Page 10 of Miss Morton and the Missing Heir (A Miss Morton Mystery #4)

“I’m quite capable—” Caroline began.

Dr. Harris pushed her unceremoniously to one side and went into the bedroom. “Look after Mrs. Scutton,” he snapped, his attention on the bed.

Caroline got a glimpse of Mary’s frozen face and blood seeping into the cream counterpane beneath her sprawled body.

“Yes, of course.” Caroline stumbled to her knees beside Mrs. Scutton.

She moaned pitifully. “They murdered her! Right in front of me! I tried to stop them, but—”

“Dr. Harris is with Mary now.” Caroline took Mrs. Scutton’s bloodied hand in hers. “He’ll do everything he can to help her.” She looked up at Inspector Ross, who’d joined them in the corridor. “Could you ask one of the maids to fetch a pillow and a blanket for Mrs. Scutton? She’s shivering.”

“It’s the shock.” Inspector Ross went for the items himself and returned quickly. “Let me help you place the pillow under her head.” He frowned down at Mrs. Scutton’s pale face. She was struggling to remain conscious. “She’s still bleeding. I’ll ask Dr. Harris what we can do for her.”

Dr. Harris spoke from somewhere above Caroline’s head. “I’m here. Can you ask one of the maids to fetch up my medical bag? I left it in the kitchen.”

Caroline nodded to Lizzie, the parlormaid. She, the butler, and half the staff stood at the end of the corridor with Mrs. Frogerton. The maid hurried down the back stairs.

Inspector Ross moved closer to the doctor and lowered his voice. “Is Mrs. Brigham dead?”

“Yes.”

Mr. Scutton came down the corridor at some speed and out of breath. “What is going on? What has happened to my mother?”

Inspector Ross held out his hand. “There has been a terrible tragedy, sir. Perhaps—”

Mr. Scutton ignored the inspector and rushed into his sister’s bedchamber. His horrified gasp was audible from the corridor. “My God!”

Inspector Ross followed him into the room and began speaking quietly while Dr. Harris crouched beside Mrs. Scutton.

“Where are you hurt, ma’am?”

She briefly opened her eyes and stared at him without recognition. “I tried to stop him, but he slashed at me, and I fell back.”

“It’s all right, ma’am.” Even as he spoke, Dr. Harris was rapidly examining the slashes on her arms. “We’ll soon have this bleeding stopped.”

Half an hour later, Inspector Ross had arranged for a constable to stand guard at the front door, alerted the coroner, and started to question the staff about their whereabouts when the screaming had begun.

Caroline was sitting with Mrs. Scutton in her bedroom when Inspector Ross appeared, notebook in his hand, and sat down.

His expression was sympathetic, but he also conveyed a sense of authority that required answers.

“Mrs. Scutton, I know that this will be very difficult for you, but can you tell me what happened before your daughter was stabbed?”

Mrs. Scutton swallowed audibly. “I went to check that Mary was all right, and I heard raised voices behind the door. When I went in, he was there with his brother. Mary was begging him to leave.”

“When you say he, whom do you mean, ma’am?” Inspector Ross asked.

“Her husband, Albert Brigham, and his younger brother George.”

Inspector Ross wrote in his notebook.

“I shouted for him to get out, but he told me to shut up, and advanced on Mary, and …” Her throat worked.

“Suddenly, I saw the flash of a blade, and then he was on her, just stabbing and stabbing …” Mrs. Scutton started shaking.

“When she fell back on the bed, I threw myself at him, and that’s when he stabbed me as well.

I remember falling to the floor, trying to hold on to one of them to stop them escaping through the door, but I failed. ”

“That was very brave of you, ma’am,” Inspector Ross said as he continued to write.

“It didn’t save my daughter though, did it?” Mrs. Scutton’s tears fell unheeded down her cheeks. “It’s my fault for letting them find us here.”

“You aren’t responsible for any of this, ma’am,” Caroline said gently. “Mr. Brigham chose to come here and murder his wife. You did everything you could.”

“Thomas shouldn’t have paid his debts,” Mrs. Scutton continued. “And where was he when I screamed for help?”

Caroline looked inquiringly at Inspector Ross. He gave his head a slight shake. “I fear it was too late to save your daughter, ma’am. It appears Mr. Brigham came here with the intent to kill her, and nothing would stand in his way.”

“He threatened us,” Mrs. Scutton said. “I should have taken him more seriously.”

Caroline took one of Mrs. Scutton’s bandaged hands in her own. “You did nothing wrong, ma’am. Many people make threats when in a rage.”

“My poor darling …” Mrs. Scutton began to cry again.

Caroline turned to Inspector Ross. “I think Mrs. Scutton should be left to recover, Inspector. Perhaps you might come back tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course.” Inspector Ross rose to his feet. “Thank you, ma’am. I am very sorry for your loss. I promise we will do everything possible to find your daughter’s husband and bring him to justice.”

Caroline joined Inspector Ross outside the bedroom and closed the door so that Mrs. Scutton wouldn’t hear anything. “ Was Mr. Scutton in the dining room with you?” Caroline asked.

“He was not.” Inspector Ross said slowly. “He asked to be excused. I thought it was because he considered Dr. Harris and myself beneath his interest.”

