A Death by Arson

by Caroline Dunford

  ‘She does seem rather lonely,’ I said. ‘I am trying to interest her in hosting dinners.’

  ‘An excellent idea,’ said Hans. ‘Once she has had the baby she will have much to discuss with the local matrons. Adorable though Amy is, she is not a child one might choose to discuss…’

  ‘All tantrums and tears?’ asked Bertram.

  ‘Toddlers are usually left to nursery maids until they develop manners,’ I said. ‘Whereas babies are cooed over by everyone.’

  ‘Just as well you know about these things, Euphemia,’ said Bertram. ‘Or you might feel a bit left out once the new ’un arrives. I mean, will Richenda even need a companion then? And if she’s to become a hostess…’

  ‘Euphemia will always have a home with us,’ said Hans shortly.

  ‘Doesn’t your mother want you to come to live with her when she marries her bishop?’ asked Bertram. I clenched my hands under the table – I could have kicked him.

  ‘Your mother is marrying a bishop?’ repeated Hans, surprised. ‘If indeed she is in a position to house you, and you wanted to go, as much as I would wish you to remain at the Muller estate, I could not in good conscience keep you from your family if you wished to return. When is the marriage?’

  I shot dagger looks at Bertram, who belatedly got the message and, shrinking in his seat, mouthed apologies at me.

  ‘It is all a long time in the future,’ I lied, for I knew my mother was marrying in a few weeks. ‘I am sure Richenda will be glad of my company whilst she is … increasing.’

  Hans smiled warmly at me. ‘Indeed, I am certain you will be of the utmost comfort to her.’

  We all ate in silence, listening to the discontented murmurings of the bankers. After eating his usual two boiled eggs and two slices of toast, Hans rose and bade us farewell. ‘I confess I am curious to know what the old lady has told Richenda. You and Bertram have quite infected me with your curiosity,’ he said. ‘Shall we meet before luncheon in that little parlour and discuss what we have discovered? Richenda tends to need a short rest after breakfast now she is pregnant.’

  ‘Always did,’ said Bertram under his breath.

  ‘An excellent idea, Hans,’ I said, smiling at him. He gave me a short bow and left the room. Immediately I turned on Bertram. ‘Thank you for that,’ I hissed between gritted teeth. ‘You have no idea how long and how hard I have worked to forge my own way in the world. I do not appreciate the suggestion that I might be parcelled up and returned to my mother so she can marry me off to one of her friends’ idiot sons.’

  Bertram, who had been mid crumpet, spluttered crumbs all over the table. ‘Euphemia! I’m sorry. I never thought!’

  Richard had already put my nerves on edge and Bertram’s unthinking comments were the last straw. I fairly spat at him. ‘I told you something in confidence and you blurt it out to Hans. I thought you were my friend.’ I knew as I said this I was being unfair. I recalled all too well how I had thrown my mother’s marriage at Bertram’s head in a fit of pique, but I was frightened. ‘You are a man. You have your independence. You have no idea what it is like to be beholden to others.’

  ‘So you don’t mind being beholden to my sister’s husband?’ snapped Bertram. ‘It has looked to me on more than one occasion that you and Hans are rather close. Even Rory has remarked on it.’

  ‘Well, if Rory has remarked on it,’ I said, my temper rising ever higher. ‘Rory, that paragon of virtue, who jilted me for no good reason, but still it seems harbours an unwonted possessiveness over my person, then it must be true. That you have known me for years and know me to be of good character means nothing.’

  ‘Of good character,’ said Bertram, his face reddening. ‘You pulled a policeman off his horse!’

  ‘I had good reason!’

  ‘I had to rescue you from a brothel!’

  ‘You did not have to rescue me, I was …’ I stopped, suddenly aware that the background noise had ceased. I turned to see all the financiers and some of the other guests who had ventured downstairs staring at us. Tears pricked the back of my eyes. I threw Bertram one last look of pure hatred and ran from the room.

  Chapter Thirty

  A shooting

  Unshed tears blinded me. I stumbled into a gentleman, who caught me by the elbows.’ Excuse me,’ I said, trying to pull away. ‘I need to…’

  ‘Goodness, you seem rather distressed, my dear,’ said a vaguely familiar voice.

