Page 45 of Miss Morton and the Missing Heir (A Miss Morton Mystery #4)

B y eight in the evening, Mrs. Frogerton was comfortably ensconced in her own bed, and Mrs. Scutton was being held at Great Scotland Yard awaiting an interview with Inspector Ross, who had been hurriedly brought back from leave.

After Mr. Scutton instructed Mr. Potkins to deal with his mother’s affairs, Dr. Harris and Caroline escorted him back to Half Moon Street

Mr. Scutton seemed bewildered and reluctant to settle until Dr. Harris made him eat something and prescribed some medicinal brandy. When they gathered in the drawing room after their hastily prepared meal, Mr. Scutton turned to Caroline.

“I believe you owe me a full explanation of what has gone on.”

Dr. Harris scowled. “And I believe you need to moderate your tone when speaking to a lady.”

Mr. Scutton sank into a chair and shoved a hand through his hair. “Forgive me,” he said with obvious effort. “I am rather overwrought.”

“Are you willing to talk to him, Miss Morton?” Dr. Harris asked. “You are under no obligation to oblige this gentle man.”

“I am willing to tell him what I know, sir, but only if he reciprocates in kind,” Caroline addressed Dr. Harris, but her words were for Mr. Scutton. “At one point it appeared that Mr. Scutton was in league with the murderers, not his mother.”

“ What ?” Mr. Scutton looked up.

“You were observed speaking to Mr. George Brigham after his release from jail, sir.” Caroline said. “And you cannot deny that you have done everything in your power to keep the Brighams away from the law.”

“I … have obligations to the Brighams.”

“Obviously,” Caroline said.

“I’ve known Albert for years. I was delighted when he wanted to marry Mary. Things went awry only when Mary insisted on openly embracing his Roman Catholic faith.”

“I assume your mother didn’t want even a hint of popery attached to you in case someone started questioning the religious beliefs of the entire Scutton family,” Caroline said. “Especially the College of Arms. Was your father a Catholic?”

“I think he pretended to embrace his family’s popish leanings when he married my mother, who was a practicing Catholic. But he never made us attend any church but St. John’s.”

“Then your mother must have been horrified when Mary married an Irishman,” Dr. Harris said.

“Not at first,” Mr. Scutton said. “It was only when she realized the Earl of Morton had no direct heir and that I might be in line for the earldom that she started to worry about the connection. It was why she insisted that Mary pretend to be widowed when we first arrived in London.”

“Something Mary didn’t agree with and soon denied,” Caroline said.

“Yes, Mother was furious with her about that, but Mary hadn’t forgiven her for what happened to Albert.”

“Mary seemed to believe your mother was instrumental in his incarceration,” Caroline said.

“She might have been right.” Mr. Scutton sighed.

“Mama deliberately gave Albert bad advice about his investments and then refused to help him when he suffered financial losses. As you might imagine, Mary was furious. She begged me to speak to our mother, but nothing I said made any difference. In truth, Mama told me to keep quiet and focus on gaining the earldom.”

“And that didn’t raise your suspicions of her at all?” Dr. Harris asked somewhat sarcastically.

“No, I simply thought she was …” Mr. Scutton paused. “Trying to do her best for me.”

“I suppose she was, in her own way,” Dr. Harris said. “Even if it involved murdering her own daughter.”

Mr. Scutton winced.

Caroline hastened to intervene. “From what Miss Smith told us, Mary and Jude were very close.”

“They were. I suspect Jude confirmed some of Mary’s suspicions about our parents’ hasty marriage.

I assume Mary must have told Albert, who by then had good reason to dislike our mother.

Albert did some investigating of his own about the lack of a wedding certificate and threatened to blackmail me if I didn’t allow him access to Mary after his release from the debtors’ prison. ”

“Which is why you continued to talk to the Brighams before Mary was murdered. But why did you speak to George so recently?” Caroline asked.

“Despite what you might think, I didn’t arrange to meet him at Scotland Yard. He came up to me. I was so shocked that he dared to accost me in public that I gave him the opportunity to start speaking, and once he started, I had to listen. He swore to me that he and his brother had left Mary alive.”

“And you believed him?”

“Not at first.” Mr. Scutton swallowed hard. “But I did begin to wonder …”

“Whether your mother was the murderer,” Dr. Harris said. “How astute of you.”

Mr. Scutton turned to Caroline. “Why is this man here? How does he think he has the right to question me about anything?”

“He’s here to care for Mrs. Frogerton and because I trust him,” Caroline said. “He is also the person who realized your mother’s injuries must have been self-inflicted, which is why we immediately came to Morton House and were able to save Mrs. Frogerton before your mother murdered her.”

“What will happen to my mother now?” Mr. Scutton asked.

“I assume she’ll be tried for murder, sir,” Caroline said.

“And will she hang?”

“That’s up to the judge,” Dr. Harris said far too cheerfully. “I should imagine the Brighams will be witnesses against her, as well as Mrs. Frogerton.”

Mr. Scutton grimaced. “I’m glad we didn’t sell the house in Epping. At least I have somewhere to hide while this scandal enthralls London.”

“I suspect Miss Smith will be very pleased to see you,” Caroline said. “She’s missed having a family to care for.”

