A Death at a Gentleman's Club

by Caroline Dunford

  ‘Then we should look,’ I said.

  ‘Euphemia, as you can see, we cannot open the drawers of the desk without moving Mr Lovelock,’ said The Bishop.

  ‘Then move him,’ I said. ‘Bertram, you know I am right.’

  ‘I suppose we should check they are all in order,’ said Bertram. ‘It is the kind of thing that I was asked to do.’

  ‘We cannot move him until the doctor has confirmed he is dead,’ said the steward.

  ‘I do not think there can be any doubt of that,’ said The Bishop. He addressed Bertram. ‘If you believe it is completely necessary then I am sure between the three of us we can respectfully move Mr Lovelock to check his papers are secure. I can understand that the executor would want you to ensure they are safe. Especially considering his career.’

  ‘We should also check him for the room key,’ I said. ‘I presume that there is a master.’

  The put-upon steward nodded. Then he blurted out, ‘But we simply can’t move the body with a lady in the room, sirs. It is not right.’

  ‘I quite agree,’ said The Bishop. ‘Euphemia will return to her mother. It is unfortunate that she became lost and stumbled upon this distressing sight. However, I am sure we can rely on her discretion.’ He looked at me. ‘You may not know it, my dear, but you need some hot, sweet tea. You are as white as a sheet. This is obviously a severe shock for you.’

  ‘I have seen worse,’ I said. ‘I was on the Carpathia.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ said The Bishop, ‘this must bring back many unhappy memories of that terrible tragedy. No wonder you are looking so pale. Perhaps you should escort her back, Mr Stapleford?’

  A conflict of emotions visibly crossed Bertram’s face. I could only guess at some of them, but I did spot genuine annoyance. ‘I need to stay here,’ said Bertram firmly. ‘Euphemia, your stepfather is right. You cannot be here while we move the body.’

  ‘Bertram,’ I said in astonishment. ‘Surely you…’

  ‘I am firm on this,’ said Bertram, pursing his lips. ‘There are many reasons you have been allowed latitude during your career, Euphemia, but on this I stand firm.’

  ‘You forget,’ I said, ‘I am no longer your servant to command.’

  ‘Indeed I do not,’ said Bertram hotly. ‘I am now all too aware that for the duration of our acquaintance you have been my social superior.’

  ‘I have never claimed to be any such thing,’ I said.

  ‘No, you simply kept your origins from me for several years,’ said Bertram.

  ‘I did not realise it would be such a problem,’ I said, ‘for you to accept me as I truly am.’

  The Bishop gently took my arm, but I shook him off. ‘Do you have a problem with me as well?’ I said.

  ‘Euphemia, leave this room at once,’ said Bertram. ‘I demand it.’

  ‘You have no right to demand anything of me,’ I said. ‘I have every right to be here. Why, I was involved with…’

  ‘My Lord, please escort Miss St John - I mean Miss Martins, from the room. This man and I will manage.’ Bertram cut me off not a moment too soon. I realised I had been about to go too far.

  ‘I am sorry, Bertram,’ I said.

  ‘As am I,’ said Bertram. ‘I will not expect you to return my ring. You may keep it as a token of happier days.’ Then he turned to discuss moving the body with the porter.

  Once again The Bishop took my arm. This time I did not protest. Indeed, I needed the support. My legs shook beneath me.

  ‘Come along, Euphemia,’ said The Bishop. ‘It is a difficult time for everyone.’

  I made no reply. My vision swam, and I could hear my heart beating loudly in my ears. If I did not sit down shortly I suspected I would faint. I made no answer to my stepfather. I leaned heavily on his arm, while he continued to say soothing phrases and attempted to assure me all would be well. But I knew that everything was wrong. Bertram no longer loved me. In that moment I cared nothing for my duty to the nation, Fitzroy and his interference, or my mother’s approval. All that mattered was the truth, that Bertram could only love me as he had previously known me - a lowly servant. As an independent and titled young lady I meant nothing to him.