  I blinked back the tears and realised I had run straight into the Laird’s son, Dougal Kennedy. ‘I am so sorry,’ I began.

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ said Dougal. ‘In fact. this is quite serendipitous. I have been wanting a word with you.’

  ‘With me?’ I said, astonished.

  ‘It is quite a delicate matter. Perhaps we could step out of the corridor?’

  I hesitated.

  ‘Good heavens, you cannot surely fear for your reputation? I am the Laird’s son!’

  ‘Well no,’ I began, but certain ideas were beginning to form in my mind. This was the little boy who had run away with the gypsies.

  ‘Let us go in here,’ he said opening a door, seemingly at random. He ushered me into a small antechamber that seemed to serve little purpose. It also had only the one exit.

  ‘Perhaps you could leave the door open,’ I said. ‘It would make me feel more comfortable.’

  He frowned, but then quickly smiled. ‘I will leave it ajar. After all, what is the point of a private conversation if all and sundry can hear it? But if it will make you feel more comfortable…’ He left the door open the merest crack.

  ‘It would be most seemly if my employer, Mrs Muller, were also with me. I am unmarried.’

  ‘And yet, you chat happily with men at breakfast.’

  ‘Gentlemen, who I know well,’ I countered. He was between the door and I. How had that happened?

  ‘But it is Mrs Muller I need to speak to you about. I understand she has sent for Mrs Andrews, the grandmother of one of the maids here and a retired member of my father’s staff.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. The hairs on the back of my neck rose as the pieces began to fall into place.

  ‘I feel I need to advise you that Mrs Andrews did not leave my father’s employ on good terms and thus anything she has to say should be treated with scepticism.’

  ‘Anything?’ I countered. ‘Or merely when she discusses your family?’

  ‘Truth be told, the old woman should be in an asylum. She has the strangest fantasies. I told my father he should have had her locked up years ago, but he wouldn’t hear of it.’

  ‘Perhaps he was worried she might have told her tales to her daughter, or even her granddaughter.’

  ‘Oh, Agnes is a good girl. Very fond of the family. I doubt she would want to make trouble, but Enid … I regret to say it, but she takes after her grandmother. A flighty one.’

  ‘You ran away with the gypsies when you were little, didn’t you?’ I asked. ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘Oh, that old story.’ Dougal Kennedy shrugged his shoulders casually, but his eyes never left my face. ‘I don’t recall. I am sure it seemed like a grand adventure at the time.’

  ‘Your nanny was very upset, I believe.’

  ‘Yes, poor old Mason. I believe she was quite distraught. Left in a flood of tears, my father said. Of course, he wrote to her afterwards and told her I had been found.’

  ‘Did he? Where did she go?’ I asked.

  ‘Home. Inverness, I think.’

  ‘Does your father still have her address?’

  ‘My dear girl, we are not in the habit of keeping in touch with former servants who are not on our pension,’ said Dougal with a cold smile.

  ‘So what is it you wish me to do?’ I asked.

  ‘I think it would be better if Mrs Muller was not disturbed by Mrs Andrews’ tales. Perhaps you could suggest to her that the meeting need not take place? The last thing a lady in her position needs is to be confused and frightened by silly Highland gh
ost stories.’

  ‘I believe they are together at this very moment.’

  Dougal Kennedy’s mask slipped for a moment. ‘Damn it,’ he cried. He took three paces towards me until we were only inches apart. I was backed against the panelling. I used all my will power not to flinch from him. ‘I really, really need you to help me out here, miss,’ he said. ‘My family has lost this castle, but we still have a name in the area, a reputation to uphold. Stapleford may have bought this house, but my father is still the Laird.’

  ‘I do not think Sir Richard understands the matter quite like that.’

  ‘I don’t care what that dolt thinks!’ shouted Dougal, backing into the room and clenching his fists. ‘My family has held this land for generations and our word is law!’

  ‘I rather think the Chief Inspector would disagree.’ I tried to edge sideways towards the door. ‘Was it an accident?’ I asked. ‘I imagine your father thought you were dead. He must have been beside himself with grief.’

