A Death at Crystal Palace

Book 11: A Euphemia Martins Mystery

by Caroline Dunford

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Cozy Mystery; Historical Mysteries

Synopsis

With the world hanging on the precipice of war, Euphemia learns that threats also lurk on a far more personal level? When Richenda Stapleford accepts what she believes to be an olive branch from her dangerous and scheming brother, Richard, Euphemia can?t help but feel that it?s just another act of treachery waiting to unfold. Buying into this uncommon act of kindness, Richenda goes against the wishes of her husband and takes their children to an event at the Crystal Palace, along with Euphemia, Bertram and Rory. As Euphemia learns that the British spymaster Fitzroy is also there, along with an important German delegation, the pieces fall into place and she realises that the implications are dire, both for the future of the Stapleford line and the world at large.

Release date: October 19, 2018

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 163

Sample

Chapter One

Bertram and I Are Engaged

He has even bought me a ring. It is a most unusual one, comprised of a central emerald surrounded by alternating small diamonds and amethysts, and set in white metal. I believe he must have had it designed for me. He muttered something about my uniqueness and worthiness when he pushed it onto my finger after dinner last night. Only Hans and Richenda were present, but Bertram seemed unnecessarily coy about the whole thing. I hope he does not remain embarrassed about my background - or rather what he believes my background to be, for I have yet to tell him the truth. Or is it that, despite my never having confirmed it, he knows I was, for a short time, engaged to Rory? It is not a circumstance I shall ever refer to again, and as Rory is a sensible, if jealous man, I hope he has the good sense to avoid mentioning it himself.

This causes me to wonder if Bertram has yet told Rory that I am officially his betrothed. Rory is currently serving as major-domo at Bertram’s water-logged and seemingly doomed estate, White Orchards. Most masters are unlikely to confide in their servants, except perhaps for their valets. The relationship between a gentleman and his valet is one of the most coveted and mysterious of positions. I believe many servants consider it not unlike that of the keeper of the royal chamber for the sovereign. It is the position closest to power in a gentleman’s household. And Rory does, on occasion, act as Bertram’s valet and is attending to him during his stay at the Muller household, where I am still technically Richenda’s paid companion. It is all rather mixed up.

Bertram, Rory, and I have, perforce, often stood on the world stage as equals. We have solved mysteries. We have tried, and failed, to get Bertram and Richenda’s elder brother, Richard, rightly convicted of murder and a number of other heinous crimes. Bertram and I were the first to pursue this and affected the one time the man was actually clapped in irons. Then Rory joined the household and being far too clever for his own good - and himself wrongly accused of murder - he became part of our strange trio. All three of us signed a new and very top-secret document called the Official Secrets Act, in which we pledged our lives to the cause of our country and sovereign, should we be called upon to do so. In the past such calls have come from the rather annoying, if thoroughly suave, spy Fitzroy and, frankly, I shall be quite all right if I never see him again in all my life.

‘Ooh! Look at the colours,’ squealed Richenda. The entrée had been removed and, really, the kind of enthusiasm she took in my ring, I have only previously seen her display when anticipating the arrival of pudding.

‘It is a most unusual ring,’ I said. Bertram had decided to kneel before me to give me the ring - although he had proposed, and I had accepted, some weeks ago. He regarded me with soft brown eyes that looked, for all intents and purposes, like the family’s newly acquired spaniel.1

‘I think it is most lovely,’ I said.

‘It is the suffragette colours, Euphemia!’ exclaimed Richenda. ‘How glorious it is, obtaining a husband who believes in our struggles.’ Whereupon she bit down hard upon a bread roll so as not to display unseemly emotion. (I believe it will be some time before Richenda loses her ‘baby weight’, if ever.)

Hans, her elegant half-German husband, and my dear friend, stifled a sigh. ‘Is it not possible, my dear, that the ring signifies something else? Perhaps a special meaning between them? My own mother’s ring spelled out “dearest” in gemstones.’

Hans does not disapprove of equality between men and women, but he has views on how it should be obtained and is still annoyed at Richenda tricking me into a situation where I ended up in the midst of a violent fray, and then in prison…2

Bertram rose to his feet and sat down. He glanced at me and I nodded slightly. ‘It does have a meaning, but I don’t think we are ready to share it yet, are we, dearest?’

I flinched slightly at “dearest”, but I signalled my agreement. I knew only too well it was Bertram’s way of showing that he believed in women as equals, but neither of us wanted to confirm this to Richenda and start an argument between our hosts.

‘How lovely,’ said Richenda. Then she sighed and looked down at the substantial diamond engagement ring Hans had given her. She glanced over at her husband reprovingly. Her ring doubtless cost much more than mine, for Hans is a successful banker, but Richenda is always berating him for not being romantic.3

‘When will the wedding be?’ asked Hans.

