A Death by Arson Page 2

  ‘Thought you needed these,’ said Bertram, sinking down onto one of the overstuffed chairs Richenda favoured in her boudoir.

  ‘Feathers?’

  ‘Mama used to have them burnt when she fainted.’

  ‘Your mother never fainted in her life,’ said Richenda. ‘She was a formidable actress.’

  Rather than taking offence, Bertram smiled at her. ‘Well, you seem to have gone one better for once, Rich.’

  Rory entered with a glass of brandy on a tray. ‘Give it to him,’ said Richenda, nodding at Bertram. ‘He needs it more than me.’

  Rory placed the tray on a table and took over from my unsuccessful attempts to loosen Bertram’s cravat. There was an expression of concern on his face. I was close enough to hear him say, ‘Again, sir?’

  ‘No,’ said Bertram softly. ‘Just a little dizzy. All the fuss.’

  Rory stood and addressed Richenda. ‘Might I suggest, ma’am, that Mr Stapleford is also seen by the doctor.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, looking Bertram over. ‘Might be an idea to go and hurry him up a bit. You can drive, can’t you, McLeod?’

  Rory nodded briskly and left the room. I passed the brandy to Bertram, though by now I rather fancied it myself.

  ‘What is up with you?’ Bertram demanded of his sister.

  ‘I could ask you the same thing!’

  ‘I asked first,’ said Bertram.

  Richenda’s face reddened. ‘I think perhaps,’ I interrupted quickly, ‘it might be best if we wait for the doctor to determine your respective ailments. I am sure in the first instance he would advise rest.’

  ‘If I go to my room,’ said Bertram, as ever accurately following my line of thinking, ‘McLeod will fuss over me like a damned mother hen.’

  Richenda gave a little chuckle. ‘That I would like to see,’ she said.

  ‘Well, Bertram, you can hardly stay here while the doctor examines Richenda,’ I said. ‘You could wait in the smoking room, if you think you could manage the stairs.’

  ‘I’m not a ruddy invalid,’ said Bertram, rising. ‘Send him to me when she’s done with him.’ He stalked out of the room.

  ‘He is, you know,’ said Richenda when he was gone. ‘A ruddy invalid. That heart condition of his seems to be getting worse and worse.’

  ‘It’s strange,’ I said, ‘there have been times in the last few months when I have seen Bertram endure extreme circumstances and nothing untoward has occurred.’

  ‘Perhaps the thought of losing another member of the family in such a short space of time was a bit too affecting. Though personally I’m quite grateful for the thinning of the pack. If only Richard had the condition instead of Bertram.’

  My father would have been shocked, but there was a part of me that could not help echoing her sentiments, so I kept my peace. I sat down on a chair. ‘Perhaps it’s because he’s getting fatter,’ said Richenda abruptly. ‘He was never much of a horseman and I can’t imagine that horse-riding is the sport of choice around his estate, among all those marshes.’

  ‘I had noticed his collar looked a little tighter,’ I said. ‘Perhaps he could take up bicycling?’

  Richenda and I looked at one another as the image of Bertram on a bicycle flashed through our minds. Then we both burst out laughing. Richenda laughed so much she began to hiccup. Tears rolled down my face.

  The door opened and a man I had never seen before entered carrying a black doctor’s bag. He must have been in his early thirties and he was astonishingly handsome. He had the fine chiselled features of a silent movie star and wide, soft brown eyes. ‘Mrs Muller?’ he said, addressing Richenda, ‘I am Dr Glover. I have recently taken over the local practice. I believe you are recovering from a fainting fit, which your husband assures me is quite out of character.’ His voice was a pleasant baritone and as soothing as any patient could hope for.

  Richenda blushed scarlet. ‘Indeed, Doctor. I believe I know the cause …’ She glanced over at me. ‘Euphemia, if you would please leave me with the doctor.’

  Dr Glover raised an eyebrow in surprise and even I felt a little twinge of attraction. ‘It would be normal to have another lady present,’ he said.

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Richenda firmly.

  ‘Perhaps you might wait outside, Miss…?’

  ‘St John,’ I supplied.

  ‘Well, perhaps you might wait outside, Miss St John; in case Mrs Muller decides she does require your presence.’

