‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t believe she did it either,’ he said.
‘Then why?’
Mr Fitzroy shrugged. ‘Locking up the butler wasn’t getting us any nearer to finding the real killer.’
‘You’re trying to get the murderer to incriminate themselves? How?’
‘It’s a messy situation,’ said Fitzroy, ‘which currently you are significantly contributing to muddying.’
‘I am only trying to do what is right.’
‘If Mr Smith was the intended victim, then I will be doing all in my power to bring his killer to justice.’
‘But not if it was Lord Richard who was the intended victim?’
Mr Fitzroy yawned. ‘Provincial murder isn’t one of my interests. Besides, Lord Richard remains alive and not in any apparent danger.’
I frowned. ‘Were you particularly close to Mr Smith? You weren’t at school with the others, were you?’
Mr Fitzroy stood up. ‘If you’re recovered, Euphemia, I am sure Mr McLeod will be eager to see you.’ He paused and gave me a wry smile. ‘To be updated about the household affairs, naturally.’
‘Are you being deliberately mysterious, sir, or do you feel I am asking questions beyond my station?’
‘Not beyond your station, my dear Miss Martins, but most definitely out of your league.’
‘Sir, that is most ungentlemanly!’
‘I have repeatedly told you, Euphemia, that I am no gentleman,’ said Mr Fitzroy calmly.
‘At least, sir, let us pool our resources. Previously, you encouraged me to investigate with your guidance …’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘Do not make me regret further taking you into my confidence.’ There was real menace in his eyes. ‘That would be unfortunate for us both.’
‘But I know nothing about you.’
‘I strongly advise we keep it that way,’ said Fitzroy and threw open the door for me.
Realisation dawned on me. ‘You believe, like Bertram, that this murder is one of international significance. You’re a …’
Mr Fitzroy placed a finger suddenly against my lips. The speed at which he moved towards me made me fear he was going to strike me, but his finger against my flesh was quite gentle. He brought his face close to mine and whispered, ‘Keep your foolish imaginings to yourself.’
I considered biting him, but that soft voice was more intimidating than any of the Staplefords’ blusterings.
‘Very wise,’ said the hateful Mr Fitzroy. He stepped back and placed his hand on the door. He gestured smoothly for me to precede him and I did, hurrying away as fast as my pride would allow.
In the kitchen I came across a delighted Rory. ‘It’s good to see you, lass,’ he cried, grabbing my hands. ‘I believe it’s you I have to thank for my liberty.’
I blushed and glanced around at the interested faces of Jock, Merry, Willie and several other staff, who it suddenly seemed needed to be in the kitchen at this hour. ‘Should you not all be making the final preparations for dinner?’ I asked. ‘Is the staff supper being served before or afterwards, Jock? Really, I am away for a short time and you all become lax and inattentive to your duties.’
‘Merry said you were leaving,’ said Willie.
‘Euphemia, is this true?’ asked Rory.
‘I am happy to say, it is not. There was a slight misunderstanding, but matters have now been arranged satisfactorily. Merry, Willie, I need you to check on the dining room. The gentlemen will be dining formally downstairs tonight. I need to know the settings and room are perfect. Jock, you will have to save the staff supper till later.’ I looked at the other male servants, some of whom were valets, ‘And you, gentlemen, need to remind your employers of tonight’s formal meal. They have all of them returned quite muddy and I imagine will be in need of your aid. Mr McLeod, if you would be so good as to accompany me to my parlour, we can discuss what has happened in your absence.’
‘I’m to keep my job then?’
‘Certainly,’ I said with authority. I looked around at the stunned sea of faces. ‘The rest of you kindly get on with your business. Now!’
In the quiet of my parlour I passed Rory a whisky that I had requisitioned for him. ‘I think it is the very least Lord Richard can do,’ I said with a smile. I had a smaller glass for myself. I am not used to strong liquor, but this had been a most difficult day.
‘Aye,’ said Rory. ‘I’m inclined to agree.’ He took a mouthful and savoured it. It was the very best the house had to offer and it appeared to agree with him. ‘It’s a fine thing to be out of that pantry, but I’m gey sorry Susan will be the one taking my place. I’d never have thought it was a lassie who did this.’
