A Death at the Church

by Caroline Dunford

  ‘Do you mean don’t trust anyone?’

  ‘I am not going to dignify that with an answer. You will note we learned one detail: that your ushers were not particularly competent.’

  ‘We should check one of them did not slip away,’ I said.

  ‘Good thought,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Now, Alice, if I were you, I’d head to bed. We’re leaving early in the morning.’

  ‘We’re leaving? To go where?’

  Fitzroy flashed me a smile. ‘That’s need to know – and you don’t.’

  I went upstairs smothering down the feeling of wanting to shake him until his teeth rattled. Not, I thought, that I would be able to, but it seemed to me only one of us was enjoying my initiation and it was not I.

  * * *

  7 Yet again he was jacketless in my presence.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, we were up and away before dawn. Fitzroy had lent me an extra coat to put over my own. He’d also wound a scarf tightly round my neck. ‘It will be freezing until the sun is up.’ I yawned and wished the coffee pot had not emptied so quickly.

  ‘How will you be able to see?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, I know the road. As long as the other chaps have their lamps lit, we’ll be fine.’

  I clambered into the car too sleepy to be afraid. This changed after less than half an hour. Despite the extra layers I could feel the cold seeping into my bones. Also, Fitzroy drove with his usual speed. I had been tired after our labours yesterday and thought I had slept well, but I was wracked by yawns. The spy had gone to his room, how long after me I did not know, but he showed no signs of fatigue.

  ‘Are you not tired?’ I enquired, trying to be tactful.

  ‘I got at least four hours last night. I should be fine,’ he said, turning briefly to smile at me. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not expecting an in-depth dissection of our conversation yesterday. I need to concentrate until the sun comes up. You can snooze if you want.’

  ‘I would very much like to, but I am too cold.’

  ‘There’s coffee in the back for later. For now, I want to make good time. After I’ve dropped you off, I still have a long drive.’

  This did waken me. ‘You’re leaving me?’

  ‘Indeed,’ said the spy. ‘Your first solo engagement. It’s so easy it’s hardly a mission. Just re-interviewing some people about what happened at your wedding. Hardly work at all.’ ‘Who?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘And I can’t tell them I’m working for the Crown?’

  ‘Absolutely not. You can’t say you are an asset, an agent, or even helping the police. It’s imperative that you don’t say anything of the kind to any of the people you will meet. Do you understand, Alice?’

  ‘Yes, I will take care.’

  ‘You cannot take it on yourself to tell them any of this any under any circumstance. That is an order. Breaking it will have serious consequences.’

  ‘I understand. Am I going undercover? Are they expecting me?’

  ‘Oh, yes, they are expecting you, but simply as Euphemia. As I said it’s an easy task.’

  ‘When will you pick me up again?’

  ‘I’ll let you know. Probably a couple of days if all goes well.’

  ‘You’re not telling me where you are going, are you?’

  ‘No, Alice, I’m not. But, believe it or not, I do have some things on my plate that don’t relate directly to you.’

  I licked my lips and instantly regretted it as I felt them beginning to chap. Normally, I would have said exactly what I was thinking. Now I had to use more tact. One of the aspects of my relationship with Fitzroy that I had cherished – realistically the only one I had cherished – had been the ability to say anything I liked to him in any manner. This privilege had been removed.

  ‘You’re thinking that I said we’d have forty-eight hours to investigate your situation, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Don’t look so surprised. We know each other better than you realise. That aside, I am giving you more than a couple of days to investigate. When I return, I will do my best to spare more time. I appreciate that you need the shadow of suspicion lifted from your name – and I intend on doing my damn best to help you. However, that is not my job, and I do have to do my job.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘The work comes first.’

  ‘Always, Alice. Even with you.’

