A Death at a Gentleman's Club

by Caroline Dunford

  ‘She seems very nice,’ said Joe loudly.

  ‘She is,’ I said, swallowing back a tear. ‘In a pinch, she always comes up to scratch.’

  ‘Well,’ said my mother. ‘As far as your employer is concerned, I am the villain in the piece.’

  ‘Villainess, my love,’ said The Bishop, holding out a chair for me. ‘Please do join us, Euphemia. I imagine your mother and you have much to discuss. And Joe, one too many interruptions from you, young man, and I will send you out to wait in the motor car.’

  ‘And miss luncheon!’ said Joe in horror.

  ‘ And miss being with your sister,’ said The Bishop.

  ‘Oh, that too,’ said Joe. ‘Sorry, Effie.’ He sat down beside me and clamped his lips together so tightly, it was hard not to laugh.

  5Not an easy feat to do to a driver from the passenger seat, but I have a long history of striking Bertram below the knee to quiet him. I am considering buying him steel-toed boots, and an olive branch, as a combined wedding gift.

  Chapter Three

  Euphemia Reveals All and Bertram is Furious

  ‘Perhaps we should start with how your employer, and her brother - it is her brother you are intending to marry, is it not?’ said The Bishop.

  I nodded.

  ‘How her brother, your fiancé, does not know of your real station in life?’

  ‘Well, the thing is…’ I said, ‘the first time he met me I was working as a maid at his father’s house. And then there was the matter of the dead body.’

  The Bishop raised an eyebrow, looking for all the world like a slightly bemused but tolerant eagle.

  ‘Euphemia, we don’t need to go into any of that with your stepfather,’ said my mother. ‘Now, who is this man you are intending on marrying? I thought you had a particular aversion to marriage, seeing as you could not bring yourself to attend your own mother’s wedding.’

  ‘It was grand,’ said Joe beside me. ‘I gave Mother away, and afterwards there was the most excellent feeding.’

  ‘Really, Husband,’ said my mother. ‘My son does say the most ridiculous things. He claims he picks them up from the boys at school. Are you certain it is a proper place?’

  ‘It has been thought so for the past six hundred years,’ said The Bishop gently. ‘The truth is, Euphemia, I would dearly like to hear about all your adventures, but I don’t believe we have even been properly introduced yet.’

  ‘Joe,’ hissed my mother.

  Joe stood up. ‘Sister, may I present your new Step-pa, my Lord Bishop of -, the Right Reverend Giles Hawthorn. My Lord, your new stepdaughter, Euphemia. The family calls her Effie.’

  ‘We most certainly do not,’ said my mother.

  The Bishop formally took my hand. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Euphemia. Are you comfortable calling me Step-pa as Joe does? I am sure there are other nomenclatures we could use. Even Giles, if you wish. I will understand if you do not wish to address another as Father.’ He smiled at me with extraordinary kindness.

  Many thoughts went through my head as I looked up at him. That my mother had at last married her Lord. Even if he was a Lord of the Church and not of state. That he was both completely like my father and unlike him. I recognised the same compassion in The Bishop that my father had always shown the world, but where my father was a man beaten down by life, struggling on as best he might, here was a strong man, at the height of his career, assured not only of his place in the Church but recognised by it as a man of use. I felt a twinge at the thought. If my father had not been a country vicar, with no hope of advancement after his shocking marriage, perhaps he too might have risen in the clergy. But that was not The Bishop’s fault. I also recognised him as a man shrewd enough to appreciate my mother’s intelligence, but also her pain at being cast out from her own world. He would doubtless treat her with all kindness, but he would not allow unkindness or unthinking hurt to occur on his watch. I thought him just the man for whom my mother was now. If only he could survive Joe’s disappointment upon finding that there was really was no Minotaur in the labyrinth, I thought he would do rather well in our family.

  ‘Euphemia, answer your stepfather!’ hissed my mother.

  I blushed. ‘I am so sorry. I would be most happy to call you Step-pa as Joe does.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said The Bishop. ‘Now, I would love to hear all about your adventures, but I believe we have your young gentleman to meet. Does he really not know about your background?’

