A Euphemia Martins Mystery Boxset Vol One Page 34

  ‘At night?’ Rory frowned.

  ‘It was proper,’ said Merry with dignity. ‘We were both wearing our coats and everything.’

  ‘Did you see the man?’ Rory asked. ‘The maniac?’

  ‘No,’ said Merry. ‘Should we have done?’

  ‘If yous were out walking at the time of the attack and the maniac didn’t sprout wings and fly over the wall, then, yes, you should have seen him. There’s no other way out of the park.’

  ‘There must be,’ I said. ‘Loose rocks, a high branch, some other way out.’

  ‘We’ve got a new groundskeeper and he’s very good,’ said Rory.

  ‘But the gates would have been locked,’ I said.

  ‘Wrought iron gates aren’t that difficult to climb,’ said Rory.

  Merry grinned. ‘Is that a confession of a misspent youth, Mr McLeod?’ She registered the expressions on both our faces. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude,’ she said. ‘I was trying to lighten things a bit. The pair of you look like you’ve seen death in the flesh.’

  ‘Don’t you see, Merry,’ I said gently. ‘If he didn’t leave the grounds then he’s still here. It could even be someone in the house.’

  ‘Oh lor’,’ said Merry. ‘Are they calling in the police?’

  Rory nodded.

  ‘Well, Lord Stapleford’s going to have some explaining to do then,’ said Merry.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

  ‘Didn’t you hear?’ said Merry. ‘He and Mrs Wilson were having the devil of an argument after that spooking session. Going at it hammer and tongs, they were.’

  3 At four foot eight she always boasted that, as a young girl, she could depress the attentions of any suitor with a single look and that she had once made a young duke cry. Annoyingly she has always refused to tell me which duke.

  Chapter Three:

  The Return of Sergeant Davies

  ‘You heard Lord Stapleford arguing with Mrs Wilson?’ I repeated blankly.

  ‘She was screeching her head off,’ said Merry. ‘I never heard nothing like it.’

  ‘Not, of course, that you heard much,’ said Rory. ‘Just passing as you were.’

  ‘Unless, of course, your bootlaces had come undone?’ I suggested.

  ‘Now you come to mention it I think that did happen.’

  ‘Merry! Miss St John needs her rest and not a lot of silly nonsense.’

  ‘Go on, Merry, it’ll take my mind off my aching head.’

  Merry looked from one of us to the other. Her emotions played so clearly across her open face I had to stifle a giggle. Should she indulge her love of gossip or please her new boss? Gossip won out, as I knew it would. ‘She was complaining about the séance. Said how his father would never have exposed her to such a thing.’

  ‘That’s hardly surprising,’ said Rory. ‘It was an unpleasant thing to force any of the servants to do.’

  ‘But she was really angry. Mrs Wilson doesn’t get angry. Not with those above stairs – and there’s more …’

  Merry paused, savouring her moment. ‘She accused Lord Stapleford of pushing the glass.’

  ‘What?’ snapped Rory. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘She believes in ghosts?’ I asked, confused. ‘Did she think he was trying to tell us something?’ My heart hammered at the thought of all the hidden secrets and buried bodies that the late Lord Stapleford had good cause to know of. ‘Did she think he’d come back to tell the truth?’4

  ‘You must have hit your head awful hard,’ said Merry. ‘The only spirits Mrs W believes in come out of a bottle. No, you ninny, she said Lord Stapleford had exposed her to cruel and drunken antics and caused her pain beyond his meagre comprehension. What do you think she meant by that?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ I said quickly, although I suddenly had every idea. ‘She sounds as if she was hysterical.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Rory.

  ‘Oh, do you think so?’ said Merry. ‘But it wasn’t like her.’

  ‘She’s a certain age,’ said Rory darkly.

  Merry looked mystified.

  ‘Yer ken. The change of life,’ said Rory and to my amusement he blushed deeply.

  ‘I don’t think she does, Rory,’ I said.

  Merry looked from me to Rory and back again. ‘You must think I’m a right idiot,’ she said. ‘And if you’re going to stay here Mr McLeod you can put the cloths on Euphemia’s head. Likely, I’ll have double the work tomorrow and I need my sleep.’

