A Death by Arson Page 8

  I looked at her and then pointedly at the roaring fire that I had, in a most unladylike fashion, lit myself. Then it dawned on me. ‘Enid, could it be that you need to attend to my bedchamber?’

  ‘So sorry, miss. I thought ye’d be out and about, being one o’ the younger ones.’

  ‘So you left my room to last?’

  ‘Third last,’ said Enid miserably. ‘Please don’t report me to Mrs Lewis, miss. I need this job. There isnae much up here. It was a blessing to us when Sir Richard bought the castle.’

  ‘No, Enid, I won’t mention this to Mrs Lewis. I appreciate you have a great deal to do. Although, I must say, I found the housekeeper to be a most fair woman.’

  Enid regarded me quizzically, quite rightly wondering how I had formed an opinion on Mrs Lewis at such short acquaintance. I suppressed an impulse to enlighten her. Heavens, was I actually missing Richenda’s inane chatter! However, this feeling was soon to pass, as I discovered that Enid’s gratitude at not being exposed to Mrs Lewis was to be shown by her prattling away about the goings-on in the castle from the servants’ perspective.

  At first, I did my best to tune her out, uttering only a little ladylike ‘Hmm’ now and again to acknowledge I was listening and keeping my eyes firmly on my page. Far too much of her diatribe was about the wonders of Sir Richard and his rescue of the estate. The man she described I barely recognised, but it was undoubtedly the same image that Richard had been projecting to Lucinda, and I still felt uneasy about last night’s work.

  But then, she said, ‘And of course the commotion that auld geist is causing downstairs.’

  ‘Mr Guscott?’ I enquired, thinking she had mispronounced one of the guests’ names.

  ‘Och, no, he’s a lovely auld gentleman, I’ve got nae problem with him. No, I mean one o’ the castle geists, miss. We’ve always had a few that walked at nicht. A few wee keeks here and there. The auld piper on the castle wall at dusk, the white lady,12 the chimney boy that got stuck up the chimney a hundred years or so ago – poor wain always cries when Cook is frying sausages, she says. Seems like it was the poor wee mite’s favourite dish. And then there’s the Lord and Lady that wander about. Not a couple, but my auld nan said how she thought that after all the time they’ve began courting as anyone who sees the one tends to see the other too. And then there’s yon shepherdess who sometimes wanders into the downstairs necessary, near the kitchen. There used to be a door there before they put the new plumbing in. Apparently, the last Laird lost a butler that way. He was doing his business when she fair breezed through the wall. Said he wouldn’t stay in a household where the geists had nae shame!’

  She laughed heartily at this last joke.

  ‘You don’t find any of these apparitions disturbing?’ I asked curiously.

  ‘Och no, miss. Lots of folk in the Highlands have the sight. We’re quite used to such things and it’s not like they ever do anyone any harm.’

  ‘Have you actually seen one?’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure,’ said Enid, thoughtfully. ‘There was that nicht Jimmy McCowan got me to try his ma’s homemade wine. I thought I heard the piper then, but afterwards I reckoned what the noise was, was the bootboy, who’d also got himself a bottle, little blighter, retching up his guts.’

  ‘Well, it all sounds most entertaining,’ I said, turning my page and applying myself once more to my story.

  ‘It is, miss, but the Wailing Nanny is back, and me and some of the other staff are feart if Miss Lucinda hears it she might persuade Sir Richard to sell the castle on, and who knows when we’d find another decent master.’

  I barely suppressed a snort.

  Enid misinterpreted my response. ‘You might sniff, miss, but the Wailing Nanny is always an omen o’ bad fortune.’

  ‘Then I suggest you do not repeat the belief in her existence to any other guest.’

  ‘The thing is, miss, we were wondering, seeing as how you and Miss Lucinda get on so well, if you might not have a wee word reassuring her.’

  ‘Me?’ I asked as the realisation dawned that our meeting was no coincidence.

  ‘It’s not as if the baby died, like everyone thought. Of course, he didn’t exactly have a great life, what with the castle burning down, but they did find him again.’

