A Death by Arson

by Caroline Dunford

  Susie shook her head vigorously. ‘Oh no, sir. He’s not looking for work. He and his wife run a greengrocery business. He is well set up.’

  Well enough, no doubt, to afford his own servants, I thought to myself. I was beginning to have a great deal of sympathy for Susie, and yet, there was something that bothered me about her. But each time I tried to pin it down it eluded me further.

  ‘Shall we say a month’s trial? Subject to my telephoning your reference? Although we are shortly to depart for Scotland. You have no objection to travel, I hope?’

  ‘I have never been abroad,’ said Susie, her eyes very wide.

  ‘The Scots may be a very different people to the English, but it is hardly abroad.’

  ‘In that case, sir, I would very much like to accept your offer of a trial.’

  ‘I shall telephone now and see if I can speak to your reference. Euphemia will take you to the morning room and arrange for a tea tray.’

  ‘My brother …’ began Susie.

  ‘Stays below stairs,’ finished Hans.

  I could not be sure but I thought I detected an expression of relief on Susie’s face. In what seemed like no time at all the matter was settled. Her trunk had been retrieved from the van by the ill-tempered brother and carried upstairs. I watched her go with some misgiving. ‘Did you not think Richenda might like to interview her?’ I asked Hans, trading on our long-standing acquaintance.

  ‘I just telephoned her former employers. Her reference was excellent. And, frankly, it does not matter what Richenda or I feel. It will be down to how she relates to Amy. I am satisfied she has the ability to keep the child safe. Now all we need to know is if she can keep her under reasonable control.’

  ‘Reasonable?’ I queried.

  ‘I am not a man to ask for miracles,’ said Hans gravely, though his eyes twinkled.

  ‘About Merry –’ I began.

  ‘No!’ Hans held up his hand. ‘I will not discuss this with you. She is to return to Bertram’s estate with Merrit when we depart.’

  ‘Will Bertram not require his car?’

  ‘Ah – I have arranged a little late Christmas present for my brother-in-law.’

  I quailed inwardly. Bertram behind the wheel of his current contraption was terrifying enough, but with one of the new automobiles, which were rumoured, incredibly, to be able to do far more than twenty miles per hour, I felt no road in England would be safe. I could only hope that Rory was accompanying us north, and that he would be at the wheel, but I decided not to push my fortune and ask Hans if that would be so. The last I had seen, the two men had been at extreme odds.

  ‘Perhaps you should tell Richenda the good news?’ I suggested. ‘It might cheer her spirits.’ It occurred to me that Hans might cancel the whole trip when he learned of Richenda’s delicate condition, and that if that was to be so then the sooner the better. I recalled from my days as a housekeeper the enormity of moving a household to Scotland – and that had been only to a small hunting lodge, not a grand New Year’s party. I thought it very likely we would not be going, which did not disappoint me in the least. Although I will own that the scenery up there is breath-taking, all my forays northward have occasioned sudden demises. Scotland, Richard Stapleford and a big party of important people might seem like a cocktail of delight for many young women – for I knew that Hans would insist I attend the ball – but I could only think of it as having potential for yet more morbid disaster.

  ‘I think it is better she gets her rest before the journey,’ said Hans. ‘I have spoken to the doctor and he says there is no cause for alarm.’

  I studied him hard when he said this, but he gave no indication of being a man who knows his wife is in the process of producing his heir. Hans continued, ‘I know you are thinking I should curtail the trip, and that business is not a good enough reason to –’

  ‘I would not dare suggest such a thing,’ I interrupted.

  ‘No,’ said Hans, smiling, ‘but you might well think it. The truth is, Euphemia, that while this trip is important to me – very important on the business front – it would be impossible for us to stay in the house for the next week.’

  ‘Why so?’

  ‘I have arranged for the installation of electrical lighting throughout the entire building. I understand that in doing so the men will make a devil of a mess, not to say noise, and that the place will be quite uninhabitable. Now, if you will excuse me, I have matters to attend to.’

