A Death in the Highlands Page 10

  There was a tap on my door and Merry poked her head round. ‘Euphemia …’

  ‘Merry, come in. I need to ask you something.’

  Merry’s eyes widened in her freckled face, but she entered and closed the door softly behind her.

  ‘I need your help,’ I said bluntly. ‘I don’t believe Rory McLeod is guilty and I intend to prove it.’

  Whatever reaction I might have anticipated to my announcement tears did not come uppermost in my expectations. I was astonished when Merry collapsed weeping to the ground. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she gasped between sobs. ‘It’s all my fault.’

  I went over and helped her to a chair. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. It can’t possibly be your fault, Merry. Unless you’re trying to tell me you killed Mr Smith yourself.’

  ‘I did as good as. It was me what gave him the wrong cartridges. That’s why his gun blew up, isn’t it? That’s what Willie said. He had the wrong stuff and it’s my fault.’ Merry began to wail.

  I had prior experience of Merry’s wailing. If I were being unkind, I might say it is one of her most notable skills. It is certainly not something to which anyone would ever wish to be subjected. I slapped her smartly around the face. This brought the noise to an abrupt end.

  ‘You had better explain exactly what you mean,’ I said. ‘This is a most serious situation.’

  ‘They’ll hang me for sure,’ said Merry. She inhaled deeply as if in preparation for another noisy exhalation.

  ‘The next time I slap you it will be much harder.’

  Merry stopped short.

  ‘Explain yourself.’

  Merry gulped. ‘Do you remember the morning of the shoot I was up a long time before you?’ she said in a tiny voice.

  I nodded.

  ‘I was meeting someone. I’d got speaking to one of the local lads and ’e reckoned how the morning light’s real special up here. He offered to show me.’

  ‘Oh, Merry!’

  ‘Oh, no! It ain’t nothing like that. He really did take me and show me a view.’

  My ears were quick to detect a note of regret. ‘And he asked you to add something to Mr Smith’s bag?’

  ‘Jamie! No, never! He’s got nothing to do with this.’

  ‘Then why mention him?’ I asked exasperated.

  ‘’Cos I was tired, like, from getting up so early. I knew I’d let you down the other day – so, even though I felt like sneaking off for a kip, I reckoned the least I could do was get an early start of them bags and stuff that were going up for the shoot. I were sorting ’em all out into the right piles when Susan turned up. She said I’d got everything in a right guddle – whatever that is – and she tried to help me put ’em straight, but I must have got ’em too wrong. I must have given Mr Smith the wrong bag and that’s how he got the wrong cartridges for ’is gun.’ Merry inhaled.

  I put up my hand. ‘You were sorting cartridges?’

  ‘Nah, we were putting all the gentlemen’s stuff together like the notes Mr McLeod had left out. Flask of tea for Mr Smith. Flask of whisky for Lord Richard. Hand-warmers for Mr McGillvary. Putting all their stuff together, shooting sticks, all that kind of thing. Mr McLeod’s idea was that each of their stuff be loaded into a separate wicker basket so it was easy to sort out the other end and get on with the shooting straight off.’ She raised her tearstained face to me. ‘I killed him. Sure as if I’d shot him myself.’

  ‘No, wait a minute, Merry. You sorted the bags into the different baskets.’

  ‘Yeah, I must have mixed ’em up.’

  ‘But you didn’t touch any of the cartridges?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I heard Mr Edward ask Mr Bertram about that. He said the cartridges Mr Smith got shouldn’t have been on the premises at all. Mr Bertram said they must have been the ones meant for his sister, if she’d come.’

  ‘But there weren’t no basket for her. She’s not here.’

  ‘Don’t you see, Merry? All the men were using the same cartridge size. Mr Smith’s gun was no different in size to the others.’

  ‘You mean someone deliberately put them in poor Mr Smith’s bag to kill him?’ asked Merry shocked.

  ‘But you’re not sure you gave Mr Smith the right bag, are you?’

  ‘Oh, gawd! You mean, I might have helped kill the wrong man!’

  ‘Merry, you didn’t kill anyone. Whoever put those cartridges in a bag certainly intended to kill someone. It’s not your fault. You didn’t mean any harm. You didn’t know.’

