Page 41 of Miss Morton and the Missing Heir (A Miss Morton Mystery #4)

D espite her promise to Mrs. Frogerton, Caroline was too tired to do anything more than fall into bed and sleep when they finally got back to Half Moon Street.

She woke earlier than normal and lay in bed listening to the sounds of the household around her.

If she’d been employed by a lady other than Mrs. Frogerton, her day would’ve probably started along with the servants and would have continued long into the night.

Breakfast would be the first time she would see Mr. Scutton since she’d turned down his proposal, and it was bound to be awkward. She resolved to be polite and friendly and pretend nothing untoward had happened. If he truly was cold-blooded enough to arrange the murder of his own sister, then—

Her eyes went wide.

What if Mary wasn’t his full sister?

The thought had her sitting up in bed and swinging her legs over the side.

The Scutton marriage had been a hasty affair.

What if Mrs. Scutton had been pregnant before the marriage, and the baby’s father wasn’t William?

As Mrs. Frogerton had pointed out, it wasn’t unusual for a maid to end up pregnant and unmarried in a society that considered female staff fair game.

Had Mrs. Scutton met William and persuaded him to marry her during her brief visit to Epping?

And how had the Earl of Morton become involved?

Caroline got dressed and hurried down to the hall where the morning post sat on a silver salver beside the door. She took it through to the dining room with her.

“Miss Morton!” Mr. Jenkins said, surprised.

“Good morning, Mr. Jenkins.” She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “I didn’t realize how early it was. I do apologize.”

“There’s no need, miss. If you’ll kindly take your seat, I’ll ask Cook to send up a pot of tea and your usual toast. It won’t take but a moment.”

“Thank you.”

Caroline sat down at the empty table and began to sort out the post. Her attention was caught by a black-edged envelope bearing a coat of arms addressed to her and Mrs. Frogerton.

She opened it to discover the formal notification of Lord Richard’s death, along with details of his funeral service.

She set it to one side for Mrs. Frogerton and picked up another folded note with familiar slapdash handwriting.

Tell Mrs. Frogerton I’ll be around to see her tomorrow .

Best, Dr. Harris

Dr. Harris had responded to her equally brief note. Caroline raised an eyebrow. In truth, Mrs. Frogerton wasn’t the only one who would be pleased to see Dr. Harris back at Half Moon Street. Caroline had missed him more than she had anticipated.

“Lady Caroline.”

She turned in her seat to see Mr. Scutton in the doorway.

“Good morning, sir.” She returned her attention to the post.

“I thought if I rose early enough, I would avoid you, but I suppose that was cowardly of me.” He came into the room and looked down at her, his expression resolute. “I refuse to apologize for what I said to you.”

Caroline didn’t reply, but he didn’t move away.

“Your behavior is at fault,” he said. “Your values are flawed, and your character is … apparently irredeem able.”

Caroline looked closely at Mr. Scutton and tried to imagine him plotting with the Brighams to murder his sister. In his current state, she could well imagine it.

Instinct told her to tread warily. “I am sorry that I disappoint you, sir, but perhaps it is better that you’ve seen my character flaws before we married, rather than afterward, when you’d be stuck with me.”

“That’s the truth.” Mr. Scutton finally stepped back. “I’m glad you acknowledge that you are the problem, not me.”

“I am my father’s daughter, sir.”

“Your father was a disgrace to the earldom,” Mr. Scutton said.

“On that, at least, we can agree,” Caroline said.

Mr. Jenkins came in with a tray. “Here you are, miss.” He bowed to Mr. Scutton. “Are you ready for your breakfast, sir? We’re just about ready to bring up the serving dishes.”

Mr. Scutton ignored Jenkins and took a seat on the opposite side of the table to Caroline. His gaze fell on the black-edged envelope. “Did the marquess’s heir die?”

“Yes,” Caroline said as she poured the tea. “We’ve been invited to attend the funeral.”

“You should make sure to attend,” Mr. Scutton said. “I suspect it will be the last time you’ll see Inspector Ross before he forgets all about you.”

Caroline returned her attention to the post. There was something unnerving about sitting near Mr. Scutton when he no longer felt it necessary to maintain even the facade of politeness.

For the first time ever, she wished Mrs. Scutton was present.

She might prevent her son from displaying his hostility so openly.

Mr. Scutton drank the coffee the butler brought him but ignored the morning newspaper to focus his attention on Caroline. If he wished to scare her away, he was doing an excellent job of it. Only sheer stubbornness kept her in her seat.