I sipped at my own glass. The amber liquid glided over my tongue tasting of honey, heather and something sharper I couldn’t identify. It settled warmly in my stomach. It was wonderful. No wonder the gentlemen drank this every evening. I took another sip.
‘She didn’t do it,’ I said firmly. ‘Investigations are continuing. Besides, the drive was washed away. The men were out again this afternoon shoring it up, but it will take more work to allow the passage of vehicles. Does it always rain in August in Scotland?’
‘Not that often,’ said Rory thoughtfully. ‘I mean, there’s always a bit of rain hanging around, but you lot do seem to have brought a fair squall up from the south.’
‘You were with us!’
‘Aye, but I was only visiting. This land is my home.’
‘Will you continue working for the Staplefords?’
Rory shrugged. ‘To be honest I’d rather not, but beggars can’t be choosers and I don’t have enough experience to get the kind of position I have here elsewhere.’ He scratched his chin. ‘If you see what I mean.’
‘Certainly,’ I said. ‘And who is to say any other household would be less difficult?’
‘I’d hope there might be less murders,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘What will happen to Susan? I know you said she was innocent, but that Mr Edward seemed very determined that she was guilty. I don’t like to think of a woman locked up.’
‘Or being hanged,’ I said.
‘Will it go that far, do you think?’
‘Someone will be punished for this. I only hope it is the right person.’
‘Us and them,’ said Rory meaningfully.
‘It’s all so confusing,’ I said with a grimace of annoyance. ‘No one is sure if the intended victim was Mr Smith. He might have been given the bag with the wrong cartridges by accident. But he’s Korean, or half-Korean, and Mr Bertram thinks that has something to do with it. That it’s a political murder. I think Mr Fitzroy is a spy!’
Rory leaned over and took the almost empty glass from my hand. ‘I think you’d better finish this later,’ he said. ‘I need to go and brush up to serve at dinner and you need to take it easy. You deserve a rest. I’ll cover for you.’ He lifted my feet onto a stool and threw a cover over me.
‘I am not drunk,’ I protested.
‘No, just a little under the influence,’ said Rory with a grin. ‘Spies, indeed!’
‘We should investigate,’ I said. ‘We need to help Susan.’
‘No,’ said Rory firmly. ‘We should keep out of it and do our jobs. Right now you need to rest.’
‘It has all been most exhausting,’ I said. ‘Perhaps I will close my eyes for a few minutes.’
‘Good idea,’ said Rory. He closed the door softly behind him. My eyelids felt remarkably heavy, so I let them close. I told myself I would think more clearly about the puzzle I had to entangle if I shut out the world.
I am not entirely sure what happened, but I opened my eyes to a knock at my door. Merry tripped in. ‘I kept a bit of supper back in the range, but if you want it before it all dries out you should come now. Unless you’d rather eat in here?’
I sat up rubbing my eyes. ‘Is dinner over?’ I asked blearily.
‘Long over,’ said Merry with a laugh. ‘Mr McLeod said t
o leave you be, as you’d had a very hard day. Is that whisky I smell? You’re not turning all Mrs Wilson on us, are you? Not that the Staplefords aren’t enough to drive anyone to drink.’
I stood up brushing down my skirt. ‘I had a small whisky with Mr McLeod to celebrate his release. I must have been more tired than I realised.’
‘Of course,’ said Merry, grinning.
‘If the staff think I am lying in an inebriated stupor I had better come into the kitchen to disprove any gossip.’
‘If you think you can walk straight,’ muttered Merry.
‘I heard that! I am quite fine!’ I said making my way to the door. ‘How is Susan?’
Merry’s happy face fell. ‘She’s in the pantry. I heard her sobbing earlier. Do you really think she did it?’
‘I don’t know. She’s admitted to leaving polish on the stairs in the hope of causing an accident.’
‘I’ve felt like that more than once myself,’ said Merry.
‘Sssh!’ Our pace had slowed as we talked, but I could feel the hairs rising on the back of my neck. I looked behind, but could see no one.