Bertram blushed slightly and tugged at his collar. ‘There is still work continuing at the estate, and I am afraid the local church is green with moss and damp. It will be some time before it is suitable for our wedding. Besides, as you may suspect, my brother is determined to throw a spoke in the works if he can.’

‘I cannot see how it is anything to do with him,’ said Hans. ‘If you would consider it, I would be happy to place my estate at your disposal for the wedding. Our village church is most picturesque.’

‘Oh, we couldn’t possibly,’ said Bertram.

Hans smiled gently. ‘Allow me this, Bertram. Euphemia has lived under our roof as family and it would be my honour to see her married here.’

This, if ever, was the time to tell them my grandfather was an Earl. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I had entered Richenda’s family’s service as a maid when my father died. My mother had been disinherited long ago, for marrying the local curate in a love match that deteriorated into profound unhappiness. When my father died of a heart attack, landing face down in his dish of mutton and onions, my mother, younger brother and I had been left destitute. At the time my mother was no favourite with the local clergy, and we had promptly been given notice to quit the vicarage, hence my decision to enter service in an attempt to support my mother and brother Joe. It was not an option my mother had taken to easily, but even she was forced to admit that we had had little choice. She moved to a rented cottage and terrified the local inhabitants into taking piano lessons.4

As I had risen in the ranks of service, so she had become obstinately dedicated on removing me from my occupation. And she knew nothing of the murderous adventures upon which I had become entangled. I could almost fear she was espousing her fiancé, the bishop, purely for my sake, except I was aware that a Prince of the church was the most likely candidate to return her to almost the state of living she had known before she married my poor father. How she had caught her bishop I had no idea, but I suspected a carefully planned campaign.

‘We must at least wait until Euphemia’s mother has remarried,’ said Bertram. ‘She is to marry a bishop.’

‘Good heavens,’ said Richenda. ‘A bishop? Your mother has done well for herself. To whom was she previously married? A farmer?’

‘A vicar,’ I said.

‘A most noble profession,’ said Hans, giving his wife a warning look.

‘But to go from a country girl to living in a bishop’s palace. It will be a change for her,’ continued Richenda.

‘I believe she will comport herself adequately,’ I said, while adding internally that she would scare all the local ministry into utter submission within days. My mother, despite her short stature, is a formidable woman, who still remembers fondly causing a Duke to cry during her salad days.

‘Of course she will,’ said Hans. ‘As Euphemia has always behaved like a lady to the manner born.’

Richenda frowned. She has never liked Hans to express his admiration for me. Nor did it bode well that this sentiment could hardly have been addressed to Richenda. Despite all of Hans’ efforts, she still refused to adopt the duties of the lady of the estate, leaving me to visit the sick, deal with the servants and attend to the one hundred and one little things that are always needed on an estate of this size. At least she drew the line at asking me to host the necessary dinner parties. Unfortunately, she did so by simply refusing to entertain. She complained she was far too busy, but in reality, the only duties she took with any seriousness were tending to her horse and mothering her children: Amy, adopted from amongst the survivors of the Titanic, and the twins she had given birth to recently – Alexander and Alicia. The latter were happy, contented, chubby little cherubs the like of which most new mothers dream. We had finally got a girl from the village to see to their needs, but only Richenda, Hans and I could control Amy, who was as daring and as bold as her flaming red hair.

‘I suppose you think we should throw an engagement party?’ said Richenda, challengingly.

‘Oh no, I really don’t think you should go to that sort of trouble,’ I responded, throwing Bertram a helpless look. His lips twitched slightly.

‘I believe Euphemia is of the opinion even that would be impolite before her mother’s wedding. Such a thing should be hosted by her,’ said Bertram.

‘Then she must come here and host it,’ said Richenda. A mulish look was developing on her face. I knew it well and knew that no good would come from it.

In fact, my mother had once visited the estate while staying with a local vicar - one I knew was a marriageable candidate who had been found unworthy. Unfortunately, rather than expose her daughter as a servant, she had hidden our relationship from Richenda. Worse still, Richenda, having learnt from my mother herself that she was the daughter of an Earl, had attempted to befriend her, and my mother had snubbed her. I believe this was as much from her dislike of Richenda, whose father she considered a jumped-up banker who was only made a baronet towards the end of his life, as it was for my sake. It seemed imperative to me therefore that they should not meet.

I looked over in appeal at Hans. He raised an eyebrow. ‘Euphemia, this is your wedding and Bertram’s, and nothing that you do not approve of will be undertaken.’

Bertram coughed, a sure sign of his embarrassment. ‘Euphemia and I must discuss matters, but I believe she would be very happy to be married from your estate, Hans. It is a most generous gesture. Perhaps White Orchards will be finished in time for us to honeymoon there.’

