Free A Death in the Family by Caroline Dunford

untidy sheets. I tensed myself ready to run, but all he did was uncover and open the book. ‘Look here.’
    I crossed cautiously to the other side of the bed. He observed my progress with a wry smile. ‘If I had nefarious designs upon you, Euphemia, I would hardly have warned you. Nefarious means …’
    ‘I know what it means,’ I snapped.
    He looked at me levelly. ‘Of course you do. Now come round here where you can see properly.’
    I gripped my duster firmly. The stick was quite strong and, if necessary, I could always give him a hearty whack. I came round to his side and stood a shade out of arm’s reach. But Mr Bertram showed no sign of wanting to grab me. Instead he opened the book and pointed to a map showing a passage that ran in from the side of the house, connected to the servants’ staircase and thus through to the passage serving the library. ‘I believe this is what they call a discreet entrance. It would have been possible for Richenda to enter from the side of the property and then gain access to the library. She could even retreat the way she had come without being seen and then arrive at the front door.’
    ‘Would not the side-door be locked?’
    ‘I doubt it. This is the middle of the country and this is a gentleman’s house. It is unlikely that someone would attempt to rob the house during the day. At night, of course, it is more likely and that door would definitely be locked. My father has a very fine porcelain collection that could be targeted by thieves, but even the bravest thief would surely flinch at a daylight robbery. Whereas Richenda …’
    ‘Could always say she had slipped in this way to surprise your parents if she was caught.’
    ‘I was going to say Richenda has never lacked courage, but you are quite right. If accosted Richenda could claim she had every reason to be in the house.’
    ‘It would still be a bold plan.’
    Mr Bertram nodded. ‘But not impossible, you will agree.’
    ‘You called it a discreet entrance?’
    Mr Bertram fingered his collar. ‘I should perhaps have called it a discreet exit. I suspect the architect included this passage so the master of the house could slip away to see his, er, local female acquaintance without the Mistress of the house being aware of his absence.’
    ‘But this house is not very old …’
    ‘Exactly. Another reason I prefer not to show this map to the police. I do not inquire into my father’s affairs and I would prefer it if no one else did.’
    I struggled mentally with this information. That one’s father should be such a reprobate! What would it do to the children of the house? How would their young minds be formed under such a situation? If his father had had this discreet exit built into his home, it was not unreasonable to assume this was not a recently acquired predilection. Mr Bertram’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
    ‘So do I have your word you will not mention this to the police?’
    I stepped back. ‘I cannot do that.’
    ‘Have you no loyalty?’ he cried.
    ‘I have been in this house less than 24 hours and I would not say it has been a happy experience.’
    ‘You are in our employ!’
    ‘You do not buy loyalty, Mr Bertram,’ I said haughtily. ‘You might buy silence, but not loyalty.’
    Mr Bertram reached into his inside coat pocket. ‘I thought you better than this. How much?’ he asked wearily.
    ‘What price is your honour?’
    His face positively glowed at that. ‘My honour is not for sale,’ he barked.
    ‘And neither is mine,’ I said quietly.
    He gestured to me to take a seat again. ‘We appear to have reached an impasse.’
    ‘Not necessarily. Am I incorrect in thinking that if the murderer should transpire to be other than your stepsister you would want justice to be served?’
    ‘George was an annoying little tick, but …’ Mr Bertram broke off. ‘I am not entirely of a mind that there is a but. In many ways whoever rid the world of Cousin George is to be commended.’
    ‘It