  ‘I was going to tell him on the way here,’ I said. ‘But, unfortunately, his major-domo gave notice recently, so he was driving us himself. I didn’t want to distract him,’ I said. Nor, I thought, did I have the breath to spare.

  ‘But you accepted his proposal without him knowing who you are?’ interjected my mother.

  ‘Rather like Cinderella, don’t you think, my dear?’ said The Bishop. ‘I think you said he is the son of a Baronet. He is obviously not marrying her for her station. Not that I personally believe such a thing is so important. It is much more a meeting of minds that counts in a marriage. I believe a couple must suit one another. It is rare that this happens across the classes, due to upbringing, education, et cetera, but when it does I think the class difference becomes the least important aspect of the union.’

  My mother gave The Bishop a look that spoke volumes.

  ‘Ah, Euphemia, it would seem your mother wishes to remind me that I am not currently in the pulpit.’

  My mother gasped slightly. The Bishop took her hand and gave it a little squeeze. My mother’s colour rose, and she removed it gently, but she didn’t seem too unhappy about this display of matrimonial affection.

  ‘I suppose it might mean he genuinely loves you,’ she said.

  ‘I expect him to be mortified when he knows the truth,’ I said. ‘He is very aware of station.’

  ‘Quite right too,’ said my mother.

  ‘Ah, you miss the problem, my dear. The young man in question believes Euphemia to come of good moral stock - a vicar’s daughter. Your mother said you had told him that much?’ I nodded. The Bishop continued. ‘But, as it stands, he believes he is the knight sweeping in to bear off the village maiden into matrimony rather than it being somewhat the other way around.’

  ‘It is not as if I am an heiress,’ I said. ‘I’m merely an Honourable.’

  ‘Of course you are,’ snapped my mother. ‘Your grandfather might have cut me out of his will, but he didn’t do so to either you or Joe.’

  For the first time in my life I felt my jaw physically drop. ‘Er…how much?’ I managed to gasp.

  My mother named a far from insignificant sum.

  ‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘He will never marry me now.’

  ‘Pride is a terrible sin,’ said The Bishop. At this point we all turned and looked at the poor man. He held up his hands, silencing himself.

  ‘It is not insurmountable,’ said my mother. ‘The money can always be entailed upon your children. But where will you live? At the Palace with us? As a spinster daughter that might have been possible, but I do not think as a married couple the Deanery would be happy.’

  ‘He has an estate,’ I said. ‘In the Fens. It is comprised of some farms and cottages as well as a larger house and stables. It is not a Great House, but it is respectable. It is called White Orchards.’

  ‘Never heard of it,’ said my mother. ‘Good Heavens. In the Fens!’

  ‘Mother, you know even if it had been possible, I would never have wanted to run a Great House. I have too many other interests I wish to follow.’

  My mother dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘That was your father’s fault, God rest his soul. A good man but with the strangest ideas about educating daughters. Intelligence is about as much use to an unmarried girl as having a pair of hooves.’

  ‘I believe,’ said The Bishop, ‘ that intelligence is a gift from God and should not be squandered.’ At this point I noticed Joe had been slyly drawing on the table cloth with a pencil. He had tallies un
der M, S-P and E. I realised he was attempting to keep score.

  ‘But you would not actively set up a school for girls, would you, Bishop?’ said my mother.

  ‘I have never really thought about it, I am ashamed to say,’ answered The Bishop. ‘Perhaps I should.’

  My mother looked horrified at falling into her own trap. Joe marked another one up under S-P.

  ‘My main problem with all this,’ said The Bishop, ‘is that we are due to have luncheon. And I know Joe will side with me in agreeing that that is important.’

  ‘Very important,’ said Joe.

  The Bishop nodded at him. ‘I think there are a few things here that might affect the digestion. Might I suggest you go and fetch your young man, Euphemia, and we get everything out in the open. We can discuss where we go next over our meal. Breaking bread together is always a most communal moment. It will inspire us to find solutions fitting to all.’

