Free There Must Be Murder by Margaret C. Sullivan Page A

for our purposes,” said
Henry.
    “Yes, sir,” said Matthew, not quite approving.
“Miss Biddy—the maidservant—told me that Lady Beauclerk’s fortune
is not as extensive as her manner of living indicates.”
    “Indeed? I understood that Sir Arthur controlled
a large amount of funded money. One assumes he would have given his
widow a comfortable jointure.”
    “It may be comfortable, sir, but not
lavish.”
    “An important distinction. Pray go on.”
    “The largest part of the funded money has been
left to Sir Philip conditionally. He must marry Miss Beauclerk in
order to gain control.”
    “That must be why she has sent away Mr. Shaw!”
cried Catherine. “It is all for ambition!”
    “Judith had plenty of ambition before her father
died,” said Henry. “She needed no such encouragement.”
    “You did say that before,” said Catherine. “You
said that she would never marry an apothecary.”
    “Indeed. I tried to tell Mr. Shaw, but he had
not ears to hear it. Matthew, did you learn what would happen if
Beauclerk did not fulfill the provisions of his uncle’s will?”
    “In that case, the money goes to Lady Beauclerk.
She seems convinced that her daughter will refuse to marry Sir
Philip, my informant said, and counts the fortune as very likely
her own. However, she also is making alternative arrangements.”
    “In the shape of a rich husband, I dare
say.”
    “As you say, sir.” He hesitated, and then said,
“One more thing that Miss Biddy told me, sir; it is not directly
applicable to this situation, but you may find it of interest. If
the Beauclerks were not in a position to inherit the funded
monies—for instance, if they were hanged or transported—the fortune
will pass to Sir Arthur’s sister, Mrs. Findlay. Miss Biddy thought
Sir Arthur a hard man, begging your pardon, sir. She expressed an
opinion that the Beauclerks were an unhappy family, and that she
would not be surprised at such an outcome.”
    “And it gives Mrs. Findlay an excellent reason
to make false accusations,” said Henry. “You look troubled, my
sweet.”
    “Miss Beauclerk also suggested that Sir Arthur
was a hard man,” said Catherine. “Could one of them have become
so
—” She shook her head. “Never mind! I should know better than to be
so fanciful.”

    “Beware getting too close to the truth,” said
Henry. “Next you will receive a mysterious unsigned note warning
you off, and any heroine worth her smelling salts cannot resist
such a challenge. Matthew, you have done very well. I hope the
formation of your acquaintance with Miss—Biddy, was it?—was not
onerous.”
    Matthew coughed and did not meet Henry’s eye; if
he had, he might have seen the teasing humor lurking there. “I did
my best to fulfill my duty, sir.”
    “I hope your zealous pursuit of intelligence did
not lead you to make overhasty declarations. But if it has, we
shall make your lady welcome at Woodston. Mrs. Tilney has provided
for you; it was her word that saved the little cottage beyond the
orchard from being pulled down. It could be fitted up for a young
family, I dare say—”
    “Oh, no, sir,” said Matthew, his face deep
red.
    “Do not tease him, Henry,” said Catherine.
“Matthew deserves a much better wife than a mere maidservant who
cannot even be trusted to keep her employer’s secrets.”
    “Thank you, ma’am,” said Matthew with a
gratified look.
    Henry smiled, and said, “He does indeed deserve
better; and I know he will seek better.”
    “I have no such plans at present, sir, to—seek,”
said Matthew, still blushing.
    “A man never does,” said Henry.
    ***

    The dark pressed in early, and even in the hour
before dinner, Catherine needed candles to light her sewing. Henry
had gone down to the kitchen to make sure MacGuffin had been
brushed, fed, and watered after his adventures of the morning. She
knew that Henry probably would end up brushing MacGuffin himself,
and get his coat all over dog hair, but such a