A Death in the Loch (4 page)
Fitzroy widened his grin and raised one eyebrow at me. ‘I know you, Euphemia. You don’t like me enough to come down for me,’ he said, ‘but you’ll come because you might get to dance with your beloved Bertram –’ I interrupted to protest, but Fitzroy continued, ‘But mostly you’ll come because you’re bored stupid and I can offer you a little adventure.’
Our eyes locked. I held his gaze for a good minute before I sighed. ‘Oh, all right.’
‘Good.’ Fitzroy made to enter my room. I placed my hand on his chest.
‘You can wait out there.’
‘Spoilsport,’ said Fitzroy, but he stayed outside rudely, if tunefully, whistling while I scrambled into my dress and brushed out my hair.
I had never seen the ballroom opened up in all my time at Stapleford Hall. Large, airy, lined with mirrors, and edged with a minstrels’ gallery, it lay on the eastern-most edge of the south wing. Silk wallpaper the colour of champagne lined the walls and on tables all along one of the shorter sides there were servants tending to buckets of the real thing. Music played loudly for the colourful throng that merged before my eyes and I smelt the sweat of a hundred people who had been enjoying a good dance.
As I entered the ballroom on Fitzroy’s arm we attracted no little attention. Fortunately guests were no longer being announced, but by pausing a moment at the threshold somehow Fitzroy managed to get quite a few sets of eyes turning our way. I knew my dress suited me and I also knew that with the exception of Bertram and Richenda no one else in the room would recognise me. Fitzroy appearing with a mysterious and attractive lady on his arm when no further carriages were due to arrive was as close to a public scandal as I had ever caused. I saw Bertram’s face in the crowd below, scowling fiercely.
Fitzroy must have seen him too as he led me over and handed me on to Bertram as the musicians struck up an old-fashioned waltz. Fortunately my mother had ensured I could dance. Bertram’s mother had obviously not placed quite so much importance on the skill. Although I admit that with the strange feeling of Bertram’s hands on me I was not as graceful as my mother would have expected.
‘What the devil are you doing here,’ hissed Bertram in my ear.
‘You have not mastered the art of polite conversation with your dancing partner, have you?’ I teased. Bertram’s scowl deepened further, if that were possible, and his face began to turn red. I noticed with a shock he was sporting large sideburns. ‘You’re not thinking of growing a beard, are you?’ I said, horrified.
‘Why not?’ snapped Bertram. ‘It will give me gravitas.’
‘Who on earth told you that?’ I said in genuine surprise.
‘Never mind that,’ said Bertram turning a deeper shade of red, ‘what the devil do you mean coming down to the ball when you know it will only enrage Richard? He could turn you out!’
‘I doubt that. He doesn’t want to upset Richenda. Besides, have you ever tried to say no to Fitzroy?’
‘So that’s what he meant!’ growled Bertram stepping hard on my foot. ‘Well, I’m not having it!’
‘Having what?’
‘He’s got something he wants me to do for the security of the nation or some such tosh. When I resisted his plan he said if I knew who else was involved I might change my mind. Then he disappeared until he brought you in.’
My heart beat faster and I had a strange sensation of bubbling in my chest. Both Bertram and I had had to sign the Official Secrets Act so it was possible that Fitzroy might ask us do something secretive. Nothing too dangerous, I suspected, as both of us were in his eyes ordinary civilians.
‘Did he say what?’
‘No,’ said Bertram shortly.
‘Whatever it is it’s got to be better than staying here.’
‘You might get shot!’ said Bertram, referring to events in my journal
A Death in the Highlands
.
‘As I recall it was Fitzroy who prevented me getting shot!’
‘And McLeod. He wants him in on it too. He’s back, you know.’ Bertram swung me inexpertly round and my eyes locked with the Stapleford butler, Rory McLeod, the man I had once thought was the love of my life till he jilted me. He stood behind the waiting tables, sharp in his uniform, glowering at the sight of me in Bertram’s arms.
It seemed as if life was about to become interesting again. Well, I had asked for it, hadn’t I?
The wild country or will ye go lassie, go?
