A Death in the Wedding Party Read online

  ‘What was it all about?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Merry. ‘But when Richenda decided to threaten her stepmother with a poker I thought I should get you.’

  ‘Did she strike her?’ I asked in horror. There was no sound coming from behind Lady Stapleford’s door.

  Merry shook her head. ‘Suzette got it off her. Got right between them like she was breaking up a fight in a pub. I don’t know what would have happened if she hadn’t.’

  ‘But you must have heard what it was about,’ I insisted.

  ‘I was coming back upstairs with Richenda’s evening cocoa. She hadn’t liked the way the housemaid had done it. They were already at it by the time I got back. Richenda was shouting something about Lady Stapleford being a liar and how she wasn’t her real mother. By that point Lady Stapleford was in full retreat. When Richenda loses it, she really loses it.’

  ‘You should get back to her,’ I said. ‘We’re lucky we haven’t had the whole house up here by now.’

  Merry nodded and slipped inside. I made my way quickly back to my room. I tripped over a cup of cocoa that had been left outside my door. It splashed across the ivory and blue carpet. I kicked it again and went in and shut the door. Within minutes of laying my head on my pillow I was asleep.

  I awoke to the sound of birds calling and sunlight on my face. A small figure was laying a fire in the grate. I sat up. The morning air rested cold against my face.

  ‘Ooh, sorry, your miss-ship. I didn’t mean to wake you,’ said a small blonde maid. Her features were fine and bird-like. She peered over the end of the bed at me rather like a Robin caught by a gardener. I guessed she was no more than fourteen years old.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Not quite time for morning tea. If you were wanting it, your miss-ship.’

  I was about to refuse when it occurred to me that no one had ever brought me tea in bed. ‘That would be nice,’ I said instead.

  ‘Lucy’ll be up with the trays in a short bit. I could go and hurry her if you like?’

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t want to get you into trouble for waking me. What’s your name?’

  ‘Daisy.’

  ‘We have a Daisy …’ I stopped myself just in time, ‘at the summer palace.’

  ‘Ooo-er, wait till I tell me mum. She’ll be right impressed.’

  I couldn’t think of a reply to this, so I lay back down. It felt very odd and distinctly uncomfortable to be resting while a child worked on readying my room. But she was good at her job and within a few moments I heard the crackle of flames bursting into life. I sat up once more. ‘Is this house cold all year round?’

  ‘Pretty much,’ said Daisy. ‘It’s the old stones, that’s what Mrs Merion says. They spend all winter soaking up the cold and damp and then eke it out over the summer. We’re right in the open, but this place never seems to soak up the sun.’

  ‘Is it a good place to work?’

  ‘Don’t right know, your miss-ship,’ said Daisy with engaging candour. ‘I never worked nowhere else. My mum says I was lucky to get taken on at a great house ’cos there’s always opportunities for rising. Seeing as how in this many staff there’s always ones that die – natural like.’

  ‘Natural attrition.’

  ‘Don’t know nothing about that your miss-ship. Shall I go see if Lucy’s done your tea yet?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘She’s meant to knock and bring it in like, but she’s a bit scared of you. Thought you’d be right stuck up. I’ll let her know you’re a good ‘un.’

  My new best friend picked up her basket of kindling. ‘’Course, now you’re awake, you might want to head down to breakfast. It’s a serve-yourself in the dining room. Cook’s made loads of dishes right from scrambled egg through to smoked ’addock. Though I ’ave to say that fish fair stinks. It must taste something wonderful for people to want to eat it.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll ring for my maid.’

  ‘Right you are, your miss-ship. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow morning.’

  Merry arrived fresh and alert. ‘It’s fair wonderful, the servants’ quarters here,’ she said. ‘We’re in an entire different building. There’s a corridor between here and there. Mr Robbins, the butler, locks it at night and then it’s just the servants. It don’t half feel a relief.’

  ‘To be separated from me?’

  ‘Nah, get away with you. It’s just Robbins stays on in the big house and Mrs Merion’s not that strict. It’s quite informal and friendly over there.’

  ‘That explains Daisy,’ I said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The chatty girl who laid my fire.’