  Conversation between us halted as we came to some extremely twisty bits of the road. Fitzroy skidded on one corner but recovered the car smoothly enough. The only damage was to my heart, which beat so fast I thought my clothes must be vibrating. The spy briefly touched my hand, as if to say everything was fine, before he threw us into another series of seemingly life-threatening corners. I stole a look at his face. He had a look of intense concentration, unlike the casual fearlessness he had displayed on our previous journey. Wherever he was taking me, it was clear he didn’t actually have time for it. He was doing his best for me and I knew I should be more grateful. I decided that sitting on the edge of my seat, so obviously scared he had to reassure me, was not helpful. With a determined effort, I slid back in my seat and closed my eyes. The first few seconds were the worst as I felt more strongly than ever the car skittered underneath me. But I kept my eyes shut and miraculously, despite the cold, I fell asleep.

  When I awoke dawn had broken and the pale, grey light of the early day revealed the landscape around us. ‘But, I know this place!’ I said, sitting up. ‘This is near the Muller estate.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Fitzroy, ‘I’m taking you home – or as near to it as I can get you.’

  ‘I’ve failed?’ I asked abashed.

  ‘Don’t be melodramatic, Alice. You can’t fail once you’re in the service, you’re in for life. I can’t take you where I am going, and this is an excellent opportunity for you to look over your home ground with fresh eyes. You may not realise this, but even the people who are closest to you often hold secrets. For example, there is a significant chance that Merry is Mrs Wilson’s child.’

  ‘What? That’s impossible. She said her family were in London.’

  ‘She told you were she grew up and who she believed to be her parents. Have you never wondered why she was taken into the household so young? She told you that herself. And you told me she was treated as something of a family pet. The Stapleford family were never known for their charitable attitude – despite Richenda’s attempts to help streetwalkers – why would they take in and care for such a young maid?’

  ‘Good God! Are you sure?’

  ‘No, but taking all the factors into account, it is a strong possibility.’

  ‘Does she know?’

  ‘It’s never been of relevance before.’ ‘You mean, despite being pregnant, she might have had a strong enough reason to...’

  ‘The affair was with Richard’s father, not Richard,’ said Fitzroy. ‘But it doesn’t mean complications might not have arisen. You always suspected he killed his illegitimate sister in the asylum.’

  ‘I thought she was Mrs Wilson’s only daughter!’ ‘In the normal way of things women are capable of bearing more than one child, Alice.’

  I sat dumbfounded. Part of me wondered if this was some kind of test. He had suggested a hypothesis without offering evidence. If it were true, it might provide Merry with a motive for murder. Especially if she thought Richard might harm her, or her unborn child. Nausea swept over me. Of all the people in the world I didn’t want the murderer to be, Merry was second, right after my brother Joe.

  ‘All right if I drop you by the gates?’ said Fitzroy. ‘The chap should be awake and can take you up the drive in a dog cart. I need to get away.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Good luck.’ I managed to jump lightly out, so he didn’t have to stop the car to come and help me.

  Fitzroy smiled. ‘I’ve put some reading material in your bag. Stuff on the role of the monarchy vis-á-vis the role of parliament and some basic police law. Nothing secret, but you
need to know how things work.’

  ‘In my bag? But it was under my bed. How did...’

  The spy touched his finger to his nose and winked at me. Then, giving me a salute, he turned the car and drove away. I picked up my bag, which did indeed feel heavier, and went to knock on the gatehouse door.

  Chiltern, the gatekeeper, appeared more dismayed to have to leave his breakfast than surprised to see me. His wife put it in the oven and told him sternly to take me up to the big house. It might have been nothing but my own fancy, but I rather thought before the murder she might have asked if I would like something myself, for my stomach was growling loudly. But then, I had never known the Chilterns more than to nod at them when I went past. They had always been a solitary couple on an estate that was becoming known for its community.

  Chiltern delivered me to the door, placed my bag at my feet, and was back in his cart before I had even rung the bell.

  The door opened and the familiar face of Stone gazed impassively at me. ‘Welcome home, miss,’ he said. ‘May I take your bag? The family are eating breakfast. Would you care to join them, or would you like to go up to your room first?’

  ‘I think I should straighten up before joining them,’ I said. ‘Perhaps you would be so kind as to let them know I am here? Maybe in about ten minutes.’

  ‘As you wish, miss,’ said Stone.