  ‘Merry,’ I gasped at such rudeness.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’d rather it wasn’t this way, Euphemia,’ said Merry with a twinkling smile. ‘Get well soon.’ And she tripped out of the door before Rory found his tongue.

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘when I left I thought she was getting rather fond of you.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Rory, ‘She was.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Yer brought yon footman, Merrit, with yer.’

  ‘Oh, I am sorry.’

  ‘I’m not,’ said Rory. ‘She’s a grand lass, but no my type and yer ken how the Staplefords feel about relationships between their staff.’

  I tried hard not to be pleased and failed. ‘This thing with Merrit is very fast,’ I said.

  ‘London charm,’ said Rory sharply.

  ‘Unless he was using her?’

  Rory opened his eyes wide then shook his head. ‘Oh right, like that. I see what you mean. But if he was walking with her he couldn’t be our intruder.’

  ‘Nobody seems to have checked the times,’ I said.

  ‘The police will do that.’

  We lapsed into silence. Rory changed the cloth on my head. As he leaned over me I saw those luminous green eyes were as clear and bright as ever. ‘I missed you,’ I said without thinking.

  Rory sat back. ‘And Merry,’ I added quickly. ‘It feels like coming home to be back here.’

  ‘Aye, and with yon events like you’d never left, Miss Trouble,’ said Rory with a smile. ‘But you made your choice, Euphemia, when you went to White Orchards. It was a good choice. A promotion.’

  ‘I didn’t feel I had any other choices,’ I said sadly. ‘It’s very difficult.’ I felt a tear slide down my cheek. I brushed it quickly away. ‘Don’t take any notice of me, Rory. It’s shock or something. My head is killing me.’

  ‘I hope not,’ said Rory taking my hand. ‘Does Mr Bertram treat you well?’ He frowned. ‘He doesn’t … he hasn’t?’

  I shook my head and regretted it at once. ‘No, he wouldn’t. But we do have an odd relationship. He’s so impulsive. It makes running the household hard. I never know from one moment to the next what he might require.’

  ‘Aye, some masters are like that. They’ve no idea of the work they cause.’

  ‘He didn’t check out the new house properly. Any of the locals could have told him of the flooding. And then he wouldn’t believe there was a problem. We argue all the time.’

  ‘Argue?’ said Rory. ‘You shouldn’t be arguing with your master.’

  ‘I know, but we kind of got off on an informal footing when his father died and everything happened.’

  ‘How informal?’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Rory. There has never been anything improper between us and there never will be. Will you let that go?’

  ‘You don’t behave like master and servant.’

  ‘No, we don’t,’ I said more calmly, ‘and that is a greater problem than I had understood. Especially when we are thrown together so much at White Orchards. You’re right, I should be more respectful, but if I didn’t speak my mind he’d blame me even more when things went wrong. He relies on my opinion.’

  ‘It sounds like a right mess,’ said Rory.

  ‘Yes,’ I said miserably. ‘It is. I should never have accepted the post.’

  Rory squeezed my hand. ‘Never mind, lass. It’ll all come out in the wash.’

  ‘That’s what our old cook used to say,’ I said sleepily. ‘I don’t see how.’

 
‘Your cook?’ said Rory startled.

  ‘Ignore me,’ I said quickly. ‘It’s that bump on the head. I don’t know what I’m saying.’

  Rory was giving me a penetrating stare. ‘Is there something you’d like to tell me, Euphemia?’ he said.

  I was saved by the arrival of the doctor. As ever he was dressed in the same tweed coat. I looked at his worn face and made a discovery. ‘I don’t know your name,’ I said bluntly.

  ‘Dr Simpson, Miss St John. I’m sorry to meet you again under such circumstances. Rory.’ He nodded at the butler. Dr Simpson came and sat on the edge of the chaise beside me and took my wrist in his fingers. Rory let go of my hand and moved back towards the door. ‘Yes, yes, leave us to it,’ said Dr Simpson. ‘I’ll call if I need anything.’

  Rory nodded and left.

  ‘Good strong pulse,’ said Dr Simpson. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘A little sleepy and I’m saying silly things.’