  ‘Oooh, she’d get into trouble for talking to you. Might even lose her position.’

  ‘I have no intention of telling on her. But I’d be grateful if you could persuade Daisy that I’m not her new best friend. She comes in very early.’

  Merry giggled. ‘Overdo the wine, did we, milady?’

  I struggled out of bed. ‘No, the food. It was terrible and there was far too much of it.’

  ‘Which is why you’re so eager to get to breakfast?’

  ‘How’s Rory?’

  ‘Hmm.’ Merry’s face darkened. ‘A bit like a bear with a sore head. He doesn’t like the informality over there in the servants’ quarters, but if you ask me what’s really got his goat is that you are on the other side of the door. He’s gone all broody like.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ I said.

  ‘I reckon he’s sweet on you. He’s a good man. Now I’ve got my Merrit we could have a double wedding. Think of it – me and a highness getting married in the same ceremony!’

  I threw a cushion at Merry. She dodged easily. Pulling out a morning dress from the wardrobe she said, ‘Would this suit madam? It will bring out madam’s eyes.’

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ I said and went to sluice water over my face at the night stand.

  Suitably attired I made my way down to breakfast. There were two men I didn’t recognise sitting at one end of the table. At the other Bertram sat alone. I took a plate from the hot stand and inspected the dishes under their silver covers. Daisy had been right; there was every form of breakfast food I could think of present. It also appeared to be well cooked. I helped myself to some herb-flavoured scrambled eggs, a small piece of smoked salmon and signalled to the butler to bring me some fresh black coffee. I sat down as near as propriety allowed to Bertram. He blinked at me with heavy eyes.

  ‘Did you have a good evening?’ I asked.

  ‘You must be joking. They were going at it hammer and tongs.’

  ‘I didn’t see you there,’ I said surprised.

  ‘I don’t know who saw them, but the whole ruddy house must have heard them.’

  ‘I admit I was surprised. I knew there was no great liking between them,’ I said, ‘but to argue openly and in public seems out of character.’

  ‘Out of character? You, of all people, should know their tempers. You saw what he did to Daisy.’

  ‘Daisy?’ I said, thinking of my new little friend. ‘What has she got to do with it?’

  ‘Tipton struck her across the face, remember? Just because he said the shaving water was cold.’

  ‘Oh that Daisy. Not Daisy here,’ I said. ‘But we were speaking of your mother.’

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t overdo it on the sherry last night?’ said Bertram. ‘You’re not making any sense. What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m talking about the row your mother and stepsister had last night.’

  ‘What?’ said Bertram.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m talking about Richard and Tipton coming to blows last night. Tipton’s going to have a shiner this morning.’

  ‘But I saw him last night. He looked into my room to assure me I was doing well. He seemed tipsy, but not upset.’

  ‘Must have been before he came downstairs again. What’s this about my mother and Richenda.’

  To save fur
ther confusion I summarised briefly what I had witnessed between the two women last night. Bertram shrugged. ‘Women get so tense before weddings. If I’m honest I suspect Mama rather wants her own wedding. She’s not fit to live alone.’

  ‘You wouldn’t object to her remarrying?’ I asked curiously.

  ‘Replacing my beloved father, you mean?’ said Bertram. ‘Well, he wasn’t, and if she does it’ll mean there’s less likelihood of her trying to live with me.’

  ‘Happy families all round.’ I sighed. ‘So what’s up between Richard and Tipton?’

  ‘Money I expect. Under my father’s will Richenda’s money transfers to her husband on her marriage. I think Richard thought he had Tipton under his thumb.’

  ‘But last night the worm was doing some turning?’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Bertram. ‘He is pretty buoyed up being at the Court and hobnobbing with his posh relations. He was digging at Richard about how he didn’t have any and the only thing that made our family acceptable to the Tiptons was our money.’

  ‘That’s true, isn’t it?’

  Bertram broke off a piece of toast and inspected it. ‘Yes, but you don’t expect a fellow to say so. Especially not when he’s marrying one’s sister.’

  He put the toast down and reached for the marmalade. ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Tipton’s been getting more and more above himself.’

  ‘I met – well heard – his mother last night. She’s awful.’

