A Death by Arson Read online

  ‘Do you still see her?’ asked the Chief Inspector.

  ‘I have no idea where she is and, truthfully, barely remember her name. I was not exactly thinking with my brain during my youth, sir!’

  I caught Hans looking over at me to see if I was shocked. I decided to find the ceiling very interesting.

  ‘And the time you were arrested for murder?’

  ‘I was incarcerated in a kitchen cupboard for a short period of time and released when the real culprit was apprehended. If you wish for a character reference from outside this room you may approach the Earl of (here he mentioned a friend of my grandfather) for whom I butlered for a short time when his own man was indisposed, and with whom I have a standing invitation to return to his employ.’

  ‘You do? said Bertram, startled.

  ‘I do not like being played for a fool,’ said the Chief Inspector darkly.

  ‘He is connected to the telephone system, as, I believe, is this castle. You can ring him or send a telegram. I am certain he will confirm what I have said.’

  The Chief Inspector harrumphed into his moustache. Just then, his sergeant entered and he berated him, in language I will not repeat, for his tardiness.

  ‘Stewart! Ladies present!’ cried Bertram.

  The Chief Inspector appeared to notice me for the first time. ‘You should not be here,’ he said.

  ‘I am staying to chaperone Miss Ellis,’ I said, inspiration striking me so that I conveniently forgot she was Mrs Ellis.20

  The Chief Inspector made another loud and unpleasant puffing noise. Then he commanded his sergeant to take Rory aside and get a short statement from him about his whereabouts during the time around the fire, while we waited for Ellie to appear.

  By the time Ellie arrived, Rory had finished. He walked towards the door. ‘Not yet,’ said the Chief Inspector sharply. ‘I want you and Miss Ellis to have a look at this and tell me if you recognise it. It was found on the burned body in the outbuilding.’ I peered over his shoulder, struggling to make out the small object. It was a tie-pin with a horseshoe design, sooty from the fire, but a glint of gold shone through. There appeared to be a tiny diamond set at the bottom of the horseshoe. I edged in carefully, trying to see more clearly, when there was a heavy thud beside me. I turned to find that at the sight of the tie-pin Ellie had dropped into a dead faint.

  * * *

  20Of course, a married woman would not have needed a chaperone.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  A remarkable confession

  Immediately there was a commotion, as there can be only when a room full of men find themselves with a fainting female.21 The sergeant, being the most practical of the lot, removed the flowers from a vase on the mantelpiece and dashed the water in the unfortunate maid’s face. She came round coughing and spluttering. I knelt down beside her and helped her to her feet. Hans rose from the sofa and together we laid her out on it. I heard Rory mutter to Bertram, ‘That looked like the real thing.’

  Stewart grunted and huffed and swore at his sergeant. Then he turned his attention to Ellie. ‘That was an extraordinary reaction, Miss Ellis. Can you explain yourself?’

  ‘I say, Chief Inspector!’ protested Bertram.

  ‘The girl is not herself,’ said Hans.

  Rory said nothing. I waited to see how Ellie would react. She fluttered her damp lashes. Tears began to course silently down her face and her breath caught in sobs.

  ‘Miss Ellis, I must press you,’ said Stewart.

  Bertram burst out in protest again.22 Rory and I exchanged glances.

  Eventually the girl got control of herself. ‘It is nothing,’ she said. ‘I am very silly, but you did say this was found on a dead man. A man burned alive.’ She shivered. ‘You will think me superstitious, but I am a little afraid of such an unlucky object.’

  ‘More unlucky for the chap who wore it,’ muttered Rory under his breath. I sneaked a side on glance at his face. He was frowning and not looking particularly sympathetic. Rory is an excellent reader of character and I knew he had had qualms about Ellie from the start, but would a woman set a fire? It would be an easier way for her to kill than attempting to stick a knife into a man, but why would she do it? We had brought her up from England. Could she know anyone up here? I realised we knew very little about Ellie. While the men hovered uncertainly around her, I tiptoed out of the room and made my way down to the room where I knew the telephonic apparatus to be. I hated the things, but I needed to speak to Hans’ butler, Stone. With luck, I would be able to find that nice footman, Rupert, to help me.