  ‘Oh, pooh,’ said Richenda as she poured me a cup of tea. ‘They probably did not want you to see that the man had soiled himself. I believe most people do when they die. It is as if everything suddenly lets go.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. I was sitting a little apart with her. The Bishop was deep in conversation with my mother and little Joe was doing his best to make an aeroplane out of his starched napkin.

  ‘Was there a smell?’ asked Richenda. ‘The twins’ underthings… Oh, my goodness, I cannot tell you what a shock it was when I walked in on Nanny changing them one day. I though the poor little angels were dying. Apparently, it was all perfectly normal.’ She helped herself from a small plate of sandwiches that were stacked at her side. ‘I expect they felt they were preserving the fellow’s dignity by not moving him when you were there.’

  I sipped my tea. ‘Why did they not simply say?’

  ‘Say such a thing to a young and innocent unmarried girl? Why, I’ll wager your mother chased you from the room when your father died, did she not?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Same thing I expect. Respect for the dead and all that. Relatives generally do not get to see them until they are properly cleaned up. How interesting that you can have been around so much death and have not come to know this.’ She popped another sandwich in her mouth.

  ‘Bertram does not love me,’ I said. I managed to suppress the sob that rose in my throat.

  ‘What rot,’ said Richenda. ‘This has been a bit of a trying day for him, that is all. I mean it’s understandable he’s a bit miffed that you didn’t tell him the truth about yourself. I quite see why you didn’t tell us - I mean Richard and me - but you were, are, engaged to Bertram. That has to sting a bit.’ She lifted her cup, but then paused. ‘Hans didn’t know, did he?’

  I shook my head. In truth Hans had suspected, but I had never confirmed it.

  Richenda slurped her tea, appearing happy with my answer. ‘I think it might have been no more than a minor tiff had you not made that comment about using your money to repair his estate. Bit of a double blow, that. He’s awfully proud about not taking money from anyone - including our father’s estate. I know he got the money to buy the house from his godfather’s estate, but at least that was clean money, not blood money like ours.’ She picked up another sandwich and inspected its edges. ‘I do believe I should send for more. These are beginning to curl in the heat. But no decent man wants to live off his wife.’ She patted my arm. Richenda never had a light touch, and it was akin to being pawed by a large friendly dog. ‘Don’t worry, Euphemia. It’ll all be all right. Bertram is a bit on edge about everything. I expect he feels a fool in front of your mother too - I know you didn’t mean to do that to him, but right now he’s not thinking straight. Believe me, I know what a loveless match looks like and yours most certainly isn’t one. He’ll come around once he’s calmed down - and once we are out of this wretched place. Why, do you know, they don’t even have any cake available!’

  I sat there rather stupidly letting her prattle on. Perhaps, I thought, she will let me continue to work for her, or would that be too awkward? It would be lovely to see little Joe every day, but I did not think I could manage to live once again with my mother. If nothing else, she would make it her business to marry me off as quickly as possible. No doubt she would pick suitor after suitor, all of them older than me and positive, steadying influences, until finally I was worn down and ended up marrying a man who looked like a sheep. I hid my face behind my napkin and hiccupped as I tried not to cry.

  ‘Excuse me, miss, but there’s another telephone call for you.’

  ‘How exciting,’ said Richenda. She looked at my face. ‘Would you like me to get them to say you are indisposed? You do not look at all well.’

  ‘No, I will go,’ I said and got up.
The Bishop and my mother remained engaged in deep conversation and I had no wish to speak to either. I followed the porter to the telephone. I could feel Richenda’s eyes on my back as I left the room, but she had the sense not to ask to accompany me.

  I picked up the receiver. ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘It’s going to take me longer to get there than I hoped,’ said Fitzroy’s voice.

  ‘How annoying for you,’ I said.

  There was a pause at the other end of the line. Then he said, ‘Indeed. Can I assume that you have involved yourself in the investigation, or has everything gone smoothly and poor Mr Lovelock has merely succumbed to old age and poor judgement?’

  ‘What do you think?’ I said.

  ‘If you could be a little more informative,’ said Fitzroy. ‘I realise you are attempting to be discreet, but at this point I could do with some actual information.’

