Service of the Heir: An Edinburgh Murder (Murray of Letho Book 3)
Page 32
‘We should have a maid remove her to a bedroom and lock her in while we decide what to do,’ he suggested. Murray nodded, and rang the bell. While Robbins and Mary saw to Mrs. Balneavis, Murray stood wordlessly at the window, leaning against the curtain, Squirrel at his feet, staring into the darkness where the trees marked his view of the Forth. Was he responsible for all of this? Or was he as powerless as Dundas had said?
Eventually Blair joined him.
‘Sometimes I think I see the lights of a ship,’ Murray said at last, still searching the night.
‘I happen to know,’ Blair said quietly, ‘that there is a ship standing in Leith harbour bound for Cape Town. It leaves early tomorrow morning. A passage for a family of – how many is it? Nine, including the parents – should not be beyond our combined resources.’
‘But the Patersons ...’ said Murray, looking at him at last.
‘There are innocent children to consider here, too. You will find something to tell them.’
Chapter Thirty
It was a month later. Daniel and William had made quite a good job of packing his trunks on to the carriage, more luggage than he had left Scoggie Castle with, more responsibilities and a whole box of papers. And a hound – Squirrel seemed to have decided, at last, that she had a new master. It was significantly better than a ferret. The servants, in a week or so, would follow him to Letho, with the exception of Robbins, who had wanted to stay in Edinburgh for reasons unspecified. Murray shook hands with him in the hall, said farewell to Mrs. Chambers for now, and went outside. His new groom, the man from Haddington, held open the carriage door and closed it behind him. The carriage began to patter away along the cobbles of Queen Street.
Murray sat back and again ran through the letter that had arrived that morning. It read,
‘My dear Charles, I take leave to write to you on a very sad occasion. My dear wife died yesterday, as we came within sight of the north coast of Africa. As you know, she had been in a delicate state of health for some time. The children are bearing it very well, and Margaret, as always, is invaluable. She is a dear girl, and will make someone an excellent wife ...’
He would write the Patersons from Letho, although he was not sure they could read. He had already visited them. It had not gone well, at first. He could not blame them. But by the end of the visit Mrs. Paterson, at least, had seen some of his reasons, and had been kinder to him than he deserved.
So had the Dundases. He had called as invited to see Miss Gordon, and found Lady Sarah and Harry very much established in the household. Murray thought he had never seen Lady Sarah look so lovely. Tea bread seemed to suit her constitution. Also calling at the same time, by chance, was Ella Armstrong, who had always been very attentive to Lady Sarah. There was that certain something in the air which seemed to indicate that an engagement might soon be announced, though with his father still in jail it was not quite clear how the matter was to be managed socially.
Gavin and Willie Jack were also less to be seen, perhaps through embarrassment, perhaps through lack of funds. Murray had not attempted to find them, though he had heard they were living quietly at home with some of the less expensive servants. Murray had visited the Thomsons and the Armstrongs, where he was treated with apparent sympathy, but Davina no longer had Gavin to gossip with and appeared to be sulking.
As for Murray, his father was still dead, and he was left with the impression that no one in his polite, elegant world was half as nice as they seemed. The thought of the Balneavises made him sick.
At the end of Queen Street, Murray made himself look out to the right, towards the building site on the other side of the gardens. His father had not been murdered. It had just been a stupid, pointless accident all along.
But on the other hand, if his father had not died, would anyone have thought to look into the death of an unimportant apprentice notary, or his brother? Perhaps there had been a point, after all. At any rate, he had done his duty, done his service to his father.
He sat back in his seat again, and thought, deliberately, back to his childhood, to all the times he and his father had enjoyed together, and began, properly, to grieve for him.
Tonight he would write to George.
If you’ve enjoyed this, the third book in the Murray of Letho series, then you can go straight to the sequel, An Abandoned Woman, here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Abandoned-Woman-Murray-Letho-Book-ebook/dp/B008GE01SS/ref=pd_cp_kinc_2
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There are several free Murray of Letho short stories, Murray’s World Tour of Edinburgh, and the chance to follow Lexie Conyngham’s meandering thoughts on writing, gardening and knitting, at www.murrayofletho.blogspot.co.uk.
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