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

parish cloth were addicted to either tea or sherry. He had been unsure which was worse, as he claimed too much tea made one jumpy and suspicious. Senior church figures, he explained, made do with port, it being the closest to the ecclesiastical purple.
    [11] Thank goodness the hotel was old-fashioned enough to have one.
    [12] Joe is quite a tough little tomboy. In her latest letter, my mother had mentioned that Joe had taken on two of the local children, who had been teasing a chicken, and thrashed them quite soundly. At nearly ten years of age he was bidding fair to become too much of a handful for our mother. I feared that soon we would need to find the fees to send him to school.

Chapter Twelve
    In which Bertram displays a distressing opinion
of my character
    It took me quite some time to convince Bertram that Fitzroy was undeniably dead.
    ‘I did not realise you were on the ship that picked up the Titanic survivors,’ said Bertram. ‘No wonder you are more … feminine than usual. It must have been an emotionally scarring experience.’
    I let this one pass only asking, ‘Where did you think Amelia came from?’
    ‘Oh, I knew she had been on the Titanic ,’ said Bertram. ‘I just didn’t know Hans and Richenda had got her fresh from the ship, as it were.’ [13]
    ‘You make her sound like a fish,’ I said in disgust.
    ‘So will you show me this letter now?’
    ‘I would feel uncomfortable doing so,’ I said, desperately thinking on how I could play on Bertram’s notion of honour. The last thing I wanted was for him to read about my family.
    ‘But I’ve worked out who it is!’ he protested.
    ‘Indeed, you worked it out. I didn’t tell you.’
    ‘Yes, you did,’ said Bertram, frowning.
    ‘I only told you what you already knew,’ I countered.
    Bertram glowered at me and I feared another lengthy argument. ‘Can we compromise?’ I said quickly. ‘Perhaps if I could tell you what is in the letters without showing you? That would make me feel more comfortable.’
    ‘On the condition you do not lie to me,’ said Bertram.
    As I had been lying to him for days I could hardly protest indignantly. Instead I agreed. I told him about the tasks, but I did not mention the rewards I had been promised.
    ‘So what is the next task?’ asked Bertram.
    I picked up the letter. He rose and stood on the far side of the wall, so he could not possibly see. I curbed an impulse to smile at his seriousness.
    Now, Euphemia, your next task should not tax you too onerously. I require you to go to the office of Sir Markham Linkwater, introduce yourself as my emissary, and ask to speak with the great man himself. I think you will find my name should give you entry, but if it does not, ask his secretary to send in a message that says you wish to speak to him about what occurred in the Winter Gardens in ’01. That should suffice.
    Inside this envelope you will find a further envelope. By all means open it and inspect the contents if you wish. However, you will find it contains photographic images of a senior civil servant cavorting al fresco and in a state of dishabille . Even for one used to amorous adventures, like myself, the sight is unseemly, and for your innocent virgin eyes it may well prove too much. If I was still alive I admit I would love to see the expression on your face seeing them – or even reading this.
    Suffice it to say, Mr Linkwater has been under an obligation to me since ’01. I always promised that one day the proof of his indiscretion would be returned to him and this, or as near as dammit, is the day. I would ask you also to remind him that on receiving this he promised on his honour to complete one last task. I do not need to burden you with further details. I am convinced he will remember our conversation on the matter in question in perfect detail.
    There, that shouldn’t be too hard, should it? His office is at (here he gave a London address) . Get Bertram to take you up to town to see a show