A Death by Arson (6 page)

Suddenly, a drink was pressed into my hand. Bertram's voice spoke into my ear. ‘I know things up here come a lot cheaper, but how the hell is my brother affording all this?'

It was a question that, as a lady, I should have ignored, but my interest too had been piqued. ‘I have no idea,' I whispered back. ‘And who is Miss Hessleton? You knew about the marriage. What do you know of the bride?'

‘Family comes from trade,' said Bertram darkly. ‘Mills and the like. Perhaps Richard had a down payment on the dowry?'

I warred inwardly for a moment with my mother's ruling against gossip, but gave in. ‘If she is that rich, surely they could have got her someone with a more important title? There are many great houses who would welcome a rich bride.'

‘But with a mother who had been a servant?' countered Bertram.

‘Oh,' I said.

‘Besides, I believe there is also a son up at Cambridge who wants to enter politics. No use, of course. You need to be an Oxford man to get anywhere.'

I smiled. ‘I assume you were an Oxford man?'

‘Rowing Blue,' said Bertram with pride. Then his face fell. ‘That was before I started getting trouble with the old ticker.'

‘Well, let us hope that this trip into the Kingdom's northern realm will provide you with some rest and relaxation.'

‘If it hadn't been for Hans …' Bertram trailed off, but then added, ‘Apart from Amy trying to fall off the roof, we had a rather good Christmas, didn't we?'

My heart went out to him. All the Stapleford children had been neglected by their parents, and none had known the happy Christmases that I had enjoyed with my parents and little brother. Richenda would not countenance my going home to share Christmas with my mother and little Joe, but at least I had many happy memories. ‘Actually,' I said, ‘it was rather nice, wasn't it?'

‘And no one died,' said Bertram, with a wicked grin.

‘Don't say things like that, Bertram,' I said.

‘You think I am tempting fate?'

‘I hope to the Good Lord not,' I said, but even as I spoke I felt a ghost pass over my grave. I shivered, and urged Bertram to move closer to the fire. But despite the roaring flames, the feeling of cold had settled into my bones.

Chapter Eight
An MP with a castle – and a fortune

I was taken into dinner by the most boring of men – an ageing financier, who was full of bluster about the incomprehensible deals he had done in his youth. On my other side sat the youngest of nine sons of a Scottish Lord, who was clearly uncomfortable about the formality with which Richard was conducting the meal. It has often seemed to me that the newly rich try much harder than established families do when it comes to formal dining. The old brigade do it all without conscious effort, whereas everything Richard did was with flourish and too much silver and gold plate. Not, I should hasten to add, that I am particularly fond of the aristocracy. Until recently, my closest companions have been among the servant class, who I have found much more honest, decent and hard-working than their employers.

The meal wore on; course after course. I lost count after seven. I could see that even Bertram, who was seated some way down the table on the opposite side, was beginning to struggle with the amount of food he was expected to consume. Adopting the woman's prerogative, I ate only mouthfuls of each course. I abhorred the waste of food, but it was either that or I would have to ask Enid to cut me out of my dress that night.

Finally, we were getting to the stage when the ladies could expect to retire while the gentlemen drank their port. It was also my chance to slip away to my room for an early night. Bertram would doubtless drink port into the early hours if his host allowed, and apart from Richenda there was really no one I would want to converse with. Of course, I was a companion and would have to take my lead from my employer, but hopefully the journey, coupled with her interesting condition, would make her head for bed.

I cast about trying to work out who the highest ranking lady present was, but having removed myself from society – or rather my mother having rather spectacularly removed herself from the upper echelons by her youthful folly of marrying my father – I could only identify a few of the women present. I did remark that Lucinda positively glowed with happiness. On more than one occasion, I saw her cast admiring glances at her groom-to-be. As far as I could tell these were sincere. Never before had the adage that beauty is in the eye of the beholder seemed more apt to me.

