Page 19 of Miss Morton and the Missing Heir (A Miss Morton Mystery #4)

T he next morning, Mrs. Frogerton passed the newspaper over to Caroline at the breakfast table with the page folded back to the society announcements and obituaries.

“I thought it was time to hurry things along.”

Caroline read the black-edged announcement of Mary’s death and stared at Mrs. Frogerton. “With all due respect, ma’am, do you think that was wise?”

“I did ask Mrs. Scutton for permission.”

“And Mr. Scutton?”

Her employer shrugged. “He wasn’t my concern. I’m sure his mother will tell him.”

“He won’t appreciate your interference,” Caroline said.

“I know, but Mrs. Scutton was very grateful for the suggestion and more than willing to allow me to proceed. I also put notices in the Epping and Essex Gazette .” Mrs. Frogerton reclaimed the paper. “I’m thinking it might stir things up a little.”

“How so?”

“The Brighams might think they’ve gotten away with it. There’s been no public outcry, no newspaper articles, and no death announcement for Mary. Now this matter is in the public eye, they might be more vulnerable.”

“And those around them might wonder at their silence,” Caroline said. “And hopefully take their disquiet and their concerns to the authorities.”

“Exactly.” Mrs. Frogerton looked up as Mr. Scutton entered the room. “Good morning.”

He stood over her and jabbed at the folded newspaper with his fingertip. “I understand from my mother that you are responsible for this.”

“Yes indeed.” Mrs. Frogerton smiled at him.

He took in a deep breath, and Caroline tensed. “I suppose I should thank you, ma’am. In my grief I admit I have forgotten to address some of the necessary formalities.”

“You are most welcome, Mr. Scutton.”

He nodded and set the newspaper on the table. “The sad news might generate some interest from those who are acquainted with the Brigham brothers.”

“That was my thought, too, sir.” Mrs. Frogerton nodded.

“Let’s hope your strategy is more successful than that of the Metropolitan Police.”

Mr. Scutton went to get his breakfast. Behind his back, Mrs. Frogerton raised her eyebrows at Caroline. Both of them had expected him to take the news badly.

“My mother intends to get up for the day,” Mr. Scutton said as he sat down. “I believe she wishes to make an appointment with a dressmaker to provide her with her own mourning clothes.”

“If it is acceptable, sir, I’ll ask my own dressmaker to call on us today. She is an excellent seamstress,” Mrs. Frogerton offered.

“I’ll relay that offer to my mother, ma’am. Thank you.” He paused. “I suppose, as the mother of the Earl of Morton, such people would come to her.”

He turned his attention to the newspaper and didn’t speak again as Caroline and Mrs. Frogerton planned out the days’ events.

“When does Ellie come back from visiting her family?” Mrs. Frogerton asked.

“I believe she is due back at the end of this week, ma’am. But you did tell her to stay with her mother until she was well enough to cope.”

“I could hardly do anything else. Poor Ellie already sends most of her wages to her mother, and losing that money would be catastrophic for the family.”

“I’m sure Ellie will be back as soon as she can, ma’am.” Caroline said.

“Good, because Lizzie will be glad to see her. Looking after the house all by herself has been something of a trial. I did consider hiring another parlor maid, but as I don’t intend to be here for another year, it seemed unnecessary.”

Caroline stood up. “Shall I take the letters from your desk to be posted, ma’am?” She glanced down at the dogs, who were eating more of Mrs. Frogerton’s toast than their owner. “I could take the dogs with me for a walk.”

Three of the dogs looked up at the word, while the other one hid under the chair.

“Don’t take Pug. He doesn’t have the strength,” Mrs. Frog erton said.

Privately, Caroline thought he would have the strength if Mrs. Frogerton didn’t feed him so many treats, but she would never say it out loud.

“I’ll just fetch my bonnet.”

“Thank you, dear. I’ll send the dogs out to the hall with the butler.”

Caroline retrieved all the correspondence and then set off with the dogs toward the receiving office in Charles Street.

The weather remained mild, and it was something of a pleasure to escape the sad atmosphere hanging over Half Moon Street.

Caroline wished with all her heart she’d never heard of the Scuttons and that her father’s solicitors hadn’t involved her and Mrs. Frogerton in their schemes.

She was even beginning to wish she’d encouraged her employer to leave immediately for the north after Dorothy’s wedding.

The clerk at the receiving office was very helpful and accepted the letters into his care.

Before she left, he informed her that he had something for her.

“I was just about to send it out for delivery, miss, but perhaps you’d like to take it with you?