  ‘But they might have meant to kill someone different.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ I said cautiously.

  ‘Well, I sure as ’ell wish they’d ended up in Lord Richard’s bag rather than that nice Mr Smith.’

  ‘Merry! That’s a terrible thing to say.’

  ‘All I’m saying is, if one of them had to die, I’d rather it had been ’im.’

  I sat down. ‘I need to think. This could change everything. If the murderer didn’t kill the person he meant to,’ I stopped. ‘Did you say Susan was helping you?’

  ‘Yeah. She can be a bit stuck up, but she was right helpful that morning.’

  ‘Hmm,’ I said. ‘As helpful as when she forgot to wipe the beeswax on the stairs when she thought Lord Richard was about to come down.’

  ‘You don’t mean she’s the murderer,’ whispered Merry in thrilled accents. ‘How terrible.’ Her eyes glowed with excitement.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said sternly. ‘I don’t want you repeating any of this until we can find out the truth.’

  ‘Mum’s the word,’ said Merry her eyes as big as dinner plates. ‘What are you doing to do?’

  ‘Susan said how Lord Richard had turned people out of their cottages, but she didn’t explain what happened to her.’

  ‘I reckon Jamie would know,’ said Merry eagerly.

  I smiled. ‘That’s what I thought. Can you ask him discreetly?’

  ‘’Course I can. He’s a nice lad, even if he is a one for views.’

  ‘Merry, I thought you had family in the country. I thought you grew up in the country?’

  ‘Nah, I was one too many for me Ma. I was sent off to an aunt in the city. Stapleford Hall’s the only country I’ve ever known – and it doesn’t exactly give you a taste for it, if you see what I mean.’

  I did, but it was more urgent that I got on with the business of the day. So I made Merry dry her face, compelled her to secrecy and sent her on her way. I had been away far longer than I intended. When I arrived back at the kitchen there were a hundred and one tasks to oversee. I could almost understand why Mrs Wilson, on occasion, took to the bottle. If I never see another cheeky delivery boy, it will be too soon. The isolation of the lodge gave us little choice in the matter of milk, egg and even bread suppliers – Jock, perversely refused to make bread. What with this and the current absence of a front drive, which he would not have been allowed to use anyway, seemed to make the local boy think he was entitled to a handsome gratuity, simply for doing his job.

  However annoying this and the overseeing of the domestic chores were, the low point of my morning came when Willie brought me the news that I was required to serve at luncheon. I pointed out that this was not in the normal role of a housekeeper and Willie reminded me that, in the informality of the lodge, Rory had waited on some meals.

  ‘Can’t you manage on your own?’ I asked him.

  ‘If you excuse my saying so, miss, they is difficult gentlemen.’

  I sighed, tacitly acknowledging the truth of this. ‘Well, get another of the Stapleford men to help you.’

  ‘There isn’t another who’s trained at table service, miss.’

  ‘Well, these are extraordinary circumstances. I’m sure the gentlemen will understand.’

  ‘They’re all too scared,’ confessed Willie.

  It took me a moment to understand he was referring to the staff and not the guests.

  ‘I’m not too keen myself,’ said Willie. ‘If there were anyone else. But I don’t w
ant to let you down, miss.’ Normally the sight of a six-foot-tall footman swallowing manfully would have made me giggle, but I sensed Willie was truly full of trepidation.

  It occurred to me at this moment that, with Rory’s incarceration, domestic details were the least of my worries. I really should have foreseen the crisis of morale that was obviously rampant. ‘How foolish,’ I said. ‘Of course I will serve.’ My father would have been proud at my decision to lead from the front.

  It had also occurred to me that I might overhear something of interest.

  I realised how greatly I had been mistaken when I entered with the soup tureen. Both my hands were occupied with holding the dish and Willie was serving. When we left the kitchen it had seemed the better plan as I had no experience of pouring soup onto the plates from standing and I was uncertain of hitting my target. However, I quickly saw how Tipton’s gaze was following me in a most ungentlemanly manner. His surveyed me from my head to my heels in such a way as I found myself blushing furiously. I also had no hands to defend myself. I angled my body as far away from him as possible as Willie served him, so I was quite unprepared when I received a hearty smack on my posterior from Mr Muller.

