Part 6 (2/2)

*But what if she makes good her threat?'

*She wouldn't dare. From what I've heard a and it's only rumours, mind a 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 squas.h.i.+ng 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 gla.s.s. *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 pa.s.sionate 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, s.h.i.+fting 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 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 circ.u.mstance,' 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 a person a 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 a.s.sailant'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, relations.h.i.+p, 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 antic.i.p.ation, 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 relations.h.i.+p had s.h.i.+fted 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.

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