  I returned a little time later having given Stone my instructions, which he had been somewhat reluctant to carry out. It had taken all my persuasive skills to get him to act. The scene in the room I had left had changed. Ellie was gone. Hans was absent, but now Richenda had rejoined us. But, most startling of all, Mrs Lewis stood in the middle of the room, obviously in mid-appeal to the others.

  Hans nodded at me to come into the room. The housekeeper continued.

  ‘I need your help,’ said Mrs Lewis, her craggy features as pitiful as any gargoyle’s in my late father’s church. ‘It’s true. I was here when it happened.’

  ‘Good God!’ exclaimed Bertram. ‘And Stapleford still hired you?’

  ‘Don’t be dense, man,’ said Rory, with an extreme lack of regard for his employer’s status. ‘You never told him, did you?’

  ‘No,’ said Mrs Lewis, and, to my shock, she burst into tears. ‘This accursed place,’ she said. ‘It brings nothing but unhappiness.’

  ‘You have been accused? For once,’ I said, ‘it would have been nice to attend a party without complications.’

  ‘Then you should not have come to work for my family,’ said my employer Richenda Muller. She then burped loudly, and sat down. ‘Sorry all,’ she said without a blush, ‘that just keeps happening.’ And then she did something no lady ever should do, as her nether regions echoed her previous respiratory efforts. Instead of rushing from the room in shame, Richenda laughed loudly. But then what can you expect of a woman whose best friend until her marriage was a horse?

  Rory, with the disdain of a perfect servant, did not turn a hair. Bertram, on the other hand, choked. ‘Good God!’ he exclaimed. ‘For the love of God, please Richenda, never eat haggis again.’

  ‘Please,’ I said, ‘can we be serious? If I am right we may have a lynch mob at the gates any moment.’ Rory’s handsome face went pale and Bertram, ever a martyr to his blood pressure, turned an unbecoming puce. Richenda, in alarm, again broke wind from both ends. She turned on me, demanding, ‘How on Earth do you keep being dragged into situations like this, Euphemia!’

  As she is my employer, I could not retort that in fact, this time, the cause of our situation could be laid at her husband’s door. Bertram voiced my thoughts. ‘If it hadn’t been for your husband’s insistence, I would have been quite happy in spending New Year in my own home, waterlogged though it may be!’

  ‘And miss your brother’s wedding?’ asked Rory, surprised.

  Bertram did not bother to speak. The look he gave Rory spoke volumes. ‘Aye, well, I guess yous are not close,’ commented Rory, slipping slightly into Scotch as he tends to do under stressful circumstances.

  ‘For the sake of expediency,’ I said, cutting through the chatter, ‘can you please confirm, on your honour, Mrs Lewis, that you did not set this fire?’

  ‘I did not,’ said Mrs Lewis in a composed manner.

  ‘And the previous fire under the last Laird’s ownership?’

  ‘I do not see how that is relevant,’ said Mrs Lewis.

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Rory. ‘You did set that one?’

  ‘I have no comment to make on the subject,’ said the housekeeper, sitting very straight in her chair.

  Richenda cocked her head to one side. ‘Oh, I know this game. Richard used to make me do this when I was little.’ She turned to look at Bertram. ‘He must have tried it on you too, Bertie. You know he’d have done some
thing naughty, like broken a vase or killed one of the house dogs…’

  ‘Killed a dog!’ I interjected, surprised.

  ‘Oh, he killed two – at least, I think,’ said Richenda blithely. ‘He said it was an accident, but now – well, you have to wonder.’

  ‘Sounds like the man was always a monster,’ said Rory.

  ‘Yes, never mind that,’ said the single-minded Richenda. ‘We are talking about Mrs Lewis.’

  ‘I thought you were talking about Richard,’ said Bertram, bemused. ‘Has she killed a dog too? Only I am rather fond of dogs and I wouldn’t want…’

  ‘Shut up, Bertie,’ said Richenda. ‘She hasn’t killed any animals except the odd chicken.’

  ‘Chickens are quite sweet really,’ said Bertram.

  ‘Yes,’ said Richenda pointedly. ‘Especially in stew.’

