A Death for King and Country - A Euphemia Martins Murder Mystery (Euphemia Martins Mysteries Book 7)

by Caroline Dunford

  ‘I do not believe Amy could have a more devoted mother than yourself, Richenda. However, the child is still clearly troubled and she is exhausting you. Do you not think that to give her the best chance of a full and happy recovery we should arrange for her to both see some other children and to undertake as normal a routine as possible? Hans has offered you some new staff, and carefully selected they could perhaps make all the difference. Or perhaps you could invite Bertram to stay, and ask him to bring Merry?’

  Hans’ eyes lit up.

  Richenda finished her mouthful slowly.

  ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘I have no problem being by Amy’s side day and night, but it is some weeks now and I feel I have made no real progress.’

  ‘There is nothing more you could possibly have done,’ I said quickly. I did not for a moment misjudge her intentions and I wanted her to know this. ‘Naturally the child must grieve, but being as young as she is she has the capacity to bounce back.’

  ‘Instead of insisting you dance attendance on her,’ said Hans darkly. It took much restraint on my part not to kick him under the table. I glowered instead and he gave me a puzzled look. Men can be so idiotic at times. The only way to reach Richenda was through her concern for her new obsession.

  Richenda scowled at her husband, but concern for her new daughter won out.

  ‘She has such terrible nightmares.’

  ‘Of course she does,’ I said. ‘I cannot bear to imagine what she has endured, but I feel strongly that new, happy memories will overwrite the old ones, and that is what should be the focus now.’

  To my delight Richenda nodded. ‘You really are un-femininely intelligent, Euphemia,’ she said with a smile. ‘I admit I could do with some help.’ Hans practically quivered with hope, but had the sense to keep his mouth shut this time. ‘Perhaps you?’ she said.

  ‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘Merry would be infinitely better at this than me.’

  ‘She wouldn’t come without Merrit,’ said Richenda.

  ‘But that’s the point,’ I said excitedly. ‘Merry is still working at Stapleford Hall. Bertram has gone back to White Orchards and taken Merrit with him. She hasn’t seen him for weeks.’ Merrit was Bertram’s chauffeur, but both he and Merrit were often to be found at Bertram’s family home, Stapleford Hall, as his own estate, White Orchards, regularly suffered one building calamity after another.

  ‘Besides,’ I said in an attempt to clinch it, ‘isn’t it time Bertram paid you a bride visit? He has yet to give you your wedding present, after all!’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ said Richenda. ‘Don’t think I don’t realise you two have cooked this up between you. I’m going upstairs to have a rest before Amy wakes again. Euphemia may arrange all the details.’

  ‘I will write the letters this morning,’ I promised.

  When she had gone Hans applauded me. ‘Bravo, Euphemia! If there is anything I can do for you?’

  He said this with a big smile plastered on his face, secure in the expectation that as ever I would ask for nothing.

  ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘there might just be something. Family concerns mean I may require some time away from Richenda’s side. I would be grateful if you could smooth that matter for me.’

  Hans looked at me as if I had stuck my fork in his hand. ‘That’s why you wanted Merry here!’ he said. ‘You have become positively devious, Euphemia.’

  ‘I prefer diplomatic,’ I said with a smile. ‘It’s the company I’ve been keeping.’

  Hans bowed his head, acknowledging defeat.

  Chapter Five

  In which the dead talk to me, and prove to have

  an uncomfortable sense of humour

  Of course, I had first to make good my promises and write the wretched letters, one to Bertram inviting him to visit and one to the housekeeper at Stapleford Hall, Mrs Lewis, who I knew would be the person to approach, regarding Merry. Lord Richard Stapleford, Richenda’s twin, would have denied me simply out of spite, but with his time now split between his new estate of Peterfield and his time as an MP, he would in all likelihood have no idea where Merry was.

  Mrs Lewis, a very fair woman, could arrange it easily. I knew she had the best interests of her staff at heart and while she had said she would train Merry up as a housekeeper, should she get the chance to move to the Mullers’ growing household her prospects would be much improved. I proposed a loan in the first place and should the Mullers require her for more extended service I suggested Hans should make the approach to Sir Richard.

