Page 13 of Miss Morton and the Missing Heir (A Miss Morton Mystery #4)

T he sun was shining brightly as the small funeral party made its way to Grosvenor Chapel on South Audley Street.

It would have taken only ten minutes to walk, but Mr. Scutton was determined to do things properly and had provided a funeral carriage drawn by four black, plumed horses to follow the coffin.

When they arrived at the church, they discovered Mr. Castle from Coutts Bank, Mr. Potkins, and Inspector Ross had come to pay their respects.

The recently built chapel was a quiet, austere space unencumbered by the ghosts of the past and provided the perfect place for the short funeral service.

As the vicar hadn’t known Mary, his remarks were perfunctory, and far easier to bear than personal recollections.

Because Mr. Scutton had insisted there was to be no music, the service took less than half an hour.

The funeral bearers took the coffin, and the mourners followed them and the vicar to the burial ground at Mount Street.

It was a pleasant site, which Mrs. Frogerton approved of because she hoped it would remind Mary of the forests around Epping where she had lived.

Women were not generally welcomed at the side of a grave, but Mrs. Frogerton had insisted they would attend because she had promised Mrs. Scutton a full account of the proceedings.

Inspector Ross, who was immaculately turned out in black, came to stand beside Caroline and Mrs. Frogerton.

“Good morning, Inspector,” Caroline murmured. “Have you apprehended the murderers yet?”

“Not quite, my lady, but I have some leads on where I might locate them. They are well known in certain quarters of the city.” He paused. “I find it helpful to attend funerals such as this because you never know who will turn up.”

“You think the Brighams might be here?”

“You’d be surprised how often the murderer comes to their victim’s funeral. Sometimes out of guilt and sometimes because they wish to make certain the person is dead.”

Caroline glanced over at the vicar, who was opening his prayer book, and then at Mr. Scutton, whose face was completely blank. Beside her, Mrs. Frogerton took a black lace handkerchief from her reticule and applied it to her eyes.

Caroline patted her arm. “Please don’t distress yourself, ma’am.”

“I’m just imagining how I would feel if it was my daughter being buried while I still lived,” Mrs. Frogerton whispered. “I don’t think I could bear it.”

The vicar started his final prayers, and the small group fell silent.

Around them, the birds continued singing and traffic rolled past. Caroline couldn’t help looking around the edges of the graveyard just in case the Brighams had turned up.

She caught a glimpse of someone approaching and poked Inspector Ross’s arm.

He looked down at her, and she pointed to the entranceway where a tall gentleman was striding purposefully toward them. The inspector nodded and moved quietly to intercept the man while Caroline watched in some trepidation. There was something familiar about the man. …

Caroline let out a breath as she realized it was Dr. Harris. He shook Inspector Ross’s hand, and they both came over to her.

“Sorry I’m late,” he whispered.

“As I didn’t know you were coming, I can hardly be concerned about your tardiness, Dr. Harris,” Caroline murmured. “You should direct your apologies to Mr. Scutton.”

“And interrupt the funeral service?” Dr. Harris made a tutting noise. “I’d have thought you’d been brought up to know better, Miss Morton.”

She turned her attention back to the vicar and left Dr. Harris to explain himself to Mrs. Frogerton.

Mr. Scutton spent a moment with his head bowed over the grave before turning sharply on his heel and heading for the gate.

He paused to speak to Mrs. Frogerton when the rest of the party caught up with him. “I think I’ll walk back to Half Moon Street.”

Mrs. Frogerton nodded. “As you wish, Mr. Scutton. I’ll take care of your guests until you arrive.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Mrs. Frogerton looked at Inspector Ross and Dr. Harris. “Do you wish to join us in the carriage, gentlemen?”

Dr. Harris nodded, as did the inspector.

“Come along, then.” Mrs. Frogerton led the way after pausing to thank the coffin bearers and pat the horses.

Caroline found herself seated opposite Dr. Harris and Inspector Ross and spent the short journey mentally characterizing their similarities and differences.

They were both tall and dark-haired. Dr. Harris tended to dress as if he’d pulled all his garments from a jumbled pile on his floor, whereas Inspector Ross always looked elegant.

Dr. Harris’s face was as expressive as a stormy day, while the inspector favored a calmer more inscrutable look.

She knew them both to be honest and courageous men who did their best to right wrongs be they physical, material, or emotional. She would trust them both with her life.

“Are you feeling quite well, Miss Morton?” Dr. Harris said as the carriage stopped in Half Moon Street and Inspector Ross escorted Mrs. Frogerton inside. “You look rather bilious.”

