Read Online A Death in the Asylum by Caroline Dunford - Free Book Online

complain about her you’ll play right into her hands. Don’t put the man in the position of choosing between you, Euphemia, because it won’t be you he chooses.’
    I remained silent.
    ‘You know I’m right, don’t you?’
    I sighed. ‘Yes. But what do I do?’
    ‘Let them blunder around on their own. Your Mr Bertram’s an impulsive sort. Without a calm, rational mind behind him he’s not going to get anywhere.’
    ‘But what if she makes good her threat?’
    ‘She wouldn’t dare. From what I’ve heard – and it’s only rumours, mind – if my master didn’t have friends in high places he’d not be where he is today.’
    ‘But that’s a point. He did …’
    Rory put up his hand to shush me. ‘Think about it, Euphemia. If my master can walk away from what he’s rumoured to have walked away from, do you think he’d have difficulty squashing the column of a silly society gossip? The paper would never dare print anything against him.’
    ‘You’re right,’ I said miserably. ‘But that’s not right either.’
    ‘If you ask me nothing in their world is right. That’s why we’re well advised to leave it alone.’
    ‘You really think if I do nothing this will all go away.’
    Rory nodded. ‘Trust me,’ he said.
    ‘You’re about the only person I do.’
    He grinned at that and dropped a swift kiss on my forehead. Then he blushed, muttered about his duties and left.
    I was left alone for much of the day. Merry stopped by with food and chattered with much excitement about the goings on. But as far as I could tell nothing had happened and no one knew more than they had last night. It must have been early evening, and I was dozing by the fire, enjoying what must have been the laziest day of my life, when Mr Bertram came to visit me alone.
    ‘How are you, Euphemia?’ he asked, offering me a glass. ‘I thought a sherry might help.’
    ‘Thank you,’ I said, accepting what was obviously meant as a peace offering with as much grace as I could muster.
    ‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ said Mr Bertram. ‘Beatrice is very passionate about her work.’
    I nodded, remembering my discussion with Rory, and kept my mouth shut.
    ‘It can take her to some shady places from what she’s told me,’ continued Mr Bertram. He was standing awkwardly, shifting slightly from foot to foot. ‘I don’t believe she is used to meeting servants of your calibre.’
    ‘Not ones as well educated perhaps,’ I said before I could help myself.
    Mr Bertram sat down. ‘I never said that. She misunderstood. I never described you as almost educated. I commented on your intelligence and, well, she took me up wrong.’
    ‘It doesn’t matter, sir,’ I said politely.
    ‘But it does. She feels terrible that you might feel insulted. She’s such a sensitive soul. Amazingly so for the work she does. She says she has to positively steel herself to ask questions at times.’
    ‘Poor lady,’ I said barely managing not to choke on my sherry.
    Mr Bertram’s face lit up. He had it badly. ‘I knew you’d understand, Euphemia. You’re very alike, the pair of you. Both independently minded, strong women. Of course, you’re different stations, but if your life had been different I’m sure you would have made a fine journalist.’
    I tried to take this as a compliment and smiled.
    ‘You’re not saying very much.’
    ‘There isn’t a lot for me to say, sir. I honestly don’t know anything about Mrs Wilson’s past. I saw the same as you that she was upset by the message and something Dr Simpson once said to me did make me wonder, but,’ I shook my head, ‘I don’t know anything and I think in situations like this knowing is the important thing, isn’t it? Whoever attacked her was very serious about it and I wouldn’t want to mislead the police in any way with unfounded stories,’ I said biting my lip.
    Mr Bertram gave me a hard look. He knew exactly what I meant. ‘It’s been our experience, hasn’t it, Euphemia, that