  I shook my head in puzzlement. Enid sighed, ‘I’m not that good at explaining things, miss. My ma says how I always have two tongues once I get going. The Wailing Nanny, miss, was nanny to the last Laird when his son was a wee bairn. Tot must have been only two or so. Anyway he ups and gets out of the castle – climbing out one of the windows, they think,’ I shuddered, remembering Amy’s recent exploits, ‘and goes and finds himself a tinker’s caravan to hide in. The tinkers only found him when they had moved on tae another village.’

  ‘Tinkers? Do you mean gypsies?’

  ‘Aye, ye’d call them that, miss. Anyway, the tot not bein’ able to talk properly, it takes them a couple of days to work out who he is. That’s what they said, anyway. Most folks reckon they kept him a day or two in the hope that his late Lordship would reward them well for returning him.’

  ‘But he came home safe?’

  ‘Oh, aye, but the Wailing Nanny, she never saw that. The family put about a story about her packing her traps in the nicht and leaving, but everyone knew she had thrown herself off the castle ramparts in shame. It’s said the gardeners had to scrape her up with a shovel! Now, she wanders at night, crying and looking for the bairn. It’s said she can’t rest until she finds him. My nan said how a nanny that loses a bairn can never get intae heaven. It’s the worst sin ever. She was a nanny herself. She knew the Wailing Nanny. They’d both applied for the position, but she didn’t get it. My nan, that is.’

  ‘So this is all recent history?’

  ‘Och, no, ancient!’ said Enid with the sublime disregard of a fifteen-year-old, ‘It must have been thirty years ago or more!’

  ‘That’s not a lot of time for a ghost to build up a reputation,’ I said.

  ‘Och, I left out the best bit, miss! It was her crying and wailing that alerted the servants when the castle caught fire. Without her waking them they’d have all been burnt in their beds!’

  ‘I see. I take it you weren’t working here then?’

  ‘No, but I know the story,’ said Enid forcefully. ‘It definitely happened. John Footman swore on his aunt’s grave. And she is dead – I asked my nan.’

  ‘Well, thank you, Enid. This has all been most enlightening. I am sure that Miss Lucinda will not worry about such things. Indeed, you could say the Wailing Nanny was your guardian angel.’

  ‘That’s a nice way of looking at it, miss, but she didn’t half make a racket last night. Even those used to the castle’s ways were disturbed.’ I thought silently that they might have been indulging without caution in the leftover wine from the banquet. Having seen how things worked behind the green baize door, among the servants, I knew full well that even with the best housekeeper in the world, it was hard to keep the entirety of a large male staff from the after-dinner benefits.

  ‘We just don’t want her believing the other stories,’ said Enid.

  ‘Which ones?’

  ‘The ones of how she scares women into losing their babes.’

  ‘What?’ I sat bolt upright.

  ‘The Laird’s wife was carrying when the bairn went missing. My nan says it would just have been the strain, but there’s some folks who reckon she makes … well, you see what I mean.’

  ‘I do indeed,’ I said. I had no fear for Lucinda, but I could not help wondering if the Wailing Nanny was having some help in walking abroad, and if Richard had not been quite as grateful for Richenda’s gift as he had said.

  * * *

  11Yes, I did say orgy, but please do remember that my excellent father saw I was thoroughly schooled in the Classics. If my mother had known the half of what I learnt from those volumes she would have burnt every book in the house! But neither Greek nor Latin were her forte.

 
12White ladies are so common that I have resolved never to wear this dangerous colour!

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bertram is jealous

  I made my way across the room to Bertram, determined to part him from the cocktail tray. The room was filling up with people. I recognised some of the faces, but I was beginning to realise this set of people were almost entirely from the business or trade world. This made Sir Richard the highest-ranking person there. I could see how this would appeal to his vanity, but I also wondered if he was also shy of displaying his new wife to the aristocratic world that he had always seemed so keen on entering.13 I was about to quietly enquire from Bertram as to his view on this, when I got close enough to see his complexion. He looked ghastly.

  ‘Are you inebriated?’ I demanded under my breath.