  I summoned Stone and handed him my two letters, asking that they went post-haste. I had taken great care over the one to Mrs Lewis, but I fear Bertram was receiving no more than a scrawled note. My impatience to open Fitzroy’s packet was so great my skin positively itched!

  Hans, I knew, as he was spending time at home rather than at work in the city, would have headed down to the stables to speak with his factor and go over estate matters. He was a most dutiful master. Richenda was asleep. I had the rest of the morning to myself. I resisted the urge to run, but made my way upstairs as calmly as I could. I collected the package and took it through to the little boudoir-cum-study Hans had insisted on allotting me once it was clear I would be living at the estate long term.

  ‘Everyone needs their private space,’ he had urged, and indeed over time I had found it most restful to have my own retreat. I put the packet down on the table. It lay there unmoving. Now I had the opportunity to open it I found myself strangely reluctant. So I did what the English do in all times of confusion and ordered more tea.

  Sipping my tea and lemon, I considered my reluctance. In part I ascribed it to a certain sadness that a seemingly invincible adventurer such as Fitzroy was gone, but my greater fear was what I would be asked to do. There was now no hope of declining whatever lay within the bounds of that sealed parcel. Fitzroy had displayed, on occasion, a certain dark sense of humour. He had certainly enjoyed teasing me. I had no little concern for what he might request.

  Taking a small, but sharp letter opener I cut the strings and broke the seals. Inside were four large packets, each addressed to me by my pseudonym of Miss St John. They were numbered clearly one to four.

  First things first. I burned the outer paper that displayed by real name in the grate. Then I turned my attention to the packets. Really, each was no more than a large letter. On the labelled one Fitzroy had written, ‘On your honour, Euphemia, of which you have more than most gentlemen, I request you open these letters in order and that the next one is never opened until the tasks of the former are completed.’

  I felt a little buzz of excitement. Was this some kind of strange treasure hunt? Fitzroy, I knew instinctively, would have no gold to offer, but that which he deemed far more important: Information.

  With a shaking hand I slit open the first envelope and took out two sheets of paper. They were closely, but neatly, written.

  My very dear Euphemia,

  It appears I am dead. I have to say I am quite annoyed at this prospect, but please rest assured that any revenge I may hope to seek on whatever, or more likely whoever, caused my demise, I would not lay at your door.

  Instead I must beg some favours that you tidy the scrambled life I have left behind. Although I believe only one of the tasks I must ask you to undertake presents any slight danger, the others will not be easy to achieve. I have therefore left what payment I can; not in money, but in information that I hope will prove useful and illuminating to you.[5]

  On completion of each task you may open the next envelope and within that you will find your reward, such as it is.

  Now, I am fully aware you could open all these papers at once and read whatever I have written for you. I also know that you are aware that is the kind of thing an unscrupulous person such as myself might do, but I have always been aware you were a much better person than I. Flattery, I hope, will get me everywhere. It certainly has been most useful in my former life. (How very strange to write former.)

&nb
sp; I am sure you are wondering why I have chosen you. There are many reasons, but firstly, as I have indicated, I know you are burdened by both honesty and honour. Secondly, you have a remarkable mind, and if you had been born a man I am sure you would have achieved great things. For all I know you may still do so, but the hindrance of being born a woman is one I, unlike most men, do acknowledge. And thirdly, though by no means lastly in my mind, is that fact that you, like me, have chosen to lead a life that is divided into compartments. You must be many things to many people, and no one other than yourself knows the full truth. People who can do this are rare. And that you chose to do this is rarer still. If you question why I did not choose one of my fellows in my department I refer you to my first reason for choosing you.

  I also, despite my training, confess to some affection for you. But have no fear, this will not descend into some mawkish love letter. If King and Country had required me to shorten your life I would have done so without hesitation, although with some regret. This is a significant admission for me, for in general I do not think much of my fellow men – or women. Perhaps what I enjoyed so much about you was you were always something of a puzzle. As I am too.

