Page 5 of Miss Morton and the Missing Heir (A Miss Morton Mystery #4)

T he following morning, Caroline and Mrs. Frogerton were joined by Mrs. Scutton and her son for breakfast. Mary hadn’t come down, preferring to stay in bed. They were halfway through the meal when the butler came in with a folded note for Mrs. Frogerton.

She read it and frowned. “Please ask Sergeant Dawson to join us, Jenkins.”

“Yes, ma’am.

Mr. Scutton looked up from his plate of eggs and ham. “I do hope nothing is wrong, Mrs. Frogerton.”

“I fear we’re about to find out,” Mrs. Frogerton said as a man entered the room. “Good morning, Sergeant, how may I help you?”

“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but there has been a fatality.”

“In my family?” Mrs. Frogerton pressed her hand to her bosom.

“No, ma’am.” The sergeant’s gaze moved over the assembled guests. “I believe you have a Mrs. Scutton staying with you?”

“I am Mrs. Scutton.”

“I regret to inform you that your servant, Jude Smith, is dead.”

All the color drained from Mrs. Scutton’s face. “How can this be? He was alive and well barely twelve hours ago.”

The sergeant consulted his notes. “From what we can ascertain, Mr. Smith drank rather too much ale, and when he went into the courtyard to … relieve himself—begging your pardon, ma’am—he fell beneath the horses of an incoming coach and was trampled to death.”

“Good Lord,” Mr. Scutton said. “How absolutely horrible.”

“It’s my fault.” Mrs. Scutton produced her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “I was the one who insisted he go home. I sent him to his death at that inn.”

“No one can blame you, Mrs. Scutton,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “It is simply a tragic accident.”

Mrs. Scutton wept in earnest, and Mr. Scutton attempted to console her.

Caroline took the sergeant to the kitchen for a cup of tea. “What needs to be done, Sergeant?” Caroline asked. “Do you want someone to identify the body?”

“Yes, miss. I’ll give you the address of the morgue.

” He shook his head as he wrote the address down and passed it over to Caroline.

“It happens all the time. A man takes too much drink, loses control of himself, and ends up face down in the street. Mr. Smith was just unfortunate that a mail coach happened to come along as he was doing it.”

“From what I understand, Mr. Smith was a country man and probably not used to the bustle of a London coaching inn,” Caroline said.

“That explains it, then.” Sergeant Dawson sighed. “God rest his soul.” He finished his tea. “I’d suggest Mrs. Scutton not be the one to identify the body. He’s not looking his best.”

“I’ll make sure Mr. Scutton is aware of that,” Caroline said. “Thank you for letting us know so promptly.”

“No trouble, miss.” The sergeant stood up and put on his tall black hat. “Please extend my condolences to the family.”

Caroline returned to the breakfast room to find Mrs. Frog erton sitting by herself. “Mr. Scutton took his mother upstairs to bed.”

“I’m not surprised she was overset.” Caroline resumed her seat and refreshed her tea. “What a horrible thing to happen.”

Mr. Scutton returned, his expression grave. He sat opposite Caroline and grimaced. “Mother was very fond of Jude. She’s known him for years.”

“Yes, she mentioned how much she depended on him when I spoke with her yesterday,” Caroline said. “He seemed very protective and reluctant to leave her in London.”

“You saw him?”

“Yes, he brought your baggage. Mrs. Scutton was insistent that he return home and gave him the funds to do so.”

“Which it appears he promptly drank.” Mr. Scutton frowned. “Alcohol is such a blight on our society.”

Mrs. Frogerton nodded in agreement. “My family tends toward the Methodist faith, which doesn’t allow drinking. I consider it an advantage in both our private and business lives.”

“There are elements of the Methodist faith that I cannot approve of, but I do like their prohibition of alcohol,” Mr. Scutton said. “Miss Morton, might I trouble you to ask if the sergeant is still in the house? I have some questions for him.”

“Unfortunately, he had to leave, but he did give me the necessary details, including the address of the morgue.” Caroline hesitated. “He suggested Mrs. Scutton should not identify the body.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll go.”

She gave him the sergeant’s note, and he read it carefully before rising to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and speak to my mother, and then take myself off to the coroner’s office and morgue.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “And please tell your mother that if there is anything she needs, including company, then she should ring the bell and ask for me.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Mr. Scutton bowed. “You have been most kind.”

After he left, Mrs. Frogerton turned to Caroline. “Well, this wasn’t quite how I imagined my morning would proceed, but we’ll make the best of it. Do you think Mrs. Scutton and her daughter will come down at all today?”

“It’s difficult to say, ma’am,” Caroline said. “If you wish, I can go and inquire.”