Merry stopped and leant against the passage wall. She looked up and down into the gloom. ‘They’ve all gone,’ she said. ‘The locals have gone home and the rest are away to their own rooms. It’s just us.’
‘Hmm,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘Her husband was a gamekeeper, so it’s believable she knew how to sabotage a gun. But getting the wrong cartridges to put in the bags would require preparation rather than an instant’s madness.’
‘Where would she get them?’
‘I don’t know. Although,’ I admitted slowly, ‘it’s possible they were already here. Apparently they’re the ones Miss Richenda would have used if she’d come up.’
‘Who packed up that stuff?’
‘I saw Rory with the guns, but I don’t know about the ammunition. It might have been Lord Richard.’
‘It would be like him to bring the whole lot rather than sort it all out.’
‘Perhaps,’ I said, ‘he’s not a very thorough man. But that would mean Susan could have come across the cartridges when she was helping you.’
‘I didn’t see her open any of the ammunition bags.’
‘But if she didn’t, how did it get in there?’
‘Who packed them?’ asked Merry.
‘It must have been either Rory or the new gamekeeper.’
‘Lots of people were around those bags,’ said Merry. ‘It could have been anyone.’
‘Or it could have been a tragic accident. Someone made an error in packing and …’
‘You should go and eat what’s left of your supper,’ said Merry. ‘The whole thing seems clear as mud to me.’
‘With this amount of rain it would have to be,’ I said smiling.
‘What?’ asked Merry warily. ‘Are you making fun of me?’
‘You know what,’ I said decidedly, ‘talking to you has definitely helped. I need to go out to the shoot and see if there was any way someone could have tampered with the bags on the site. It’s much more likely that this murder was done by one of the guests or the Staplefords. Servants may hate their masters, but they know if anything happens to one of the so-called “nobs” life is only going to get worse for them.’
‘Euphemia, what are you like? It’s pitch black out there.’
‘I’ll go tomorrow, around dawn, before anyone is up and around. If I’m actually at the scene of the crime I might get some more ideas.’
‘You’re creepy sometimes, you know that?’
‘I want to help Susan,’ I said flatly. ‘It’s my fault she’s been accused and there’s no more of a case against her than there was against Rory.’
‘If you ask me, I think …’
It was at this point I noticed a portion of shadow detach itself from the wall and move off.
‘There’s someone there,’ I cried. ‘They must have heard every word we said!’
‘Where?’ asked Merry peering into the gloom. ‘Hey, wait, Euphemia, don’t go following a murderer, for the love of God!’
But I didn’t stay to listen. I crept quickly along the passageway. There was very little light, only the occasional pale streak of moonlight, so I didn’t risk running. It would do no one any good if I broke my neck in the dark. I followed as fast as I dared. Within moments I reached a junction; looking right and left, I could see no trace of my supposed intruder. Behind me, Merry clattered into a bucket in the dark. She swore loudly. I knew there was very little chance of following the intruder. But as my eyes grew accustomed to the dark, I saw a faint trace of light off to the left. It was coming from the second pantry where Susan was being held! Someone was trying to free her – or worse. It occurred to me in a sudden flash that if Susan were silenced, then the case could be closed and the real murderer would get away. Despite the darkness I broke into a run.
‘This way, Merry!’ I yelled.
The door to the second pantry was wide open. A pale yellow light from an oil lamp washed out into the passage. My ears could make out a low murmur of conversation. The escape was not yet complete. I rushed up to the door and stopped on the threshold stunned by what I saw. Behind me I heard Merry’s boots clatter to a halt. ‘Oh lor’,’ I heard her say softly.
In the pantry, seated on the stool, was a weeping Susan. Her hair hung about her face and it was clear she had been distraught for some time. There was nothing unexpected about the sight of her. It was Mr Bertram kneeling at her feet, her small hands enfolded in his larger ones, that took my breath away. He turned his head at our noisy arrival, but only nodded curtly before transferring his attention back to Susan.
‘I assure you, Susan, no matter what happens I will ensure your family are taken care of.’
