‘Hush,’ I said. ‘You know Hans’ father was German.’
Bertram tugged at his collar. ‘It would be good for everyone if that could be forgotten. Perhaps we could get him to change his name.’
I looked across at the folded copy of the Times that was lying on the reading desk. ‘You think matters are as bad as that?’
‘It’s all very well saying that the Kaiser is related to King George the Fifth...’
‘They are first cousins,’ I said.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Bertram. ‘Richard has known the way the wind was blowing for some time now. He’s been selling arms to the Germans and the French like billy-o. Trust a rat to smell a sinking ship.’
‘Your brother would sell arms to the indigenous population of India if he thought he could get away with it. He is a warmonger, and worse yet, he is a profiteer on the back of it.’
‘Hate to say it about my own flesh and blood, but of course he damn well is. He is also damned clever. It is very likely we are heading towards war.’
‘You sound like Fitzroy.’
Bertram’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the spy’s name. ‘Have you seen him recently?’
I shook my head. ‘No, thank goodness. That is the last thing I need.’
Bertram tilted his head on one side and regarded me with a look I knew only too well. ‘What have I missed?’ I asked with great misgiving.
‘This exhibition is a last gasp at getting Germany and Great Britain to step back from the brink of war. I’d say he is bound to have a hand in it. For all we know he sent Richenda the tickets under some guise or other. He probably wants us there to do his dirty work.’
At this point I said a very unladylike word which I will not record here.
‘Exactly,’ said Bertram. ‘I suggest you go and pry the truth out of Richenda, so we have some idea of what we’re up against.’
‘But the exhibition has been running since May,’ I protested. ‘Surely if anything were going to happen it would have happened by now.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Bertram. ‘I would expect all cards to be out on the table only at the last gasp.’
I swore again.
‘I think you need a brandy,’ said Bertram. ‘Your vocabulary appears to have developed an unfortunate bent.’
‘Not before luncheon,’ I replied. ‘No, I shall go and beard Richenda in her den. If I stand between her and her meal I may stand a chance of getting the truth out of her.’
‘I salute you,’ said Bertram. He promptly sat down in a chair and pulled out his pipe. He stuck it between his teeth and opened the Times. He did not light his pipe, as Hans would have a fit if smoke got into his books, but this new affectation of his was not one I had taken to. At least now he had given up all pretensions of growing a beard, a practice that had left him itchy, bad-tempered, and somewhat resembling a sheep with mange.
I found Richenda in her boudoir arguing with her maid about packing. ‘But I may stay longer,’ she was saying. ‘I cannot see how this affects you, Glanville. You always wear the same uniform.’
‘I am referring to your personal wardrobe, ma’am,’ said Glanville. ‘Have you thought if you will go riding in London, or join one of your marches?’
‘Ooh,’ said Richenda. ‘I had not given thought to that. Do you think Amy is too young to join us?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Glanville to my great relief. Richenda occasionally listens to her new lady’s maid. Glanville might be anywhere from forty to sixty years of age. Her face is a wrinkled walnut, with bright black currant-like eyes peeping out. Several pounds of hair are piled in plaits upon her head and she dresses in an appropriately plain style. Her thin lips rarely smile, but she has an acute sense of humour that Richenda only occasionally follows. She always speaks her mind, albeit respectfully, and she is a fully paid-up member of the suffragette movement. It is the latter that gained her the employment over other, younger maids. She is wiry and surprisingly strong for her small frame. The one time she discovered a gardener had left a ladder lying out, one that Amy had tripped over, causing many tears, but only a grazed knee, Glanville had turned tiger-like. Her admonishments had the young man shaking, even when he was given a calming beer in the kitchen, according to the butler, Stone, who spoke of Glanville in the most admiring of tones. Or as admiring as one might expect of such an extremely stoical man.
‘Richenda, might I have a word?’
Richenda signalled to her maid to leave. Glanville backed out glowering. Richenda flounced out her skirts and sat down on an ornate chair. ‘So, have you come as Hans’ envoy?’