  ‘Of course, Doctor,’ I said. I was not entirely sure of the proprieties of the situation. If Dr Glover had been, as he should have been, a man in his mid-fifties with a walrus moustache, I would have had no qualms about leaving her. But I thought Dr Glover was quite a different matter, and I suspected Hans might feel the same.

  I had expected to find Hans pacing up and down the corridor outside, but I had reckoned without the English gentleman’s fear of ladies’ indispositions. There was no sign of him. Presumably, he was relying on me to send for him the moment he was required.

  While I did not exactly press my ear to the door – even I would not stoop that low, unless King and Country required – I confess I did strain my ears, but all I heard was the low murmur of voices and at one point the outrageous sound of a giggle from Richenda. Regardless of my orders I was about to step inside the room, when Dr Glover opened the door.

  ‘Come in,’ he said. ‘Mrs Muller has something to tell you.’

  Richenda was sitting propped up on the daybed, a cushion under her ankles and a huge smile plastered across her face. She waited until Dr Glover had closed the door and then she announced, ‘Congratulate me, Euphemia. I am pregnant!’

  Chapter Three

  Uninvited interruptions

  I opened my mouth to answer this unexpected declaration when there was a long, loud ring at the front door downstairs. Whoever was ringing the bell was not a model of patience, because I had barely regrouped my thoughts before the bell rang again. This time the sound lasted even longer.

  ‘I had better find Stone,’ I said.5

  Richenda sat up in alarm. Her face paled immediately. She whispered urgently, ‘You mustn’t tell anybody!’ and sank back down onto her cushions with, I felt, a touch too much melodrama.

  ‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘You will want to break the news to Hans yourself.’ Richenda appeared to be on the point of saying more, but the doorbell rang again and I hurried off to find Stone.

  He was standing in the doorway of the smoking room looking as torn and indecisive as it is possible for a man of his stoic disposition to appear. ‘The door, Stone!’ I said.

  Stone looked behind him. I peered past and saw Bertram reclining on a sofa, his cravat still loosened and his feet on a stool. Stone appeared to be in the midst of some internal struggle. Finally he said, ‘Have you seen Mr McLeod, ma’am?’

  ‘No, but he would hardly take it upon himself to open the door of Mr Muller’s house.’

  Stone’s eyes swivelled until they were almost at the back of his head. I sighed. ‘I will stand guard,’ I said. ‘Now please get the door before the caller wears out both the bell and my patience.’

  I never speak harshly to Stone. He is an exemplary servant, so the words were barely out of my mouth before I regretted them. However, Stone’s highly polished, squeakless shoes had already glided off down the hall to attend to his duty.

  Bertram looked around and saw me. ‘Got rid of my watchdog, have you?’ he said with a smile. ‘I’m not sure if he was protecting me from further ailment or if he feared McLeod would return to finish what he started.’

  ‘Rory started?’ I asked confused. I came over and moved his footstool to a slightly more comfortable position.

  ‘It seems we have become notorious in this household for our tiffs. Stone assumed my indisposition was McLeod’s fault.’

  ‘And you did not correct him.’

  ‘Well, he did not actually say as much,’ admitted Bertram, ‘and to be honest I did not want Hans
and McLeod bringing whatever argument is currently between them in here. I have a devil of a headache.’

  ‘What did the doctor say?’

  ‘The usual. Rest. No alarms or excitement. No red meat.’

  ‘That bit is new.’

  ‘Yes – new man, new-fangled ideas.’

  ‘Well, if it helps,’ I said.

  ‘Good God, Euphemia, you can’t expect a man to live without his steak!’ He leaned forward. ‘Tell me, what’s up with Richenda? It’s not her heart too, is it? She has been putting on weight recently. I haven’t dared to say anything, but it cannot be good for her health. I heard her positively panting as she climbed the stairs yesterday. You need to speak to her about it. Either that or ban your cook from making cakes.’

  ‘Should I do so, I believe it would be my life that would be foreshortened,’ I said seriously.

  Bertram laughed. ‘I take it if you can joke, then Richenda is in no serious danger.’

  ‘No, she is not, but I believe she will tell you the whole story herself.’