  ‘It will also stop my stomach rumbling,’ said my single-minded brother.

  I was rising to my feet when a discreet waiter, who seemed to appear from nowhere, approached our table. He had placed his hands deferentially behind his back, and his aged forehead was deeply frowned. He bowed very slightly to The Bishop. ‘My Lord, I am very sorry, but I fear we may not be able to accommodate you and your party for luncheon today. I extend our deepest apologies.’

  I froze, half risen. My life has been full of calamities and sudden disasters. Could it be that this disastrous trail had followed me into the refined air of a respectable Gentlemen’s Club?6

  ‘Sit down, Euphemia,’ hissed my mother. ‘You look most odd.’ I slumped back down into my seat. Not everything, I told myself, is associated with murder or Richard Stapleford. Perhaps something of a minor inconvenience had occurred, such as the kitchen catching fire.

  ‘Indeed,’ said The Bishop, ‘that is most inconvenient.’ Joe had the sense to keep his mouth shut, but his eyes were wide, and he was nodding visibly.

  ‘What a great shame,’ I said. ‘We shall have to reconvene another time.’

  ‘How convenient for you.’ said my mother. ‘I assume something of a similar sort occurred when you were unable to attend my wedding.’ She gave me a look that could have curdled vinegar.

  ‘I am afraid, my Lord, the matter is quite out of my control. Indeed, if anything, it might be said to be more in your remit than mine!’

  I felt my heart drop into my boots. ‘Has someone died?’ I said.

  ‘Euphemia!’ exclaimed my mother. ‘That is a highly illogical and inappropriate question.’

  I felt like retorting that it was highly inappropriate for one’s mother to criticise one in front of the staff, but I suspected that when she was a girl and lived in the Earl’s Great House, she had belonged to the set that regarded servants as little more than furniture. Whimsically, I wondered if, as a maid, she would have regarded me as equal to a footstool or having the status of a small, but uncomfortable chair.7 The waiter gave me a sharp look. ‘The young lady is most acute.’

  I sighed. Fortunately, this was overshadowed by my mother’s dramatic intake of breath. Joe’s eyes positively bulged from his head. Knowing him, I did not take this as a sign of fear, but of intense curiosity. However, The Bishop put his hand on Joe’s shoulder. ‘I suppose you do have a number of elderly members,’ he said. ‘Nature will take its course. God calls those when he chooses, not when we desire. There are worse places to leave this earth than among one’s comrades and old friends. Would you like to me say a prayer over the deceased?’

  ‘That would be most kind, sir,’ said the waiter, ‘and most reassuring to the staff. You’ll understand we feel we must close the restaurant out of respect?’

  ‘Oh, quite, quite,’ said The Bishop. Joe adopted a mulish expression but continued to keep his tongue between his teeth. He had grown up a lot since I had last seen him. ‘If you wouldn’t mind waiting, my dear?’ The Bishop said to my mother. ‘And if you, sir, could ask the porter at the front desk to make enquiries about local restaurants where one might still be able to procure a meal of a reasonable nature? We are a party of five. Or is it six, counting the other Lady you had with you, Euphemia?’

  ‘Yes, where are they?’ asked my mother. ‘I should like to leave as soon as possible.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Before Joe gets any ideas,’ she said softly to The Bishop. ‘I don’t want him having nightmares.’

  ‘No, indeed,’ said The Bishop. ‘If I might also trouble you, my good man, to collect the other members of our party.’

  ‘Mrs Hans Muller,’ I supplied, ‘And Mr Bertram Stapleford.’

  The little waiter nodded, the frowns deepening on his face as he mentally tucked away his tasks. At this rate he would end up with a face like a walnut.

  ‘I’m sure everything will be quite all right,’ I said. ‘Unless, of course, there is any reason to be concerned over the poor gentleman’s demise.’

  ‘Like plague,’ said Joe eagerly.

  ‘Nothing. Nothing at all,’ said the waiter.