  ‘Oh, I see what you mean,’ said Bertram, ‘but you said…’

  I felt like covering my ears to block out their bickering. I could feel a blistering rebuke building inside me when Richenda continued, ‘I was trying to say that when Richard did not want to take the blame for something, he used to persuade me to refuse to say I hadn’t done it.’

  ‘How did he pay you?’ asked Bertram. ‘In cake?’

  ‘Cake at first. Later, threats,’ said Richenda darkly, ‘but you see my point. Mrs Lewis is protecting someone.’

  I spent a moment joining up the mental dots only to realise that, despite her seemingly inane chatter, Richenda had provided a worthy insight. Especially as I perceived that Mrs Lewis had begun to redden. Even more strange was that Rory had moved silently to the back of the room and appeared to be sidling towards the exit. Rory has made the study of butlering his whole world for several years and has nigh on perfected the butler’s silent glide, despite his tall frame, but someone who is ever conscious of his presence cannot slip away quite so easily as he might do with the master of the house. ‘Rory,’ I said sharply. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘If Mr Bertram is going to attend dinner tonight, it is time for me to draw his bath.’

  ‘I think we have more important matters on our minds than Bertie’s bath,’ said Richenda.

  ‘Indeed,’ I echoed. ‘One might almost think this discussion of baths was a smoke-screen.’ I admit it was an unfortunate turn of phrase, but I was distracted.

  ‘Could you please stop talking about my bath as if I am a toddler?’ exclaimed Bertram. ‘I am still in the room and I do not require a bath!’

  ‘Forgive my saying so, sir. But it is vitally important to bathe before dining.’

  ‘I don’t see Richie’s or Euphemia’s maids here bleating about baths,’ said Bertram. ‘Or are you suggesting I am particularly grubby!’

  ‘I am suggesting that your valet-butler is attempting to leave the room before Mrs Lewis is forced into admitting who she is protecting.’

  Mrs Lewis’ lips set in a grim line.

  Rory’s shoulders sagged. ‘You might as well admit it, Mrs Lewis,’ he said. ‘I gave my word I would not tell on you, but it seems to me like they already know.’

  Mrs Lewis gave a huge sigh. Then she said, ‘Yes, I set the fire.’

  * * *

  21As this appears to be a frequent occurrence in drawing rooms, one might have assumed they would, by now, have worked out what to do. But no. The sight of one fainting woman and the males of our species appear to lose their wits.

  22He is forever taking the side of what he perceives as vulnerable females. It is most annoying and frequently lands him in more hot water than he can handle!

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Richenda’s rare insight

  ‘This one or the original?’ asked Bertram with remarkable calm.

  ‘The original one,’ said Mrs Lewis. ‘You have my word I have nothing to do with the more recent conflagration.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Bertram.

  ‘I prefer not to say,’ said Mrs Lewis.

  ‘I don’t believe her,’ said Richenda. ‘I still say she’s covering for someone.’

  Rory shook his head. ‘Leave it, Richenda. She did it. I have information from a reliable source.’

  ‘A source?’ asked Bertram. ‘Who?’

  ‘I am not at liberty to say, sir.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Richenda. ‘You don’t know the people up here anymore than we do. Unless you have recently become involved with someone – and even if you had, why should she know about Mrs Lewis? Were you seen?’ She directed the last half of her query at the beleaguered housekeeper.

  ‘No, I was not.’

  ‘You are very sure about that?’ I said.

  Mrs Lewis inclined her head.

  ‘And yet, Rory has met someone who knows you started that fire all those years ago. I don’t believe you have left the castle, except to go to the garage, since we have been here, Rory, and you would hardly be dallying with a woman old enough to remember the fire, so…’

  ‘Leave it, Euphemia,’ said Rory roughly.

  ‘I am right!’ cried Richenda triumphantly. ‘Don’t you see – neither of them did it!’ We all looked at her blankly. ‘Oh come on!’ said Richenda. ‘You’re meant to be the brainy ones. Bertram, you remember when you were seven and you broke Mama’s pink vase? And Richard and I got the blame?’

  Bertram stuck a finger under his collar and tugged. ‘Ah, yes, shouldn’t have done that. Wasn’t cricket.’