  I think it is not unsurprising that I squealed and dropped the tureen. The gentlemen broke into laughter. All except Mr Bertram, who remonstrated with Mr Muller in the most ungentlemanly language, but so strongly on my behalf that I could not but be grateful.

  ‘Oh come on, Bertie,’ said Lord Richard. ‘No maid ever objected to a bit of slap and tickle.’

  ‘She’s not a maid. Euphemia is your housekeeper,’ said Bertram in strangled accents as he attempted to rein in his temper.

  ‘Still not entirely sure she’s only working for me,’ said Lord Richard nodding at Bertram and winking at the others.

  ‘Dickie, that is unconscionable and uncalled for,’ said Bertram.

  ‘Who’d have thought it would be little Bertie who’d turn out to be the ladies’ man,’ said McGillvary. ‘When we were all at school he was the shyest of the lot of us.’

  ‘I am not,’ began Bertram hotly.

  ‘But fie on you, Muller! You were our head boy! You should be setting a dashed sight better example to us younger ones,’ shouted McGillvary, laughing at some old joke.

  ‘Thought I was setting the right damned example,’ said Muller. I noticed now his face was flushed with wine.

  Lord Richard shouted with laughter.

  ‘But I didn’t get any soup,’ complained Tipton. ‘It’s all over the floor.’

  There was more laughter.

  ‘Perhaps, gentlemen, in the spirit of eating rather than spilling luncheon, we might leave assailing the staff until later,’ said Mr Fitzroy. ‘I have brought an appetite to the table.’

  ‘So have I!’ cried Muller and they all laughed again.

  I took this as my cue to exit. As far as I was concerned they would have to deal with the necessarily slower service Willie alone could offer them.

  After lunch the men decided to go out. I have no idea where they were going and at this point I had no interest in seeing any of them save Mr Bertram again. However, Mother and Little Joe were counting on me so, once I was assured by Willie that they really had left, I went upstairs to see what could be done about the soup stain on the carpet. I was kneeling on the floor in a most vulnerable position when I heard the door behind me open.

  ‘You do put yourself in these awkward situations, don’t you?’ said Mr Fitzroy.

  I sprang up and turned angrily upon him. I had not forgotten that he had laughed at my distress earlier. ‘I don’t know what you mean by that, sir,’ I said through gritted teeth.

  ‘For an intelligent girl, you certainly do and say the most foolish things,’ said Fitzroy helping himself to a cigar from the sideboard. ‘If I had been one of the others …’

  ‘I made sure the guests had gone out before I came upstairs,’ I said.

  ‘But I hadn’t.’

  ‘These precautions should not be necessary in a gentleman’s house!’ I cried.

  Mr Fitzroy took an implement from his pocket and punctured his cigar. ‘There is a difference,’ he said mildly, ‘between those born into the ranks and those whose parents got them there with finance. I don’t believe you will find an honourable saying over the Stapleford hearth.’

  ‘All those men went to school together,’ I said, ‘and now they are powerful and rich – and doesn’t that strike you as a strange coincidence?’

  Fitzroy threw back his head and laughed. ‘Oh, Euphemia, in some ways you are so sharp and in others so extremely naive. That, my dear, is how the world works.’

  ‘Well, it shouldn’t,’ I said.

  ‘I will tell you this. In my experience, the key to a situation lies with the true character and background of all those involved. What do you know of Mr Smith?’

  ‘Very little.’

  ‘Is there no one you could ask?’

  ‘No one who would talk to me,’ I said bitterly.

  ‘Ah, that is a shame.’

  ‘Locking Rory up as a communist is ridiculous! It makes no sense.’

  ‘It seems to me there are all too many communists abroad in this country when you are involved.’

  I blanched. ‘Are you accusing me of being a Bolshevik?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be the first, would I, Miss St John? Or should I say Miss Martins? Daughter of the late Rev Joshia Martins of Sweetfield Parish and granddaughter of–’

  At this juncture I fled from the room fearing all was discovered.