“I’ve just attended the funeral of a woman who was murdered in this house,” Caroline said. “How would you expect me to look?”

“Ah, good point.” He got out of the carriage and came around to offer her his hand to descend. “Did you like Mrs. Brigham?”

“I can’t say that I knew her well, but she was always very pleasant to me.”

“Do you believe the Scuttons are related to you?” He remained by her side as the butler opened the door and they went into the entrance hall. “I can’t say I’ve noticed any resemblance between you.”

“I leave such matters to the College of Arms and the Morton solicitors,” Caroline said as she untied the black ribbons of her bonnet and took off her cloak. “In truth, I have no interest in who takes on the title and lands.”

Dr. Harris stared down at her. “Well, perhaps you should.”

“Why? The Morton family has hardly treated me well.”

“But it’s your heritage.”

“I’m surprised to hear you championing the upper classes, sir. Normally you need no invitation to heap scorn on the institutions that keep them in place.”

“Do you want Mr. Scutton to succeed to something that isn’t his by right?” Dr. Harris obviously wasn’t willing to stop arguing.

“As I have already said—”

He continued. “You do realize that if he becomes the earl, things might change?”

“I’m sure they will, but that will be Mr. Scutton’s problem, and nothing to do with me.” Caroline glanced around, glad to see that everyone else had ascended to the drawing room.

“I’m not sure if you are being deliberately obtuse, Miss Morton, or really haven’t thought this matter through.”

Caroline glared at him. “If you are going to be unpleasant, Dr. Harris, I’ll leave you to it.”

There was a pause, and he set his jaw. She turned away and put her foot on the bottom step of the stairs.

“Caroline … he’ll be the head of your family.”

She looked back at him and immediately regretted it. The look of genuine concern on his face was unsettling.

“He’ll consider he has the right to interfere in your life,” he continued.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dr. Harris,” Caroline said briskly. “He already dislikes me. The last thing he’ll want is to see me again once he’s established as the earl.”

She headed up the stairs and looked down at him from a safe distance. “Are you coming?”

He sighed, took off his hat, and threw it in the general direction of the hall table. “Fine. Ignore me.”

“I will.” She smiled to show that she wasn’t annoyed with him at all, even though he’d perturbed her. “Mrs. Frogerton’s cook has made an excellent lunch.”

Inspector Ross looked up as they came into the drawing room and walked over to greet them.

“Dr. Harris, I’m glad you came.” He lowered his voice. “I know this isn’t the right time to ask about medical matters, but it would save me a trip to St. Thomas’s to speak to you.”

“Mr. Scutton hasn’t arrived yet,” Caroline said. “There is no one who might take offence.”

“Ask away,” Dr. Harris said. “I’m always delighted to help the police.”

“I wondered whether you had an opinion as to the type of blade that would’ve been used to stab Mrs. Brigham.”

“I assume from the question that you didn’t recover one in the bedroom?”

“No. It’s highly likely Albert Brigham took it with him.”

Dr. Harris pursed his lips. “The blade was long and sharp enough to sever a major artery in Mrs. Brigham’s throat. Once that happens, death is almost instantaneous because of the speed of blood loss.”

Inspector Ross nodded. “So, longer than a standard pocketknife, but shorter than a sword.”

“Yes, more like a dagger,” Dr. Harris agreed. “Not necessarily the type of thing you’d carry around with you unless you perceived you were under constant threat.”

“Or you wished to do harm to another,” Caroline added and shivered.

Both men looked at her with varying degrees of concern.

“Yes, that, too.” Dr Harris reached out and awkwardly patted her shoulder. “There’s no need to dwell on it, Miss Morton.”

“I wasn’t intending to.” She stepped away from him and collided with Inspector Ross, who instinctively put his arm around her waist to steady her. “I do apologize.”

Dr. Harris looked at them and bowed. “I’ll offer my respects to Mrs. Frogerton and take a glass of brandy.”

Caroline eased away from Inspector Ross.

“He’s quite fond of you, isn’t he?” he said, staring after Dr. Harris.

“In his own way.” Caroline smiled. “It’s like having an irritating older brother who is intent on sticking their nose in your business, and totally oblivious to any hints to keep out of it.”

Inspector Ross chuckled and set her hand on his sleeve. “Come and get something to eat. I’m sure you’ll need your strength for dealing with the Scuttons.”

“They have turned into something of a trial,” Caroline acknowledged. “I regret allowing Mrs. Frogerton to become involved with them.”