From Fitzroy’s Private Diary (Extract 171)

Hope once told me that her mother never cried. At the time she was in the midst of some childish tantrum. Of all the adults that figured in her life, I perhaps gave her more leeway, and this was why the storm was visited upon me. Her mother would have told her to get herself under control, and her father would have been all horror, astonishment and worry.

Bertram’s reaction would have immediately made her dry her tears. Hope is a loving, dutiful little thing, and would not wish to cause her father distress. However, Euphemia’s approach would have changed Hope’s tears to anger and she would have stormed away. I, on the other hand, simply accepted the tears. I didn’t try to console her, but merely talked to her calmly and reasonably until the cries had abated somewhat.

Being a passionate man myself, I understood all too well the difficulty of learning to control such an expressive nature, especially when Hope is always surrounded by composed, competent adults. She’s so deprived of playmates that I’ve caught the Staplefords’ extremely respectable butler, Giles, playing bears with her below stairs. It’s an image I’ve held dear to my heart, and the remembrance of which has gained me eternal access to Bertram’s best brandy. There are some things butlers don’t ever want known.

So, when Hope suggested that her mother never cried, I replied that just because Hope had never seen her mother shed tears, it didn’t mean she was incapable of doing so, but rather that she chose not to cry in front of her daughter.

Still, when I come to think of it, I can’t remember ever seeing Euphemia weep. I’ve cried, once or twice, in a most manly way of course, in front of her. Although, I hasten to add, I’ve never done so in front of anyone else. But Euphemia is quite different from everyone else. In some ways it was the greatest pity that I only came to realise she’d make the perfect mate for me when I approached the altar as best man for her husband.

And yet, I failed to protect my first wife, which has always prevented me from even considering taking another. Rose was as beautiful and as dutiful as a wife could be, but she was also far more intelligent, and far more passionate, than her family ever realised. I’d only just begun to waken these most desirable of qualities within her when she was murdered. I was out of the country when it happened, so by the time I’d returned, all traces of her killer had gone.

I’ll feel responsible for her death until my dying day. It was undoubtedly one of my enemies, and I’d wrongly counted on her family, who were, for the most part connected to the intelligence services, to protect her while I was absent. I suspect they considered me of too minor a status to have put her in any real danger. Truth be told, I’d not considered it seriously myself. Although, what I could’ve done differently, I’ve no idea. Anyone associated with me was known to be at risk, but the idea of teaching poor Rose to defend herself never occurred to anyone, including me. She may have been a clever woman, but she was exceptionally feminine in attitude, and I don’t think anyone could ever have convinced her to do something so crass as to throw a punch.

Euphemia, being my colleague, rather than my wife, has learnt to throw a mean punch, using the force of body dynamics rather than simply her own strength. She’s a formidable fighter, and has taken a lot from Ju-jitsu (those suffragettes knew what they were about). No one will murder Euphemia while my back is turned. It’s far more likely she’ll end up being my avenging angel when one of my enemies eventually takes their final revenge.

But, sometimes, I wonder if I’ve caused her to wrap a cold shield about herself. I know she’s a woman capable of many passions, and that her love for her daughter has no bounds. Yet, with my training, she can all too often present herself as a perfectly calm and reserved person, while keeping all her emotions suppressed beneath the surface. I know this, not only because I’ve seen behind her façade, but because it’s what I must do everyday myself.