  ‘All to be expected,’ said the doctor. ‘I’m sorry I was so long getting to you, but you’re a strong, sensible young woman. If it had been Merry now I’d have been more worried.’

  ‘How is Mrs Wilson?’

  ‘Away this good hour to the hospital.’

  I frowned. It hurt. ‘But why?’

  ‘Beatrice Wilton needed my services.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said.

  The doctor chuckled and asked me to watch his fingers as he moved them across my field of vision. ‘I thought like you at first, but the young lady really does have a heart condition and a shock could have been most serious for her.’

  ‘I’m the one who hit my head.’

  ‘Yes, my dear, but you are a servant. Be grateful Richenda didn’t demand I saw her friend before Mrs Wilson or the woman would be dead.’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘You’ll live,’ said Dr Simpson. ‘I’ll tell them you need to be abed for a couple of days.’ He looked around the cosy library. ‘Is that couch comfortable?’

  ‘More than my truckle bed,’ I said wryly.

  ‘Right, I’ll tell them you can’t be moved for a couple of days. It’ll let you get a decent amount of rest. To be fair it’ll be a full week or more before you’re back to normal. But I couldn’t see why you shouldn’t do light duties by the end of the week.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  The doctor started to pack up his bag. ‘I’ll leave a couple of fortifying solutions for you. Not that you’re liable to need them, but it’ll help convince the Staplefords to let you rest.’

  ‘Will she live? Mrs Wilson?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Dr Simpson. ‘I’ve done what I can. Mr McLeod getting me so quickly helped, but whoever attacked the poor woman meant business.’

  ‘Last time we spoke,’ I said carefully. ‘You said how you’d known Mrs Wilson since she came into service.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Dr Simpson.

  ‘You implied she had a secret.’

  ‘You must be mistaken.’

  ‘I know about the Hippocratic oath,’ I said boldly.

  ‘You do? Then you are the most remarkable maid – no, housekeeper now, isn’t it?’

  ‘I know you can’t tell me anything.’

  ‘Then you should know better than to ask.’

  ‘Someone tried to murder her. Do you know why?’

  ‘That bump on the head has given you the strangest ideas. It’s very common. They will fade by tomorrow.’

  ‘There was a séance tonight.’

  ‘So I heard,’ said the doctor. ‘Superstitious nonsense.’

  ‘I agree, but I think someone interfered for their own ends. Someone very much alive.’

  The doctor shrugged. ‘House party games can get out of hand.’

  ‘They made a suggestion using the table that someone present had lost a child. Mrs Wilson reacted very strongly.’

  Colour ebbed from the doctor’s face. ‘They suggested she had a child?’

  ‘No,’ I said carefully. ‘Not her particularly, but that someone present had lost one.’

  The doctor said nothing.

  ‘I remember when I first came here you tried to warn me – about the dangers of getting too close to the family. Only Mr Bertram is nothing like his father, is he?’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ said the doctor and he closed his bag with a snap. ‘I strongly suggest, Miss St John, that you turn your thoughts to more restful subjects. You’ve had a hard blow to the head and a severe shock.’

  Our eyes met. The doctor was first to look away. I was almost certain I read fear on his face. ‘Of course, doctor,’ I said. ‘I shall need all my energy when we return to White Orchards to set the house to rights.’

  The doctor gave me a curt nod and left. I turned to look into the fire. As I watched the flames dance ideas began to form in my head. It seemed impossible, but it was the only thing that made sense. It had to be my concussion affecting my thoughts, because if I was right then any of the Staplefords could be Mrs Wilson’s attacker. I breathed a sigh of relief. Except Mr Bertram. He had been with us. But what if they had hired someone else to do it? Behind me the door opened with a soft click. I froze. The Staplefords knew all too well how adept I was at putting together the pieces of unfortunate puzzles. So far we had reached a stand-off, but what if the events of tonight took that one step too far? What if the blow that had sent me reeling had been intended? What if I was next? I half-sat, half-twisted and fell off the chaise.

  ‘Euphemia?’ said Rory. ‘Are you all right? I wanted to check if you needed anything before I went back to bed.’

  He helped me back onto the chaise. ‘I’m not surprised you’re jumpy.’

