“No. I recall we had guests that evening — the Cathcarts, and Miss Parish.” Sandy’s pen scratched away. “Are you writing down every word I say?”
Sandy looked up and grinned disarmingly.
“I cannae write as fast as ye speak, so no. Every other word, maybe.”
Bertram chuckled. “I suppose you have to keep notes of everything. I shall try to speak more slowly.”
“Thank ye kindly,” the Scotsman said, dipping his pen into the ink again and holding it in readiness above the paper.
“Did you know Mr Nicholson well, Mr Atherton?” Michael said.
“As well as anyone else, I suppose. He was Aunt Alice’s husband, and he has been here for my entire life, but I cannot say that I took much notice of him.”
“Did you like him?”
An awkward question to answer. “One does not like to speak ill of the dead…” Bertram began hesitantly.
“Oh, please do,” Michael said testily. “I am so tired of hearing about the sainted chaplain, for it cannot be denied that someone thought ill enough of him to take an axe to the poor man. So if you know of anything, anything at all, that might suggest a reason for that, I should be very glad to hear it.”
Bertram nodded. “He had an eye for the ladies, that much is certain. Whether he ever did anything about it I cannot tell you, but when the port was circulating after dinner, he would comment on various women who had caught his eye. Some quite lascivious comments, sometimes. Then he would always say,‘How fortunate that I am a happily married man,’and everyone would laugh, but it made me uncomfortable, all the same. Although I suppose that is better than Eustace, who boasts about his innumerable conquests.”
“Did Nicholson cheat at cards?”
“An interesting question,” Bertram said. “I never caught him at it, but I did wonder. He and the late earl used to play piquet at night after everyone had gone to bed, and poor Grandfather always seemed to lose at those sessions, and quite large amounts, sometimes. He made a joke of it, saying that he should stick to playing during daylight hours for he had better luck, and Nicholson would just smile and say nothing. I dare say he plied him with brandy, for Grandfather liked a glass or three while he played, so maybe there was nothing more to it than that. In other company, sometimes there were complaints that Nicholson made mistakes in adding up the scores, and always in his favour, but I never saw anything like that myself.”
“Do you know anything about this house that the late earl left to Mr Nicholson?”
“Not a thing, except that no one even knew about the house until Grandfather’s will was read. Well, the lawyers did, but no one in the family. My father thought it odd, for it was only amodest property and rented out, but he could find out nothing about it. Nicholson would only say that it is a charitable case.”
“A retired servant, perhaps?”
“Then why not say so? If that were all, he could say,‘Oh, it is only old Phillipson who was gamekeeper over at High Broughton,’could he not? I know Father thought it was a bit havey-cavey. Have you been to see it?”
“Not officially,” Michael said, with a sudden grin. “We are restricted to the castle at present, but if a colleague should happen to go to Pickering for… oh, to buy a new comb, say, and should happen to desire a walk around the town to stretch his legs, he might just happen to pass by a certain house.”
Bertram laughed. “But it cannot be relevant to the man’s murder, can it?”
“Until I know everything there is to know about the house, it is impossible to say,” Michael said with a sigh. “I know you have weightier matters on your mind just now, Mr Atherton, but perhaps when you have a moment to spare for the matter, you might consider whether there is anything else you might be able to tell us which would be helpful. You and your father are, so to speak, somewhat detached from the castle, and may therefore have a wider perspective on Mr Nicholson.”
“Certainly, and I do not regard the upheaval in the succession as being necessarily weightier than the question of murder, Captain. Our lives have been shaken up a great deal, it is true, but Mr Nicholson is dead and in the most violent way. Anything I can do to assist you shall be done, I assure you, and I am sure I speak for all my family when I say so.”
“You are very good,” Michael said. “You are looking into his lordship’s financial holdings, I understand, Mr Atherton. I wonder if you have come across anything relating to Mr Nicholson’s affairs. We have found very little amongst his own papers. He kept every tradesman’s bill and personal letter sincethe day he arrived here, but nothing of money or property or business of any sort. Yet there is a fortune for his daughter, somewhere.”
“We heard about that. He never seemed wealthy enough to leave a fortune behind him.”
“So he describes it in his will. Some minor bequests, provision for his wife according to the settlement, and then‘the remainder of my fortune to my daughter, Teresa Nicholson, on the sole condition that she marries a gentleman, and if she should not, or remains unmarried at the age of thirty, to be given to Pembroke College, Oxford, to found a Fellowship on whatever terms may be deemed appropriate.’”
“Yes, it is very peculiar,” Bertram said thoughtfully.
“Indeed.” Michael grinned again. “Perhaps, sir, you might be so obliging as to keep the idea in mind and let me know of anything you hear which would bear on the matter? Or anything in the earl’s financial affairs that strikes you as… odd, shall we say.”
“You think Nicholson might have been feathering his own nest?”
“If he had amassed a fortune, then it had to have come from somewhere, for he certainly never became rich on a chaplain’s stipend,” he said darkly.
Bertram nodded and left the old nursery with a thoughtful expression.
12: The Means For Murder
