A Death by Arson by Caroline Dunford Read Free Book Online Page B

bride?’
    â€˜Family comes from trade,’ said Bertram darkly. ‘Mills and the like. Perhaps Richard had a down payment on the dowry?’
    I warred inwardly for a moment with my mother’s ruling against gossip, but gave in. ‘If she is that rich, surely they could have got her someone with a more important title? There are many great houses who would welcome a rich bride.’
    â€˜But with a mother who had been a servant?’ countered Bertram.
    â€˜Oh,’ I said.
    â€˜Besides, I believe there is also a son up at Cambridge who wants to enter politics. No use, of course. You need to be an Oxford man to get anywhere.’
    I smiled. ‘I assume you were an Oxford man?’
    â€˜Rowing Blue,’ said Bertram with pride. Then his face fell. ‘That was before I started getting trouble with the old ticker.’
    â€˜Well, let us hope that this trip into the Kingdom’s northern realm will provide you with some rest and relaxation.’
    â€˜If it hadn’t been for Hans …’ Bertram trailed off, but then added, ‘Apart from Amy trying to fall off the roof, we had a rather good Christmas, didn’t we?’
    My heart went out to him. All the Stapleford children had been neglected by their parents, and none had known the happy Christmases that I had enjoyed with my parents and little brother. Richenda would not countenance my going home to share Christmas with my mother and little Joe, but at least I had many happy memories. ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘it was rather nice, wasn’t it?’
    â€˜And no one died,’ said Bertram, with a wicked grin.
    â€˜Don’t say things like that, Bertram,’ I said.
    â€˜You think I am tempting fate?’
    â€˜I hope to the Good Lord not,’ I said, but even as I spoke I felt a ghost pass over my grave. I shivered, and urged Bertram to move closer to the fire. But despite the roaring flames, the feeling of cold had settled into my bones.

Chapter Eight
An MP with a castle – and a fortune
    I was taken into dinner by the most boring of men – an ageing financier, who was full of bluster about the incomprehensible deals he had done in his youth. On my other side sat the youngest of nine sons of a Scottish Lord, who was clearly uncomfortable about the formality with which Richard was conducting the meal. It has often seemed to me that the newly rich try much harder than established families do when it comes to formal dining. The old brigade do it all without conscious effort, whereas everything Richard did was with flourish and too much silver and gold plate. Not, I should hasten to add, that I am particularly fond of the aristocracy. Until recently, my closest companions have been among the servant class, who I have found much more honest, decent and hard-working than their employers.
    The meal wore on; course after course. I lost count after seven. I could see that even Bertram, who was seated some way down the table on the opposite side, was beginning to struggle with the amount of food he was expected to consume. Adopting the woman’s prerogative, I ate only mouthfuls of each course. I abhorred the waste of food, but it was either that or I would have to ask Enid to cut me out of my dress that night.
    Finally, we were getting to the stage when the ladies could expect to retire while the gentlemen drank their port. It was also my chance to slip away to my room for an early night. Bertram would doubtless drink port into the early hours if his host allowed, and apart from Richenda there was really no one I would want to converse with. Of course, I was a companion and would have to take my lead from my employer, but hopefully the journey, coupled with her interesting condition, would make her head for bed.
    I cast about trying to work out who the highest ranking lady present was, but having removed myself from society – or rather my mother having rather spectacularly removed