However, it was not a lady who rose but Sir Richard himself. He tapped his knife lightly on the side of his crystal glass and called for silence. ‘It seems,' he began, ‘that the cat is out of the bag and that many of you have discovered, one way or another,' – he paused to give his audience what I assume was meant to be a comic look. I shuddered – ‘that this New Year's celebration is more than a little gathering to mark my engagement, but you will also all be guests at my wedding on New Year's Day when I have the good fortune to marry Miss Lucinda Hessleton.'

Whatever he was going to say next was lost in a round of applause and cheers; some men present, who had obviously enjoyed the wine too well, went as far as to bang their forks on the table. Eventually Sir Richard managed to hush the crowd and continue. ‘Now, this might appear to be unseemly haste, but ladies and gentlemen, while my darling bride-to-be is in the first blush of youth, I am not so fortunate.' He reached out to take Lucinda's hand. ‘Once I had found her, I did not wish to waste a precious moment before I took her as my wife. I want our association to be as long as possible.'

‘And as fertile!' heckled a man's voice from further down the table.

Lucinda turned a fiery red. I saw Richard hesitate, but then he seemed to decide to take it as a joke. He kissed Lucinda's hand. ‘I have no doubt I will have many happy years of fatherhood to look forward to, but first my bride must have her day. When I told her of my Scottish castle, then nowhere else would do for her wedding, and as you were all already coming up for New Year – well, the rest as they say is history.'

There was more applause and some positive braying, from those who I could only assume were Richard's fellow financiers rather than the more elite members of society.
⁸

‘Gentlemen, gentlemen,' cried Richard over the racket. ‘As my wife-to-be wishes for a Highland wedding, upon your return to your rooms you will all find I have supplied a Highland rig out. The ladies, of course, will no doubt look charming in whatever they intended to wear for New Year. Until then, please feel free to enjoy the facilities of my estate. My servants will be arranging whist and bridge leagues for the ladies. My gillies will be happy to escort any who take a fancy to see our lovely glen. There will be, my cook promises, glorious meals. My mother-in-law is keen to put on a play, should any be inclined to indulge her. There is a well-stocked library, a billiards room, a flower room and much more. Simply ask for whatever you seek and my servants will be happy to supply it. Over the coming three days Lucinda and I will endeavour to spend time with all of you individually, welcoming you to our home. Our hope is that in the run-up to our wedding you will have a relaxing and luxurious three days, before, in the New Year, we all return to the business of our everyday lives.' He paused. ‘Well, not I,' he said, ‘for Lucinda and I are off on a romantic tour.' Then he put his finger to his lips and said, in what I assume he thought was a coy fashion, but one I found merely lecherous, ‘not that the young lady is allowed to know the surprises I have in store for her!'

There were positive shouts of enthusiasm at the end of this remark. Fortunately, as I was by now feeling distinctly queasy, one of the older matrons, all dark colours and diamond jewels, rose, and all the ladies followed suit. She hesitated and I realised she had no more idea than the rest of us where the Withdrawing Room was. A footman opened the door to usher us forward and the redoubtable lady marched out with her head held high. There was a general scraping of chairs as the gentlemen stood and the ladies made their way out of the room. It was distinctly disorganised, and clearly showed that the people present were not all of the same set.

I was peering around trying to pick out Richenda in the general exodus, when a footman came up to me. He was well over six foot and had to bend low to address me. ‘Miss St John?' I nodded. ‘Sir Richard has asked that you join him and the rest of the family in the Stuart Room in fifteen minutes. I am instructed to escort you.'

There appeared to be no way to decline this invitation. There was nothing inappropriate in the man's behaviour, but he was tall and broad enough to exert a commanding presence. ‘Are you sure they want me at a family meeting?' I asked in a half-hearted attempt to get away.

‘Indeed, ma'am. I was asked most specifically to reassure you that your presence is greatly desired.'

I sighed inwardly and gestured to him to lead on. Over the next few minutes, I was conducted along a confusing mishmash of corridors and vaulted passageways. I tried hard to keep track of the route we were taking, but after the fifth turn I was too dizzy trying to work out in which area of the castle we now were. The footman must have noticed my confusion. ‘Please don't be concerned, ma'am. Being a mixture of the old and the new, the castle is a confusing place for guests. Sir Richard has ensured that there are to be servants on watch day and night to help conduct the ladies and gentlemen until they get their bearings.'

