A Death at a Gentleman's Club Read online

  ‘Euphemia,’ said my mother, ‘where have you been, and what have you done now?’

  ‘Nothing. I merely found the poor man a seat and sent for brandy.’ I sat down wondering why I could face off against villains and foreign agents, yet my mother still made me feel as if I was eight years old.

  ‘Where is Bertram?’ said Richenda. ‘He’s not mixed up in all of this, is he?’

  ‘I don’t see how,’ I said.

  ‘One never knows with you two,’ said Richenda darkly.

  ‘It is unfortunate,’ said my mother, ’but at a Gentlemen’s Club with such elderly members - I do not mean The Bishop, of course,’

  ‘Naturally,’ said Richenda.

  My mother nodded approvingly again. ‘With such elderly members, deaths on the premises must occur now and again. It is our misfortune that it happened today.’

  ‘Positively inconvenient,’ I muttered under my breath.

  ‘Euphemia!’ snapped my mother.

  ‘Yes, what is it, Mama?’ I said straightening my spine swiftly.

  ‘Where is that beau of yours?’

  At this point we heard the door open and Bertram walked into the room. Whatever had occurred had not kept him from his ablutions. He now looked dapper enough that I felt proud of him. I rose as he came across to us. As he drew alongside me he naturally slipped his arm around my waist. Richenda gave a coy little smile and lowered her gaze. My mother assumed the expression of a Gorgon.

  ‘Mother,’ I said, ‘may I introduce my fiancée, Mr Bertram Stapleford of White Orchards and Stapleford Hall.’

  Bertram leaned over and stretched out his hand. ‘I am delighted to meet you, ma’am,’ he said without any betrayal of the embarrassment I had expected him to show. Richenda must have noticed this because she couldn’t resist throwing out, ‘Euphemia’s mother is actually the Lady Mrs Philomena Hawthorn. Her father is an Earl. Our Euphemia is actually an Honourable. Who would have thought it?’

  ‘It’s Mrs Hawthorn or Lady Philomena,’ corrected my mother. ‘You cannot combine the two forms of address.’

  ‘How very interesting,’ said Richenda. ‘I don’t think I have ever quite got the hang of titles. You must instruct me, Philomena. You did say I could call you Philomena the last time we met, didn’t you?’

  My mother had the grace to very, very faintly blush.

  Bertram squeezed my waist to get my attention and whispered in my ear. ‘We need to get going, darling. It seems the old codger might have taken his own life. We don’t want to get mixed up in anything. Especially not with your family here. I take it they know nothing about…?’ Even though only I could hear him, Bertram did not name the Official Secrets Act - a new-fangled document which promised death as a traitor if mentioned to anyone who hadn’t also signed it - nor that we had both been, on more than one occasion, ‘assets for the Crown’.

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ I whispered back, trying to make it look as if we were exchanging sweet nothings. ‘The Bishop has already requested the doorman to find us somewhere else. I am all for getting out of here as soon as possible, even if we merely decamp to a local Lyon’s. There must be one nearby.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Bertram. ‘We can always say we want to get your mother and brother away from here. The Bishop can follow on. No point mentioning my sister. A moment’s acquaintance would show she has the nerves of a rhinoceros.’

  I smothered a giggle. Turning to the table I said, ‘Mother, we were thinking, if The Bishop is held up by things, it would be a good idea to take Joe out of here. We could find a nearby tearoom. They might even be able to provide us with sandwiches, although I fear our luncheon will have to be postponed.’

  My mother considered this request. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Sandwiches,’ said Joe in a hopeful voice.

  I took the chance while they debated to whisper to Bertram. ‘You are not upset by my station?’

  ‘I do believe the joke is wearing a little thin,’ said Bertram. ‘But I hope you think I have taken it in good part. I mean, your mother looks most respectable, I could almost believe it were true.’

  My face must have betrayed me because Bertram’s arm dropped from around my waist. ‘You mean it is true?’ said Bertram. ‘You have been deceiving me all these years? Next you will be telling me you are an heiress!’

  I found I could not look him in the face and dropped my gaze.