  ‘Richard was even more beastly to me than usual for weeks, because he thought I’d done it and I thought he’d done it. It was ages before we worked it out.’

  ‘That was why you cut up Bumble!’

  ‘Who the hel – heck is Bumble?’ said Rory.

  ‘My teddy bear,’ said Bertram. ‘Or he was. Do you mean Mrs Lewis had been duped?’

  ‘Finally,’ said Richenda, giving a little whoop. ‘She is protecting someone she thinks did it, but from what Rory says, whoever is his source thinks Mrs Lewis herself did it!’

  ‘So?’ said Bertram.

  ‘Neither of them did it,’ I said.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Richenda.

  ‘But who is your source, Rory?’

  ‘It can only be whoever Mrs Lewis is trying to protect,’ said Richenda.

  Mrs Lewis turned pure white and grasped at her throat. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No, he died.’ And then she slid from her chair in a dead faint.

  ‘Her husband,’ said Bertram.

  ‘Aye,’ said Rory. ‘Give me a hand to get her back on her seat, man! I’ve had my fill of fainting women today.’

  ‘But how do you know him?’ asked Richenda. ‘Is he a relative?’

  ‘Not all Scots are related,’ said Rory sourly.

  ‘Oh, good heavens,’ I said, making a startling leap. ‘It cannot be the tramp? The man the Highlanders thought was a German spy?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ snapped Richenda. ‘I thought I’d made a breakthrough and now you’re spouting nonsense about Germans. If you are about to accuse my Hans –’

  ‘No,’ said Rory. ‘When Euphemia and I were up in the Highlands minding the Stapleford Lodge staff for Bertram, you remember?’

  ‘Someone drowned in a loch?’

  ‘Yes, but that’s not the important bit,’ I said. Bertram gave me a rather shocked look. ‘There was a man the locals kept seeing – well, not seeing, but seeing evidence of. They made up quite a lot of stories about him and we did think for a while –’ I caught Bertram’s eye. ‘Yes, well never mind that. Rory came and told me one evening that we didn’t need to worry about who or what he was. That was because you had met him, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Her husband,’ said Richenda in a revelatory voice.

  ‘I said that,’ said Bertram, sounding irked.

  ‘Aye, he was the butler here at the time of the fire. He thought she had set the fire, by accident mind – and she obviously thought he had done it.’

  ‘But why …’ I began.

  ‘He’s even more disfigured than she is,
Euphemia,’ said Rory. ‘He wanted her to remember him the way he was, so he let her believe him dead. He was in hospital for a long time; sent far away to get his burns treated, unconscious. There was so much going on that night that when he woke up they had to ask him his name. He realised he was far away from the castle, so he gave them a false name. But years later, when he heard she was working for the Staplefords, he couldn’t resist trying to take a peek at her. Still loved her, o’ course. But he thought he was protecting her. Only she never came up to the lodge. It was I who found him.’

  ‘And you never said a word?’ asked Bertram.

  ‘It wasnae relevant to anything we were doing and, besides, the man had his pride.’

  ‘It’s not like she’s much of a looker herself,’ said Richenda. ‘Was it the fire that made her that way?’

  ‘Aye, and him too,’ said Rory, ‘carrying her out of the burning building.’

  ‘That’s tragically romantic,’ I said.

  ‘It also means that neither of them were reasonable, then or now,’ said Bertram.

  Mrs Lewis stirred. ‘My bath,’ said Bertram.

  ‘Indeed sir,’ said Rory and both men bailed on us, leaving us to explain to the now-conscious Mrs Lewis that not only was her husband not dead, but neither was he an arsonist.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Richenda does it again

  After dinner, during which I pettily refused to pass Bertram the bread rolls, no matter how many times he looked mournfully at me, Richenda, Bertram and I adjourned to our favourite small sitting room. This time Hans accompanied us. Mrs Lewis was, of course, needed below stairs. It transpired that although the Chief Inspector had told her not to leave the castle, he had yet to actually arrest her.

  ‘The man is clearly throwing out accusations left and right to try and stir us all up,’ said Rory.

  ‘And darling Richard has been helping him along,’ said Richenda. ‘Euphemia, it is safe for Amy to be with Ellie, isn’t it?’