” He went to the back of the office and retrieved what looked to be a letter.

She took it, noting that it seemed as if it had been dropped in the mud at least once, glanced at the address, and went still. “It’s from America.”

“Yes, it’s the first one I’ve seen in a long while.” He regarded her with a friendly eye. “Do you have family over there, miss?”

“Yes, my sister and my cousin live in Maryland.” Caroline was surprised her voice wasn’t shaking as she put the letter in her reticule. “Thank you, Mr. Chisolm.”

“You’re most welcome.” He hurried around the desk to open the door for her, clucked indulgently at the dogs, and bowed with a flourish as she went by him. “Have a pleasant day.”

Caroline nodded somewhat absently and walked to the corner of the street before she took in her surroundings and remembered to head for Green Park.

She found the nearest bench and let the dogs explore while she composed herself.

After a few moments, she opened her reticule and took the letter out.

Despite the grime, she could make out Susan’s handwriting rather than Mabel’s, which was something of a relief.

She undid the string that bound the pages, cracked the wax seals, and spread the single sheet of paper out on her lap.

She was surprised at the smallness of the script, as her sister normally communicated as little as possible.

It appeared that Susan was inspired by her new surroundings and had decided to tell Caroline all about them.

Caroline read through the letter and then read it again more slowly, trying to catch the nuances she might have missed.

Despite all Caroline’s fears, it appeared that her sister was happy and well.

She knew she should be relieved by such news but admitted to herself that she’d almost hoped Susan had written begging to return. …

Caroline set the letter on her knee and smoothed it with her gloved fingers. Was that what she was becoming? Someone who begrudged others success and good fortune? It wasn’t a pleasant thought, and Caroline was unwilling to indulge her own grievances.

She called the dogs, reattached their leads, and set off to Half Moon Street deep in thought.

“Miss Morton!”

She paused as a familiar figure came striding toward her.

“Dr. Harris.”

He swept off his hat and bowed before smiling down at her. “I’m glad to see you getting some exercise in the fresh air.”

“It is always pleasant to be out of the house, Dr. Harris. I enjoy it.” She noticed he was wearing what passed as his best coat and that he’d made some attempt to tame his hair. “Where are you off to today?”

“I just had an interview for a new position.” He grinned.

“At a different hospital?” Caroline asked.

“Yes. The Royal Free. I consider them the most radical and innovatory teaching hospital in England.”

“That sounds like it would be a perfect for you.” Caroline hesitated. “Are they in London?”

“Of course they are.” He looked vaguely insulted that she didn’t know. “Camden.”

“Not quite so central. I suppose you might have to move lodgings if you get the position you applied for.”

“I’m fairly certain I’ve got it,” Dr. Harris said.

“It will be harder for you to visit us in Half Moon Street.” One of the nearby churches chimed the hour, and Caroline turned toward the park gates. “Do you wish to accompany me back to Half Moon Street so that you can tell Mrs. Frogerton your good news?”

“I’m sure you can tell her for me.”

Caroline frowned. “I can, but she is very fond of you, and said just yesterday that she hadn’t seen you for quite a while.”

“You’ve got a houseful of guests,” Dr. Harris pointed out.

“Yes, but—”

“And Mr. Scutton insinuated that I was not welcome in the house.”

“Mr. Scutton has nothing to say about Mrs. Frogerton’s guests, Dr. Harris. You know that.”

“He implied that he spoke for all of you.”

“And you should know better than to believe I’d allow a man—especially one who might not even be related to me—to speak for me.” She stared at him. “If you have better things to do than spend a moment with your benefactor, then I’ll wish you good day.”

Dr. Harris let out a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t visit as much because you seem far too cozy with Inspector Ross.”

“What does that have to do with anything we’ve been discussing?” Caroline asked. “I believe I am allowed to have friends, am I not?”

“You know what I mean, and who could blame you? He’s the right class, he’s a man of good character, and he’d take good care of you.”

Caroline resisted the urge to stamp her foot. “Why is everyone obsessed with finding someone to care for me? I am quite capable of looking after myself.”

“ I know that. The rest of them are fools.”

“And yet it seems you are behaving in exactly the same manner by telling me who I can be friends with and trying to control me.”

Caroline realized she’d raised her voice when Dr. Harris winced, but she wasn’t in the mood to be conciliatory. “To be perfectly honest, I am sick and tired of the lot of you!” She started walking. “Come along, dogs.”

Dr. Harris kept pace with her. “I didn’t mean to make you cross.”

“Then please go away.”