A Death at the Church Page 3

  ‘Shivering,’ I corrected. ‘I am cold.’

  ‘Tea, an open fire, and then a hot bath,’ said Fitzroy. ‘In that order. We don’t want you getting hypothermia.’

  ‘Is this your home?’ I asked as he put a key to the front door. ‘Do you have servants?’

  ‘Not exactly my home. A little place I use from time to time. And no, I don’t have servants.’

  I followed him across the threshold feeling more than a little wary. We entered a small, dark lobby. He shut the door behind us and bolted it. Then he turned up a gas lamp on the wall. I could now see a long mirror hung on one wall, a small chest of drawers beneath it. Then I noticed a gun hanging in a neat holster on the wall next to a coat stand.

  ‘Shouldn’t we have stayed at the Muller estate to search for clues?’ I said, trying very hard not to fixate on the gun. Fitzroy shrugged himself out of his coat and hung it up. He shook his head.

  ‘I had a look over the place myself. Nothing to see. No, this will be much more about people, and those who had a grudge against Richard. Coat? You can take your hat off in front of the mirror.’ I handed him my coat and, all too conscious of his proximity, took my hat off and pulled my hair into some shape.

  ‘A lot of people,’ I said, as calmly as I could, and as if I was used to taking my hat off in front of men.5

  ‘Unfortunately, I agree. Come through to the lounge and I will light the fire. You’re looking blue at the edges. My driving didn’t frighten you, did it?’

  ‘It was enlivening,’ I said following him through the door.6 Fitzroy gave a grin that was positively boyish.

  ‘I had one lady faint on me,’ he said. ‘Fortunately, I had secured her in her seat as I was afraid such a thing might occur.’

  ‘But you were not so with me?’

  ‘No,’ he said, the grin still on his face. ‘I was more afraid you would ask me to show you how to drive.’

  ‘I thought of asking,’ I said, trying to follow his joking manner.

  ‘Oh, I’ll teach you,’ said Fitzroy. ‘It will be a useful skill. Now, sit.’

  I sat obediently down in a leather armchair and began to take in my surroundings. He lit the fire and two lamps then left me. I could hear him in the next room whistling. This, alone, was most unnerving. The lounge, as he had termed it, was a medium-sized room that must once have been the original stabling for a carriage. It had been panelled with a dark wood, and thick red carpet laid on the floor. The windows remained hidden behind wooden shutters. A chimney had been inset and a hearth of suitable size roared out a welcoming heat. The room contained two leather wing-backed armchairs, a desk (clear of papers) with a globe on top of it, and a small table set beside the chairs which faced the fire. There were also some other low furnishings with closed doors, the use of which I could not guess. A single picture hung above the fireplace, of a young, rather beautiful, red-haired woman, who smiled wistfully down at me. For some reason her expression struck me as one of someone hiding many secrets. The portrait was head and shoulders only, and the brief outline of her blue dress gave no clue as to the era. However, around her neck she wore a formidable string of diamonds, such as is rarely seen today.

  A few moments later he returned carrying a tray on which there were two teacups and saucers and a decanter. He had taken off his jacket, although he still wore his waistcoat. Even Bertram had never let me see him in shirtsleeves.

  ‘My bag...’ I began.

  ‘It’ll be safe enough in the car for now,’ he said, setting down the tray. ‘I’ve put milk and sugar in your tea. I’m having an extra kick in mine.’ He looked at me for a moment. ‘You had better have one too. It’s been a long day for you.’ Before I could protest, he poured a large dash from the decanter into both cups and passed one to me. Then he sat down in the chair beside me and stretched out his legs to the fire. He took a sip from his tea cup and closed his eyes.

  ‘I saw you admiring my picture,’ he said, making me jump.

  ‘She’s very beautiful,’ I said.

  Fitzroy opened his eyes again. ‘Yes, she is.’

  I waited, but he didn’t say anything else. Finally, my curiosity overcame me. ‘Who is she?’

  The spy smiled. ‘My mother. She died when I was twelve.’

  ‘I am sorry. You did not inherit her flaming hair? Just as well in your profession.’