  ‘Yes, I heard Amelia never liked him much, but she’ll enjoy the wedding.’

  ‘What about his father?’

  ‘Turning up only for the wedding by all accounts. Maybe he’ll be able to keep him in check. From what I remember Tipton was always terrified of him.’

  I sipped some of the strong, hot, black coffee. It was excellent. ‘It’s not exactly a case of a happy wedding, is it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Bertram finally crunching into his toast and spitting crumbs across the tablecloth. ‘I think Tippy and Richenda are getting pretty much what they want.’

  ‘Your table manners are terrible,’ I said. Bertram had the grace to blush. ‘I suppose I should be minding my Ps and Qs more with you seeing as you’re, you know.’ He jerked his head meaningfully to one side.

  ‘My mother always said that regardless of his company a true gentleman always displays a gentleman’s manners.’

  ‘Your mother?’ said Bertram. ‘You’ve not told me much about her. Who was she before she married the vicar? Someone with pretentions I presume. Your manners have been impeccable, so far. You seem far more at home here than any of us Staplefords. You even managed to keep that other old codger amused last night and he’s notoriously snobby.’

  ‘Really,’ I said trying to change the subject, ‘I found him very gossipy.’

  ‘You’re changing the subject,’ said Bertram. ‘This toast is burnt.’

  ‘The food last night was terrible.’

  Bertram rolled his eyes. ‘I had to get Rory to make me up a digestion remedy.’

  ‘How is he faring as your valet?’

  ‘Tolerably,’ said Bertram. ‘He’s a smart one. Never needs to be told anything twice. Richard hasn’t thrown anything at him yet, so he must find him suitable too. Makes a better butler though. I don’t think he has enough to do here. He’s being very broody. Taciturn for the most part, but alarmingly Scotch when he does speak. He’s definitely missing Stapleford Hall.’

  ‘Only three more days to go and this will all be over.’

  ‘Yes, thank goodness,’ said Bertram.

  We both fell silent. I thought how very easy it had been to talk to Bertram as an equal. We were almost like some old married couple over breakfast. We spoke with the ease of long intimacy. I wondered what he would do when I told him Rory and I were to be wed. He’d certainly never talk to me like this again. We would be sundered by class more completely than ever before. My chest felt heavy. I needed to ask one of the maids for an indigestion remedy myself.

  I finished my coffee and stood up. I was about to make my polite adieu’s when the double doors of the dining room flew open. Hanging between them, a hand on each handle, was Merry. She opened her mouth and screamed. Bertram dropped his coffee cup. The black stain spread out across the white linen. Merry screamed again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A Murder is Announced

  Robbins threw a jug of water over Merry. She stopped screaming and slapped him. Then she screamed again. Robbins staggered backwards. Bertram was on his feet, dithering. I ran over to the sodden Merry and took her firmly by the shoulders. I gave her a little shake. ‘What has happened?’

  ‘She’s dead,’ said my friend. ‘She’s dead.’

  My heart sunk down to my feet. ‘Who is dead, Merry?’

  ‘Lady Stapleford.’

  I brought Merry over to the table. ‘Robbins, fetch this girl a brandy. She has had a bad shock.’ I caught sight of Bertram slumping back down in his seat. ‘And another for Mr Bertram.’

  ‘Right away, ma’am,’ said Robbins, only too keen to be given something to do far away from the hysterical Merry.

  Drips from Merry’s hair trickled across her face and mixed with her tears. ‘Oh, Euphemia,’ she said, ‘it’s dreadful. I crept in to see if she needed me yet and she was just lying there.’

  ‘Stabbed?’ I asked.

  ‘N-no.’

  ‘Strangled?’

  N-no.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Just lying there.’

  ‘She was sleeping, you stupid girl, ‘ snapped Bertram.

  ‘I think I knows the difference between a sleeping body and a dead one,’ growled Merry. Then, adding as an afterthought, ‘sir.’

  ‘Is there any chance you could be mistaken?’ I asked gently.

  ‘Oh no, Euphemia, there was vomit everywhere.’

  ‘Poisoned, then,’ I said.