  ‘You mean that is true too?’ His face was a mask of horror.

  ‘We will be able to use it to shore up more of White Orchards,’ I said lightly.

  ‘Never,’ said Bertram vehemently.

  Before I could frame a suitable answer, my mother rose. ‘ Husband,’ she called, for The Bishop had entered the room once more and was crossing the distance between us with fast, loping strides. He arrived in a moment, only slightly breathless.

  ‘There has been a call on the telephone apparatus. It is apparently of the greatest urgency.’

  ‘Here we go,’ said Bertram under his breath. Out loud he said, ‘I take it the machine is at the front desk.’

  ‘The call is not for you,’ said The Bishop. ‘It is for Euphemia.’

  ‘What have you done?’ said my mother angrily. ‘I should have known you would find a way to sabotage our luncheon.’

  6The other Gentlemen’s Clubs I have encountered are ones that I sincerely hope my new Step-pa has no notion of existing.

  7I had the sense not to enquire.

  Chapter Four

  Euphemia Gets a Most Vexatious Telephone Call

  My hand shook as I picked up the receiver. Bertram stood behind me, brooding even more because I had been the one called to the telephone and not him. The Bishop stood a little way off awaiting any ‘development of matters’ as he called it. Joe, a macaroon clenched in each hand, was the only one who wasn’t obviously angry with me. Richenda had refused to be left on her own and was exhibiting the usual hostility she felt when a situation removed her from cake. I put the receiver to my ear. The person on the other end of the line must have heard me breathing because before I even said a word, they spoke.

  ‘Good morning, my dear. You do have a knack for being in interesting places.’

  ‘It’s you,’ I said, recognising Fitzroy’s voice.

  ‘You sound so delighted to hear from me,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘No what?’

  ‘No, I will not do whatever it is you want me to do. My family and I are about to leave.’

  ‘Ah, that would be a pity,’ said Fitzroy. ‘But I’m not going to ask you to do anything - except stay there.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Now really, Euphemia, when have I ever explained my plans to you?’

  ‘Never,’ I said bitterly.

  I heard a dry chuckle at the other end of the line. ‘It is usually for your own protection. However, this time, as you are in a respectable Gentlemen’s Club, for once, I must seek Bertram’s aid. My speaking to you is merely a courtesy. If you would be so good as to put your fiancé on the line. And do ask your very lovely family to step into the other room while we speak. He is not as naturally cautious as you are.’

  ‘You can see us?’

  ‘My dear girl, if I could see you, I would be there. I am on my way, but it may take me some time to extricate myself from my current situation. I need you to do something for me. Your mother is a furiously inquisitive person, although you may not have realised it. Giles will have accompanied her as he feels responsible for - well most things really. I expect that comes from being a bishop. I assume your mother brought Joe with her as well? What I need you to do is keep them as far removed from the situation as possible. Just corral them for me, will you?

  A thousand retorts crowded on the edge of my tongue. Fitzroy had no business whatsoever prying into what my mother is like. How dare he? And did he know The Bishop? He has a habit of calling people he hasn’t even met by their first name, as if he thinks he understands them. But, occasiona
lly, people I have met did indeed know him - although they rarely ever knew him as Fitzroy. I was one of the only people to know that Fitzroy was a codename he had chosen based on an imaginary persona he had invented for himself during an exceptionally lonely childhood. Another dry chuckle broke into my thoughts.

  ‘I hate to rush you, my dearest Euphemia, but time may be of the essence.’ I felt myself blush crimson at the continuing endearments. It was quite out of character. All I could think was he was trying to rattle me, but I couldn’t think why.

  ‘He wants to speak to you,’ I said, holding out the receiver to Bertram.

  ‘He?’ said Bertram in a resigned voice.

  I nodded. Bertram heaved an enormous sigh as he reached for the phone. ‘Bloody -’

  I cut him off by saying to the others, ‘I think the rest of us should retire to a table. My mother will not find it suitable, but I suspect we will be here for some time.’ There was no reason to mention Fitzroy’s name to them. Hopefully they would never meet.