“He didn’t appear for quite some time, did he?” Caroline asked as they slowly walked toward the stairs. “If he’d gone to his room, he would’ve been right next door to Mary and would’ve heard everything.”

“Perhaps he went into the garden to smoke?” Inspector Ross suggested.

“I’ve never seen him smoke. One has to wonder if he was the person who let the Brigham brothers in.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because Mr. Scutton always seems eager to please his sister and help her husband.”

“It’s an interesting point.” Inspector Ross considered her. “So far, none of the staff have said they admitted them, but no one claims to have seen them leave either.”

“Possibly because everyone was rushing up here to see what all the screaming was about.”

Inspector Ross followed Caroline into the drawing room, where Mrs. Frogerton awaited them. She told them that Dr. Harris had gone back to the hospital for his night shift.

“Did you see Mr. Scutton after dinner, ma’am?” Caroline asked her employer.

“I’m not sure that I did. Why? Is it important?” Mrs. Frogerton raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“I believe Lady Caroline is trying to establish where Mr. Scutton was when his mother started screaming.” Inspector Ross took the glass of brandy Mrs. Frogerton offered him and sat down beside Caroline on the couch.

“He arrived at the top of the stairs well after I did, and he was breathing hard,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “He seemed frozen with shock and almost reluctant to make his way down the corridor toward his mother.”

“People behave in many different ways when confronted with violence, ma’am,” Inspector Ross said. “It is not uncommon for someone to be paralyzed with fear.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Mrs. Frogerton didn’t look convinced. “Perhaps he hates the sight of blood. I am the same, but I doubt I’d stand at the end of the hallway dithering while my family were in great distress.”

“Lady Caroline wondered whether he was the one who let the Brighams into the house,” Inspector Ross said.

“That might account for his shock,” Mrs. Frogerton agreed.

“Or the Brighams could have slipped in while the staff were busy preparing dinner,” Caroline suggested. “The back door is not always locked.”

“That does seem more likely. Because why would Mr. Scutton wish such horrors on his mother and sister?” Mrs. Frogerton looked at Inspector Ross. “From all accounts, he’s devoted to them.”

“Perhaps Mary asked her brother to let her see her husband before he left London, and he agreed to help her?” Caroline suggested. “Mr. Scutton could not have known what Albert truly intended.”

“Which might also be why he was slow to react, because he couldn’t quite come to terms with what he might have done.” Mrs. Frogerton nodded.

Inspector Ross finished his drink and rose to his feet. “I’ll conclude my interviews with the staff, and I’ll come back tomorrow to speak to Mr. Scutton. I hope he’ll be able to give me a good description of the Brigham brothers to distribute to my constables.”

“I’ll let him know you’ll need to speak to him when he returns,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “Good night, Inspector.”

“Good night, ma’am. Lady Caroline.” He smiled, bowed, and left the drawing room.

Mrs. Frogerton shook her head. “What a dreadful thing to have happened. Poor Mrs. Brigham.”

“Indeed, it is quite horrific,” Caroline agreed.

For once, Mrs. Frogerton didn’t make light of the matter. “One has to suspect the trouble between Mary and her husband was brewing long before we became involved and was always likely to end in violence and tragedy.”

“There was so much blood.” Caroline drank her brandy and shuddered. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I wish I’d heeded Dr. Harris’s warning. He was right—I should not have looked.”

“Even a stopped clock is right twice a day, my dear, and I suppose it is his area of expertise.”

“I was just glad he and Inspector Ross were here,” Caroline continued. “Imagine if we were dining alone and the Brighams had decided we should all die.”

It was Mrs. Frogerton’s turn to shudder. “Don’t think of that, lass, or you’ll never close your eyes again.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to anyway.” Caroline smiled at her employer. “In fact, I think I’ll sit at Mrs. Scutton’s bedside, and make sure she has a comfortable night.”

“That would be very good of you, my dear.” Mrs. Frogerton rose to her feet. “Will you tell the butler to make sure everything is properly locked up tonight? I fear my nerves couldn’t stand another invasion.”

“Yes, of course, ma’am.” Caroline nodded at her employer. “I do hope you are able to sleep.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, lass.” Mrs. Frogerton waved Caroline’s doubts aside as she went toward the door. “I have my dogs to protect me, and I’m as tough as they come.”

Caroline wished she could say the same as she tidied the drawing room and took the tray down to the deserted kitchen.

Even though she knew the butler would test all the locks before he retired, she checked them all herself.

Every sound from the street seemed magnified, every crackle from the coal in the range and drip from the pump made her strain to listen harder, her heart jumping in her chest.

It wasn’t until she settled in the armchair beside Mrs. Scutton’s bed that she realized she was still shaking.

She glanced down at Mrs. Scutton’s pale, oblivious face.

Her bandaged arms and hands lay on top of the quilt, her fingers curled inward as if still trying to grasp the intruders.

Dr. Harris had dosed her liberally with a sleeping draught to keep the horrors at bay.

Caroline had always avoided such medication unless it was absolutely necessary, but was tempted to help herself to a spoonful from the bottle beside the bed.

She reminded herself that panicking helped no one and that Mrs. Frogerton was relying on her to keep a calm head and help the Scuttons come to terms with their devastating loss. It had been an awful evening, and for the Scutton family, things would never be the same again. …