A Death in the Family (18 page)

The upper house was still in silence. I made my way down the servants’ stair. At the bottom, I peeked cautiously around the corner. I could hear Mrs Deighton’s voice coming from the kitchen – something about the softness of modern cauliflower. Merry’s voice murmured in response. I knew Mr Holdsworth would be busy upstairs serving cocktails. I darted across the hallway and into the butler’s pantry. It was empty as I had hoped. Now, where could I leave Holdsworth a note that only he would find? No one else would normally come in here, but if he was under suspicion might not the police search here? And I had accused Mr Bertram of not thinking things through. I had to get the note to him before the police became suspicious, but how?

I have been brought up to believe that God answers one’s prayers, but not always in the way one expects. (More often than not he says no). My father always held God had a sense of humour, so I hope he was watching my expression when the pantry door opened and Mr Holdsworth entered.

Our eyes met. ‘You know, don’t you?’ said the butler.

‘Yes.’

Mr Holdsworth came into the room. He shut the door behind him and leaned upon it. I could not help but be aware the only other potential exit was a small window that was heavily barred.

‘Why are you here?’

‘I came to warn you.’ I held out the note. ‘But I couldn’t think of where to hide it.’

Mr Holdsworth took it and read, ‘Mr Richard knows about Lucy. He intends to accuse you of both murders though I fear he murdered his father himself. You must go at once.’ He looked up, blinking back tears. ‘You know about my Lucy?’

‘I pieced it together. Gossip here and there.’

The butler slammed his fists down upon the table. ‘Damn it! Damn it!’ I flinched. Then he turned to me. ‘You mustn’t think badly of her. It’s worse than you know. He forced himself on her.’

‘I didn’t …’ I began but he wasn’t listening to me.

‘I found her afterwards. She blamed herself. Said she should never have let herself be alone with him. He’d told her men have urges.’

‘The beast,’ I whispered beneath my breath.

Holdsworth nodded violently. ‘And then when she finds she is pregnant and he tells her if she keeps on … If she keeps on … he’ll see she is all right.’

‘My God! What a monster.’

‘I went to the Mistress, but she wouldn’t hear a word of it. And Lucy – Lucy said it was better that way. The babe would have a future. But he tired of her. Sent her back to her mother without a penny. Then she dies and he does nothing.’

‘So you thought you’d blackmail him? I found part of your note in the grate. Why did you use that? You must have realised someone would notice. It’s never used.’

‘Time. I didn’t have time,’ he muttered. His eyes had a faraway look and he hardly seemed to be aware of my presence. ‘I kept thinking about Lucy as a tiny mite, sitting on my knee in her favourite blue dress and begging for a kitten. She never got one. And my sister, I couldn’t bear it.’

To my alarm he choked back a sob. The poor man was overwrought – as overwrought as I imagine he was when he confronted George.

‘I’m so deeply sorry, Holdsworth,’ I said sincerely.

‘Thank you. I know you are. You’re not like them.’ He wiped his eyes on the back of his hands. ‘How did you know it was me?’

His question echoed loudly in my mind. It is one thing to have suspicions and quite another to have them confirmed. ‘I guessed you arranged to meet in the note and things didn’t work out as planned.’

He laughed once – a short, mirthless bark that chilled me to the core. ‘Didn’t work out as planned? How do you know I didn’t mean to kill him all along?’

The floor swam beneath me. I gripped the edge of the table. ‘I don’t believe you’re an evil man, Mr Holdsworth. I believe you are a wronged and bereaved one. A man who might be moved to anger by indifference.’

‘You’re very acute, Euphemia. It says a lot about our world that you are in service – a girl as bright and good as you should be forced to serve her “betters”.’ He spat the last word violently into the air between us. ‘Do you know what he did when I met him?’

I shook my head.

‘He laughed in my face. I’d only taken the knife to frighten him. He said Lucy was a little whore who’d got no more than she deserved, so I pushed him into the passage and stabbed him. It didn’t take him long to die. Not long enough at all.’

‘Did you search my room?’

Mr Holdsworth shook his head.

‘It must have been Mr Richard,’ I said thinking aloud. ‘He must have suspected George was being blackmailed over something and thought I’d taken the paper.’

‘I’m sorry you got caught up in this, Euphemia.’