  But that must suffice for our farewells. Here is your first task …

  I read the task through three times. By the time I had begun my fourth reading my heart had slowed to a near normal rate. I could do this. It was not a dangerous task. It was certainly something I would not feel comfortable doing, and it would involve a great deal of lying on my part. The biggest stumbling block that I could see was that there was no way I could achieve this without Bertram’s help, and yet within the task Fitzroy explicitly asked me to tell no one else of this adventure.

  Convincing Hans and Richenda to allow me some time away from the house now seemed like child’s play considering what I now needed to plan.

  [5] I was right!

  Chapter Six

  In which Bertram, as ever, causes problems –

  and before he has even arrived

  I made what plans I could. I managed to liberate some of Richenda’s older items of clothing.[6] I simply rooted through her wardrobe when she was tending to Amy and removed a few articles that were by now far too small.

  Richenda, if she thought anything about it at all, would assume that either her new lady’s maid, a severe woman named Trevors with whom I had little interaction, had removed them to spare her embarrassment, or that they were away to be laundered.

  Richenda’s attitude to her wardrobe was for the most part thus: if she had worn items once she wanted something new and exciting. I had noticed that Trevors was excellent at re-trimming a dress so it looked quite different. There was also a distinct difference now between the outrageous concoctions Richenda wore around the estate and what she wore in society.

  Despite her devotion to Richenda’s wardrobe, however, Trevors avoided Amy as if she was some serious contagion.

  My mother has always been horrified by my needlework, but I am competent enough. I spent the time awaiting Bertram’s arrival – I had no doubt he would accept the invitation to a warm, friendly, and water-tight house with alacrity – stitching my costumes. I spent some time consulting the fashion magazines that Richenda regularly received, but were currently being left unread, so I could aim at the right styles. Personally, I am no great follower of fashion, preferring to wear something that suits me, and the only nod to fashion I tend towards is wearing the correct hem length. However, the woman I would impersonating would be far more fashionable than myself.

  Hans did once intrude upon my solitary sewing waving a letter.

  ‘I’ve got the best …’ he began, and then took in my activity. I have learned that nothing looks so guilty as to hide something that has already been seen, so I attempted to brazen it out with a smile on my face.

  ‘Yes?’ I encouraged.

  ‘Why are you sewing, Euphemia? We have a house seamstress.’

  ‘She is busy with clothes for Amy. The poor child has almost nothing.’

  ‘That is no excuse for her to neglect you,’ said Hans sternly.

  ‘No, she hasn’t,’ I responded quickly. ‘I didn’t even ask her.’

  Hans’ expression softened. ‘Euphemia, you have the status of a lady of this house now. You have no need to tend to such menial tasks.’

  As a companion I certainly did not have the status of a lady, as my mother pointed out repeatedly in her letters, but I knew Hans meant well.

  ‘I shall go to her next time,’ I promised. ‘Now do tell me your news.’

  ‘This is a letter from Sir Richard Stapleford,’ said Hans, pulling a face. He disliked Richenda’s twin almost as much as I did. ‘He is sending Merry to us for the next six months. Which is extremely kind of him.’

  ‘I am surprised he has interested himself in the matter. I wrote to Mrs Lewis.’

  ‘That is because he is keen to make me aware that Amelia does not, despite our adoption of her, count as a legitimate heir.’

  ‘Oh, Lord!’ I said. ‘He can’t still think Richenda wants to own Stapleford Hall?’ Although Richard has assumed control of the house as the eldest son, the terms of his father’s will left the house to the first of his children to have a child.

  ‘I have never discussed it with her,’ said Hans. ‘Honestly, what that wretched building represents to the three of them is quite beyond my understanding.’

  ‘But this is such a beautiful estate!’

  Hans smiled. ‘I think so, but you know how strange the upbringing of the Stapleford children has been. I am sure the only consistent thing in their childhood was that house, and certainly their father thought more of the Hall than he ever did of them or either of his wives.’