  ‘I take Mr Bertram is still in residence?’

  ‘Indeed, Mr Stapleford and your mother have remained with us.’

  Wonderful, I thought. My mother would have plenty to say to me. Stone must have noticed my expression. As he left me outside my room, he said, ‘Might I suggest I apprise the family in twenty minutes to half an hour.’

  ‘But they will want to know who rang the bell,’ I said.

  ‘Ah,’ said Stone. ‘I do believe that I hear someone calling me from the kitchen. The new boot-boy has doubtless caused an upset again. He is remarkably clumsy. When he last broke one of Cook’s serving dishes, it took me quite some time to calm her down.’

  ‘About twenty minutes to half an hour?’ I said with a slight smile.

  ‘Exactly, miss.’

  I watched him walk away and wondered why Fitzroy had never thought of engaging a butler to work as an agent of the Crown. They appeared to have all the right qualities. I opened the door and walked softly into my room.

  It had been cleaned since the wedding, but there were still some signs of my wedding preparations. Extra blooms that I had not used in my bouquet – all the flowers having come from the gardens here – stood neatly trimmed in a tall vase.

  My suitcase, with my honeymoon clothes, sat in the centre of my made bed.

  I unpacked my small bag, leaving dirty clothes for the maid to wash and restocking it with other suitable garments. I did indeed find several rather dryly titled books. I sat them on my night stand. I had the impression from the spy it was more important for me to read these than it was for me to ensure I brought them with me when he fetched me. At the bottom I also found a small tool I did not immediately recognise. It took me a few minutes to figure out it was a button hook.8 I added only one evening dress to the bag. I doubted I would need it, but I imagined I was meant to be prepared for anything. I had the bag redone and ready to go quickly. I slid it under my bed. That I was about to disappear again was a conversation I did not wish to have as an opener. Besides, I did not know how long it would be before Fitzroy returned.

  It appeared my ewer had been filled as usual. I took off my hat and washed off the grime from the road. On the spur of the moment I decided to change into a fresh dress, more like the ones I would have worn at home. I found the buttonhook remarkably easy to use and very helpful. I appreciated Fitzroy’s practicality.

  With impeccable timing I saw Stone entering the breakfast room as I came down the final stairs. I had set one foot on the polished hallway floor when I heard a roar from the room ahead. Bertram charged through the breakfast room doors. He skidded to a halt when he saw me. I smiled and reached out my hands to him. He did not approach.

  ‘Where is he?’ he roared. ‘Where is the bounder?’

  I started back, tripping over the bottom step and sitting down hard.

  ‘Where is who?

  Bertram stalked over towards me, like a slightly portly tiger, and stopped a couple of feet in front of me. He did not offer a hand to help me up. Inside he gazed down at me, his eyes blazing. ‘The man you ran away with! That cad, Fitzroy, who else?’

  * * *

  8 No respectable lady ever owns a button hook, as she had a maid to tend to her. Most often it is ladies of the night who use such things.

  Chapter Six

  I stared back at him open-mouthed. This, I realised, must be part of my training. I had to explain to my furious fiancé that I had not run off with a spy but had left with him for some reason that did not relate to his work as an agent of the Crown. I tried to think of an explanation, but nothing came. All I could think of was how much I wanted to slap Fitzroy at that moment.

  ‘Euphemia!’ Richenda ran across the hall as fast as her diet of cake would allow. She reached down and pulled me up and into a smothering embrace. ‘I am so glad you are safe,’ she said. ‘I never thought those terrible rumours could be true.’ I surfaced with some difficulty. With more skill than I would have imagined, Richenda kept herself between me and Bertram as she guided me back towards the breakfast room.

  ‘Which rumours?’ I asked softly. I had seen Richenda’s face in the anteroom, and I had seen she thought I had killed Richard. However, I had also seen her decide within seconds to stand by her friend and protect me as much as she was able. I could feel tears pricking the back of my eyes. Despite everything – despite the fact her husband flirted with me and she thought I might have killed her twin – she seemed genuinely delighted to see me.