I felt my limbs go leaden. ‘What do you mean?’ I whispered. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘Do?’ asked Holdsworth. ‘I’m going to give myself up. What else can I do?’

‘No!’ I cried. ‘He’ll lay both murders at your door and get away scot-free. You’ll be sacrificed as Lucy was! You can’t – you can’t give up.’

Mr Holdsworth stepped away from the door and sat down. ‘There isn’t anything else you can do.’

I reached into the pocket of my skirt and pulled out my coins. ‘Here, take these. Go. Go abroad. No one’s looking for you. You can make it to the coast. Start a new life.’

‘How can I leave my sister and the babe?’

‘You’ll be no use to them hanging from a noose. Hasn’t your sister suffered enough? Besides, I made Mr Bertram promise he’d see them right. He’s a good man. His word counts. Come on, Holdsworth, you can’t want your sister to suffer this too. You can’t let those bastards win!’

I flew down the stairs, but I was too late. I had taken too long. I had not reached the foot before I heard the voice of Mr Bertram greeting the inspector in the hallway. I stopped short.

‘Come up to the library, inspector. I have information I need to share with you.’

I could hear the hearty chink of glasses and the occasional loud laugh in the distance. The party was in full swing. They must be about to sit down to dine at any moment. The inspector appeared to think so too.

‘I’d rather not, sir. Don’t want to intrude on Lord Richard’s big night. Last I heard a landslide success was expected. So unless you’ve got the murderer upstairs in your library I’ll see you in the morning.’

Mr Bertram laughed. ‘Oh no, inspector. He’s not in the library, but he will be dining here later.’

‘If this is some kind of a joke …’

‘Indeed not.’

‘Then I’ll need to use your phone and call for more men.’

‘It’s right here, inspector.’

‘You sure about this, sir? It wouldn’t be good for either of us if you were wrong.’

‘The murderer right now is in this house. I have incontrovertible evidence.’

I thought this was laying it on a bit thick. Mr Bertram might have proof of embezzlement, but little more. However, it seemed the inspector was getting carried away by Mr Bertram’s enthusiasm.

I bolted back up the stairs. No wonder servants lived to a ripe old age. The sound of the party had reminded me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and I was famished.

I needed to get to the passage behind the library. The easiest way was to go through the kitchen, but I did not believe it likely I could get by there unchallenged. Instead I took a different route. I was fairly sure the passageway from the drawing room wound down behind the library. Unfortunately, my normally excellent sense of direction became somewhat challenged in the dim light of the servants’ ways and it took me far longer than it should have done to arrive at the library entrance.

I pressed my ear to the crack and listened.

‘Don’t you see, inspector, the money he took from the bank had to be repaid?’

‘And he used this money to buy shares in this Frenchie company?’

‘No,’ I could hear the exasperation in Mr Bertram’s voice. ‘He was buying favours – bribes. He needed both more money and influence to gain a serious stake in the French company. He dappled in speculation and lost even more.’

‘A seat in parliament would be helpful then?’

‘Exactly.’

‘And you have proof of this embezzlement?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m still not clear in my head as to why he killed your cousin.’

Mr Bertram hesitated. Then he spoke, ‘They were in it together. The whole scheme.’

‘No honour among thieves then?’ The inspector cleared his throat. ‘This must be a very difficult time for you, sir.’

‘Not been the best days of my life.’

The inspector made an odd coughing noise again. ‘Er, I was just thinking how it might be easy to make mistakes when one is overwrought. Grief can do that. My wife, when she lost her mother …’

‘Here. These are papers from the bank. I have charge of it under the terms of my father’s will until probate is done. The family lawyer is downstairs. He’s been collecting more proofs for me.’

‘Right. Right. Embezzlement’s not my area. But I’ll have a word with the man. If you don’t mind me saying, sir, and with all due respect, there’s a big step between a bit of dodgy dealing and killing your own father …’

Suddenly I became aware of an excruciating pain in my left ear. Then I was yanked backwards. Two black eyes glittered at me in the dimness and a sour smell washed over me. ‘What do you think you’re doing, girl?’ snapped Mrs Wilson.

‘Could you let go of my ear, please? That hurts very much.’

‘Don’t you go thinking I’m going to let you get away again. You’ve been skiving this whole day. Believe me if I could find anyone else I would. This way.’

‘If you could let go of my ear I could walk more quickly.’