“From everything I’ve heard so far, I’m not even sure if I am a Scutton, which means I have no connection to the earldom at all.” Mr. Scutton looked at Caroline. “Did my mother happen to mention whether I was actually her husband’s child?”

“She indicated that you were not, sir, and that the marriage was arranged by the old Earl of Morton to avoid … unpleasantness,” Caroline said carefully. “Perhaps you might speak to your mother about this matter.”

“Or you could just tell him the truth,” Dr. Harris said.

“Which is?” Mr. Scutton looked from Caroline to Dr. Harris. “I’d rather know.”

Caroline tried to kick Dr. Harris’s ankle, but it made no difference.

“You’re Caroline’s half-brother,” Dr. Harris said. “If you had been legitimate, you’d already be the Earl of Morton.”

“Good God!” Mr. Scutton shot to his feet, an expression of revulsion plain on his face. He left the room in some haste.

Dr. Harris turned to Caroline, his eyebrows raised. “I suspect I’d look just like that if my mother was insisting I marry my half-sister.”

“You should not have told him,” Caroline said. “It was unkind.”

“Unkind? He hardly deserves your sympathy. He is a coward who won’t even stay in London to support his mother at her trial, and I’m fairly certain it’s because he’s not entirely innocent in this matter.”

“How so?”

“How did Mrs. Scutton murder Jude?” Dr. Harris asked. “Was she seen at the inn?”

“The Brighams frequented the same tavern, and the attacker was masked. It could have been Mrs. Scutton, the Brighams, or a random passerby.”

“But Mary liked Jude. Why would her husband murder him?”

“Perhaps because he knew too much?”

“That’s a ridiculous idea. Albert must have known that Mary adored Jude. It’s far more likely that it was our dear Thomas.” Dr. Harris scoffed. “Although I hope your Inspector Ross asks that very question to Mrs. Scutton.”

“I’m sure he will. He’s very thorough.” Caroline rose to her feet. “Do you wish to see Mrs. Frogerton before you leave? I assured her you would want to check on her condition.”

“If you wish.” Dr. Harris followed her out of the room and up the stairs.

“For a physician, you seem remarkably reluctant to see your patient,” Caroline commented.

“In truth, I’m more concerned about you, Miss Morton.”

Caroline paused at the top of the stairs and turned to regard him. “Me? I am not the one who was stabbed, sir.”

He stopped beside her. “You’re trembling like a leaf.”

“It’s been a difficult day.”

He reached out and cupped her chin so she couldn’t avoid looking at him. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. You’ve had a terrible shock. It’s quite all right to admit that you are upset.”

“What would you have me do?” Caroline asked. “Burst into tears and ignore the fact that I am needed to keep this household running to Mrs. Frogerton’s standards? What use would I be then?”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t value yourself simply for being useful.”

“I am paid to ensure that things run smoothly.” She swallowed hard. “Now if you will excuse me—”

He slid an arm around her shoulders and drew her close against his chest.

“Caroline …”

She inhaled the scent of his cigars and a hint of hospital disinfectants and closed her eyes. The temptation to lean into him and start sobbing was almost overwhelming.

Instead, she drew a shaking breath and eased free of his arms. “Thank you.” She managed to smile up at him. “I promise that the moment I get into my bedchamber, I will cry myself to sleep.”

He studied her for a long moment and then nodded, his expression unusually serious. “Shall we see how Mrs. Frogerton is doing?” he suggested. “I can’t wait to describe Mr. Scutton’s expression when he found out he’d proposed marriage to his own half-sister.”

He walked along the corridor, knocked on Mrs. Frogerton’s door, and went in. After a moment to compose herself, Caroline followed and found her employer sitting up in bed with a shawl around her shoulders concealing the bandages.

Dr. Harris was already sitting beside her taking her pulse. “How is the pain, ma’am?”

“Bearable,” Mrs. Frogerton said.

“It will probably feel far worse tomorrow,” Dr. Harris said. “I’ve already consulted with your physician, and he will be paying close attention to the wound to avoid any nasty infections.”

Mrs. Frogerton looked over at Caroline. “How are you, lass?”

“I’m fine, ma’am.”

“She’s not fine, but she won’t admit it,” Dr. Harris muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Frogerton said.

“For what, ma’am?” Caroline came over to the bed.

“For rushing in when I should have used my head.”

“I’m sure your intentions were good,” Dr. Harris said. “You had no way of knowing Mrs. Scutton was capable of murdering her own daughter.”

“I should have waited,” Mrs. Frogerton repeated. She gestured at some letters on the table beside her bed. “Those churches replied, Caroline, and one of them found something very interesting in their records.”

Caroline picked up the letter on the top of the pile and read it before handing it to Dr. Harris.

He summarized it as he read. “This appears to say that the Earl of Morton forced one of his vicars to produce a fake marriage certificate for the Scuttons after the vicar refused to perform the marriage service. Apparently, the vicar confessed on his deathbed and had a note added to the church records to that effect. Which was very good of him. I suppose it was the fake certificate that Mrs. Scutton handed over to the College of Arms.”

“We’ll have to let Inspector Ross know,” Caroline said. “Should I write him a note?”

“You can do that in the morning,” Mrs. Frogerton said firmly. “I want to know what Mr. Scutton had to say for himself.”

“Well.” Dr. Harris settled back in his chair with evident enjoyment. “It was quite a story. …”