‘No,’ I said flatly.
‘You know we are not speaking?’
‘I have just heard,’ I said. ‘But you are husband and wife and it is not for me to interfere between you. Although I do think you might be more helpful to your maid. It is difficult to pack for someone when you don’t know how long they might be from home. Even the number of stockings might cause a maid anxiety.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Richenda. ‘But you never asked questions like that.’
‘I could anticipate your needs better. Glanville has not been with us long.’
Richenda sighed. ‘I will try to be better-tempered with her, but Hans has me on edge. All my nerves are vibrating.’
‘Really?’ I said. ‘How unpleasant.’
‘Apparently, it’s good for you, if they are stimulated electrically, but not otherwise,’ said Richenda. ‘It was in this magazine I was reading. Quite fascinating. It can even help you reduce!’
Richenda has been on a lifelong quest to lose her excess weight, but this desire is rendered useless when placed alongside her love of cake.
‘Actually, all I wanted to ask was how you came to purchase the tickets. I am quite unworldly when it comes to sending money through the post.’ I was now lying through my teeth. I still sent money regularly to my mother, but Richenda was not to know this. ‘It is the sort of thing I ought to find out about, if I am to run my own estate. I am sure there are many tips you could give me if you were so inclined.’ I smiled, trying to think happy thoughts so the smile looked real – a trick Fitzroy had taught me.
‘I’m not deceived,’ said Richenda. ‘You run much of this estate. That is fine by me. But if this is some backhanded way of Hans trying to get me to come up to scratch on my responsibilities when you leave, I will not have it. He can hire more servants. He has the money.’
At this point I came close to opening up about the troubles Hans might be about to face as a half-German national, but I held back. ‘All right, you have seen through me,’ I said. ‘I want to know how you got the tickets. That is all. I am curious. Too curious for my own good.’
‘Oh, very well,’ said Richenda. ‘Now it is all arranged, I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell. I got them from Richard. He’s reaching out with an olive branch. I think his marriage has changed him. He wants to meet us all in London. He is especially keen to see the twins. You know his new wife still isn’t pregnant. I think he is getting broody.’
Every alarm bell in my head began to ring at once, so that I missed her next few words. I only caught, ‘As if I would do that, bah!’
‘Of course,’ I said as she seemed to be waiting for my reaction.
I was rewarded with a wide smile. ‘Good. I knew you would see the sense of it. I am taking luncheon in my boudoir. Would you care to join me?’ Much as I wanted to run to Bertram’s side, I thought this prudent, and sat through a long and rather tiresome meal with her. Richenda wanted to talk about nothing except the possibilities of my upcoming wedding, and whether or not I would wear a purple and green wedding dress to match my engagement ring.
It was not until early that evening that I managed to get Bertram alone. From the windows of my room I spotted him walking meditatively in the rose garden. Hans has some very pretty grounds and I too have spent time strolling and thinking deeply in them. I ran lightly down the stairs and out along the kitchen garden, which is
only separated by a hedge from the roses.
‘Bertram!’ I exclaimed.
The poor man jumped a good four inches into the air. The pipe dropped from his lips and fell to the ground. ‘Dash it all, Euphemia. You know I have a dicky heart. Are you trying to kill me?’
‘Of course not, my darling,’ I said, drawing close to him. ‘But I very much fear someone else is.’
Chapter Three
Realising Richard’s Relentlessness
‘What the devil do you mean?’ demanded Bertram.
I linked my arm through his. ‘Let’s walk a little way from the house,’ I said. ‘We don’t want to get in the way of any of the gardeners working, do we?’
‘Blast the gardeners,’ began Bertram. Then he blinked. ‘Oh, yes, of course. Wouldn’t want to get in their way. How about the summer house over by the cricket ground?’