  Bertram looked most alarmed. ‘I say, there is no need to go that far! A woman’s body and all that…’

  Considering the group who now appeared at the doorway to the smoking room, this was a most unfortunate ejaculation of Bertram’s. Stone had returned, bringing with him a woman I judged to be in her mid-thirties and a slightly older man. The two bore a strong resemblance to each other, but while the woman wore a discreet and tidy dark dress, the man wore a loudly checked suit, a flat cap and an eye-wateringly coloured waistcoat.

  ‘I don’t rightly know if I can leave you here, Susie, if this is the kind of treatment you will be exposed to,’ said the man in an aggressive tone.

  ‘Mrs Ellis and her brother, Mr Brown,’ intoned Stone. ‘Mrs Ellis is to be the new nursery maid.’

  This speech confused me. Was it now the custom for one to refer to a nursery maid as Mrs, as it was with a housekeeper? Or was Hans also to employ her husband? In which case, who was Mr Brown?

  ‘Hang on there,’ interrupted the man. ‘I’m not liking what I’m hearing. Who are you?’ he demanded of me.

  ‘I am Bertram Stapleford,’ said Bertram rising to his feet. ‘Brother-in-law to the owner of the estate, Mr Hans Muller.’

  ‘Yeah, but who is she?’ demanded Mr Brown, gesturing at me.

  Bertram flushed slightly. ‘Take them to Mr Muller’s study, Stone,’ he said.

  ‘I tried to, sir, but it seems Mr Muller is occupied with Mrs Muller.’

  ‘So that’s what you call it around here, is it?’ said Mr Brown rudely. ‘Come on, me girl. We’re out of here.’

  ‘I shall be delighted to show you the door,’ said Stone in a voice admirably devoid of sarcasm.

  ‘Oh, Henry, hush,’ said Mrs Ellis. She came forward into the room towards me. ‘I do beg my brother’s pardon. I had an unfortunate experience at my last situation and he is being over-protective. I am Susie Ellis, a widow, and I am most eager to secure this appointment.’

  Bertram offered Susie his hand. ‘A pleasure,’ he said. ‘But neither myself nor Miss St John here can confirm your appointment. You had really better wait in Mr Muller’s study.’

  ‘I don’t know that I like the idea of my sister waiting on a man in his room,’ said the objectionable Mr Brown.

  ‘I can assure you that Mr Muller is the model of propriety,’ I said acerbically. ‘This is a well-run and moral household. It is also unnecessary to ring the doorbell for such an extended period of time.’

  ‘I told you we should have used the trade door,’ said Susie, colouring in embarrassment. ‘I am so sorry for disturbing you, ma’am.’

  ‘I assume your brother is not also looking for work?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh no, ma’am. He’s in trade. Runs his own grocery shop, he does.’

  ‘In that case might I suggest, Stone, that you take Mr Brown below stairs, where he will doubtless be more comfortable, and offer him some ale. I will escort his sister to see Mr Muller and remain with her during the interview. I assume this will relieve your worries, Mr Brown? Afterwards, I will bring your sister to you to say farewell, if Mr Muller sees fit to offer her the position. I assume you have an appointment?’

  ‘Well … no,’ said Susie. ‘I saw the advertisement in The Lady, just before Christmas. I did write, but when I received no reply, what with us being so near and Henry having his van, I thought we could come down and enquire.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Bertram, his eyebrows rising almost into his hairline. ‘In that case I am unsure whether Mr Muller will see you at all. Perhaps you might enquire, Stone?’

  ‘I will go up and see them,’ I interrupted. ‘Mrs Muller has been taken ill and her husband is attending her.’

  ‘Is it typhoid?’ demanded Mr Brown.

  ‘It is a mild indisposition,’ I said coldly.

  I left Stone and Bertram to deal with this extremely odd couple. It was true that we were in dire need of a nursery maid now that Hans had forbidden Merry to go near Amy, and with Richenda pregnant and subject to fainting fits we would be much overstretched. Still, my instinct told me that the best course of action would be for Hans to turn these two away. Susie Ellis might have reasonable manners, but her brother was deplorable.

  I met Hans on the landing, emerging from Richenda’s room. He did not have the happy smile I would have imagined an expectant father to have; instead he frowned at me, ‘She will not tell me what is wrong. She says you know and will reassure me it is not serious.’