  Although raised as an English gentleman, on rare occasions Hans does display the European blood within him. I made no answer to his extraordinary speech.

  ‘But,’ said Hans, ‘further good news. Bertram will be with us within the week.’ He paused and bit his lip. ‘It seems he is bringing Rory McLeod with him. That won’t be a problem for you, will it?’

  ‘Rory?’ I said blankly.

  ‘It seems he did indeed resign from Stapleford Hall, and has been working as a butler at White Orchards. Bertram wants to bring him as his valet, but he … he wrote to, er, check first.’

  I felt myself blushing and focussed my attention on the sewing in my lap.

  ‘As you say, Hans, I now have the status of a lady resident in your house, and I am sure it is no concern of mine whatsoever which servants your guests choose to bring with them.’

  Hans’ uncertainty radiated out from his person. I kept my head down and said nothing further. After a longer pause than either of us was comfortable with Hans said, ‘Of course.’ I heard him close the door softly behind him.

  Damn, but this was going to make things more difficult! Yet by the time Bertram arrived I was all in readiness. Merry should arrive shortly, and as soon as she did I intended to make my escape. I was sure she would be distraction enough for Richenda. So Bertram had barely had his luggage unloaded when I accosted him in the lobby.

  ‘I will need to speak to you privately,’ I said quietly. ‘I think it might be wise to advise your valet not to unpack fully.’

  Bertram’s eyes bulged and he looked most alarmed. Hans and Richenda then appeared, to welcome him, and I slipped into the background. I hoped I had alarmed Bertram enough that he would spend the rest of today and tonight in terrible and wild imaginings of what I might ask, so that when my favour was asked it would seem almost inconsequential in comparison.

  Or at least this is what I optimistically thought.

  At dinner that night Bertram continued to glance at me in boggle-eyed alarm whenever he thought our hosts were not watching. I managed to remain completely quiet and demure during the meal, which I think everyone found slightly unsettling. Indeed, when we withdrew Richenda asked me if I was feeling quite well.

  ‘I’m well,’ I replied, pouring tea for us both wh
ile we waited for the gentlemen. ‘I believe Merry will be with us shortly.’

  ‘Thank goodness,’ said Richenda. ‘I am worn to a frazzle. I think Hans is right, we need to set up the nursery properly. After all one day I hope …’

  She became acutely interested in spooning far too much sugar into her tea.

  ‘Indeed,’ I said. ‘I am sure that day will arrive very soon. This is an excellent opportunity to get everything in readiness.’

  Richenda gave me a shy smile. Richenda doing shy is a most unnatural sight. She is generally too big and brash to be anything other than robust, but as this moment she almost looked vulnerable.

  ‘I must do my best by Hans,’ she said. ‘I owe him everything.’ I thought I even saw a tear in the corner of her eye.

  ‘You have married excellently,’ I agreed. ‘Though I doubt we will see the men again tonight.’

  Richenda frowned. ‘Yes, I expect they will get horrendously drunk. Aren’t men terrible creatures?’ she said without rancour and, despite our excellent dinner, reached for a macaroon. Everything was back to normal.

  I enlightened Bertram of my favour the following morning. We were the first at breakfast so I took the opportunity then, as I found him sitting at the table sipping black coffee and picking half-heartedly at a piece of dry toast.

  I rushed through my explanation.

  ‘So you see we would only be away for a few days. We do not even need to stay in London. I will only require a few hours there and then we can move on to the countryside. I am sure it will be easy enough to find a respectable inn, but one where we need never be known.’

  Bertram, clutched the sides of his head and groaned. Hans had obviously been extremely free with his cellar last night. ‘I don’t think I’m following all of this,’ he said. ‘Are we eloping?’

  ‘Good gracious me, no.’

  ‘I just wanted to be clear on that.’

  Some devil on my shoulder prompted me to ask, ‘Why don’t you want to elope with me?’

  ‘I don’t need to elope with you,’ said Bertram.