I reminded myself that a place is merely a place, no matter what previously occurred there. In this case, murder. As my father once said to me when I was young enough to quail at walking through the churchyard at night, ‘There is not a place on God’s green earth where man has not done damage to man. To walk among the restful dead is a blessing and a peaceful way.’ I could only hope this particular deceased now rested peacefully, as we had solved their murder and their family were given justice.
Bertram, who had not really been involved in that case, wandered in and swept the wooden seat with his handkerchief for me. ‘Lots of spiders,’ he muttered.
We sat down. ‘It transpires this whole trip Richenda is undertaking has been arranged by Richard. Your sister believes he is offering an olive branch as she and Hans have announced their intention of abandoning their claim to Stapleford House.’
I had not got even halfway through my speech before Bertram had leapt to his feet and was pacing. I continued in a calming tone though now his rapid movement was causing a crick in my neck.
‘Dear God, does Hans know?’
‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘He is too smart a man not to immediately see through such a ruse.’
‘What do you think he is planning?’ said Bertram. ‘A runaway carriage? An accident with an automobile? A tram? Or a poisoning?’
‘Do sit down,’ I said. ‘You’re making me dizzy. I agree my own thoughts went exactly along those lines too. However, as we were walking across here, it occurred to me that we have spent a lot of time in Fitzroy’s world of late. In normal life murder is not so commonplace.’
Bertram spoke through gritted teeth. ‘We are both aware that my brother is not only capable of murder but has committed the crime at least once before.’
I did not disagree. ‘And he is suspected. Even Richard must know he needs to tread lightly. Fitzroy and others are watching him.’
‘But as long as he continues to lend money and manufacture arms they do not care,’ said Bertram, and he struck the edge of the pretty pavilion fencing. It gave an ominous cracking sound.
‘Killing Richenda and her children in one foul action would be too obvious. It could not be covered up.’
Bertram blanched at my putting the matter so baldly. ‘When I think she wanted to take the twins. They are not even four months old!’
I curbed a smile. Bertram, unlike most men, likes children - even the very small and smelly ones. ‘I agree that taking such small children to the metropolis is asking for all sorts of trouble, Richard aside. I am glad that Hans refused to let them go.’
‘But you think the rest of us should go? Even Amy?’
‘Amy is the one in least danger. She is not related by blood. I suspect in the case of Richenda, Richard is attempting to exert his influence over her again. They were close once. It might be to do with shares in the Stapleford Bank. I don’t know about such matters.’
‘Neither do I,’ said Bertram. ‘I made it clear to my father I would never take shares in his bank. It supported his arms business until that got going. It’s all blood money. He took me at my word and left me none of it.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘And I am glad you took such a stance. I think in Richenda’s case he wants to ensure that she and Hans do legally abdicate their interest in Stapleford House, and he may simply be keeping his options open when it comes to getting her on his side.’
‘Would she fall for it?’ asked Bertram.
‘Who knows the strength of the bond of a twin?’ I replied. ‘I know Richenda now to be a good woman at heart, but I also know what she was like when she was under her twin’s sway. If her marriage were stronger perhaps that would help, but…’
‘How bad is it?’ said Bertram. ‘Has Hans got a mistress?’
‘He would hardly tell me,’ I objected.
‘No, of course not,’ said Bertram, blushing. ‘I forgot who I was talking to for a minute.’ Seeing my quizzical expression, he added, ‘Damn it, Euphemia, you know you’re an unusual woman. You’re smarter than most of the chaps I have ever known. Even up at college.’
As Bertram’s time at college was spent mostly drinking port, rowing for Oxford and gaining a very poor degree in PPE, I did not make the mistake of thinking this such a compliment.
‘However, when it comes to us,’ I said. ‘I don’t know if Richard knows we work for the government, but he may suspect. Certainly, we appear to tumble from one unseemly adventure into another with ever increasing frequency. An accident happening to us might not be so unbelievable.’
‘Why us?’ said Bertram, finally stopping pacing and facing me.
‘Because we are engaged to be married, and despite it not yet being in the papers -’
‘I must do something about that!’ interjected Bertram.