  ‘It is not,’ I said, confused. ‘But I am at a loss as to why she has not told you the whole story.’

  ‘As am I,’ said Hans stiffly. ‘It seems there is an issue of trust.’

  ‘I am sure it is not that,’ I said quickly. ‘I will speak to her. First, I am afraid, we have a situation. A Mrs Ellis has turned up to apply for the position of nursery maid. Leaving aside the fact she has made no appointment, she seems unobjectionable – although they came to the front door.’

  ‘They? She has a husband with her? I have no mind to house –’ began Hans.

  ‘No, she is a widow and escorted by her brother, a coarse and rude man. He says she has had some trouble in her last position – and I must confess the snippet of conversation they overheard between Bertram and myself would not have been inspiring.’

  Hans gave a small smile. ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘Please don’t,’ I said. ‘I promised to escort Mrs Ellis to your study and stay with her during any interview, should you agree to see her.’

  ‘And her loutish brother?’

  ‘Taken below stairs by Stone and given some ale.’

  ‘Hmph,’ said Hans. ‘We are in need of a maid for Amy, but this does not sound promising.’

  ‘Indeed,’ I said. ‘I did not take to them.’

  ‘Well, I suppose I should see what she is like before I send her on her way,’ said Hans. ‘To be without a situation at this time of year must be hard, and if she left her last situation under a cloud, then …’ He stalked off down the stairs with me following, and again marvelling over how very kind Hans can be. I only hoped that his empathy for his inferiors would not lead him into making a serious mistake.

  * * *

  5While there was no etiquette problem with my seeking out the butler – provided he was above stairs – there was no way I could open the front door myself: something I had never managed to explain properly to Richenda.

  Chapter Four

  Bertram’s foreboding

  ‘So you see, sir, I am well qualified.’

  We were in Hans’ study. Susie had refused a seat and I could tell sitting while a woman was standing made Hans feel very comfortable. He glanced at the sheet she had handed him.

  ‘These are all your references?’

  ‘Not my last position, as I explained to Miss St John. I had to leave in a hurry.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I’m afraid the elder son of the house had taken quite a shine to me, and I was not brought up to behave i
n such a manner.’

  ‘How old was he?’ asked Hans.

  ‘Seventeen,’ said Susie.

  ‘A difficult age, to be sure. But he was surely not in your charge?’

  ‘He had two little sisters, aged three and four. Most of my experience, as you will see, is with small children. I’m afraid I was not able to do more than list addresses for most of my references, but you will see my last-but-one position has a telephone number against it and the master and mistress there said they would speak for me.’

  ‘You left there why?’

  ‘Their little boy – I’d been with him since he was a baby – turned seven and was sent away to school.’

  ‘And Mr Ellis?’

  ‘Mr Ellis died some time ago,’ said Susie, looking down. ‘We had only been wed a month. An accident when we were sightseeing in Bath. We were on a late honeymoon. We hadn’t been able to go at once as Alf couldn’t get time off from his work. It was my fault; I wanted to go there. Neither of us was used to streets that busy – and it all happened so quickly.’ She brushed a tear from her cheek. ‘I was hardly Mrs Ellis at all, really, but I kept the name. It was the only bit of him left to me.’

  Hans coughed uncomfortably and I knew he was thinking about the loss of his own first love. Susie thought differently. ‘I assure you, sir, I am no wailing widow. I have accustomed myself to my lot in life, and my greatest aspiration is to find another secure post where I may help look after a child or even children. I find their company inspiring.’

  I met Hans’ gaze and, with difficulty, suppressed a smile. Engaging although young Amelia was, inspiring was never an adjective I would have used to describe her. Hans raised an eyebrow, clearly thinking the same thing.

  ‘And your current situation?’ he asked.

  ‘I am living with my brother.’ The tone in which the poor woman said this gave a clear indication that she did not consider this ideal. ‘He has several small children,’ she added.

  Comprehension dawned on Hans’ face. ‘Might we ascribe your brother’s assertiveness to a reluctance to lose you from his household? Unless, of course, he is seeking work as well. In which case he will be sadly disappointed.’