Murder by Appointment: Inspector Faro No.10 (5 page)

The young couple hardly heeded Faro's introduction.

Still holding Rose's hand, Lachlan looked across at Faro: 'Yes of course, now I do see a resemblance.'

'You have met before?' Faro's polite question was by now somewhat superfluous.

'We have indeed,' said Lachlan warmly. 'So this young lady
is your daughter—Rose. Rose,' he repeated, smiling as if the name pleased him. Turning again to Faro, he said, 'Forgive
me, I really must leave. I'm already late—' And to Rose, 'May
I see you again? Now that I've found you?' he added gently.

She smiled. 'Of course. I'll be here with Papa until the end of the week.'

Lachlan bowed over her hand. 'Dinner is out for me, I'm afraid. But lunch at the Café Royal, perhaps?'

'That would be lovely.'

Lachlan smiled ruefully. 'Where I was brought up, dinner
was the midday meal, but here in Edinburgh it's
de rigueur
to
call it luncheon.'

Rose laughed. 'It's the same in Orkney. Breakfast, dinner and supper. No one's heard of luncheons yet!'

They had forgotten Faro whose mind wrestled with a fast-moving kaleidoscope of thoughts, none of which gave him any cause for complacency. It was obvious that the two were
very attracted. At one time he would have welcomed Rose's distraction from Danny McQuinn, especially for a concert pianist and composer, a cultured young man with a great future.

But with one of fate's little ironies, Rose had been presented
with the one man she might never marry.

'A very pleasant young man,' he said as the front door closed and he wondered what bitter destiny had brought them together.

Rose was eager to tell him. 'He is so nice. I'm glad you think
so too, Papa.' So his suspicions were correct.

'I've heard him play. He's very talented, you know. Did you
meet at one of his concerts?'

Rose smiled. 'Goodness, no. We met on the Aberdeen train
for Glasgow. I’d spent Easter at Orkney, as you know, with Gran and Emmy. The boat was late disembarking and I had only about ten minutes to get from dock to railway station. Naturally there wasn't a carriage in sight. I took to my heels and the guard had blown his whistle when I raced on to the platform. Someone—Lachlan—threw open the door, stretched out a hand—but just then the strap on my luggage broke. You know what I'm like when it comes to packing. Well, everything spilled out on to the platform. I was so embarrassed. Books papers—clothes everywhere.

'But Lachlan took charge of the situation, leaped out, commanded the guard to hold the train, gathered up all my belongings and bundled me into his carriage. I was very grateful. He was so charming and we talked all the way to Glasgow.'

She paused for breath, her eyes shining, remembering.

'Without any exchange of names, I take it?' said Faro. 'There seemed no need as we were fellow travellers, together for an hour and unlikely ever to meet again. Talk of Aberdeen led to Deeside and that he had been brought up there. I said I went there for holidays long ago. You know how it is, Papa,' she added dreamily, 'how you can meet a complete stranger and within minutes be telling him the story of your life.

'It wasn't until the train pulled into the station at Glasgow and I saw people rushing forward to greet him on the platform, I guessed he was someone of importance. So I quietly disappeared. And then I read in the newspapers about his background, the scandal about being Brown's illegitimate son, and I realized that I had been travelling with Lachlan Brown, the famous concert pianist.'

She made a face. 'He mentioned vaguely that he played the
piano and to my everlasting shame I remembered saying how
interesting, so do I! Wasn't that awful! Anyway, I never expected to see him again—and now this, finding him in my
father's study. I can hardly believe it. Is he a friend of yours?'
she added eagerly.

'Hardly, although I greatly admire his playing. He was just bringing me greetings from old friends at Crathie,' Faro lied
cheerfully. Rose would hardly appreciate that her rescuer was
being used as target practice for some maniac with a rifle.

'I am so pleased,' said Rose. 'Makes it a lot easier doesn't it, for us to meet when he is, well, almost a friend of the family.
And talking of family, where are Vince and Olivia?'

‘Vince is visiting sick patients and Olivia busy with one of
her charities, I expect. She is involved in so many good works,
I've lost count.'

Rose laughed. 'She is wise to enjoy them while she may, I'm
afraid babies will change all that.' Pausing, she glanced round
the study. 'Nothing ever really changes in Sheridan Place. It's
good to know that home stays the same. Is Mrs Brook reconciled to sharing her domain with Olivia's maid? I haven't met her so far...'

Faro put his finger to his lips. 'You'd better ask her yourself,' he whispered as footsteps outside the door announced Mrs Brook's arrival and for the next few moments he witnessed a great deal of hugging and laughter between the normally reserved housekeeper and the girl to whom she was completely devoted.

At last pausing to draw breath, Mrs Brook smoothed down her pinafore and her hair and gave Faro an embarrassed smile. 'I didn't hear the front door close, sir, and I wondered how many there would be for tea.'

'Just ourselves, dear Mrs Brook,' said Rose.

‘Very well.'

Rose held the door open for her and with a backward glance
at her father said, 'I'll come with you.'