  Once we were seated I was besieged by questions. Only Richenda kept quiet. She contented herself with giving me what I initially took as an expression of indigestion but what I eventually worked out was meant to be a hard stare. She had suspected before that Bertram, Rory, and I were ‘mixed up in something’. Once she realised that she would never be told what was happening, she reluctantly forbore to ask questions as long as she was involved in some of the action. However, this all came too close to home on more than one occasion, although during our last adventure, our connections ended up saving those she loved.8 Last time she had even met Fitzroy, briefly, although if she thought anything, I suspected she assumed he was with the police. In short, it meant Richenda knew there was no point in asking me questions. Unhappily, my mother and Little Joe were proving indefatigable.

  ‘My dear,’ said The Bishop loudly, after twenty minutes of headache-inspiring altercations, ‘for whatever reason, I think Euphemia has made it quite clear that she will not be divulging who was on the telephone.’

  ‘But, Husband, I am her mother. What higher authority can a daughter possibly owe allegiance to?’

  ‘You ask that of a bishop, my dear?’ said The Bishop with raised eyebrows. ‘But in this particular instance I think we can assume Euphemia has not been called upon to perform God’s work - although one never knows, he does work in mysterious ways. Regardless, I am convinced she is not able to answer us, is that correct, Euphemia?’

  ‘I am sorry, my Lord,’ I said, feeling we were sliding back onto to formal terms, ‘but I simply cannot.’ To my surprise The Bishop patted me lightly on the sleeve.

  ‘Then I suggest we leave at once,’ said my mother. ‘There is no point staying here. There is no luncheon and it seems there will be little in the way of communication with my daughter.’ Her face set into a mulish look that I knew only too well. If I had been but five years younger I would have been sent to my room without supper for a week. The fact I was now an independent young woman, or as independent as the times allowed, made my mother exceedingly cross. ‘Come, Joe. Come, Husband. We shall leave at once.’

  The Bishop, who had been standing, sat down in obvious contradiction of my mother’s instructions. Joe gave an involuntary gasp but looked impressed. It was clear there was more mettle in The Bishop than either he or I had suspected. ‘That seems a little harsh, my dear,’ said The Bishop gently. ‘We have, only minutes ago, learned of the unexpected death of a member of this establishment -’

  ‘I don’t see what that has to do with it,’ broke in my mother.

  The Bishop neither raised his hand to interrupt her, nor spoke over her. He merely stared directly at her in a manner not hostile, but like that of a clergyman who is waiting for his congregation to quieten down so he may begin his sermon.9 To my astonishment I heard my mother’s voice peter out. ‘The point, my dear, is that I doubt whether the poor gentleman in question left his house with even the slightest consideration that this was to be his last day on earth. I, on the other hand, being of the clergy, am a constant usher for births and deaths. I know our time upon this earth is short. None of us know what tomorrow will bring. And so I am loath, ever, to let a family part on terms of discord. Especially when it is my own family. Besides, it has been made clear to us, with utmost politeness, that we may all be here for some time.’

  My mother made a noise that from anyone else might have been a snorting humph, but which we all decided as one to take as a sigh.

  ‘I am well aware that you have missed your daughter desperately since she was forced to leave your home,’ continued my step-pa (this was how I was thinking of him again). ‘I am also aware that the sibling bond between Euphemia and Joe is very strong. I believe it would upset him considerably to take him away from his sister once more.’

  ‘Yes, it would,’ piped up Joe. ‘For you, Effie, I’ll even miss luncheon.’ At this point I had to hug him, and if my eyes brimmed with tears for a moment I took care no one else saw.

  ‘I suppose we could stay a little while. At least until that fiancé of yours comes back. If he ever does, of course.’

  The Bishop gave a stern look and my mother actually blushed and lowered her eyes. Today was indeed a day of miracles. It was also another day to be annoyed with Fitzroy yet again. How dare he place me in such a position? Then I remembered that however annoying I found the spy, he only ever called in civilian assets when he had no other choice. He might enjoy my being irritated on occasion, but he would never instigate any serious action unless it was necessary.