  I watched him go, wondering what on earth I should do. I decided to beard Bertram in the smoking room and get his thoughts on current matters. Whether I should tell him about Richenda’s delicate condition, I was unsure. I felt very strongly that it was Hans’ right to know first –well, first after Richenda! But it was certainly not my place to tell him; perhaps talking with Bertram, even if I did not expose the secret, would help me decide what to do.

  I had barely stepped inside the door when Bertram leapt to his feet. ‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘You are not supposed to be in here.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ I said. ‘I was in here earlier with Mrs Ellis and her awful brother.’

  ‘That was different,’ said Bertram. ‘Totally different.’

  ‘What on earth is the matter? You are becoming quite heated.’

  ‘It’s that look on your face,’ said Bertram, pointing at me as one might point at the spectre at the feast. ‘It means we’re in for trouble.’

  Chapter Five

  Bertram is overcome

  The first thing I thought when I saw the car was how very much better Hans must be doing in business than he had led us to believe. Bertram wandered around it in awe. Every few moments the phrase ‘I say …’ burst from his lips, but he hadn’t yet managed to lengthen it to a full sentence. He circled the vehicle several times before gingerly approaching it like a man creeping up on a sleeping lion. He touched the front of the automobile and looked astonished when it didn’t disappear under his fingers. The man who had delivered it stood nearby in his smart uniform, ready to answer questions before he hopped on a train back to whence he had come.

  Richenda was still lying in bed, but Hans stood, hands deep in his pockets, grinning in the morning sunshine as he watched Bertram. Eventually Bertram came up to Hans, uttered a few more ‘I says’ and finally settled for shaking Hans firmly by the hand. It was clear that words were beyond him. I thought it, therefore, fortunate that Rory took the driver to one side and questioned him thoroughly about the workings and capabilities of the vehicle.

  After a final shake, Bertram wandered off, still dazed by his good fortune, and sat in the driver’s seat while things were explained to him. His expression remained puzzled until the driver hooted the horn which action, Bertram, suddenly reminiscent of a nine-year-old, repeated several times with glee. I was rather worryingly reminded of Toad from the recent children’s book, The Wind in the Willows. Richenda had bought it for Amy and I had, with misgivings, read it to her. I feared it would only tempt her into further naughtiness.

  ‘It is very generous of you,’ I said to Hans. ‘But I am a little afraid, not only for Bertram, but for all other users of His Majesty’s roads.’

  Hans smiled down at me. ‘Bertram is doing me a very great favour escorting me to his half-brother’s party. I like people to know I appreciate their help.’

  I put my fingers up to my neck unthinkingly, to touch the string of pearls that Hans had bestowed on me for Christmas. I knew little about jewellery, but they seemed very lovely to me. ‘Exactly,’ said Hans, watching me. Good Lord, I thought, could my pearls have cost as much as Bertram’s car? I had had second thoughts about accepting such a gift, but when Richenda voiced the opinion that I might have liked something more colourful, as she would have chosen, I had quickly accepted with thanks before she could replace Hans’ exquisite present with something more to her outlandish taste.

  All the same, it did not seem fitting to me that my employer should give me such a costly gift. Bertram was family, and fo
r all the Mullers’ kindness to me, I was most definitely not. I could not even consider it thanks for what had happened at Christmas with Amy for, as far I knew, Rory had not been compensated in any way. I suppose Hans was now more liable to overlook his breaches of etiquette in the same way Bertram did, though I knew Hans well enough to know his ability to turn a blind eye was more limited that Bertram’s. I could only hope Rory understood this or we would have a difficult time in the Highlands. Again.

  To my enormous relief Bertram allowed Rory to drive. Richenda had yet, as far as I could determine, to tell Hans of her delicate state. I had, therefore, volunteered to drive up with Bertram rather than join them on the train. Susie Ellis would be accompanying them and it would give her a chance to acquaint herself at close quarters with Amy. She had only been with us two days, and already Amy had decreed that she would be called Ellie. My mother’s nanny would certainly have been called by her surname, but I saw that Richenda, used to my companionship, was uncertain how to behave around Amy’s new carer. This had been yet another reason not to join the Mullers in their compartment. It was high time Richenda sorted some things out for herself. She had a tendency to leave too many things to my stewardship, and while I had no strong objection to this, I could see Hans was becoming disappointed with his wife’s inability to rise to her task of being mistress of the house. Perhaps after this new addition to the family, Richenda would see the wisdom of throwing herself into country life and becoming the hostess Hans would need to further his business prospects.

