Page 38 of Miss Morton and the Missing Heir (A Miss Morton Mystery #4)

Caroline left the room and went upstairs to her bedroom.

She made sure to lock the door before she sat down on her bed.

She studied her shaking fingers until her breathing calmed down.

Mrs. Frogerton had warned her that Mr. Scutton intended to control her, and Caroline hadn’t taken her seriously enough.

Of course he wanted to marry her. It was a common practice among aristocratic families for the new heir to select a suitable female relative for a bride.

She should have realized Mr. Scutton was no different.

At least he hadn’t pretended to be pleased about the matter, and her refusal of his proposal had allowed him to insult her with impunity.

Caroline shuddered. He would make a terrible husband. She pitied the poor woman who would end up with him. There was a knock on the door, and she jumped.

“Miss Morton? It’s Ellie. Mrs. Frogerton says there is no need to come down this afternoon and that if you wish to have your dinner on a tray, I’m to bring it up for you.”

Caroline made herself get up and unlock the door. Ellie looked her up and down, her expression concerned. “Are you all right, miss? There’s been a lot of shouting from the dining room. Mrs. Frogerton’s in a right temper with the Scuttons.”

“I have something of a headache, Ellie. I think I will lie down for a while.”

“I’ll tell Mrs. Frogerton.” Ellie curtsied. “I’ll bring your dinner up after your nap, miss.”

“Thank you.”

Caroline shut the door and locked it again.

She went to lie on her bed but couldn’t settle, her mind endlessly replaying the uncomfortable scene with the Scuttons at the dining table.

Had she been too rude? Mr. Scutton had certainly thought so, his calm veneer of doing her an immense favor ripped away to show his distaste for her very being.

It wasn’t pleasant to be seen as a woman chasing a title.

She reminded herself that if she truly was materialistic, she could easily accept Mr. Scutton and become a countess like her mother.

Her head throbbed, and she mixed herself a potion of hartshorn and water and swallowed it down. Her gaze fell on the ledger Mr. Castle had lent her from the Morton estate. If she couldn’t sleep, she might as well fill her time with something useful. She sat at her writing desk and opened the book.

The earliest writing wasn’t familiar, so she assumed it was the housekeeper, the butler, or her grandfather’s secretary who had been charged with keeping the books straight.

If her father had dealt with such matters in later years, the estate would have been bankrupt far earlier and the accounts not as meticulously maintained.

Forgetting her original purpose of researching the provenance of the current Morton family jewels, Caroline allowed herself to be waylaid into the daily accounts of a leisured life that no longer existed.

She smiled as she flipped through the pages, stopping every now and then when she saw her name or Susan’s.

That life was no longer hers, but it was still precious to remember some of the good times and not just the bad.

But even in the daily accounts, her father’s spending loomed large as he borrowed from various funds, leaving the household accounts in disarray and the staff prone to complaining in the margins of the columns.

Had to ask her ladyship for money to pay the butcher. Three months in arrears , one entry read, followed by: Discuss with his lordship whether to let one of the parlor maids go to save the wages …

As with most aristocratic families, her parents had lived with the previous earl until her father inherited the title.

It hadn’t always been an easy relationship.

Caroline’s mother had never raised her voice to her husband, but she had tried to stand up to him, especially when it came to her children’s inheritance.

Caroline remembered tears and shouting and hiding in her room as her mother tried to pretend nothing was wrong.

Caroline turned a few pages, and her gaze fell on another note in the margin.

No need to let a parlor maid go. Hetty Bryson is leaving to get married on Midsummer day .

Caroline read the name twice, her mind in a whirl.

Mrs. Scutton had worked for the Mortons?

Caroline had no recollection of her, as Mrs. Scutton had been there before Caroline was born.

She suddenly remembered Mrs. Scutton’s familiarity with the house and the secret door into the drawing room that only family members and staff knew about.

How could she have been so stupid? Mrs. Scutton had met and married a man who was also connected to the Morton family, which could hardly have been a coincidence. It made far more sense now, but why hadn’t Mrs. Scutton been honest from the start?

Caroline checked the time and realized Mrs. Frogerton would be taking her afternoon nap.

Her startling revelation would have to wait until her employer was awake and willing to receive her.

Caroline returned her attention to the book.

While she waited, she would look Hetty up in the ledger’s servants index and, if she had time, she’d research the jewels and make a list of what belonged to her and not the Morton estate.

When Ellie returned later that evening, she told Caroline the Scuttons were dining out with Mr. Potkins, and that if she wished to go downstairs, Mrs. Frogerton would be pleased to see her.

“I’ll come down. Thank you, Ellie.”

Caroline changed into the plainest of her three evening gowns, picked up the ledger, and brought it with her to the dining room. Mrs. Frogerton sat at the table, looking splendid in her diamonds.

“Glad to see you showing some spirit, lass,” Mrs. Frogerton commented as Caroline took her seat. “There’s no need to let the Scuttons prevent you from eating in your own home.”

“I must confess that I wasn’t expecting a proposal over lunch, ma’am.”

“It barely even qualified as one.” Mrs. Frogerton snorted. “It was a mealymouthed excuse of an offer and not worthy of an answer. I knew Mr. Scutton can be unpleasant, but he really surpassed himself. Even his mother took him to task after you left.”