  ‘I am going to marry a sheep,’ I said, and to my extreme embarrassment I burst into tears.

  There was a stunned silence at the other end of the line. Finally, Fitzroy said, ‘I wouldn’t advise that at all. There is virtually no decent conversation to be had from a sheep.’

  My only response was a most curious noise, the combination of a sob and a laugh emerging at the same time.

  Silence continued on the other end of the line for some time. Then he said, ‘Is it a particular sheep you have in mind?’

  I felt a slight twitch at the corner of my mouth. ‘I am so sorry,’ I managed to say. ‘I have had a bit of a disagreement with Bertram. I should not trouble you with it.’

  ‘I would rather you did not,’ said Fitzroy, ‘although I have to say, I think it a little cruel of you to describe him as a sheep.’

  ‘He isn’t the sheep,’ I said.

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Do I take it he is annoyed at your inability to stay out of this?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But more that I didn’t tell him who I was.’

  ‘That was only to be expected,’ said Fitzroy. ‘He’ll get over it. Now, tell me what you have seen.’

  ‘I followed them to the room that Lovelock was found in. They believe he wrote his memoirs in there every weekday between ten and three. He booked the room and was in possession of a key. It was locked when they discovered him. They opened the door with the master key.’

  ‘Did he have the key on him?’

  ‘I asked that, but they made me leave the room before they checked, so I do not know.’

  Fitzroy swore so violently I felt myself redden from head to foot. I was so shocked I stopped crying. I heard him breathing heavily. Then he said, in what I recognised as a carefully controlled voice, ‘Did you push your way into the room where he died? Did you see his body?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Dammit, Euphemia. I didn’t want you to see that.’

  ‘It’s not like you to consider my sensibilities.’

  His response surprised me. ‘What you were asked to do on the Carpathia was unconscionable for a civilian. I know it affected you profoundly.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said suddenly feeling very pathetic. ‘No one else…’ I could not find the right words.

  ‘They wouldn’t,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Unfortunately, you are at the scene and I am not. I have told you more than once that I am not lacking in compassion, but there are times when matters must overrule such concerns. I need you to pull yourself together. I don’t want you involved in this case, but it doesn’t appear at present as if either of us have any choice.’

  In the past Fitzroy had shown me occasional kindness, but this time I heard real regret in his voice over my involvement. ‘I understand,’ I said in a clearer voice.

  ‘Good girl,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Now, Lovelock was a heroin addict. I thought it possible he’d overdosed by accident. He’d been taking steadily more and more over the years.’

  ‘That must have been what they were hiding from me,’ I said.

  ‘Who? What? Be precise.’

  ‘There was something at the end of his desk that the porter and The Bishop did not want me to see.’

  ‘It’s liable to be a small case,’ said Fitzroy. ‘It would contain primarily a syringe, but there would be other accoutrements. If empty, the case would be of the size to fit inside a medium-sized pocket. Velvet-lined, but with a hard outer shell, like an oversized spectacles case.’

  ‘I can look for it.’

  ‘Tell Bertram to do it. It’s liable to be an old-fashioned one. He started taking the drug after a German quack prescribed it late last century. For a cough.’

  ‘You believe he was still taking it?’

  ‘Do you know how it gets its name?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Because it makes people feel heroic. For an older man with most of his life behind him…’

  ‘Yes, I can understand the appeal,’ I said. ‘Do you want us to bring in a doctor?’

  ‘Not yet. What I really want to be told is that there is nothing odd about his death.’

  ‘Apart from locking himself in his room.’

  ‘Don’t be dense, Euphemia.’

  ‘There was no sign of his memoirs in the room.’

  Fitzroy swore obscenely again. This time he apologised. ‘You couldn’t have led with that?’ he said.

  ‘I was sent from the room before they searched the desk, so they could be in that. There’s a soup by-law, you see -’

  Fitzroy spoke over me. ‘This is vital,’ he said. ‘If the memoirs are not in the room then you close down the establishment and prevent anyone from leaving until I get there.’