  ‘Oh, I did. I dye it. You’re quite right. It does make me stand out otherwise.’

  I drank some tea and spluttered. ‘This is rather strong.’

  ‘It will do you good.’ Fitzroy sat up and turned to me. ‘Poor Euphemia, it’s all rather through the looking glass for you, isn’t it? Ah, yes, that fits. I’ll call you Alice.’

  ‘I beg your pardon.’

  ‘We don’t use our real names when we’re in the field. I don’t object to you calling me Eric in private. It’s pleasant to hear my real name spoken. Rarely happens. But you need an operative name too – Alice suits you.’

  ‘Do I get any say in this?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And I call you Fitzroy? Not the White Rabbit?’

  He chuckled. ‘You mean because I’m always late from your perspective?’

  ‘Exactly,’ I said, somewhat startled he had been so acute.

  ‘Come on, drink up. You can help me get something sorted in the kitchen. Then while it’s in the oven we can sort out your bath.’

  ‘You can cook?’

  ‘Naturally. It’s a necessary life-skill to be able to feed yourself. You should see what I can conjure up over a bonfire. There’s a neat little kitchen through the back.’

  When I had finished my tea, I rose feeling a trifle woozy and followed him through the kitchen. He passed me a knife and some carrots. ‘Here, chop these, over there.’

  I began to do so, when I heard him say my name in tones of shock.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘That is no way to hold a knife,’ said the spy emphatically . ‘Here, let me show you.’

  The next morning, I awoke to the wonderful smell of frying bacon. I sat up in bed and tried to remember exactly where I was. As I took in the little guest room, it all came back. Richard, the jail, and the unusual terms of my liberty. I also remembered sitting by the fire late into the night to allow my hair to dry, while Fitzroy told me about his first pet – a cat, one he had stolen away from the kitchen and taught to walk alongside him when he ventured into the grounds at his home. I had a good idea where those grounds had been from having been prematurely appointed his executor, but he refused to elaborate. As I hurried to get dressed, I reflected that I had felt remarkably easy in his company. I realised he had been at pains not to treat me as a lady but like, I presumed, a comrade. However, given the dire straits of my situation I found that I was thinking of him in terms that I might an older brother, if I had had one, who had come to straighten out all my problems. Things, I decided as I headed down the stairs, could have been far worse. All in all, I was grateful to him and rather excited about what my future might hold. I did my best to ignore the hole in my heart where my relationship with Bertram had resided.

  I went through to the small table in the kitchen where we had eaten last night and found Fitzroy, again in his shirt sleeves, laying out bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast. ‘Coffee’s on the stove,’ he said. ‘Should be ready any moment. Don’t expect this sort of service in general.’

  ‘I will wash the dishes.’

  ‘Do you know how?’

  ‘I used to be a maid, remember?’

  He gave me a charming smile. ‘But were you any good?’

  ‘Absolutely rubbish,’ I said sitting down. ‘But Merry taught me well.’

  ‘I like Merry,’ said Fitzroy, ‘and as you know I don’t generally like people.’

  ‘She’s very practical and can keep her head in a crisis.’

  Fitzroy nodded, and spoke through a mouthful of egg, ‘Don’t suppose there’s any chance of her moving to the metropolis?’

  ‘I think sh
e and Merritt are settled on Bertram’s estate. Besides, you said she was pregnant. Although I barely noticed any difference in her waistline.’

  ‘You don’t look properly,’ said Fitzroy, spearing a slice of bacon with his fork. ‘Besides, she won’t be pregnant for ever. I believe nine months is the usual term.’

  I felt myself blushing again and leaned over my plate.

  ‘Really, Euphemia, you need to harden up. We will have to discuss more intimate subjects than this on occasion. The work requires it.’

  ‘Being through the looking glass is an adjustment,’ I said. ‘I mean, learning you actually have red hair, seeing you in your shirt sleeves at breakfast, not to mention experiencing your unique style of driving.’

  Fitzroy chuckled with appreciation. ‘Poor Alice,’ he said. ‘I do appreciate you not making a fuss about staying here. Most ladies would have gone into histrionics.’