It was three o’clock in the morning before Fitzroy gathered Bertram, Rory, and myself in one room to have his little chat. He had chosen, whether through prior knowledge or pure chance, the place where I had found my first dead body at Stapleford Hall, the library. Rory stood ramrod-straight by the window, only the shadows under his eyes showing how exhausted he was. Bertram ambled round the room until he came to rest leaning heavily against the mantelpiece, his coat tails hanging dangerously near the fire. I guessed he was less than sober. No longer a servant, I chose to sit in the wing-backed chair near the fire. Fitzroy sauntered in with not a hair out of place, looking as if he had spent the last eight hours in a restful sleep and not dancing non-stop in the ballroom. He took a long, theatrical look around at the three of us. ‘Definitely a few cobwebs that need dusting away,’ he said obscurely. Then he closed the door behind him, checked that the door to the servants’ passage behind the bookcase was firmly closed (and no, I don’t know how he knew it was there), and began his speech.
‘I’ll be brief,’ he said, ‘there is a very important meeting that needs to be held in the Highlands. A small group of men discussing an issue of national security in these days of heightened tensions. My job is to put them into a secure but obscure location. Richard Stapleford is lending the government his Highland Lodge and I require …’ Bertram and I both shot him a venomous look. Fitzroy bowed slightly. ‘I should say, I
would like
, you to head up the staff and welcoming party there. All of you have experience in observation and in managing staff. You are discreet, have each signed the Official Secrets Act, and are personally known to me. While I would hope you were able to offer reports on the meeting after it has closed, I can say with certainty that at no time would any of you be in any physical danger. The government simply requires a discreet place where interested parties can discuss certain matters and where we can ensure that these matters are not reported in the press or picked up by the local people.’
‘What matters would those be?’ asked Rory, his Scotch accent more in evidence than usual.
Fitzroy straightened one of his cufflinks. ‘I am afraid I am not at liberty to say.’
‘And yet you want us to report on how matters progress?’ continued Rory.
Fitzroy waved a dismissive hand. ‘I need only to know how the various parties relate to each other. That will tell me all.’ He looked at us all quickly in turn. ‘Need I say I do trust you all implicitly.’
‘But nae implicitly enough to tell us what is going on,’ said Rory, becoming even more Scotch in his speech.
‘Do we have a choice?’ asked Bertram. He sounded resigned.
‘Of course,’ said Fitzroy, ‘you are private citizens. If you choose to turn your back on your King and country when they need you then that is matter entirely between you and your conscience.’
‘So no,’ said Bertram.
‘I will ensure that travel arrangements are made for you. Expect to be collected on January 4th. There will be no need to arrange supplies I will sort all that. When you arrive at the lodge you, Bertram, will find a letter introducing you to your guests, who will arrive on the 6th.’
‘How am I to explain this to Richenda?’ I asked. ‘You surely don’t expect her to attend?’
‘Matters will be arranged,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Now I must leave you. Happy New Year.’ And with that he exited.
‘Good Gad,’ said Bertram, ‘if I didn’t know he was an employee of the King I’d think he was a – a –’ He looked at me and hastily shut his mouth.
‘Reckon he is that,’ said Rory. ‘If you will excuse me, sir and miss, I have the New Year breakfast to attend to. It will be served at 4 a.m. in the ballroom just prior to carriages arriving.’
‘I need a drink,’ said Bertram.
I said nothing, but made my way quietly to my bedroom. As I undressed for bed my head was awhirl with thoughts. I could hear the music and laughing as the ball spun on into the night, but even the possibility of an early breakfast could not tempt me to further wakefulness. I was to be sequestered with both Rory and Bertram in the heart of the lonely Highlands at a place where … it was too much to recall at this time of night. I tumbled into bed and pulled the covers over my head, but whether I was attempting to shut out the noises of the ball or the coming of the morrow I could not have said.
A nasty surprise from a man with a dubioussense of humour
New Year’s Day itself saw the groaning, moaning house guests exit in a variety of states. Of the host himself there was no sign. Gilbert along with Rory saw people off the premises. Mrs Lewis did not step above stairs until the last party-goer had left. Richenda declared herself ‘dying’ and called on Merry to tend to her last breath. I learned about this from Merry herself when she unceremoniously dumped a breakfast tray in my room. ‘Mrs Lewis said how you hadn’t stayed up all night, unlike some of us, and I was to bring your breakfast.’
‘That was very kind of her.’
‘And bleeding Richenda has me dancing attendance on her because she’s got the hangover from hell. I’ve been up all bleeding night and I’m ready to drop.’
‘Do we have any sleeping powders in the house?’
