair much to the disturbance of his elegant blond locks. ‘This is all a bit thick,’ he said sounding rather dazed.
‘I should have told you all this before, but I didn’t want,’ I wanted to say “to drive you away”, but instead I said, ‘to put you in danger.’
‘Which this trip is likely to do?’
‘If Lord Richard hears about it,’ I said, ‘I suppose it might.’
‘If there is something to discover here then it will undoubtedly put us all in danger.’ He nodded significantly at Merrit in the chauffeur’s seat. ‘How much does Merry know?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Very wise.’
Rory lapsed into silence. An apology seemed a poor offering for the danger I had placed him in, so I kept silent too. Many miles later he said, ‘What do we hope to find at this place?’
I showed him the telegram. ‘You still think the late Lord Stapleford and Mrs Wilson had a love child, don’t you?’
‘Dr Simpson implied they did.’
‘But what does it matter?’ asked Rory.
‘Social embarrassment for a member of parliament?’ I suggested.
‘The scandal of his father’s love life might be more detrimental to his business interests than the fact he is a suspected murderer?’
‘I have never understood politics, but I think it might be so.’
Rory rubbed his head again. ‘You could be right. Although I think there is one possibility you overlook.’
‘What is that?’
‘What if Lord Stapleford married Mrs Wilson?’
‘If he had he would have had no reason to ship her child off to an asylum.’
‘And what woman would stay with a man who did that?’ asked Rory.
‘Perhaps the child really is mad.’
‘And you’re sure Mrs Wilson never spoke of this to anyone? I would have thought Mrs Deighton as the longest-serving member of staff might know something.’
‘She never said a word to me, but then I was hardly there any time at all in terms of the family’s occupancy.’
‘You’re right, we’re going to have to play this entirely on the hoof,’ said Rory. ‘I suggest we pretend to be brother and sister making enquires of a private, family nature.’
‘You mean that we have someone in the family we want to lock up?’
‘Exactly,’ said Rory.
‘Perhaps our father knew the late Lord Stapleford?’
‘And advised us to come here,’ completed Rory.
We both took a deep breath as the automobile rolled through the gates of the asylum.
The drive was not that different to that of any leading to a substantial country house. The building itself emerged through the trees not modern, but of cheerful aspect. Merrit opened Rory’s door and he then handed me down. I was still taking in the many gables, the extensive lawns – indeed the scale of the place – when the sound of childish laughter reached my ears. I turned to Rory astonished. ‘Didn’t you see,’ he whispered in my ear, ‘the sign as we entered the drive? This is an asylum for children.’
‘How could anyone be so cruel?’ I exclaimed hotly.
Rory pressed my hand hard. The door at the top of a grand stone staircase had opened and a middle-aged woman, in a neat black dress, was making her way towards us.
She smiled in greeting and held out her hand. ‘Would you be Lord Stapleford’s relatives?’ she enquired.
‘Yes,’ said Rory before I could prevent him. ‘We are.’
‘It’s so nice to meet you. I am Mrs Mason. I’m the matron here. If you wish I could get one of the medical staff to show you around, but I thought for your purposes a more informal approach might be better. And of course I do know all my charges very well.’
‘Children in an asylum,’ I exclaimed, no longer able to contain myself. ‘It is tragic.’
Mrs Mason bridled slightly. ‘We do our very best to give them a happy childhood. I often think they’re better off than all those wee ones that live on the streets. It’s not as if they could manage in the big, wide world themselves. No family however loving can be expected to cope with these kind of difficulties. I like to think we do the Lord’s work.’
I gaped, astonished at this speech.
‘Is that a wee Scottish burr I hear in your voice, Mrs Mason?’ asked Rory. ‘I’m from the Highlands myself.’
The tension in the air evaporated. ‘You don’t say, sir? I didn’t know the Staplefords had a Scottish connection.’
‘I’m a distant relative,’ said Rory suavely. ‘Here to escort my young cousin. It’s really for her that we’re here.’
‘Oh, I am sorry, my dear,’ said Mrs Mason. ‘But it can happen to any mother.’
I cast my eyes down and tried to look suitably tragic. I made a mental note not to remove my gloves and display my ringless hand. Really, this was a ridiculous game. Every sentence she uttered took us deeper into the mire. I was relieved that Rory had not seen fit to mention our names, but should the Staplefords enquire over this visit I feared our descriptions would be all too easy to recognise. The only thing to do was to get through the visit as smoothly as possible, so Mrs Mason had no reason to contact the real family.
‘So I am often told,’ I said reverting to my real accent and sounding like the earl’s granddaughter I am.
Mrs Mason came up and took one of my hands in hers. ‘Your husband not with you, my dear?’
‘He leaves such matters to me.’
‘Men!’ exclaimed Mrs Mason in an exasperated, breathy voice. ‘Still you have your fine Scottish cousin with you.’
I nodded and tried to bring a tear to my eye.
Mrs Mason patted my hand. ‘It’s a wee bit chilly, but I think you’d enjoy seeing the children at play. Could you be persuaded to walk a while, my dear?’
‘Certainly, if you think it best,’ I said in a subdued voice.
‘This way then and you can meet some of my charges.’
Instead of taking us through the house Mrs Mason led us round the substantial left wing and down along a wooded path. As we progressed the sound of laughter became louder. Finally, we turned a corner and came across four children aged between, I imagine, four and eight, playing with a hoop and stick and watched over by a young woman, also in a black dress. At first glance there was nothing different from what one might have seen in any park up and down the country.
‘Go forward, my dear,’ said Mrs Mason. ‘They’re a friendly lot.’
Out of the corner of my eye I saw her place a restraining hand on Rory’s arm. I stopped a little distance from the children as if I was studying them, but ensuring I could still overhear her conversation with Rory. A little girl with a sweet but vacant face suddenly sat down at my feet engrossed in playing with a loose ribbon. The others did not seem to notice she was missing. I knelt down beside her.
‘That’s a pretty ribbon,’ I said.
The child laughed and pointed at my face. ‘Ah-gog,’ she said. Then continued in a stream of happy babble. She must have been six years old and was clearly without speech. Carefully I retied the bow for her and she looked at me with such openness and trust that a genuine tear came to my eye.
‘Leave her be,’ Mrs Mason was saying to Rory. ‘It’s important for the mothers to see we treat them as normally as we can. She’s very young. I take it the poor wee one is a tiny mite?’
‘Aye,’ said Rory promptly. ‘A few months.’
‘And you could tell already,’ said Mrs Mason. ‘The poor lady. But she’s young. She’ll have others.’
‘I believe the child has the same condition as …’
‘Lord Stapleford’s niece?’ finished Mrs Mason.
‘It’s never been discussed, you understand, but one hears things.’
‘A six months’ child, so sad. A very sweet nature and the face of an angel. She grew into a truly beautiful woman. When she came to us she wasn’t expected to live. Such a tiny thing. But she did. Tenacious, that’s what Dr Frank called it, a tenacious desire to live. But the kindest, most gentle being alive. If you took it slow she could understand most things. Such a shame her mother never felt up to visiting her, but then so many don’t. I still miss her.’
‘When did she …?’
‘Oh, at 18, like all of them.’
‘I see,’ said Rory in a bemused voice. ‘At 18.’
‘At least she had Alice to go with her. She was a particular friend.’
‘I see,’ said Rory, swallowing.
‘Oh, they’re quite capable of friendship and affection. That’s why they’re such a particular charge when they’re grown.’