A spasm of pain crossed her face and she closed her eyes as if trying to blink it away.
“You said she was in a house fire that killed her parents?” Sid said gently. “How very sad for her and for you. I presume you lost a sister or a brother?”
“It was my husband’s brother who was killed, so no blood relation of mine, but he was very dear to us—a jovial, likable sort with a big laugh. He and Joseph came from a close family.”
“And Mabel’s mother?” Sid asked.
Mrs. Hamilton spooned sugar into her teacup and stirred it before she answered. “I developed a true affection for her over the years,” she said. “When she first married my husband’s brother, Albert, she was a shy and withdrawn little thing. She’d come from a very sheltered background, you see. Sheltered, and pampered to the point of being spoiled. Only child of a rich banking family—Susan Masters, she was.” She looked around for signs of recognition. “You’ve presumably heard of Deveraux and Masters, the merchant bankers?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Gus said. I couldn’t tell whether she really had or was just being polite. I certainly hadn’t, but then I’d never moved in such elevated circles.
“As I said,” Mrs. Hamilton went on, “she had come from a privileged and sheltered background, and it was quite a step down for her to have married our Bertie. She was only eighteen years old when she married him. He’d seen her at a dance and been quite smitten but never thought he stood a chance. But he proposed and she said yes, and I think they’ve been happy enough, although quite different in their tastes. She’s all for reading and music and quiet pursuits, and he’s all for company and the outdoors and sports.” She paused, again closing her eyes. “I meant ‘was.’ I must now refer to them in the past tense.”
“A great tragedy,” Gus said.
“Susan became quite attached to me over the years,” Mrs. Hamilton continued. “I believe she saw me as the big sister she never had. And now they are gone, burned to death in their beds.”
“But their daughter managed to escape,” Gus said. “That was a small miracle, I suppose. Was she an only child?”
“She was.”
“And you said that Susan was an only child of a rich banking family,” I interjected, without really thinking whether it was wise. It’s often been a fault of mine. I say something when it comes into my head, without thinking of the consequences. “Does that mean that Mabel is now a rich heiress?”
Mrs. Hamilton looked startled. “Well, yes. I presume that she is. We have been so engulfed in our mourning that the question of money has not arisen.”
I could tell immediately what she was thinking—that I had been implying they only took in their niece in the hope of financial gain, because she was an heiress—but that wasn’t what I’d meant at all.
“You said you brought Mabel to live with you,” Sid said. “That was a kind gesture.”
“It was either us or her grandfather, and he keeps a bachelor establishment after the death of his wife,” Mrs. Hamilton said. “And Mabel was such a poor, devastated little thing that we couldn’t say no. I must say she’s no trouble at all, compared to the boys. She’s quiet and retiring like her mother was. Hardly says a word unless spoken to. But then after what she has been through, it’s little wonder.”
She broke off and there was a moment of silence in the room. The day was cooler than yesterday, with a brisk breeze that came in now though the open window, making the leaves on the potted palm rattle.
“So how do you think that we can be of help to you, Mrs. Hamilton?” Sid asked cautiously. “You said you came about your niece.”
Mrs. Hamilton nodded. “She was found sometime after the fire, curled up in the back garden, apparently asleep, but unharmed. When she came to herself she had no memory of what had happened. Didn’t know there had been a fire. Asked about her mother and father.”
“It must have been the shock of what she went through trying to get out,” I said.
“That was another strange thing,” Mrs. Hamilton said. “She showed no signs of having been in a fire. Two of the servants also made it out safely, but they were blackened, with minor burns and singed hair. The third servant was not so lucky. Her room was in the attic, above Susan and Bertie’s room. They found her charred body later.”
“Very sad,” I said. “We also lost a servant girl in a house fire earlier this year.”
“But to get back to Mabel,” Sid said. “She was found unharmed in the back garden with no memory of what had happened.”