Free A Death in the Highlands by Caroline Dunford

after Mr McLeod had made his rounds.’
    ‘Yer dinna understand what it’s been like for folks round here!’ cried Jock.
    I sighed. Who was I to judge one man for taking pity on a hungry woman? ‘But it’s thievery, Jock,’ I said quietly. ‘Not to mention the risk of leaving the door open at night for, as you say, such an unpopular master.’
    ‘Susan’s no thief!’
    ‘I think Lord Richard would disagree.’
    ‘Yer never going to tell him?’ Jock’s face was ashen. Merry looked up at me, appealing. I hesitated, but I had better reason than either of them to know how Lord Richard could be when he was crossed.
    ‘No, I’m not.’
    ‘Ah, thank you, hen. It’s only a wee bit now and then.’
    ‘No, Jock,’ I said forcefully. ‘It has to stop.’
    ‘But her wains!’
    I shook my head at the unfamiliar word. ‘I’m truly sorry for her situation, but I can assure you it will be a great deal worse if Lord Richard suspects what she has been up to. At the very least all of us would lose our situations and, as for Susan, I have no doubt he would press charges.’
    ‘How can you work for sic a man?’
    ‘Exactly the same way you can,’ I replied. ‘Now, come with me and we’ll check to see what exactly has been removed.’
    ‘Do yer want me to make a list?’ said the chef from between tightly compressed lips.
    ‘No. I want to ensure that no one other than ourselves realises anything is missing.’
    I am sorry to say this was only a partial truth. There was once a time when I would never have dreamed I would allow the ghost of a falsehood to cross my lips, but since working for the Staplefords I have had more than one occasion to wrestle with my innate honesty and – using one of my little brother’s colourful metaphors – to wrestle it to the mat and subdue it.
    Fortunately, when we inspected the pantry not only were the losses minimal, but it was clear nothing else had been tampered with. Internally I breathed a sigh of relief. The others might see an unhappy, struggling woman in Susan, but I saw the hatred behind her eyes. This is a family prone to murder and, while some might argue that it would only be justice for Lord Richard to be victim of her ire, I firmly believe that vengeance, when it must be taken, is not in the purview of mortal man or woman.
    Breakfast passed with alacrity in a flurry of dishes and footmen. The valets and staff attending the shoot ate at much the same time – a highly unusual occurrence that caused Jock much struggling. It was only when all the men were gathering outside that Merry, myself and Jock had the chance to settle down to break our own fast. The local help was not in today. They were either already at the shooting site or had been told to stay away from all the commotion of the Glorious Twelfth.
    A dish of Jock’s marvellous sausages, a platter of bacon and a quantity of fried eggs lay on the table. It was quite unlike the breakfast we normally received and I believe Merry, as much as I, was eyeing it greedily when Rory strode into the kitchen. His green tweeds brought out the colour of his striking eyes. He wore no cap and the sun glinted off his blond locks. However, his face was thunderous.
    ‘A word, Euphemia.’
    I started to my feet. ‘I thought you had left!’
    ‘Aye, any moment. If you please,’ and he gestured towards the housekeeper’s room. Reluctantly, I left my breakfast hoping that either Jock or Merry would think to place it on the range to keep warm.
    ‘I’m not meant to have come out to see the party off, am I?’
    Rory opened my door for me. ‘Aye, well, sometimes the sight of the housekeeper checking over the dealings for the day is welcome, but no, I don’t think it is necessary. It’s not as if we have any ladies going.’
    ‘Oh good. I wouldn’t want to appear remiss in any attention and show Lord Richard up.’
    Rory nodded. ‘It’s about that I need to speak with you. I’ve only a minute, so there’s no time for debate.