‘He may well expect that upon our marriage nature will take its course.’
Bertram stood there blinking at me for a while. Finally, he said, ‘What, that you might have a child?’
‘Goodness, Bertram, you make it sound as likely as me having an octopus!’
Bertram went beetroot. ‘No. Well. I just assumed you wouldn’t want to be a mother.’
‘Of course I do,’ I said. ‘In time. Why, don’t you want a chi -’
I did not get to finish my sentence as Bertram grabbed me into an embrace and locked his lips to mine. I found it not at all unpleasant. We stayed in the pavilion for some time.
A few days later I found myself sitting in Bertram’s vehicle, with Rory McLeod in the back seat, as we motored up to London. After explaining the situation to Rory, I finished, ‘We decided that if Richard intends something nefarious towards us we would rather he made his attempt away from the estate and the babies. Bertram and I - and you - have been in worse scrapes. We decided we can look after ourselves. But we both thought you should know what was going on.’ I was sitting half turned towards him. It made for an uncomfortable position, especially given Bertram’s glee at being out on the open road again. Only a gracious soul would describe his driving as erratic. Maniacal is the word I would be more apt to use.
Rory gave a deep sigh. His bright green eyes were almost hidden by the frown that drew his brows together. ‘If I’d known I would not have encouraged you to go up to London,’ he said. ‘But of course, it’s not my place to say so.’ The last sentence was more growled than spoken. Rory was in a doubly difficult position with Bertram and I. Rory and I were once servants, with him my superior. We were once engaged. Subsequently, we have all three worked together as equals, and my engagement to Bertram must have created all sorts of feelings in the poor man. However, I knew better than to try and discuss them with him. Also, as Bertram’s major-domo and occasional valet, Rory had given him his utter loyalty. How he felt about me I no longer knew. ‘But I can see the sense of keeping it away from the babes,’ he added. ‘Do I take it we make a stand in London and deal with whatever he throws at us once and for all?’
‘Would that we could,’ said Bertram. ‘The thought of knocking Richard over the head and burying him in a ditch is one of my fondest daydreams.’
‘Aye,’ said Rory, s
omehow making that single word sound very dark.
‘But I am an English gentleman,’ said Bertram. ‘I will not stoop to my brother’s methods.’
‘I was afraid ye’d say that,’ said Rory, who was becoming increasingly Scottish the unhappier he got. ‘Maybe yon Fitzroy mannie will turn up and do the job for us.’
‘No,’ I said forcefully. ‘The last thing we need is to get entangled with the Secret Service again.’
‘But,’ said Bertram, ‘I think we should take the opportunity to make clear to Richard he is not to come near us or ours.’
‘And how are you going to convince him of that?’ asked Rory.
‘We could offer to sign away our right to Stapleford Hall should we have children,’ I said.
Rory definitely growled at this. ‘Must that mannie get his way in everything?’
‘It’s a horrible place,’ I said. ‘Full of dreadful memories.’
‘Actually,’ said Bertram, ‘I have some quite happy memories from when I was very little, and my godfather frequently came to stay. The servants were always very good to me. I often sneaked down to the kitchen for a small snack. They never gave me away.’
‘You’re hardly describing a family home,’ I said.
‘The only other home I have to offer you is fast sinking into the wetlands,’ said Bertram. ‘I thought you might like Stapleford Hall.’
‘Rory won’t let it sink,’ I said confidently. ‘And no, I don’t want Stapleford Hall. Ever.’
‘It is a Great House,’ said Bertram, carefully sounding the initials as capitals. I almost laughed before I remembered he had no idea that Stapleford Hall would fit in my grandfather’s stables with room to spare. I would have to tell him soon.
‘No, thank you,’ I said. ‘You and the marshes are more than enough for me.’
Bertram signified his happiness by driving even faster. Rory and I hunkered down in our seats. And I, for one, prayed.
A Death at Crystal Palace Page 2