  ‘You mean?’

  ‘I mean, if they are missing then the chances are this is murder.’ He swore again and without apology rang off. I was left holding the receiver in my hand and wondering how on earth we were meant to keep everyone in the building until he arrived. Well, if Bertram didn’t want my help he would have to work out how to do it himself.

  Chapter Seven

  In Which Bertram Shows Initiative

  I found Bertram standing outside the dead man’s room. He was pale and sweat beaded on his forehead. In the process of wiping his hands thoroughly on his handkerchief he had failed to notice my approach. It occurred to me that although he too had seen a corpse before, this would be the first time he had to handle one.

  ‘Fitzroy called again.’

  Bertram started forward. I held up my hand to forestall him. ‘He’s already rung off. He wanted to know, as I did,’ I couldn’t help myself from adding this, ‘if the key was in Mr Lovelock’s pocket.’

  ‘It was,’ said Bertram curtly.

  ‘And if the memoirs are there.’

  ‘The desk is locked. We are unable to find the key. I am awaiting a man with tools,’ said Bertram.

  ‘Only,’ I continued, ‘if the papers are not present, he wishes you to close this establishment to all outsiders…

  ‘Of course,’ said Bertram interrupting. ‘And make a thorough search of the place. I had thought of that.’

  ‘Most importantly,’ I said, ‘he does not want you to allow anyone to leave.’

  ‘How the hell does he expect me to do that?’

  ‘Bertram,’ I said shocked. ‘Such language will not help us - I mean you. I will go back to the lounge and sit with my family.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Bertram. ‘You cannot leave this all on me. I am only involved with that wretched man because of my relationship with you.’

  I sniffed and looked down my nose at him, hoping my eyes were no longer red from crying. ‘I was not aware we still had a relationship,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, for…’ Bertram stopped himself. ‘Of course we have a relationship. I’m damned angry with you, but I still love you. God help me.’

  My heart leaped inside me. ‘I see,’ I said coolly. ‘Perhaps we can discuss matters between us when things here are resolved. I shall be in the lounge when you are free.’

  ‘What on earth did Fitzroy say to make you suddenly so obedient?’ growl
ed Bertram. ‘I have never managed to make you do as I ask.’

  I merely raised what I hoped was a haughty eyebrow, turned on my heel and walked away. As I turned I couldn’t keep a smile from spreading across my face. Bertram still loved me. I did understand his distress at my elevated social status, but I would be the last one to admit that to him.

  Back in the lounge I found Richenda toying with her remaining sandwiches and talking to my brother. ‘It was at this point,’ she was saying, ‘that we heard a sound like rolling thunder coming from the other side of the attic. The servants had assured us that there was nothing there but old luggage and unwanted furniture, but what we heard -’ She looked up as I approached. ‘You are looking much happier,’ she said. ‘Have you and Bertram sorted things between you?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘But we have agreed that we will.’

  ‘I was telling your brother about our hunt for Hans’ mad first wife in the attic,’ said Richenda.

  Joe turned to me, his eyes bright, ‘Is she still there?’ he asked. ‘Ranting and raving?’

  ‘Hardly,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t tell him,’ said Richenda. ‘I’ll finish the story later, Joe. Now, go and see your mother. I am sure she is missing you.’

  Joe stood and gave us both a short bow. It was adorable, and I had to sit on my hands not to reach out and hug him. He went off to my mother. ‘He is a lovely young man,’ said Richenda. ‘Beautifully behaved. I am quite surprised you are related.’

  I smiled. ‘When we lived in the country he was forever falling out of trees and bringing home injured wildlife he had found, to care for. That and putting spiders in the maid’s bed. You have all that to look forward to with your children.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Richenda, dubiously. ‘Are we able to leave? I am getting bored of this place and I suppose Hans will be wondering where I am. Or he will do as the afternoon wears on. Or possibly not until dinner…’

  ‘Did you not tell him where you were going?’ I said.

  ‘No, I walked out after the row. I expect he thought I was going to stomp around the gardens.’

  ‘He will be ever so worried.’