  ‘Hah!’ said Dougal. ‘My father needed his heir. My mother was too frail to bear another son. He was angry. Rightfully so. Mason had failed in her duties. All she had to do was keep me safe, but let me out of her sight and the gypsies took me. If I had not run away from them, who knows what might have happened to me? We have never welcomed those people on our lands.’

  ‘So you are saying they kidnapped you? It was not that you ran away? Ran away because your father had a temper?’ I ventured a guess.

  The change that came over Dougal froze me to the spot. ‘Father only ever did what was best for me. The Laird must behave correctly. Boys don’t always understand that. Sometimes it has to be beaten into them.’

  ‘Did he beat your mother?’ I asked. ‘Is that why there were no more children?’

  ‘Mother was from the lowlands. She found the climate up here too harsh.’

  ‘I see,’ I said with obvious doubt. ‘Did he beat his servants?’

  ‘Only when they deserved it. It is the way up here. It is understood.’

  ‘But he went too far with Mason, did he not? He killed her?’

  ‘Stupid English maid. A Scottish girl would have taken the beating and been glad she had not been turned out. That was all he was doing. Punishing her. He needed her to look after my mother. He did not mean to kill her.’

  ‘So he buried her in the wall. When did he tell you?’

  ‘When he sold the castle.’

  ‘He told you it was your fault, did he not?’ I said. ‘If you had not run from your lessons he would not have had to beat her.’

  The lines of anger on Dougal’s face faded. ‘Oh, you do understand. It was my fault. I had to keep his secret. Keep his reputation intact.’

  ‘You did not know there was a man hiding there, did you?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Dougal. ‘But the Chief Inspector has told me he was a robber, so no great loss.’

  ‘His life does not matter? It must have been a horrible way to die,’ I said.

  ‘It is a shame, but I only did the hangman’s job for him,’ said Dougal. ‘He should not have been there.’

  ‘And the fire you set should only have been bad enough to stop Sir Richard developing the building?’

  Dougal turned away from me. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking! I had to stop them discovering the body until I had a chance to move it, but then I thought, why did Stapleford have the right to sit in our castle while we had to live in a rat-infested old manor in the village?’

  ‘Because you had no more money and he bought the castle from you.’

  ‘But it is my birthright,’ said Dougal firmly. ‘He has no right to it. It is mine! Mine or no one’s.’

  I think it was then that I realised he was not simply confused but well on the road to madness. ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I understand you have done nothing wrong. You did not mean to harm Susie Ellis’ brother and your father did not mean to kill Nanny Mason.’ I spoke as if to a young child. ‘Everything will be all right.’

  ‘No! No! It won’t be!’ cried Dougal. ‘You will tell them, won’t you? You will tell them all everything. I will never get the castle back!’ And so saying, he drew a revolver from his pocket. ‘This is my father’s old service revolver,’ he said calmly. ‘If he had wanted to kill Mason he would have used this. You do see that, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. The door stood a mere two feet from me. ‘But you won’t make anything better by killing me,’ I said firmly, although inside it felt as if every nerve and sinew was shaking with fear. ‘You are an intelligent man. It will only make…’

  ‘Shut up!’ yelled Dougal. ‘Shut up! I have to shut you up!’

  Then everything happened very quickly. I screamed and dived towards the door. I caught my foot on the rug and sprawled across the floor. A bullet rang out above me, hitting the wall. Then the door burst open. ‘Euphemia!’ cried Bertram, seeing me lying there.

  ‘Bertram, look out. He’s got…’

  But I never got any further. The gun went off again and Bertram slumped to the ground. Rory, a footman and several of the guests who had been at breakfast piled through the door. They wrestled the gun from Dougal. It went off once more, but no one cried out. I did not see if the bullet struck, for I was on my knees by Bertram. His face was waxy. A large pool of red seeped slowly across the rug.

  ‘Bertram!’ I cried, but he did not answer me.

  To be continued…

  Caroline Dunford

  The Euphemia Martins Mysteries

  For more information about Caroline Dunford

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  Published by Accent Press Ltd 2016

  ISBN 9781783757145

  Copyright © Caroline Dunford 2016

  The right of Caroline Dunford to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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