But Mrs Wilson paid me no attention. She hauled me along towards the kitchen in a manner that convinced me that at any moment I would lose the appendage. I considered kicking her, but even as I readied my balance for the action she dug her nails hard into my ear lobe. I felt a trickle of fresh blood. I am certain at this moment in such circumstances Merry would have sworn at her, but I held to the last threads of my dignity. I hoped one day to wear earrings.

When we reached the kitchen she released me and shoved me forward.

‘She’ll have to do,’ said Mrs Wilson.

A red-faced Mrs Deighton looked up from between the pots. ‘Lord-a-lummie, you can’t let a maid go serving in there.’

‘As we seem to have a sudden scarcity of serving gentlemen I have little option. At least this one has more grace than Merry. She’s used enough to mixing above her station to manage to serve a few potatoes as long as she keeps her legs together.’

I flushed scarlet and rounded on Mrs Wilson. ‘How dare you? You harridan!’

‘Harridan, am I? Well, there’s far worse words for the likes of you!’

A bell rang urgently. Then another.

‘Oh lor’,’ said Mrs Deighton. ‘Merry, you’ll have to do.’

‘I can’t,’ stammered Merry. ‘Don’t ask me, please, don’t ask me. Euphemia!’ She turned her big eyes towards me in wretched appeal.

How could I refuse her? If she had not released me from my sartorial prison I might not now have the breath to harangue Wilson.

‘For you, Merry,’ I said grandly, and lifted the large serving dish from the table.

Merry need not have worried. Upstairs was all glitter of candlelight and crystal. All the leaves of the great table had been inserted. The room was packed with people and incredibly hot. What passed for elegant conversation flowed in harmony with the deluge of wine. The air was heavy with the scent of perfume and sour sweat. No one was paying the least attention to the servants. They were all intent on impressing their neighbours.

Mr Bertram slipped into the back of the room and tapped an uncomfortable-looking man in worn evening dress on the shoulder. He got up at once and followed him out. I surmised that was the lawyer.

I made my way around serving the ladies. ‘Potatoes, ma’am?’ I whispered again and again. Not once did any of them turn to look at me. Even Miss Richenda paid no attention. Most often I was dismissed by ladies of wasp-like waists with a flap of the hand behind their heads. It was only my quick reactions that saved me from being slapped in the face more than once. I knew whose fault it would be if my face damaged their manicure.

The election might be a foregone conclusion, but the room was abuzz with excitement as they awaited the formal results. Excitement bubbled within me too, but for quite a different reason. I thought Mr Bertram had overreached himself. I did not believe the inspector would arrest Mr Richard. But perhaps I could bring him to give himself away?

At that moment Mr Bertram, the lawyer and a very unhappy-looking inspector returned. The lawyer returned to his seat, while Mr Bertram debated with the policeman in a quiet, urgent voice by the door. I could not make out what they were saying over the general level of conversation. The guests, after glancing up to see whether it was a messenger from the returning officer, quickly lost interest.

I had just served the last lady. Another footman, who I did not recognise was about to serve Mr Richard. I gave a little jerk with my head and stepped up quickly.

‘Potatoes, sir?’ I said in a cold voice in Mr Richard’s ear.

The result was the best I could have hoped for. The man jumped out of his chair as if I had stuck him with a pin. All eyes turned to the head of the table. ‘You!’ he cried, pointing at me in a most melodramatic and satisfying manner. ‘How did you …?’ He trailed off suddenly aware of all eyes on him. There was a deadly hush in the room.

I kept my voice low and polite, as I hoped a shy, wronged servant girl might. ‘Get out of the wardrobe, sir? I’m afraid I did not find your sister’s closet particularly comfortable. Besides Mrs Wilson needed my help with Holdsworth missing.’

Richard turned wild eyes towards Mrs Wilson. His sister, I noticed, kept hers firmly riveted to her plate, but then her ample frame dictated a hearty appetite. ‘Mrs Wilson, where is my butler!’

Mrs Wilson melted out of the shadows. She glided over to Mr Richard with mournful grace.

‘Damn fool thing!’ exclaimed one male guest jovially. ‘Losing a butler. Big bloke wasn’t he, that Holdsworth?’ He started at the sight of Mrs Wilson. ‘Good gad! Who’s that female? She’s like some giant crow or spectre at the feast, what? Hahaha!’ His female companion nipped him on the wrist. He yelped.