  ‘Nothing. Nothing. All nonsense,’ said Richenda, her arm possessively around my shoulders. ‘Your mother is still here. She will be overjoyed to see you.’ I doubted that, but with Bertram circling us like prey I felt my best chance of sorting this encounter was among others.

  We entered the breakfast room. Hans, who had been seated at the top of the table, stood and came forward at once. He took both my hands, even though I had not held them out to him. ‘I am delighted you are home,’ he said, staring intently down at me. ‘Truly I am.’ And he gave my hands an urgent squeeze. Looking into his eyes I saw the desperate hope that I would not mention to Richenda that he had offered to spirit me away to thwart justice and have me become his mistress.

  ‘Joe, go to your room,’ said my mother’s voice.

  ‘But it’s Effie. Effie’s come back!’ He escaped my mother’s lunge by diving under the table and crawling out towards me. He pushed Hans aside and hugged me. Hans stood back smiling benevolently. He moved to place both a restraining, and at the same time supportive, hand on my mother’s shoulder. He gave a small chuckle. ‘It seems I am not the only one overjoyed to see Euphemia returned to the bosom of her family.’ He threw a look at Bertram as if reminding him to behave himself in another man’s house. Or, at least, that is how I would have read the situation before. Now, I saw beneath Hans’s charm and realised his desperate, manipulative attempts to lighten the atmosphere in the room and keep the truth from his wife. All the time he kept trying to catch my eyes, trying to predict what I might do. I wondered how many times before he had deceived us. It was all so well done. I could not help remembering what Fitzroy had said about those closest to us concealing secrets. I still had no plan.

  I hugged Joe with real affection. ‘I am so pleased to see you again, Joe,’ I said.

  He leant back to look up at me. One day he would be much taller than I, but for now he was simply a little boy gazing up at his big sister. ‘Everything will be alright now,

  Effie,’ he said. ‘You’re home and we will all take care of you.’ He gave me a tighter squeeze and I burst into tears.

  I felt overwrought, so the tears came easily. At
the same time, I knew an outward sign of my distress would display more quickly what the true feelings of the others were to me.

  My mother broke away from Hans. ‘Here. Here,’ she said, fluttering her hands about. ‘Let her go, Joe. You’ll hurt her. You don’t know your own strength.’ She removed Joe with a mother’s dexterity and led me over to a chair. ‘My poor girl is overwrought. Can someone please fetch a brandy and some smelling salts?’

  ‘She’s overwrought,’ said Bertram. ‘Euphemia’s overwrought. Oh well then. We must all take care of her. No matter that she disappeared two days ago without a care for anyone else. It’s not like her fiancé had a heart condition or anything, is it? It’s not like the man who had been about to pledge his love and life to her in front of all his friends might be a little concerned at her vanishing. It’s not like his elder brother just died. Oh no, let’s all comfort Euphemia!’

  I looked up at him. My breath laboured, and within my ribcage I could feel a crushing pain. ‘But you mentioned Fitzroy. You knew where I was.’

  ‘You admit it? Good God!’ said Bertram. ‘You were somewhere with Fitzroy. Well, that makes it all fine and dandy, doesn’t it!’

  Richenda gave him an odd look. ‘He is a policeman, Bertram. I do not believe he would be involved in any kind of improper behaviour.’

  Bertram grew red in the face. His breath built up inside him, but all that he said was a very loud ‘Bah!’ Before he stormed out. As an asset, he was unable to say what Fitzroy was and also that the spy frequently engaged in the most improper behaviour. Richenda knew him only as the kind man who had arranged the rescue of her children on a previous occasion.

  ‘I presume you had to testify about your innocence or some such thing?’ said my mother.

  I nodded. Fitzroy was right. I was a terrible liar and the less I said the better it would be. Laughter bubbled inside me, but I pushed it down as I realised that the only explanation I would need would be the one my family had concocted themselves. With the exception of Bertram’s version of course. I hated my situation. I hated the fact that they had been upset, but I now understood why Fitzroy often said so little. Their own assumptions would be much more powerful than any story I might conceive of.