Free A Death for King and Country by Caroline Dunford Page A

back. I fumbled for my handkerchief and tried to mop up my face. I noticed my letter lay face down on the floor. The envelope was somewhere behind me on the bed.
    ‘What is it you don’t want me to see?’ asked Bertram.
    ‘Nothing,’ I protested as I did my best to wiggle my posterior onto the envelope and slide the letter with my foot under the bed.
    ‘I would not look at a private document uninvited,’ said Bertram in a hurt tone. ‘I do wish you would trust me.’
    ‘Oh, Bertram, it’s not that I do not trust you. I have been put on my honour not to reveal what I am doing.’
    ‘Well, I would dashed well like to meet whoever has extracted this promise from you. It is obvious that whatever you have been asked to do is too demanding … I mean, very demanding.’
    I did not protest as I usually would at Bertram suggesting anything was beyond my capabilities. Without his help it would have been impossible for him for me to have even have completed the first task. Fitzroy must have meant me to, as he might have put it, ‘utilise my contacts’, but as he would have done keep everyone in the dark about what was actually occurring. This was not the way I like to do things.
    ‘In fact,’ continued Bertram, growing more animated, ‘I would like to get the gentleman concerned alone in a room and explain exactly how one should treat a lady.’
    I smiled. Bertram is the least likely man to resort to fisticuffs. I am fairly certain even my little brother, Joe, could defeat him. [12] But I did not doubt his sentiment.
    ‘I am afraid you cannot speak to him, Bertram. He is dead.’
    ‘Oh, it is a will,’ said Bertram, looking relieved. ‘I believe people often do not give enough thought to how their instructions might be carried out. I suppose because they will not be around to have to resolve things.’ He gave me a smile. ‘But all we have to do, Euphemia, is contact the lawyer and say you require further assistance. Or even if the demands are too much that you find yourself unable to be an executor. You are not legally obliged to, you know.’
    ‘I am afraid it is not that simple.’
    ‘Black sheep of the family stuff, is it?’
    ‘It is not a member of my family at all.’
    ‘Well, good heavens, girl, why do you feel under such an obligation?’ exploded Bertram. ‘Were you in love with the fellow?’
    ‘No,’ I cried sharply, ‘I must certainly was not.’ I took a deep breath. ‘No, I was not in love with this man, but he did on at least one occasion save my life.’
    ‘But Rory is alive and well. At least he was last time I checked,’ said Bertram, looking very confused. ‘And I’m pretty sure you were in love with him.’
    I ignored this last remark. ‘Of course it is not Rory. He drove us to the vicarage, so it could not possibly be him. Unless you believe ghosts can drive.’
    ‘Just as well you did not accept that invitation for us to dine,’ said Bertram, momentarily distracted, ‘turns out I had not packed any trousers. This luggage malarkey is far more complicated than I expected.’
    ‘Indeed, dining at a vicarage without trousers would not be the done thing,’ I said, and gave a little giggle.
    ‘Now, it’s all very well trying to put me off with talk about my trousers,’ said Bertram.
    ‘You mentioned trousers first,’ I interrupted.
    ‘But,’ said Bertram loudly, speaking over me, ‘who is this dead fellow that is causing you so much trouble? He’s as pesky as …’ He looked into my eyes. I dropped my gaze.
    ‘Oh no, it cannot be. I would have thought that man was damn near indestructible.’
    ‘I am afraid it is,’ I said.
    ‘Bloody Fitzroy,’ said Bertram. ‘Bloody, bloody, bloody Fitzroy. What on earth has he got you embroiled in? It’ll all turn out to be some damn trick, you mark my words. I bet the bugger is not even actually dead!’
    [9] In my experience life never sends one trials singularly.
    [10] My own father had always warned me that men of the