  ‘It’s worse than that,’ I said. ‘I think I’m the next victim.’

  Rory patted my hand as he drew the cover over me. ‘Now, there’s no need to fuss. I’ve checked the house is locked up myself.’

  ‘But what if it was one of the family or someone they hired?’ I asked.

  Rory went over to bank the fire and then came and sat on a small stool in front of me. ‘What’s brought this on?’ he asked.

  ‘What Merry overheard Mrs Wilson say. I think I know what it means.’

  ‘You mean you’ve put two and two together and made six.’

  ‘What if she had a child?’

  ‘I do follow you, Euphemia. I got the implication too. But what if she had a child with a Mr Wilson that no one remembers when she was very young? What if that child died? What if the late Lord Stapleford knew about it and she assumed his son would too? It’s tragic, but infants die all the time. There doesn’t have to be anything havey-cavey about this. It might not even have been her child. Perhaps her sister or even her mother had a child that died and it brought back bad memories.’

  ‘The cards said “Mummy didn’t want me”. That’s not the same as a child dying in infancy.’

  ‘Yer telling me you believe in spirits?’

  ‘Of course not. Someone present spelt out the message deliberately. They meant to cause trouble.’

  ‘To highlight that they were going to launch an attack on the staff tonight?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘So you’d have the Staplefords or others deciding to hire someone to attack Mrs Wilson in the two hours after dinner and arranging to get the man here? It’s not possible.’

  ‘So you agree that it was her reaction to that message that led to her attack?’

  ‘Och, Euphemia, I don’t know. I need rest and so do you.’

  ‘Dr Simpson said she had a child – Mrs Wilson.’

  ‘He’d never have told you such a thing,’ said Rory shocked.

  ‘Well, no,’ I admitted, ‘but he implied it.’

  ‘That’s you and your bad arithmetic again.’

  ‘You weren’t there. He – he – tried to warn me before. Said he didn’t want me to suffer the same fate.’

  ‘Euphemia, you have a right bad tendency to go borrowing trouble. When will you learn that the only way to be a goo
d servant is to leave them upstairs to their own lives? Don’t get so involved.’

  ‘We’re all God’s creatures,’ I said quoting my father. I could feel my eyes closing.

  ‘I sometimes doubt that,’ said Rory and closed the library door softly behind him.

  I awoke to find Merry re-doing the fire. Sunlight streamed in through the window. I winced and turned my face away. ‘What would Mo-dame like for breakfast?’ enquired Merry. ‘A chicken wing and a glass of bobbly?’

  ‘Bubbly,’ I corrected. ‘And what mademoiselle would like is a cup of weak tea and a slice of toast.’

  Merry sat back on her heels and looked at me. ‘I can try,’ she said, ‘but Mrs Deighton is all for cooking you a full cooked. At the very least she’ll want you to have beef-tea. Reckons you’ll need your strength to talk to the police.’

  ‘Oh, are they here?’

  ‘A local copper took statements last night, but Dr Simpson wouldn’t let anyone see you, so they’ve sent someone over special this morning.’

  ‘I’m honoured,’ I said sourly.

  ‘I was wondering if you’d like me to help you dress after breakfast?’

  ‘Don’t take the joke too far, Merry,’ I said sitting up. Immediately the room rocked around me. I pressed my hands against my head.

  ‘Here, steady,’ said Merry, jumping up to help me lay back down. ‘I’ll tell them you’re not up to it. You’re right white. Pally-wally, Rory said, or something like it.’

  ‘No, I’d like to get it over with. If they stand any chance of getting the intruder then the earlier I tell them the little I know the better.’

  ‘Be it on your head,’ said Merry, frowning.

  And so, after I’d managed to force a little breakfast between my lips and Merry had helped me into proper attire, there was a knock on the library door and in walked the police.

  ‘Why, Sergeant Davies!’ I said in astonishment. ‘How nice to see you.’ I blushed. ‘I don’t mean the circumstances are nice, but …’

  ‘Miss St John.’ The sergeant pulled up a chair and took out his notebook. He licked his pencil in preparation and took a deep breath. ‘So, what’s this I hear about you tangling with Bolsheviks again?’