  Chapter Seven

  Local Suspicion

  I was packing in our bedchamber when Merry burst into the room. ‘I ’ave news,’ she said dramatically.

  ‘You will have to tell it to Mr Bertram,’ I said shutting my case. ‘I don’t work here any more.’

  ‘What?’ screeched Merry. ‘You can’t! You can’t leave me ’ere alone with this lot!’

  I began checking through the chest of drawers to ensure I hadn’t left any of my meagre possessions behind. ‘I have to,’ I said in a thick voice.

  ‘What’s he done? Who’s done it? I’ll kill ’im!’

  ‘I can’t explain,’ I said finding the bottom of an empty drawer suddenly very interesting. I felt Merry’s arm go round my shoulders. ‘You can tell me,’ she said. ‘I know how we’ve had our differences from time to time, but we’re the same, you and I. Us against this lot.’

  I was much moved by Merry’s speech, but there was no way I could in honesty answer it. ‘What did you find out?’ I asked, hoping to divert her.

  ‘Well,’ said Merry breathlessly, ‘you know how Lord Richard heaved a lot of the estate tenants out of their cottages? Turns out one of them was Susan’s father.’

  ‘That’s very sad, but it doesn’t give her a motive more than any of the others he dispossessed.’

  ‘But he died!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He ’ad an ’eart attack and died. Susan blames Lord Richard for it.’

  ‘That’s terrible.’

  ‘He’s a mean old sod at the best of times, but turfing old folks out? I wouldn’t have blamed ’er if she’d murdered ’im. Just a pity she got Mr Smith by mistake.’

  ‘Merry, we don’t know that.’

  ‘There’s more.’

  I waited. ‘What is it?’

  Merry shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Jamie got called away. I can try and catch him later. Only if you want, that is.’ Merry tried to look demure and failed.

  ‘You’ll have to tell this all to Mr Bertram,’ I said.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Merry. ‘I can’t talk to one of them. That’s what you do.’

  ‘But I’m leaving!’

  ‘You’re going to leave an innocent man to hang?’

  ‘No, but you can tell them.’

  ‘I’m not the one Mr Bertram listens to.’

  ‘Try Mr Fitzroy or one of the others then.’

  ‘Euphemia, they don’t listen to maids. That lot never
do. For some reason you can make them pay attention to you, but you’re odd. No one will pay any attention to me.’

  My heart sank. I knew she was right. ‘I’ll speak to someone before I go,’ I said quietly.

  ‘Just mind it’s someone with sense,’ said Merry. ‘Maybe they’ll be able to talk some into you.’

  There seemed no reason to extend my time under this roof, so I gently suggested Merry should go about her tasks and made my way downstairs in the hope of finding Mr Bertram. However, the other gentlemen had not returned, and it was Mr Fitzroy I found at his ease reading a paper in front of the fire in the first floor library.

  At my entrance he peeled down a corner of the paper and regarded me. ‘Were you looking for me?’

  ‘I have further information that may have a bearing on the murder case,’ I said. ‘I have evidence that points in quite another direction from Mr McLeod.’

  ‘Then you should tell Mr Edward. I believe he will be here this evening. It’s his department.’

  ‘I shall be leaving shortly. Your knowledge of my identity makes it impossible for me to remain,’ I said stiffly.

  ‘Now, don’t be petulant, Euphemia. I haven’t told anyone,’ said Mr Fitzroy. ‘Nor do I have any intention of so doing.’

  ‘Then why? How?’

  Mr Fitzroy folded his paper. ‘Would you say your secret detrimentally affects the Staplefords?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘I also have a secret, which I believe you have begun to suspect. My secret also does not detrimentally affect the Staplefords.’

  ‘A stand-off,’ I said, swallowing. ‘You have it in your power to blackmail me.’ I am sure the disgust I felt showed on my face.

  Mr Fitzroy smiled. ‘It really is quite a delight to come across someone with such quick wits. It is so rare among the upper classes. From your face I can tell you think I am no gentleman and you are quite correct. However, I play fair,’ the smile broadened, ‘for the most part. For what it is worth I would much rather you had been no more than a devilishly quick-witted maid. Your status and in particular your relations tie my hands in dealing with you.’