  Bertram shook his head vigorously and, by the slight stagger he then gave, appeared to immediately regret this forceful action.

  ‘You are!’

  ‘Dash it, Euphemia! You can hardly blame a fellow after what happened. She might have been killed!’

  I caught a tight hold of his sleeve and as discreetly as I could, but also as forcefully, I led him over to the window, pulling back the drapes slightly under the pretext of pointing out the view. ‘What has happened?’ I demanded. ‘I have kept to myself all day.’

  ‘Can’t believe you don’t know,’ said Bertram maddeningly. ‘I thought he would have made a point of telling you.’

  ‘Bertram, I shall stand heavily on your foot if you do not at once reveal what you know.’

  Bertram swallowed hard. ‘You don’t know Richenda took a tumble down the stairs?’

  ‘Oh, dear God!’ I cried. ‘Is she safe?’

  ‘Hush,’ said Bertram. ‘Hans has gone to a lot of trouble to keep this quiet. He got her a doctor of his choosing. Sawbones says it’s only a sprain. Though her ankle’s swollen up like a giant green balloon. Made me feel quite sick when I saw it.’

  ‘The baby?’ I said urgently.

  ‘Oh, Amy’s fine.’

  ‘No, Richenda’s!’

  ‘Ah,’ said Bertram, blushing. ‘Doctor said there was nothing else to worry about, so I assume that it’s still well tethered. Didn’t like to pry; female stuff and all that.’

  ‘How is Hans?’

  ‘Angry,’ said Bertram. ‘She slipped on one of Amy’s toys and he blames the new nursery nurse. Though we both know what Amy’s like. Any room she’s in looks like an earthquake has hit it within a quarter of an hour of her starting to play.’

  I nodded. Amy’s untidiness was legendary. She remained the only person to have ever brought Hans’ stoic butler, Stone, to his knees – with the help of her marbles.

  ‘Where was Ellie?’

  ‘I got the impression,’ said Bertram, colouring even more deeply, ‘from Richenda that she was attending to a natural function. Richenda thought that Ellie had been away some time, and she was feeling the need to rest, so she opened the door and took a few steps along the corridor to find the girl.’

  ‘Will she ever learn to pull the bell and not see to things herself?’ I demanded in despair. I was about to develop my theme on how Richenda needed to become more genteel, when Bertram interrupted with a comment that took my breath away.

  ‘’Course, it wasn’t the poor girl’s fault. It was Richard who put it there.’

  I regarded him blankly.

  ‘Think about it, Euphemia! She went out the door. The toy was outside the nursery. Amy has never been allowed to play by the stairs.’

  ‘You know Amy’s propensity for getting into places where she should not –’ I began. Bertram cut me short.

  ‘She’s been under someone’s eye every moment she’s been here. Hans has been most insistent. Bit of a surprise, really. I mean, he’s about to get one of his own, you might think he wouldn’t…’

  ‘Hans is not like that,’ I said shortly. ‘He adopted Amy and he loves her as if she is her own.’

  ‘Yes, I am aware that, according to you, he’s a perfect paragon,’ said Bertram sharply. ‘Unlike my own brother, who, despite getting the wretched homestead, is still intent on offing his twin. Can’t stand to be beaten at anything. Always been the same. You know, I used to choose the weakest conkers on purpose. It tended to get painful if I ever won.’

  ‘I suppose he might have feared that a document drawn up under Scottish law might not be strong enough to hold up in England,’ I said thoughtfully, ‘but to attempt to kill his sister – and at his own wedding!’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Bertram. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment with the contents of a cocktail shaker. Try and stay with the herd, Euphemia, I don’t want to see Richard getting cocky and trying to take you out as an encore. You know you’ve always been a thorn in his side.’ And with that extraordinary statement he set off across the room, weaving easily between the guests. It was only when he tried to walk straight that his state became most apparent.

  ‘I take it he has told you everything,’ said Hans’ voice at my elbow.

  I spun around. ‘It is true? Are they both safe? Richenda and her baby?’

  Hans’ rather grim expression broke into a smile. ‘The doctor said he had never met a tougher lady. He has no fears. Though he did suggest Richenda might cut down on her intake of cake.’