“His mother has far more sense than he does, ma’am.”

“She’s no better. She’s got her eye on those South African mines of yours. She wants you to marry him because she thinks you’ll bring in the cash to save her precious son’s inheritance.”

“I did wonder what made Mr. Scutton propose despite my constantly telling him I wanted nothing to do with him or the earldom,” Caroline said. “It seemed as if Mrs. Scutton goaded him into doing it.”

“He’s a lily-livered fool,” Mrs. Frogerton said dismissively, “who got what he deserved. I’m very much hoping they’ll move out by the end of the week. Your refusing his proposal might be a blessing in disguise.”

“Let’s hope so, ma’am.” Caroline stopped talking as the footmen set the second course on the table and withdrew. “Although he does have a tendency to follow his bad behavior with an abject apology.”

“Would you accept an apology from him, Caroline?” Mrs. Frogerton looked inquiringly at her.

“No, ma’am.”

“Would you agree to be his wife?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then you have your answer.” Mrs. Frogerton helped herself to creamed spinach and some sliced lamb. “And don’t you pay any heed to that nonsense he spouted about Inspector Ross. If that man wants to marry you, he’ll do it regardless of a title.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Caroline said. “It was rather lowering to hear myself described in such terms.”

“I’m surprised Mr. Scutton didn’t bring up Dr. Harris as well, seeing as he’s appointed himself guardian of your morals.”

“Dr. Harris isn’t speaking to me,” Caroline reminded her.

“He’s simply off licking his wounds wondering how to approach you for the next go-around,” Mrs. Frogerton said bracingly. “As I keep telling you, if you wish to be married, you just have to snap your fingers.”

“That is reassuring, ma’am.” Caroline knew it wasn’t worth arguing with Mrs. Frogerton’s romantic sensibilities. “But I assure you that I am content just as I am.”

“I do wish Dr. Harris would come and see us,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “I’d love to have his opinion on the likelihood of the Brighams being able to get rid of all traces of blood from their persons before they left the house.”

“I did wonder whether Mary had clothes stored for Mr. Brigham somewhere and that they changed completely,” Caroline said.

“I suppose that’s possible,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “Although I’d still like Dr. Harris’s thoughts on the matter.”

“Perhaps you should write to him?” Caroline suggested. “Or I can do so in your stead.”

“Yes, why don’t you do that after dinner? It will offer him an opportunity to reconnect with us without losing face. Now, what did you bring the ledger with you for? To ward off the Scuttons?”

“No, ma’am, although the thought of launching it at Mr. Scutton’s head is becoming increasingly attractive.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Mrs. Frogerton smiled. “Did you discover anything about the jewelry?”

“Yes, I worked out which pieces belong to me and Susan, and I noted others that might be worth asking Coutts about if Mr. Lewis is willing to act for me.”

“He will. He loves a good fight, lass, you know he does.”

“There was something else. …” Caroline opened the ledger. “I found several notations about a Hetty Bryson who was employed by my family for two years.”

Mrs. Frogerton frowned. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“It’s Mrs. Scutton.”

Her employer gasped and dropped her fork to the floor, where it was immediately carried away by one of the dogs. “No! She worked for your family? Why didn’t she mention it?”

“That’s a very good question, ma’am,” Caroline said.

“Perhaps she was too embarrassed to admit she’d been in service to your family.”

“That’s quite understandable.”

“There have been several occasions when she might have mentioned it in passing,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “And wouldn’t you think it would enhance her claim to be connected to the Mortons? She worked for them, met Mr. Scutton who was also a Morton, and married into the family.”

“It does make more sense as to how she became connected to Mr. Scutton, but …” Caroline hesitated. “We had no house in Epping, so the notion that she came down from London with the family and met Mr. Scutton there can’t be accurate.”

“Maybe she was sent down to help with the harvest at the farm and had to sleep in the barn and hates to be reminded of being required to do manual work,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “She is a very proud woman.”

“That would certainly be an experience she’d want to hide,” Caroline agreed. “Perhaps on our trip to Epping tomorrow we should seek out Miss Smith again and ask her if she remembers exactly how Mr. and Mrs. Scutton met.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Mrs. Frogerton agreed. “I intend to set off quite early tomorrow morning so we’ll be spared the sight of the Scuttons at the breakfast table.”

“Mr. Scutton does have a tendency to sulk.”

“Yes, and it’s not attractive in a husband, lass. I’d much rather have someone who stands toe to toe with me and fights it out than a man who sticks out their lip like a three-year-old.” She looked up as the butler came into the room. “What is it, Jenkins?”

“A note from Inspector Ross, ma’am.” Jenkins gave the letter to Mrs. Frogerton. “The messenger said there is no need for a reply.”

Mrs. Frogerton broke the seal, read the short note, and passed it to Caroline, who read it as well. “Richard is dead,” Caroline said. “I truly hope he finds the peace in the afterlife that eluded him on earth.”

“Amen to that.” Mrs. Frogerton sighed. “I suppose this means that the Inspector will have to relinquish his cases to others while he attends to family business.”

“It might be even worse than that, ma’am,” Caroline said. “If he is proclaimed his father’s heir, he might have to resign his position immediately.”