A Death in the Pavilion by Caroline Dunford Read Free Book Online Page A

him. It occurred to me that in everyday life he did his best to appear as normal and as nondescript as possible. This immediately made me thing of Fitzroy and spies. (Fitzroy had also once levelled a shotgun in my direction, but in fairness this had been to kill someone behind me. Though I had not known that at the time. See my journal A Death in the Highlands for the full story.)
    ‘Richenda,’ he said in astonished accents. ‘Euphemia too? What in God’s name are you doing up here?’
    ‘We heard an intruder,’ said Richenda in a throbbing accent.
    ‘It was a pigeon,’ I explained. Richenda shot me a deathly look for ruining the mood.
    ‘Why the devil didn’t you wake me?’ demanded Muller.
    ‘I didn’t feel it would be appropriate for me to come to your room,’ said Richenda in a strangely breathy voice. I assumed she was trying to sound alluring, but honestly it sounded more like she had a bad chest cold. ‘Besides, Euphemia has much experience of going about in the dark.’
    Muller raised an eyebrow at me and I had to suppress a chuckle. ‘You could have summoned a servant to fetch me,’ he said not unreasonably.
    ‘I didn’t want to disturb you,’ said Richenda, still trying to be weak and feminine. As this was rather like a shire horse trying to skip like a lamb she wasn’t awfully successful. But it was a better response than admitting we were checking to see if he had locked his last wife up in the attic.
    ‘Could we possibly continue this discussion downstairs?’ I asked.
    ‘Of course,’ said Muller at once. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. Please, ladies, descend.’ And he gestured to the stairs.
    Once we were all back on the landing, Muller turned on the gas light. ‘It is not my usual practice to chat to ladies in the middle of the night, but I think we should take a cup of tea together in the morning room. Please meet me there. I need to lock away the gun.’
    Richenda and I exchanged looks. Then Richenda nodded. We both smelled a mystery. Muller waited until we left then we heard him open his door. ‘Am I sooty?’ hissed Richenda.
    ‘No, not really. Am I?’
    ‘Why would that matter?’ said Richenda rudely.
    ‘So you are eager to win his affections,’ I said.
    Richenda bit her lip. ‘If we can rule out the wife-murderer thing.’
    I nodded, unaccountable mirth bubbling inside me. ‘That does seem sensible.’
    We had reached the ground floor by now. Both of us too caught up in our discussion to be even remotely disturbed by shadows.
    ‘Oh damn it, Euphemia,’ said Richenda, ‘I’m not getting any younger. My brother is – well whatever he is, he is not a saint.’
    ‘No,’ I agreed wholeheartedly. ‘I …’
    ‘Listen. I’m not like you. I come from a different class. Women my age need to be established. I’ve only a couple more years and people will be talking about me as a confirmed spinster. I want a family, dammit. I want a place in society. I cared for Tippy, but he’s gone and there’s nothing I can do about that. Muller’s alive and he’s clearly looking for a wife.’
    ‘Have you fallen in love with him?’ I asked quietly as I opened the door to the morning room. I turned on the gas lamps.
    Richenda snorted. ‘No, I have not. I barely know the man. I do find him charming,’ she admitted.
    ‘Everyone does,’ I said.
    Richenda brushed my comment away like I was a fly. ‘He behaves like a gentleman and I have no doubt he would treat his wife with consideration and the proper respect. But his mother, even when she isn’t pretending to have that dreadful accent …’
    ‘Why does she do that?’ I interrupted.
    ‘No idea. Batty as a fruitcake if you ask me. But the point is, I can make Muller richer. I can offer him the shares in the bank. I can give him children. And I know how to behave.’
    I looked at her blankly.
    ‘Do I need to spell it out? If he marries me I know how to look the other way should he ever require