  ‘And he still lives?’ I asked, with a shaky smile.

  ‘I pointed out that Richenda has a constitution that needs cake and all was well. I think he quickly realised his error. The look she gave him could have felled an army.’

  ‘I know you are making light of the situation to put me at my ease, but do you agree with Bertram’s theory?’

  Hans shook his head. ‘I cannot believe it. I think it much more likely that our new nursery maid is slipshod at her work. I blame myself for engaging her on so little knowledge.’

  ‘Perhaps no one is to blame,’ I said, putting a hand lightly on his arm. ‘Sometimes accidents simply happen.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Hans, ‘but I appear to have married into a family that has more issues than one would find in an old-fashioned gothic novel.’

  I smiled at him. ‘And yet I am sure you regret nothing.’

  Hans smiled back at me. ‘Almost nothing,’ he said. ‘Why don’t we defy convention and sit together at dinner?’

  ‘And upset Richard’s careful table arrangement?’

  Hans gave a flicker of a wink. ‘I feel it is the least I can do.’

  I laughed and agreed, which I was soon to regret, for our seating arrangement drew some attention. Even Bertram looked shocked. No one commented aloud, but I realised that perhaps accompanying my handsome, charming employer into dinner while his wife was indisposed and pregnant was not my wisest decision. I decided that there was nothing to do but brazen it out. Accordingly, I regaled Hans with Enid’s colourful stories, causing him not inconsiderable amusement. Bertram’s looks became darker and darker.

  Once dinner was over, the ladies withdrew to take tea, but in a very short period of time some of the gentleman joined us. The wedding was to be tomorrow and there was too much to discuss for the party to stay separate. Bertram, who now seemed remarkably sober, came over to me, clutching his teacup so tightly his knuckles showed white.

  ‘Where is Hans?’ he demanded.

  ‘Perhaps he has gone up to see Richenda?’ I suggested. ‘Or is playing billiards?’

  ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘No.’

  Bertram uttered what can only be described as a snort. ‘Well, we need to find him. Rory has something to tell us.’

  * * *

  13Having now attended more than one grand party, and being related to some of the denizens of said world, I could not and still cannot understand his ambition.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A mathematician sees a ghost

  ‘Do we need Hans?’ I asked. ‘You know how they rub each other up the wrong way.’

  ‘I don’t need Hans,’ said Bertram.

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nbsp; ‘Do you have something in your eye? You appear to be squinting.’

  ‘That, Euphemia, is my disapproving look,’ said Bertram. ‘I suppose we had better do without him. Meet you by the servants’ stairs nearest the kitchen in ten minutes.’

  ‘Can we not meet him in your room? I would rather not be caught skulking around the backstairs.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Bertram, ‘you had much better be caught in my chambers.’

  ‘But Rory would be there.’

  Bertram shook his head slowly from side to side. He appeared to have learned his lesson from earlier about waggling it too fast. ‘Oh, Euphemia, you know so little about the ways of the world.’

  ‘That’s quite a change from what you said earlier,’ I replied tartly.

  ‘It is not my fault that your behaviour often leads others to unfortunate conclusions,’ said Bertram.

  Before I could muster a reply he had slunk off. I would have to save my ripostes until later. I lingered by the tea tray in the hope that my upcoming exit would not be linked with Bertram’s.

  ‘I need to thank you for speaking to Lucy last night. She is now much more settled in her mind.’

  I turned to find Mary Hill standing before me, a glass of what looked remarkably like port in her hand.

  ‘As I said at the time, I am unconvinced it remains a good night’s work.’

  ‘And, as I said, Lucy’s options are limited.’ Although she had approached me with words of thanks, I detected in Miss Hill’s eyes and general manner her continued dislike of me.

  ‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’ I asked.

  ‘You need to understand that, intellectually, Lucy is not well-endowed. Neither is she a girl of spirit.’

  ‘Ah, I see. You are not happy about the situation either,’ I said.

  ‘You mistake me, Miss St John. I make no excuses for persuading her into the marriage. She is unlike us. She does not have strength of character.’