‘Probably. Why?’
‘Bring me one and I will give it to Richenda. Then you can catch up on some sleep while you watch her.’
‘Blimey, you’ve changed haven’t you? You’re happy to drug your employer?’
‘The best thing when someone has taken too much quantity of drink is for them to sleep,’ I said pointedly. ‘I thought I was doing you both a favour.’
‘Yeah, well, I suppose,’ said Merry. She sniffed. ‘It’s not like I’m not grateful. It’s just going to be a bit odd. That’s all.’
‘What is?’
‘Apparently I’m being sent up into the Highlands to help you out. That’s what Mr Bertram just told me.’
‘He’s up, is he?’ I asked, sidestepping the elephant in the room. Merry and I had worked side by side and while bringing (and sharing) the odd meal with me at Stapleford House didn’t tax her dignity too much, it would be strange for both of us to be in a house for an extended time where she was below stairs and I was above.
‘I think he expects me to be your bleedin’ maid.’
I was aware of Merry’s long-held ambition to rise to the position of a lady’s maid, but I don’t think she had had me in mind. ‘I’m sure it’s just to preserve the proprieties,’ I said soothingly. ‘I hear it is to be an entirely male party other than myself.’
‘Richenda’s not going?’ asked Merry.
I was spared the answer by the very person we were discussing erupting through my bedroom door. ‘Hans has sent for me!’ she cried, waving a telegram in our faces, ‘I am to join him and his cousin in a visit to a most excellent German spa!’
‘Oh,’ I said, wondering how Fitzroy was going to get around this. ‘How soon?’
‘I travel tomorrow!’ She came across and pressed a hot hand on mine. ‘I am sorry, Euphemia, but Hans and his cousin are coming to collect me tomorrow. His cousin will be acting as chaperone.’ She paused. Then looked meaningfully at me. ‘Your services will not be required.’
‘Ever again,’ I gasped.
‘Oh good gracious me, I didn’t mean that,’ said Richenda, posing languidly against a wall. ‘No, apparently this woman wishes to be my maid of honour – it’s complicated. Hans doesn’t explain it that well here. But as soon as I’m back on British soil I will need you again.’
I breathed a sigh of relief.
‘But what will you do until I return? Richard will not want to house you indefinitely?’
‘I will manage,’ I said, thinking I should never have doubted Fitzroy. ‘I’m glad to see you up and about, Richenda. Merry feared you were very ill.’
‘I was feeling a little unwell,’ confessed Richenda, ‘but Hans’s news has bucked me up considerably.’
She made a little hiccoughing noise and then threw up violently all over my bedroom rug. She had the grace to blush and exit quickly from the room.
‘I’ll get a bucket and a scrubbing brush, shall I?’ said Merry, obviously not best pleased.
I surveyed the hideous mess. ‘Burn it,’ I said shortly. ‘If you wouldn’t mind taking my breakfast tray away, Merry. I think you’d better bring up that medicine for Richenda we were discussing. I’ll be in the library.’ Merry’s expression made it quite plain what she thought of the fact I got to leave her to clean up the mess, but she nodded curtly in agreement.
The next few days of 1912 passed quietly. It was on the fourth I found myself sitting in a carriage with Bertram as the train chugged forward to the high hills of Scotland. ‘I am not at all sure this is proper,’ he protested for the hundredth time.
‘Would you rather I travelled third class with Merry and Rory?’
‘No, of course not,’ said Bertram tugging on his growing beard. ‘What on earth was Fitzroy thinking sending you up there unchaperoned?’
‘Who chaperones the chaperone?’ I said lightly.
‘It’s not a laughing matter, Euphemia. Reputation!’
‘I’m sure yours will survive it.’
‘You know that’s not what I meant!’ snapped Bertram. Then he jumped to his feet. ‘I almost forgot, Fitzroy handed me this for you.’ He pulled down one of his briefcases from the luggage rack.
‘I did wonder why you had two.’ Bertram passed it to me and took down the other. He opened his. ‘Papers,’ he said in disgust. ‘He must expect me to read this lot on the way up.’
I barely registered his words. I was staring down horrified at the contents of my case. ‘He cannot be serious,’ I said.
There must have been something about my tone for I swear for a moment Bertram looked somewhat afraid. ‘What?’ he asked, tugging again on his beard. I feared this was going to become a new and extremely annoying habit.