‘I don't know that I ever will,' I said candidly. ‘I have no idea how you remember the way…'

‘Rupert, ma'am,' responded the footman, ‘I have the advantage of having worked previously at the old castle, so I have only had to memorise the new buildings, and they, if I might say so, are quite straightforward in comparison to the older remnants.'

‘What happened to the old castle?'

‘An unfortunate fire, ma'am, but please, have no fear. Sir Richard has put in place the most modern of safety features.'

‘That must have been quite a fire to destroy so much,' I said. ‘How terrifying. I do hope no one was injured.'

‘We are here, ma'am,' said Rupert, his hand placed on the door handle. He gave a little cough. ‘I fear I have spoken too freely. Sir Richard does not like to be reminded of how he acquired the castle. Miss Lucinda is afraid of ghosts and he does not wish her to hear any stories. And, well, it is still a source of distress to the local people. We are all most grateful to Sir Richard for acquiring and modernising the castle. It has always been the main provider for the livelihoods of the local people.'

I saw real fear in his eyes, and realised that the staff were perhaps beginning to get the measure of how ruthless Richard could be. ‘I won't say a word,' I said.

Then he opened the door and I stepped into a smaller, comfortably furnished salon with a fire blazing and a tea set out on a table by a window. Otherwise, the room was empty. I moved towards the window in an attempt to peer behind the drawn curtains and get my bearings. As I did so, I heard the door click shut behind me as Rupert departed. The vista before me held nothing but blackness and the reflected images of the room. I let the curtain drop again and, feeling suddenly cold, I went to stand by the fire. Inside my head, a small voice whispered that it had not been wise to agree to go off alone in Richard Stapleford's castle. We had been adversaries for a long time and I had no doubt he would take any revenge that chance offered him. I eyed the silver sugar tongs, wondering if they could be used as a weapon. Doubtless Fitzroy, the spy I had the strange habit of encountering, could have used them to deadly effect, but I doubted I could give anyone more than a bad pinch. Still, anything was better than nothing.

My fingers had barely closed around the tongs when the door burst open and my worst fears were realised. Sir Richard Stapleford strode into the room. ‘Euphemia! At last!' he said, and gave me a smile that chilled me to the marrow.

 

⁸
Though after enough wine it seems to me that most men forget what class they spring from.

Chapter Nine
The Staplefords squabble

My fear was short-lived as Lucinda tripped into the room behind him. She ran over and embraced me, kissing me on both cheeks. ‘I know how important you are to Richard's family,' she said. ‘And that you are to be treated as family, yourself.'

I looked across her, for she was some inches smaller than me at the head of the family. He merely beamed at me. I immediately regretted eating so much for dinner, as my stomach lurched in disgust. ‘How kind,' I murmured to Lucinda.

‘I am afraid my bridesmaids are already chosen,' said Lucinda, ‘but I have been trying to think of a special role for you in the ceremony.'

‘There really is no need,' I protested. From the look on Richard's face, he was enjoying my discomfort. Lucinda drew me over to a pair of chairs by the fire, chatting earnestly about her wedding plans and how I might be included. I only lent her half an ear. Firstly, because I was determined not to get involved in the ceremony, and secondly, because with an eagerness befitting a bride about to be married, she was bursting with far too many details and schemes.

‘Mummy and Daddy send their apologies, but they are early retirees. They hope to meet you at breakfast.'

I smiled at her and let her ramble on. I did not have the heart to openly quash her plans. She seemed an eager little thing, keen to please and very friendly. There was no sign of malicious intent in her plans or her manner, something one would have expected to find in Richard's true soulmate. All in all, she seemed a pretty, friendly, ordinary girl. As she was only interested in talking about the wedding it was difficult for me to assess her intellect, but as she had chosen Richard as a life mate I could only assume she was either mentally challenged or extremely naïve. I had certainly been ready to dislike Richard's intended, but it was like trying to dislike a playful and appealing puppy.