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Bertram and put his head in his hands. ‘My poor mother. That awful food last night must have been too much for her. Oh, Mama!’

  ‘I think I should go up and check,’ I said resolutely. The thought of entering a vomit-covered room was not enticing.

  Robbins returned with the brandies. ‘I will fetch Mrs Merion,’ he said. ‘I’m sure the young lady is mistaken. I would rather not notify the Earl until we are absolutely sure.’

  Merry opened her mouth to protest. I shoved the brandy glass into her hand and gave her a quelling look. ‘An excellent idea, Robbins,’ I said.

  Within a very short space of time he returned bringing with him a bustling Mrs Merion and, to my great surprise, Rory. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am,’ she said, ‘but when he overheard what had happened he insisted on coming. I thought it might be a good idea to have a man present.’

  I nodded and tried not to betray the great relief I felt at seeing Rory.

  The three of us made our way quickly to the upper floor and along to Lady Stapleford’s room. Outside, we all three hesitated. I took a deep breath and knocked loudly. Silence. I knocked again. Richenda’s door opened. ‘What the devil are you doing making such a racket at this time in the morning?’

  ‘If you could please do back into your room, miss,’ said Mrs Merion.

  ‘Rory? What is going on? Why are you standing outside my stepmama’s room?’

  ‘We fear she may have been taken ill,’ replied Rory.

  ‘Then what are you all doing standing out here?’ demanded Richenda. She strode across the corridor and flung open the door. An intensive smell of vomit wafted over us. It was only with difficulty that I kept my scrambled eggs in place. Richenda staggered back. Rory and I, as one, went forward.

  Lady Stapleford lay curled on her side. The bedclothes were disarrayed as if she had been thrashing about. There was vomit on the sheets, her nightgown and even on the floor. But worse than that as Rory flung back the curtain to let in the light, I saw her face sheet white and set in an expression of agony.

  Rory opened a window,
lent out and was sick himself. To be absolutely sure I went up to Lady Stapleford and touched her lightly on the forehead. She was ice-cold and most definitely dead.

  As I stepped away my foot trod on something and I almost fell. It was a half a tea-cup, quite empty but smashed on the ground beside its saucer. When Rory drew his head back into the room, I pointed silently at it. Our eyes met and I knew he understood the seriousness of the situation.

  ‘Come on, Mrs Merion,’ he said. ‘We must lock this room.’

  ‘Whatever for?’ cried the housekeeper. ‘We must arrange matters for this poor lady. We cannot have her nearest and dearest seeing her like this!’

  Rory put his hands on her shoulders and gently hustled her out of the room. ‘We must call the police,’ he said. ‘We need to tell them there’s been a murder.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Incredulity of the Aristocracy

  Mrs Merion didn’t part easily with her key, but Rory managed to get the room locked. She scuttled off at once, clutching her chatelaine as if she feared we would seize more keys.

  ‘You saw the cup,’ I said to Rory.

  ‘She might hae knocked it o’er when she was – yer ken–’

  ‘Dying?’ I suggested.

  ‘Aye,’ said Rory looking at his feet. ‘Yer should nae be talking to me.’

  ‘I think in times of crisis the barriers between the classes can be ignored,’ I said.

  ‘Then yer donnae ken what yer talking aboot, lassie.’

  I shook my head dismissively. ‘I expect she has gone to inform the Earl. We should follow.’

  Rory gave me an unfathomable look, ‘Do yer no think someone should be telling Mr Bertram that his mother is definitely dead?’

  ‘Ah, yes, Bertram,’ I said. Rory winced as I used his Christian name. ‘Yes, you go after Mrs Merion and I’ll go and check on Bertram.’

  ‘Yes ma’am,’ said Rory. He walked away quickly.

  I stood for a minute in front of the bedroom door thinking about what lay behind it. Murder was an occupational habit of being a Stapleford as far as I could tell and I have no doubts that something unpleasant, even evil, was afoot. I had disliked Lady Stapleford, but she was a mother. Bertram had lost his mother and I knew what it was like to lose a parent. I would respect the dead lady for her son’s sake. I silently said a short prayer I had heard my father say so many times over the recently deceased. Then I went to find Bertram.