  I smiled at him. ‘I trust you,’ I said without thinking, and found that I did.

  Fitzroy’s expression became serious. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. ‘I shall endeavour to live up to your opinion.’

  ‘And I shall try to keep it as manageably low as possible for you,’ I retorted.

  He laughed. ‘Now, if it won’t put you off your breakfast, could you please go through exactly what happened in the church with Richard and afterwards up till the point I arrived.’

  I told him in as much detail as I could remember. He listened without interrupting. When I had finished, he poured me more coffee. ‘Firstly, I should tell you that you probably did kill Stapleford.’ He held up his hand before I could protest. ‘An instrument that has caused a puncturing wound has to be removed in a certain way or fatal blood loss will occur. While it stays in it actually prevents blood loss. As soon as you pull it out the wound opens fully, and the victim bleeds out at once without immediate medical attention. Way beyond your skills. No court in the land would convict you, but I’d like you to remember this in case you are ever tempted to pull a knife or some such thing out of me. You will be trained in some basic medical techniques, but in the meantime remember that!’

  ‘He wanted me to pull it out,’ I said, confused.

  ‘Yes, I noticed that. I think we will find that the wound –I had a brief look at the body – would have been mortal anyway, so I wouldn’t feel bad about it. Interesting though, the sound you said he made when you removed the blade.’

  ‘The gurgling or the laugh?’

  ‘The gurgling is quite normal,’ said Fitzroy with a flash of a smile. ‘I meant the laugh.’

  ‘He wanted me to be caught with the knife in my hand, didn’t he?’

  ‘I believe so. Which begs the question: who could have done this deed that he cared so little about their arrest that he would rather his death was attributed to you?’

  ‘You mean it might have been someone he cared about?’

  ‘Richenda, for example. I believe the bond between twins is strong.’

  ‘She was witnessed in the church at the time.’

  ‘We need to check through the witness statements to rule out the possibility of her slipping out to stab him and then reappearing in the church. You were on her home ground. If there was a short cut, she would have known it.’

  ‘Richenda does not exactly have a personage that can slip by unnoticed.’

  Fitzroy choked slightly on his bacon. ‘Don’t make me laugh while I’m eating!’ He swallowed a swig of coffee. ‘I also noted that Hans said he had had bad dealings with Richard – and he wanted to rescue you as well. I have a mark against his name. I suppose the real question is, how much did Richard hate you? Who would he let get off scot-free if he could attribute his own murder to you?’

  I considered the question carefully. ‘The issue is,’ I said, ‘that Richard did not seem to be a normal man.’ Fitzroy gave me his two-raised-eyebrows look of mock astonishment and continued eating. ‘I mean that while I might be able to fathom what gentlemen of my general acquaintance might do, Richard’s way of thinking was unlike anything I have come across before.’

  Fitzroy lowered his eyebrows and waved his fork in a continue-type gesture.

  ‘I thought he had some fondness for Richenda, but after the episode where he abducted and threatened her children...’

  Fitzroy swallowed loudly and said, ‘You believe he did so, but have no proof.’ ‘You think so too.’ ‘Immaterial. Stick to facts.’

  ‘According to Richenda, he never intervened for her when she was estranged from their father.’

  ‘Better, but you only have Richenda’s word. Is she reliable?’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Alright. Richenda when I first met her was self-centred, occasionally cruel, and willing to turn a blind eye to much of what her twin did – including the way he treated staff. Since she left the household she has changed almost beyond recognition. I would not suggest hers is a happy marriage, but her attitude towards me and even her servants has changed. She is no longer so selfish. She does her best to think of others, especially her children.’

  ‘But she left you to run her household.’

  ‘True, but she was not trained to. I was.’

  ‘You are suggesting that her aversion has its root cause in fear?’ said Fitzroy.

  ‘I did not consider that. But it would fit. She would be afraid of letting people down and appearing foolish. But my primary argument is that, away from Richard, she became a much more thoughtful and considerate person. Living with him, it was as if he controlled her. She acquiesced to all his demands.’

