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Authors: Caroline Dunford
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the police aren’t often up to the mark? Last time I tried to stop you interfering it put Rory’s neck on the line. If you hadn’t ignored me and gone your own way then he wouldn’t be with us today.’
‘That was an exceptional circumstance,’ I said as levelly as I could. It was extremely trying to have one’s own arguments used against one. ‘Has anyone been accused for Mrs Wilson’s attack?’
‘The whole house is under suspicion. It’s intolerable!’
‘Not you or Rory. And surely not the ladies?’
‘The figure was not especially tall and reasonably slight.’
‘Which will let out your brother,’ I said with a smile.
‘I don’t think the police are taking my description that seriously,’ said Mr Bertram glumly. ‘It’s not as if any of us saw anything that was defining.’
‘But …’ I started then stopped. ‘But you and Rory were up close with the man – person – didn’t you see eye colour or hair colour or anything?’
‘Sergeant Davies told me that no one could give him any particular details.’
I frowned.
‘Do you know something, Euphemia?’
This was the point to tell Mr Bertram about seeing the assailant’s eye colour; the clear opportunity to tell him about my conversation with Dr Simpson.
I struggled to find the words to tell him his own family doctor suspected his own father, who it’s true he had had no cause to love, had fathered a child upon his own housekeeper.
‘You see,’ I began. I swallowed. For many reasons, not least our own unusual, if innocent, relationship, it was hard to find the words.
Mr Bertram edged forward. ‘Yes, Euphemia?’
Sergeant Davies and Rory’s warnings rang in my mind. My impulse was to tell him the truth.
‘You see …’
His eyes were alight with anticipation, waiting for me to crack the mystery or at least offer up the first clue. I hesitated. There was so much danger here, for all of us, and I was unsure how well he understood this.
‘Should I get Miss Wilton? Is it something she should know?’
I considered then saying my piece about his new friend. The good Lord knew Mr Bertram and I had argued many times, but always he had stood in my corner and I in his. But our unorthodox relationship had shifted with the arrival of Miss Wilton on the scene.
I made my decision.
‘Euphemia, do you know something? You must tell me.’
‘You see, sir, as I told Miss Wilton, I don’t know anything at all.’
5 Rory had almost been lynched by the house guests when a shooting had taken place. I had helped pull the pieces together, although it was Mr Fitzroy who had “sorted” the situation. For details see my journal A Death in the Highlands.
Chapter Five
London Bound
Mr Bertram sat back with a heavy sigh. ‘I thought if anyone would have spotted anything it would have been you. I suppose Miss Wilton was right.’
‘Right?’
‘She said I was foolish to place so much expectation on your shoulders.’
I immediately had a strong impulse to confess not only what I knew, but everything I suspected, but my mother’s training must have been better than she ever suspected. I held my tongue.
‘I’m worried about staying on in the house,’ said Mr Bertram. ‘I don’t like the risks. I was thinking of going away for a while.’
‘Of course, sir, if that’s what you need to do,’ I said coldly. I wasn’t accustomed to considering Mr Bertram a coward.
‘Miss Wilton’s heart isn’t equal to another shock so soon and your infamous tendency to meddle is doubtless putting you in danger.’ Mr Bertram stood and began to pace. ‘There is no other answer, I shall have to take you both away. Do you think you could act as a lady’s chaperone, Euphemia? You’re very young, but if I take you both it might quiet the gossips.’
I stared at him as if he had broken into another language. ‘You cannot be serious, sir,’ I finally managed to gasp.
‘You’re thinking it will look suspicious?’ Mr Bertram turned to grin at
‘That was an exceptional circumstance,’ I said as levelly as I could. It was extremely trying to have one’s own arguments used against one. ‘Has anyone been accused for Mrs Wilson’s attack?’
‘The whole house is under suspicion. It’s intolerable!’
‘Not you or Rory. And surely not the ladies?’
‘The figure was not especially tall and reasonably slight.’
‘Which will let out your brother,’ I said with a smile.
‘I don’t think the police are taking my description that seriously,’ said Mr Bertram glumly. ‘It’s not as if any of us saw anything that was defining.’
‘But …’ I started then stopped. ‘But you and Rory were up close with the man – person – didn’t you see eye colour or hair colour or anything?’
‘Sergeant Davies told me that no one could give him any particular details.’
I frowned.
‘Do you know something, Euphemia?’
This was the point to tell Mr Bertram about seeing the assailant’s eye colour; the clear opportunity to tell him about my conversation with Dr Simpson.
I struggled to find the words to tell him his own family doctor suspected his own father, who it’s true he had had no cause to love, had fathered a child upon his own housekeeper.
‘You see,’ I began. I swallowed. For many reasons, not least our own unusual, if innocent, relationship, it was hard to find the words.
Mr Bertram edged forward. ‘Yes, Euphemia?’
Sergeant Davies and Rory’s warnings rang in my mind. My impulse was to tell him the truth.
‘You see …’
His eyes were alight with anticipation, waiting for me to crack the mystery or at least offer up the first clue. I hesitated. There was so much danger here, for all of us, and I was unsure how well he understood this.
‘Should I get Miss Wilton? Is it something she should know?’
I considered then saying my piece about his new friend. The good Lord knew Mr Bertram and I had argued many times, but always he had stood in my corner and I in his. But our unorthodox relationship had shifted with the arrival of Miss Wilton on the scene.
I made my decision.
‘Euphemia, do you know something? You must tell me.’
‘You see, sir, as I told Miss Wilton, I don’t know anything at all.’
5 Rory had almost been lynched by the house guests when a shooting had taken place. I had helped pull the pieces together, although it was Mr Fitzroy who had “sorted” the situation. For details see my journal A Death in the Highlands.
Chapter Five
London Bound
Mr Bertram sat back with a heavy sigh. ‘I thought if anyone would have spotted anything it would have been you. I suppose Miss Wilton was right.’
‘Right?’
‘She said I was foolish to place so much expectation on your shoulders.’
I immediately had a strong impulse to confess not only what I knew, but everything I suspected, but my mother’s training must have been better than she ever suspected. I held my tongue.
‘I’m worried about staying on in the house,’ said Mr Bertram. ‘I don’t like the risks. I was thinking of going away for a while.’
‘Of course, sir, if that’s what you need to do,’ I said coldly. I wasn’t accustomed to considering Mr Bertram a coward.
‘Miss Wilton’s heart isn’t equal to another shock so soon and your infamous tendency to meddle is doubtless putting you in danger.’ Mr Bertram stood and began to pace. ‘There is no other answer, I shall have to take you both away. Do you think you could act as a lady’s chaperone, Euphemia? You’re very young, but if I take you both it might quiet the gossips.’
I stared at him as if he had broken into another language. ‘You cannot be serious, sir,’ I finally managed to gasp.
‘You’re thinking it will look suspicious?’ Mr Bertram turned to grin at
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