Tears spilled onto his hands from her face. ‘But sir, my wains, my poor wee mites. I didn’t do it, sir, I didn’t do it!’
Mr Bertram untangled one of his hands and gently pushed Susan’s hair back from her face. ‘I know, Susan, and I will not rest until you are free. You have to trust me. It will be all right.’
‘I think, sir,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘It would be better for all concerned if you left now. This door must be closed and locked.’
‘Have you no heart, Euphemia?’ said Mr Bertram.
‘I am only suggesting you follow the advice you gave to me earlier, sir, and leave this to the authorities. I do not think neither Mr Edward nor Lord Richard would be pleased at this interference.’
Mr Bertram patted Susan’s hand, disengaged himself and stood up. ‘Euphemia is right. My being here compromises us both, but I will keep my word to you and I will see you free. Please, keep the lamp.’
He came out and closed the door on the weeping woman. He turned the key in the lock and handed it to me. ‘Satisfied?’ he said quietly.
Behind me I heard Merry slope off.
‘I cannot understand your behaviour,’ I said in a low voice. ‘You tell me not to meddle in these affairs and then I find you here, in the middle of the night, colluding with the accused!’
‘It is your fault she is in there,’ said Mr Bertram. ‘If you had let things be …’
‘Then Rory would have been hanged for a crime he did not commit.’
‘So when it’s Rory, you take an interest?’ asked Mr Bertram, placing what I felt was rather unnecessary emphasis on the butler’s name.
‘He was innocent,’ I said hotly. ‘The case against him was weak and circumstantial.’
‘And the case against Susan isn’t?’ snapped Mr Bertram. ‘Are you sure Mr McLeod is the innocent you think him or are your personal prejudices swaying you? For crying out loud, the man is a communist!’
‘He has explained that,’ I said with as much dignity as I could muster. ‘It was a youthful indiscretion.’
‘Euphemia, when will you understand this is a political killing? You are out of your depth here! You’ve let that man take you in!’
‘I take it you are now an expe
rt on political killings?’
Mr Bertram ran his fingers through his hair. ‘You are enough to drive a saint to distraction.’ He lowered his hands to his side and grasped them into fists. ‘When I was Smith’s fag at school I learned that his father was a member of the now-exiled Korean government. You need to stop meddling, Euphemia, before anyone else is hurt.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘Until the real killer is found, Smithy’s parents, and younger brother, and sister are all in danger. All you have done is confuse and endanger innocents. I warned you about meddling.’
‘And now you’re going to step in and save the day?’ Even to my own ears this sounded petulant.
‘I bid you goodnight, Miss St John,’ said Mr Bertram and walked off.
I stood in the darkness for a short while struggling with my emotions. I was so angry I literally could not see the passage in front of me. How dare he! How dare he speak to me like that! And to be so intimate with a domestic! If I had not arrived, who knows what would have happened? Mr Bertram and I had been through a lot together, but he had never looked at me as tenderly as he had regarded Susan. Why, he had even stroked her face. I pounded my fist against the wall. It hurt a lot. The pain brought me to my senses. I became aware of Susan still quietly sobbing behind the door. For the first time I heard her for what she was, a mother sobbing for her children. ‘Dear God,’ I breathed. ‘What have I done?’
For once the darkness held no fear for me. I was too tormented by my own inner demons to fear insubstantial ones without. I made my way towards my chamber thinking only of the words of Mr Fitzroy and Mr Bertram that I was out of my depth. Could my instincts have led me wrong? Could it be Rory really was guilty? I paused on the stair, conjuring up his face in my mind’s eye. His luminous eyes could certainly reflect sternness and discipline, but there was also warmth and laughter within them. In the short time I had known him I had felt I had found a friend. Could I have been misled by my loneliness? Could I have lost my head over a man with a handsome face and a tall, inviting shoulder I was so eager to lean upon? I gave myself a little shake and walked on up the stairs. No, I was merely tired and overwrought. There was no possibility of friendship between Rory and I – our stations were far too dissimilar. But does my heart understand the necessities of rank? whispered a small voice at the back of my mind.
A Death in the Highlands Page 12