  The quickness and sharpness of his return gave me pause. ‘There is nothing questionable about this death?’ I asked and my voice, from years of working alongside the wretched Fitzroy, must have sounded quite stern and professional as the poor man broke down into tears.

  The faces of everyone else at the table went into frozen astonishment. The Bishop’s class of people, and the ones my mother continued to count herself a member of, do not cry in public. Joe had doubtless never seen a man cry before. My experience was wider. I stood up and took the waiter by the shoulder, steering him to an empty table that was shielded from the rest of the room by fashionable potted foliage. The Bishop followed me, rather like a sheep that has suddenly found itself on an unknown path and opts to follow the person looking most like a shepherd. I attracted the attention of a different waiter and commanded him to bring water and brandy.

  ‘If you say so, miss,’ said the second waiter. ‘But whose bill should I put it on? We don’t generally serve the staff.’

  I was about to snap something rather unkind, when The Bishop reminded me of his presence by saying, ‘Mine. Now do it at once, please.’ Then he turned to me. ‘I imagine, Euphemia, you have guessed something of what has transpired, though how I do not know. It was most kind of you to help this man, but I do not think you need trouble yourself further. I will do what needs to be done.’

  ‘There has been a tragic accident. At least, I don’t believe such a thing would’ve been done on purpose. But, still, it happened by his own hand. So, what’ll happen to him? Oh, dear,’ said the waiter. ‘Forgive me. I shouldn’t comment on a member, but he was such a lovely old gent. One of the old guard. Always tipped generously, did Mr Lovelock.’

  The Bishop, quicker than I on the uptake here, said ‘Am I to take it that there is some question as to whether or not this poor man took his own life?’

  ‘I wouldn’t like to believe so, sir,’ said the waiter looking up at The Bishop with worried eyes as if he suddenly remembered who he was talking with. ‘No, no, I’m sure it was nothing more than a tragic accident. Even so, I worry about the circumstances, and the consequences.’

  ‘I am not one to judge,’ said The Bishop. ‘I will say a prayer for his soul and allow our Creator, in His great mercy, to gather our departed brother to Him.’

  The Bishop tapped me on the shoulder and took a step back. ‘It does look as if we may have to postpone our luncheon. I think things may be a little more complicated than they appear. But it’s nothing to worry your head over, my dear. Please go back to your mother, she will be anxious - as I am sure your fiancé will be.’

  I smiled at him. I thought it sweet he would try to protect me. ‘Whatever occurred, if there is no suicide note and no suspicious circumstances, it will be up to the clergyman of his home village to determine if he is to be buried in sacred ground. If not, he could always be buried on his family’s estate, although I believe most clergy are as generous as they can be. Are they not, Step
-pa?’

  The Bishop’s eyebrows rose even higher, but he only said, ‘Indeed, my step-daughter is quite correct - if suicide is confirmed the individual can always be buried on their own estate.’

  I fancied I could feel his gaze burning into the back of my neck. When I turned to face him, he did not appear hostile, but his expression was one that I am sure had put the fright into many a chorister.

  ‘I’ll go back to my mother, shall I?’ I said. It wasn’t so much as my courage had failed me, but I had the impression that The Bishop was a lot sharper than the people I was used to dealing with. He had, without doubt, already gleaned that my experience must be out of the ordinary for a young lady. Hopefully, if I retreated now he would put it down to bad breeding accrued while working as a servant, a flaw that could easily be ironed out by my forthcoming marriage.

  The waiter lifted his face out of the napkin. His face, now wrinkled and reddened, looked like an aged berry. ‘Thank you, miss,’ he said. ‘There’s not many as would have cared for how I felt. You’re just like Mr Lovelock.’ He ended on a sob and plunged his face back down into the napkin. I took the opportunity to flee.

  At the table I found Richenda had been located and had not merely drawn up a chair but had procured fresh tea for everyone and a plate of macaroons. Joe was eying her with blatant admiration. There were traces of sugar all down his front. Even my mother, sipping from her tea-cup, looked at my employer approvingly.