“Any news of Dr. Harris?” Mr. Scutton asked.

“I believe he’s coming to see Mrs. Frogerton tomorrow, sir.”

“Perhaps you’ll have to settle for him after all.” Mr. Scutton got up to fill his plate and then resumed his seat.

“Mr. Scutton …”

“What?”

“We have already agreed that we would not suit, so can we move beyond my matrimonial prospects or lack of them?”

“You have to marry someone.” Mr. Scutton sipped his coffee.

“I beg to differ.”

“At some point, you’ll have no choice. You can’t keep hanging on Mrs. Frogerton’s coattails. She’ll move back up north to continue making her fortune, and what will you do then?”

“I’ll manage, thank you, sir.”

“On your five-hundred-pound inheritance?”

“If I must.” Caroline met his gaze. “Mr. Scutton, this is a very personal conversation.”

He raised his eyebrows. “We’re family, aren’t we?

Even if you refuse to marry me, you’re still part of the Morton family, of which I will be the head.

” He paused. “And don’t think you’ll have that DeBeer money to cosset you in your old age, Caroline.

I fully intend to take you to court and bring that money right back where it belongs—with the earldom. ”

“You can certainly try, sir. But Mr. Lewis assures me that I have the right of it.” Caroline picked up her own post and left Mrs. Frogerton’s pile on the table. “I’ll wish you good morning. I have correspondence to attend to.”

She was still shaking when she reached her bedroom and again found herself locking the door. The animosity in Mr. Scutton’s voice had undermined her confidence and increased her fear that he was exactly what Mrs. Frogerton had always said—a willing accomplice to murder.

When Ellie came up to make her bed, Caroline asked her to let her know when Mrs. Frogerton was established in the drawing room.

She’d decided it was wise to steer clear of the breakfast table when the Scuttons were present.

To pass the time, she returned her attention to the Morton family records and the observations of her grandfather during Hetty’s employment and subsequent marriage to his fourth son.

She also made a note of the three churches her grandfather held an interest in and where he had a say as to who got the position of vicar.

Composing a letter to each of the churches asking for the necessary information without revealing her true purpose took a considerable amount of ingenuity, as did the copying out of the letter three times.

When Ellie knocked on her door to let her know Mrs. Frogerton was ensconced in the drawing room, Caroline was able to hand over the letters to be posted. She made her way downstairs and was relieved to see her employer was by herself.

“The Scuttons have gone to Morton House,” Mrs. Frogerton informed her. “Mr. Potkins is there to help interview some more staff.”

“I’m simply glad they aren’t here,” Caroline said. “Mr. Scutton was particularly unpleasant to me at the breakfast table.”

“That’s probably because you turned him down flat, lass,” Mrs. Frogerton said.

“It was more than that,” Caroline said. “He truly dislikes me.”

“Then he is a fool, but considering our suspicions, we should both be wary of him,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “Now, come sit down and tell me what you have achieved since we returned from Epping.”

Caroline told her about the three parishes and the letters she had written inquiring whether any of the churches had a record of a marriage between Mr. William Scutton and Hetty Bryson.

“I stressed that I was a member of the Morton family who was simply researching my family tree. It seemed to work with Mr. Bowen, who was most obliging.”

“I think that was an excellent tactic, lass,” Mrs. Frogerton said.

“There was one more thing relating to this matter, ma’am,” Caroline said cautiously. “It occurred to me that Mrs. Scutton might have rushed into marriage with a man who wasn’t her baby’s father.”

“The marriage did happen rather fast, didn’t it?” Mrs. Frogerton agreed. “It would explain why she originally went to Epping to marry rather than staying in London.”

“I wondered if it was possible that she persuaded the first available man she met to marry her.”

Mrs. Frogerton looked thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking about this matter, too, lass, but I reached a different conclusion.”

“How so?”

“Hetty married the descendent of the fourth son of an earl.”

“An estranged son who gave up his name and was cut out of the family will,” Caroline pointed out.

“But as we now know, Hetty worked for the Mortons, and your grandfather was well aware of who she was, whom she was marrying, and gave his permission.”

Caroline considered that. “Yes, I suppose he must have known if he took a hand in it.”

“Mr. Bowen told us that Mr. Brockle refused to marry Hetty and William even when the earl turned up in person,” Caroline said slowly. “A fact that indicates he was very invested in this marriage, indeed.”

“That was my conclusion, too.” Mrs. Frogerton looked very pleased with herself as she nodded.