A Death In The Asylum Part 6

*Good heavens!' said Bertram. *We must leave at once. I shall send Merry to you.' He fairly bolted for the door. Miss Wilton gave me an astute look. *I'm not as squeamish as Bertram,' she said, *but I'll concede the field for now.' She got up and went to the door. She paused with her hand on the door handle. *You may like to consider, my dear, that in a very short s.p.a.ce of time your Mr Bertram and myself have found ourselves to be extremely compatible. Unlike Madam Arcana, I cannot foretell the future, but it may very well be in your best interests for us to reach agreement. I understand you have been invaluable in helping Bertram,' she paused as though struggling for the right word, *invaluable in helping Bertram sort things out.'

*He told you about that!' I gasped.

*Not everything, but he will. He seems uncommonly fond of you. Are you of him?'

*Your only interest is in filling your column,' I said astounded.

Miss Wilton raised one dainty eyebrow. *I haven't decided what my interest is yet,' she said. *But readers are always more interested in current news. One never needs to go raking through old material when one has new.' The accompanying smile was as lacking in warmth as it is possible for one alive to be. *I'll leave you to your rest. We'll talk again later, I'm sure.'

I sat up and gaped at her, unable to find the words to express my shock. The smile widened and she left, closing the door gently and slowly behind her. I heard her calling for Bertram as she had intended I would. Her voice was sweet and low and, I feared Bertram would think, enticing.

The door had barely closed before Rory burst in. *What's this? Are ye worse, la.s.s? Do I need to send for yon doctor again?'

I settled my head back against the pillows. *Do you realise you become alarmingly Scotch when you're upset?'

*Do I? It tends to slip out when I'm not concentrating. What's this about you being sick on Miss Wilton?'

*I wish,' I muttered under my breath. *I'm fine, Rory. Or as fine as I was. She and Mr Bertram were pestering me with questions until my head span. I had to find a way to get them to leave.'

Rory came over and placed a hand on my brow. *I wouldn't be surprised if they had worried you back into a fever,' he said angrily. *I've half a mind ...'

*Not to say something to our betters, Rory?' I said. *That's not like you.'

*Aye, well. From what I've heard every time you've got mixed up with the Staplefords it's not come out good for anyone, but they can shrug it off. Look at me. I can't get a job anywhere else now I've been arrested for murder. Even that policeman was looking at me strange. I bet Stapleford's seen to it that the local nick has heard about my past a.s.sociation with the communists.'

*But you were cleared,' I protested.

*That's what I'm trying to tell you. Mud might slide off their groomed, greasy backs, but it sticks to ours.'

*I don't understand why he would do that.'

*Because he doesn't want to lose me.'

*Back-handed compliment?'

*And he doesn't want to pay me what I'm worth.'

*Oh,' I said, casting my eyes down. *I'm sorry about all the stuff I got you involved with last time.'

*Nay, la.s.sie. I wasn't for scolding you. If it hadn't been for your help I'd have ended my days swinging from a noose. I'll always be grateful for that.'5 He took a breath. *Now, don't go biting my head off. It's just that I don't want to see that stuff happening to you. Leave 'em to it. Don't get involved this time. Mrs Wilson has been no friend to either of us and, while I'd not withhold information on what happened to her if I knew, I'm not going to be sticking my neck out to help. And I'd suggest you follow my lead.'

*Yes,' I said.

*Yes?' said Rory. *Are you sure you're not feeling worse, Euphemia? You've never given in without a fight before.'

*Mr Bertram appears to have all the help he needs from Miss Wilton.'

Rory finally removed his hand from my head and sat down beside me. *Och, la.s.s, it was only time before he found someone of his own standing to help him with his mysterying.'

*That's not even a word.'

*You're jealous,' said Rory.

I blinked. *I am not jealous,' I spluttered. *Besides, he helped me.'

Rory shook his head. *Green as the gra.s.s in the park.'

I ignored this. *Much help she'll be. She practically offered me money to make up lies. She'll do anything to fill that column of hers.'

*It's not uncommon for the toffs to tip servants,' said Rory. *Though it's uncommon for it to be an adequate tip.'

*You don't understand,' I said. *She's evil. Nothing matters to her but the column. Mr Bertram is under her spell. She told me he had been telling her all the old family secrets a and the things he and I know, Rory, you'd not believe it! And she said that if I didn't help her with what was happening now, if I didn't give her some current dirt, she'd dig up all the old stuff about the late Lord Stapleford. Mr Bertram doesn't understand a he's a lamb to the slaughter.'

*Now, Euphemia ...'

*I am not making this up, Rory!'

*I never thought you were, la.s.s. All I'm saying is stay out of it. It's as clear as the nose on your face that Beatrice Wilton is up to no good. My advice is: keep your mouth shut.'

*But Mr Bertram! He has no idea.'

*You're his housekeeper, not his guardian angel.'

*But I can't let him fall prey to this menace!'

*Euphemia, even if you have the audacity to tell him his new lady friend is a scheming hussy he'll never believe you.'

*Yes, he will! We've been through a lot together.'

*No, he won't,' said Rory gently. *No matter how much this man favours you, you will always be a servant in his eyes and the word of a servant against a toff is never accepted. Especially when the toff in question is a very attractive young woman.'

*Is she?' I asked. *I didn't notice.'

Rory grinned. *You're no a male. Fine figure of a woman that. Pity, she's a scheming b.i.t.c.h from h.e.l.l, but your Mr Bertram will have to find out in his own time.'

*But ...'

*Has she dropped hints about having you fired yet?'

*Yes,' I said with fury. *She has. She said if we didn't reach agreement she could make things ... well, she didn't say, but she implied.'

*And if you 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 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.