  Fitzroy nodded. ‘In his business dealings he was known for wanting complete control. He preferred to engender fear over loyalty.’

  ‘You mean he blackmailed people?’

  Fitzroy began eating again and repeated the annoying fork gesture. I watched my breakfast grow cold. ‘In my interactions with him, I found him unkind, but not stupidly so. Merry, having been with the household since she was very young, was something of a favourite, and he never treated her badly.’

  ‘So, he knew how to plan the game? He was intelligent and could interpret social situations.’

  ‘Mostly. Sometimes he spoke shockingly, such as when he spoke of his new wife when I was in Ghent.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘It was quite crude.’

  Fitzroy sighed in exasperation.

  ‘He said that he was keeping his wife on her back so as to ensure an heir.’

  ‘Kind of thing many gentlemen might say at a Club,’ said Fitzroy. I heard the scorn behind the word ‘gentlemen’.

  ‘I wouldn’ t know, but it was not what I would expect a gentleman to say in front of ladies in a public area.’

  Fitzroy shrugged. ‘Perhaps he was trying to shock you.’

  ‘At the time it appeared more of an off-the-cuff comment. There was a warning implicit to Bertram that he intended to inherit Stapleford Hall.’

  ‘Control and ownership,’ said Fitzroy.

  ‘He showed no remorse when either of his parents died. Nor his cousin. Nor his supposed best friend.’

  ‘You thought he killed Baggy Tipton, didn’t you?’

  ‘But I never had any evidence that wasn’t circumstantial.’

  ‘Agreed. In predicting past or previous behaviour the key is to ensure that you are basing your conclusions on facts. Believing you know something without examining it for proof is the best way to fool yourself.’

  ‘But you agree Richard was a megalomaniac, narcissistic, amoral creature?’

  ‘Interesting you say amoral, but yes, overall I am inclined to agree. My observations suggest that he felt no need to play by the usual rules of society and felt no regret when he broke them,’ said Fitzroy.

  ‘He acted as if they should not apply to him,’ I said. ‘Does that mean he was mad?’

  Fitzroy wiped his plate clean with a piece of toast. ‘That doesn’t concern me. I am only interested in what he has done, and what he might have done if still alive.’

 
‘He was evil.’

  Fitzroy cocked his head to one side. ‘That is not a very helpful descriptor in our business. It’s the value of an individual in preserving our country and our way of life that has to be our foremost concern.’

  ‘Arms and banking,’ I said. My stomach churned and I regretted the little breakfast I had eaten.

  ‘Certainly if Richard Stapleford had been a greengrocer, the local authorities would have swept him up before.’ He gulped down a last mouthful of coffee. ‘But he would not have been of any interest to us. Now, Euphemia, the clock is ticking on that forty-eight hours. I have copies of the witness statements and a decent plan of the estate. We need to establish who could have been in the antechamber before you and who had a reason to kill Richard Stapleford. My somewhat forlorn hope is that we will catch an obvious overlap.’

  ‘But you think this is a long shot?’

  ‘Over the hills and far away. I think we will be lucky if we find one person in your wedding congregation that liked the man. I have partial backgrounds for some of the guests. I am hoping you can fill in the rest.’

  ‘I will do my best.’

  ‘I expect no less. Now, come through to the lounge and I will introduce you to the exciting world of intelligence.’ He grinned as he said this. I must have looked wary for he continued, ‘You’ll see what I mean.’

  * * *

  3 I can’t give you details of the oath. I’m sure you understand why.

  4 I could not believe Bertram would want me back.

  5 No lady should be. A hat is something to be removed in the privacy of one’s own room, and if anyone is present it should only be one’s lady’s maid.

  6 Yes, a gentleman would have let me go first.

  Chapter Four

  Five hours later my head spun, and my neck hurt as if a yoke had been laid across it. I looked up from my notes. Fitzroy sat at the other end of the desk working methodically through half of the statements. Between us lay a map of the Muller estate. ‘I am on my last statement,’ I said.

  Fitzroy looked up and for a moment it seemed as if his eyes did not focus on me. ‘Good. So am I. We will swap statements and exchange notes. See if we can see something the other has missed.’