I was caught mid-sip when he said this and the next few minutes entailed a lot of slapping me on the back and Richenda running around calling, uselessly, for smelling salts. When I had recovered, Bertram eyed me dolefully. He so wanted me to love his estate, rather than loving him despite it.

Hans, who had been involved in the back slapping, took my hand. ‘I am sure we can do better than that,’ he said. ‘Not that your estate is not a lovely place by all accounts, Bertram. But a honeymoon should be in a place new to you both.’ He winked at me. ‘I will talk to him, sister.’ For a moment I did not understand his last word, but then it dawned on me I would be Hans’ sister-in-law. A strange thrill spread through my nerves. I was both elated to be related to such a gentleman and, I could not deny, slightly regretful Hans and I would never be any more than that. It seems scandalous to admit such, but there had been an undeniable attraction between us. However, Hans had needed to marry into money.

Hans looked deep into my eyes and I saw our thoughts were running along the same lines. ‘Sister,’ he said once more. He took my hand and briefly kissed it. Bertram coughed loudly.

I turned to him and placed my hand on his arm. ‘When I think of how we all met,’ I said, ‘the final outcome is nothing short of a miracle. I am so lucky to have all of you in my life.’ I gave him a sincere and heartfelt look. Hans might have been a brief romantic dream, but I had no doubt that Bertram, sodden estate and all, was the love of my life. It seemed that for once everything in my life was going well.

‘I suppose it’s just as well I bothered to get them an actual engagement present rather than merely offering our home,’ said Richenda. All heads turned as one to look at her. Dear God, I prayed, don’t let her have designed my wedding dress. Richenda has no more of a sense of fashion than her horse does.

‘Really, my love?’ said Hans. ‘You have not mentioned this to me.’ Even I could hear the warning in his tone.

Bertram spluttered about it not being necessary.

‘What rot,’ said Richenda, ‘besides, it’s something you will approve of, Hans. I have got us all tickets to the Anglo-German exhibition at the Crystal Palace. I have arranged the hotel and everything. We leave in three days and will be in London for four. I decided on the Carlton Hotel at Pall Mall. Their restaurant is run by Auguste Escoffier and offers the finest in oaty cuisine. And they have perfectly adequate provision for the children. You see, I have thought of everything.’

Bertram and I exchanged looks. I swear I saw his lips mouth, ‘haute cuisine’ while he rolled his eyes.

Towards the end of Richenda’s pregnancy, in the late spring of 1913, Bertram and I had attended the Exposition Universelle et Internationale in Ghent. Richenda had been quite put out by being unable to attend.

‘The twins are far too young to go to London,’ said Hans.

‘I will not go without them,’ said Richenda, looking ever more like her horse when it is denied hay.

‘Then it is settled,’ said Hans. ‘You will not go at all.’

At this point Bertram and I quietly left the table and backed out of the room. This was quite a sacrifice for Bertram as we had not yet had the pudding course. However, we had seen Richenda and Hans argue before. It was not unlike watching a storm, in this case Richenda, crash against a mountain, in that case Hans. Not something anyone would ever want to get caught up in.

Outside in the corridor Bertram said to me, ‘What do you think will happen?’

‘We’ll end up going, but the twins will stay on the estate with their nursemaid.’

‘And Hans?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I don’t think he will be at all happy about leaving the children here. Besides, you know how he reacts to Richenda trying to force him to do anything.’

‘Hmm,’ said Bertram. ‘Badly.’ He took my hand. ‘We won’t ever end up like that, will we?’

‘I’m sure we’ll argue,’ I said. ‘We are both people of passion. But once married we will have a new way of reconciling.’

Bertram frowned for a moment and then turned beetroot. ‘Euphemia!’

‘The vicarage where I grew up had a farm,’ I said. ‘I know more than most well-bred ladies.’

‘I know,’ said Bertram, ‘but you should not admit it.’

‘Even to you?’

‘Especially not to me!’ said Bertram. ‘When there is nothing I can do about it.’ He sighed. ‘At least we will get to see Crystal Palace. I hear it is an outstanding spectacle. Besides, this is a small event by all accounts. We can’t possibly have one of our adventures there.’

‘Oh, Bertram,’ I said. ‘You had to say that.’



1A gift that Richenda had ordered for her adopted daughter Amy, to distract her from her newly acquired twin baby siblings.

2Please consult my journal A Death for a Cause

3I rather think Hans could well be romantic, if only she did not so often provoke him.

4She also tried to keep pigs, but the less said about that the better.

Chapter Two

Preparations For Our Non-Adventure

‘I have no idea where she got those tickets,’ said Hans for the hundredth time. ‘I cannot find them in the household accounts and I am unaware of her having opened a bank account of her own.’

I looked helplessly at Bertram. Richenda had not taken me into her confidence about how her household matters were arranged. ‘Kind of a matter between a man and his wife, don’t you think?’ s. . .