“Let’s leave them until midday,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “There is a milliners shop I’d like to visit, and I’m sure we won’t be missed.”

Dinner that evening was a subdued affair during which they planned a trip to Morton House on the following day.

Even Mary seemed upset about Jude’s death and spoke movingly about his presence during her childhood.

Mrs. Scutton was most affected and spoke very little, leaving the burden of the conversation to Caroline, Mrs. Frogerton, and Mr. Scutton.

Both of the Scutton ladies retired to bed after dinner, leaving Caroline to entertain the potential earl in the drawing room. Mrs. Frogerton busied herself writing a letter to Dorothy, which meant she could still keep one ear on the conversation behind her.

“I met a Dr. Harris at the morgue who claimed to know you, Lady Caroline,” Mr. Scutton remarked as Caroline handed him his cup of coffee. “He recognized Mrs. Frogerton’s butler, who accompanied me.”

“We are well acquainted with Dr. Harris, sir,” Caroline said as she sat down. “He is a frequent visitor to this house.”

“That might explain his familiarity with the occupants of this establishment,” Mr. Scutton said. “I must admit I thought him quite presumptuous when he demanded to know who I was and what I was doing at the morgue.”

“Dr. Harris does have a somewhat forthright manner of speaking,” Caroline said. “But he is a good man and an excellent doctor.”

Mr. Scutton cast a glance at Mrs. Frogerton’s turned back and lowered his voice. “I am surprised your employer allows such a gentleman into the house when you are present.”

“I don’t understand your concern, sir.” Caroline’s brow creased.

“You are a delicately bred unmarried lady of a class far above him.”

“I’m employed for a wage. There is nothing delicate about that, Mr. Scutton. In fact, Dr. Harris trained in Edinburgh and would consider himself far superior to me.”

“This is what happens when a father is remiss in his duties and his daughters have no male to protect them,” Mr. Scutton carried on as if she hadn’t spoken. “It leaves you open to all kinds of societal abuse.”

“I can assure you that I am very capable of taking care of myself.”

“I can only applaud you for that, my lady, while still being offended on your behalf.”

“Needs must, sir.” Caroline held his gaze. “Now, shall we speak of something else? What career did you intend to pursue before deciding to claim the earldom?”

Spots of color appeared on Mr. Scutton’s cheeks. “I have offended you.”

“Not at all, sir. I am merely attempting to set matters straight between us.”

He nodded. “Then perhaps in the present circumstances we should agree to differ, but I warn you that I might have more to say on the matter if things change.”

Mrs. Frogerton rejoined them. “Did the police have anything new to disclose about Jude’s unfortunate death?”

“They did.” Mr. Scutton hesitated. “Apparently someone who witnessed the event is suggesting that Jude was deliberately pushed in front of the coach.”

“Who on earth would do that?” Mrs. Frogerton tutted.

“Perhaps another drunkard,” Mr. Scutton said. “Or someone who thought it would be amusing to watch a man die horribly.”

Mrs. Frogerton shuddered.

“I have arranged for his body to be taken back to his family in Epping and have offered to pay for the burial,” Mr. Scutton said.

“That is good of you.” Mrs. Frogerton said.

“It’s the least I can do when the man has given my family a lifetime of service.” Mr. Scutton rose to his feet. “If you will excuse me, I’ll go and see if my mother is awake and tell her about the arrangements I’ve made.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Frogerton smiled sympathetically at him. “We will see you both in the morning.”

Mrs. Frogerton barely waited until the door closed behind her guest before turning to Caroline. “Perhaps Jude had an argument with someone at the coaching inn, and they followed him outside, and contrived to kill him.”

“I suppose that could be it,” Caroline said. “He did appear to have a temper.”

“Alcohol and a fiery temperament are never a good mix.” Mrs. Frogerton sighed. “I wonder if Mrs. Scutton will feel well enough to accompany us to Morton House tomorrow?”

Caroline considered what she’d already learned about Mrs. Scutton. “I am fairly confident that she will.”

In fact, all the Scuttons, including Mary, were present at breakfast, and very willing to make the short journey to Cavendish Square. They managed to fit all the ladies in Mrs. Frogerton’s carriage while Mr. Scutton rode alongside to their destination.

The state of disrepair was even more evident in the sunlight, and none of the Scuttons spoke much as Caroline ushered them into the front hall.

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Scutton said. “I can quite see why Mr. Potkins said the place was uninhabitable at present.”

“Who allowed it to get into such a state?” Mr. Scutton looked up at the hole in the ceiling.

“You’d have to ask the gentlemen at Coutts Bank for the answer to that, Mr. Scutton,” Caroline said. “I believe Mr. Castle is coming to visit you this afternoon.”