Faro's guess that this was curiosity to meet the maid was confirmed when Rose arrived with the tea tray.

'Have you taken over Mrs Brook's duties?'

Rose laughed. 'I insisted, Papa.'

'This is the brink of a new era indeed.'

She shook her head. 'That poor lass. To be so afflicted. I felt heartily sorry for her. And I get the feeling that Mrs Brook doesn't like her much.'

'Indeed? What did she say to you?'

Rose smiled ruefully. 'Mrs Brook doesn't need to say a word. She can convey a whole dictionary of disapproval in
one small sniff and toss of her head! I don't think it's personal,
she just dislikes this intrusion in her domain. As I was leaving
the kitchen, the girl staggered in with a load of shopping. Such a tragic face. You can tell she's had a hard life and suffered a lot. As if she's still having difficulties keeping all her nightmares at bay.'

'Nightmares?' Faro queried.

Rose shrugged. 'Her terrible childhood experiences are written all over her face. I was amazed at how young she is. Not much older than me, but she looks nearer thirty than twenty. Don't you think so?'

Faro had to confess that he hadn't noticed. He observed little of what took place in the kitchen regions of his house. As long
as his meals were on hand when he wanted them, his laundry
cared for and his bed made—and most important, his study left untouched by duster or polish—he was well satisfied. When he
met the girl she was either very shy or afraid of him; like a forest creature she was poised for instant flight. Now he took
evasive action, merely nodding and wishing her good day.

'Olivia's told me about the fire that killed all the poor girl's family,' said Rose. 'She must have been in that orphanage a long time before she went to Aunt Gilchrist.'

'I don't know any of the details,' Faro said and Rose's glance made him ashamed. A champion of the underprivileged human or animal, she had been so obviously moved by the plight of the dumb servant and, without saying a word, conveyed to her father that he should make it his business to find out and take a great deal more interest in those less
fortunate members of society who sheltered beneath his roof.

He patted her hand. 'I'm sure she's well cared for. Olivia is responsible for her and she's a very caring person.'

Rose sighed. ‘You're right, of course, you are.' She smiled
and returned again to the exciting news of her sister Emily's forthcoming marriage.

Watching Rose as she tackled Mrs Brook's afternoon tea with its sandwiches, Dundee cake and scones, Faro decided she was a sight to refresh and delight any eyes: the fair curls clustered modishly around her forehead, the deep blue eyes with long dark eyelashes, short nose, full mouth and healthy complexion—although he was not quite so sure about the fashionably elegant curves of a corseted figure for one so young.

Nor could he credit the resemblance that Lachlan had observed. Rose was truly Vince's sister and grew more like her mother every day. She had inherited his own Viking colouring and he liked to think some of his better qualities, but what delighted him most was her look of his dear Lizzie
who would never be dead as long as Rose lived.

As for Lachlan Brown. He was definitely Inga St Ola's son.

Rose's first day at home passed happily, reunited with Vince and the sister-in-law with whom she had much in common.
Faro was delighted that he was able to spend the evening with
his family as they talked and played cards and Rose's sweet
voice accompanied Olivia's playing of the pianoforte she had
brought from her old home.

When at last the lamps were put out and the house was in darkness, he drew his curtains against the night. Moonlight touched the garden and beyond it a ring of bright stars
crowned the lofty heights of Arthur's Seat, leaning like a lion
couchant against the horizon.

Faro sighed as he settled down to sleep and thought with
envy of men like himself all over Edinburgh whose destiny lay
in uneventful lives in banks and offices and who came home
each night to suppertime where a rare evening such as he had
enjoyed was a commonplace event.

Breakfast was a meal Faro had seldom shared with Vince before his marriage. Neither man was at his best at seven in the morning, both finding it difficult to be sociable. Of
necessity Vince's habits had changed with marriage and now,
by tacit agreement, he and Olivia breakfasted in the dining room waited upon by Mrs Brook, whose first duty was to bring a tray to Faro's study.

As Faro was having his second cup of tea, Rose looked round the door. 'May I disturb you, Papa? No, I've eaten already, thank you,' she added as she kissed him. 'See what the postman brought me!'

Lachlan Brown had been good to his word and the envelope she thrust before Faro contained a ticket for his concert with a
short note inviting her to a supper party with some friends afterwards.

Rose's face glowed with pleasure and excitement. Misreading her father's anxious expression, she said, 'Perhaps you would like to come with me. I'm sure Lachlan wouldn't mind. Or would you be bored?'

'Bored with music? Never, lass. And if Lachlan had wished
me to accompany you, then he would have sent another ticket. However, I'll take you to the theatre.'

He had a very good reason for so doing. He wished to
inspect the lintel of the Assembly Rooms door which Lachlan
claimed had been splintered by the rifle bullet.

As he escorted Rose up the front steps the mark, which had
passed presumably unnoticed by the caretaker, was clearly visible more than a foot above his head. Whoever had fired the bullet had severely misjudged his target, considering that Lachlan, like Faro, stood a little over six foot in height

That fact gave Faro some thought as to the significance of the apparent attack.