  I climbed into the back of the automobile. Rory had the engine running. Stone loaded my baggage and I settled myself as I waited for Bertram. Despite the fact that women are presumed to be the ones who take the most time to arrange themselves for outings, I had never yet known Bertram to be on time. Rory was already at the wheel, one finger drumming against it. I knew he hated lateness. In fact, in so many ways, he must find it irritating to work for Bertram, I thought. Still, he had persisted and was now, it seemed, steward of Bertram’s estate in all but name. I knew Rory was ambitious, and I assumed that when he had learned all he could in his current position he would move on. He certainly would not be short of offers: he had come to the attention of a number of significant people when he had stepped in to run the household of an Earl at short notice.6

  There was a mirror attached near the driver’s seat for rear viewing. I studied what I could of Rory in it. His face was closed, and he was frowning. His most notable feature, his vibrant green eyes, were more than half hidden by their lids. There were a few more lines on his face, frown lines in particular, and a certain grimness about him that had not been present when we first met at Stapleford Hall, when he was butler and I was a maid.7 He had always been of a sharp intelligence and never one to let lower-ranked servants take him for a fool, but there was a darkness now in him that worried me.

  I coughed very slightly. Rory and I had reached a truce of some kind over Christmas. Perhaps now was my chance to further repair our relationship and offer what help I could. I did not like seeing him like this, but worst still, I could not think of the cause.

  ‘Rory –’ I began, when the door opened and Bertram bounced in.

  ‘Sorry about that, chaps,’ he said. ‘I was just getting a hamper of some stuff for the journey.’

  ‘I thought you had intended to stop for lunch, sir?’ said Rory, very politely.

  Bertram shrugged airily. ‘You never know what kind of fare you are going to get further north. I thought it best to ensure we had some decent English food with us.’

  I groaned silently. How could Bertram have forgotten Rory was Scottish?

  ‘Indeed, sir,’ replied Rory. ‘Black pudding and haggis are traditional fare during the Hogmanay period. It is to be hoped that Sir Richard has managed to find a decent supplier.’

  ‘Black pudding?’ said Bertram, blanching. ‘Isn’t that made of pigs’ blood?’

  ‘And haggis out of sheep’s stomach,’ added Rory. Then he let out the choke, or whatever it is, and we started off with a roar and a scrabbling of gravel. In the mirror, I saw a smile flicker over his face. Perhaps there were shades of the Rory I had known and loved left after all.

  Once we were decently underway, and accustomed to the dull rolling noise of the road beneath the wheels, Bertram turned to me. ‘It’s damned good you don’t get – er – incommoded by automobile travel. So many ladies do!’

  ‘Felicity?’ I asked, smiling, referring to the young woman who had been the cause of Bertram’s alarming adoption of facial hair. It had grown so raggedly that he had looked like a vagrant, whatever he wore. Fortunately, both Felicity and the beard had now vanished from our horizon.

  ‘Didn’t like ’em at all,’ said Bertram. ‘Should have known it would never have worked between us.’

  ‘Not to mention she was only seventeen.’

  ‘Oh come on, Euphemia, it’s quite the done thing for a man of my age to wed a younger wife.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, imbuing the two words with as much meaning as possible. ‘But you are an intelligent man, and I honestly fear that a wife without equal intellect would bore you.’

  ‘At least once her charms began to fade,’ said Rory. ‘Euphemia’s right. You’re well out of that one.’

  I was close enough to see the tips of Bertram’s ears go red, but he did not respond. I would have to ask Rory if he had ever had ever spoken with her and if he had formed any strong impressions. There was a short, uncomfortable silence during which I drew the conclusion that even Bertram now realised he had made something of a fool of himself over the girl. I lapsed into silence and watched the view from the window. Bertram put his head back and dozed. We drove on for long enough that my stomach was beginning to yearn for lunch.