  ‘Has the waiter gone?’ I asked.

  ‘I think they have been quite clear about the situation regarding food,’ said Richenda sadly.

  I shook my head. ‘I wanted to know more about the gentleman who died,’ I said.

  ‘Why?’ said The Bishop.

  I was struggling to think of a good answer when Bertram came back into the room. Following him came several waiters bearing trays of sandwiches, bowls of soup, side plates of salad and a selection of cakes. Richenda’s mouth puckered into an ‘O’ of delighted surprise and Joe let out a squeak of pleasure.

  No one spoke while the waiters rearranged some tables, seated us and laid out the fare. Bertram contrived to get the seat next to mine. ‘Under the circumstances,’ he said to the table, ‘I suggested the kitchen could, at the very least, create a light luncheon. There will be tea, coffee, and petit fours afterwards.’

  ‘And what are the circumstances?’ inquired The Bishop. Another waiter appeared with carafes of water, fruit juice, and wine. The Bishop graciously accepted a glass of Beaujolais. ‘I do feel this year’s has a slight banana flavour,’ he said. ‘But one cannot have everything.’ Bertram and I also took wine. I’m sure Joe would also have done so if he thought he could have got away with it. Richenda and my mother took only water. During this flurry of beverages, Bertram managed to whisper to me, ‘Fitzroy wants -’

  ‘You were saying?’ said The Bishop. The waiters left.

  ‘Ah, yes, well. Bit of an extraordinary thing really. It turns out the poor man who died is, well, a friend of a friend of ours.’

  ‘So, it was this friend on the telephone?’ said The Bishop. ‘Only it did not seem to me that Euphemia felt on friendly terms with him.’

  ‘Yes, well,’ said Bertram. ‘He’s more of a pal of mine. We’ve known each other a while. You know how it is, my Lord, when the lady in your life doesn’t always get on with your previous pals.’

  ‘The Bishop is acquainted with only the best people,’ said my mother frostily.

  ‘Not all of whom you favour,’ said The Bishop lightly. ‘Although you are always gracious, my love.’

  My mother paused, untangling the compliment from the comment.

  ‘This friend must be quite elderly?’ said The Bishop.

  Bertram took a big swig of wine. ‘No, actually, he’s around my age. You see, his father was very close to the chap who’s died. Made him my friend’s godfather. Rather like a second father
and all that.’ Bertram quickly shoved half a ham sandwich in his mouth before anyone could ask him anything else.

  ‘And your friend wants you to do what precisely?’

  ‘Oh, nothing really. He’s asked that I keep an eye on things until he can get here. He is his godfather’s executor, and the old chap had some particular things he wanted done upon his demise.’

  ‘Like?’ asked Joe excitedly.

  ‘Oh, you know, this and that,’ said Bertram waving an arm around and almost knocking over a decanter of wine. I managed to catch it. ‘My friend just wants everything kept as is, until he can get here.’

  ‘And how long will that be?’ said my mother.

  Bertram tugged at his collar. ‘I’m not exactly sure,’ he said. ‘There is absolutely no reason for you and the Bish to hang about…’ he paused as my mother gave him her most deadly stare. ‘I mean The Bishop, of course. Nor Master Joe. I’d appreciate it if you could take my sister to the train station. There’s a station close to her husband’s estate. I can make arrangements from here for someone to pick her up.’

  ‘And Euphemia?’ asked my mother.

  ‘I will run her back in my motor later,’ said Bertram. ‘As you have no doubt become aware, we have one or two things to discuss.’

  ‘You mean how she’s an Honourable and you’re not,’ said Joe.

  My mother gave him a quick box on the ears for his language.

  ‘Among other things, yes,’ said Bertram with a quiet dignity I found admirable. His cover story for Fitzroy might be ragged, to say the least, but I thought he was behaving admirably. Although I had noticed that there had been a consistent expression of him looking into things alone. I assumed this was only until my mother left.

  ‘I cannot possibly leave you here with Euphemia without a chaperone,’ said my mother.

  Bertram looked pointedly around the room where waiters skulked in discreet corners, or behind pot plants.