  ‘By the way, Euphemia, if anyone asks, you’re my sister,’ said Bertram suddenly. He hadn’t even opened his eyes.

  ‘Are you dreaming? You cannot expect Richard Stapleford not to know his own twin. Besides, I look nothing like Richenda!’ There was a muffled snort from the driver’s seat and I realised Rory was trying not to laugh.

  ‘No, no,’ said Bertram. ‘I meant if we stop on the way. McLeod thinks we can make it in one long run, but I’m not going without my lunch or supper.’

  ‘Your delicate constitution,’ I murmured.

  Bertram shot me a dirty look. ‘You are well aware I do not have robust health. The doctor has advised me to keep my diet on a good footing.’

  ‘I don’t think he meant you were meant to eat more,’ I said as kindly as I could. ‘In fact, Bertram, I was looking for a time to mention this delicately. How can I put this? I think your collar is growing tight.’

  ‘Damned new tailor,’ said Bertram, running a finger round the edge.

  ‘Och, yer cannae blame that on the poor man. He cannae work against nature.’ Rory had become alarmingly Scottish again. I wondered if this meant we were nearing the border.

  ‘I am merely concerned for your well-being. I understand that excess weight can put an extra burden on the heart.’

  ‘I think we have spoken quite too much about my heart during this trip,’ said Bertram from behind gritted teeth. ‘If there is anyone’s offending organ we should be discussing it is Richard’s.’

  The vehicle swerved suddenly, but after a heart stopping moment, Rory reclaimed control. ‘Whet are ye on about, man?’ he asked in horrified tones.

  ‘His heart,’ snapped Bertram. This time his whole face suffused with blood. ‘I am talking about his heart!’

  ‘I was not aware he had one,’ I said.

  ‘Well, Miss Lucinda Hessleton would not agree with you.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Rory and I in unison.

  Bertram’s face registered surprise. ‘Why, his fiancée of course. I assume she thinks he has one.’

  ‘Richard’s getting married?’ repeated Rory and I together, sounding like a pair of bad vaudeville comedians.

  ‘Of course. What did you think this party was all about?
’ asked Bertram. ‘Personally, I wouldn’t be surprised if they tie the knot while we’re there. You can do so more quickly in Scotland, I believe.’

  ‘But why?’ I asked, struggling to come to terms with the concept of any sane woman agreeing to marry Richard.

  Rory, his eyes still fixed on the road and his tone flat, said, ‘I expect it’s to do with his organ.’

  * * *

  6See my journal A Death in the Wedding Party.

  7I thought perhaps the grimness might be ascribed to the ever-sinking estate Bertram owned. Living in the Fens, I had found from my time there, was both beautiful and an extremely trying position. In some ways, Bertram was the least of my worries and that was saying something indeed.

  Chapter Six

  Lovely Lucinda

  We had to stop the automobile so Bertram could take some air. Fortunately, we were in a rural spot and it was easy enough to pull over and find somewhere secluded. I asked Rory to unload the hamper and set about arranging an early luncheon. I hoped that food would prove a distraction to Bertram, as I carefully placed an elegant plate the cook had provided. It is a mystery to me why cooks insist on providing delicate crockery for outdoor eating, especially when it is a man who has requested the hamper. Surely, anyone who has ever known a man knows he would be perfectly happy ripping into chicken legs with his teeth and eating his meal off the grass? Though perhaps she had included the plates for me. In which case we would have only needed one, not this vast array of things that even included a teapot and tea strainer. I hid these under the cloth. It was unrealistic to think they could possibly survive an encounter with both Bertram and the outdoors.

  ‘Are you suggesting she is pregnant?’ asked Bertram.

  ‘I never said a word!’ I said, startled. ‘Good grief, Bertram, how on earth did you guess?’

  Bertram nodded past me. I turned to see Rory standing behind me. ‘I was talking to him.’