A Gentleman of Fortune (14 page)

It changed everything. That was Dido’s first thought. And for a little while the surprise of it was too great to allow her to think further.

The two ladies sat in silence for several minutes. The sun beat down upon the brick path and upon the roses – raising a sweet scent. One of the pheasants strutted past, turning its little bright head to eye them curiously.

It changed everything. It made a great deal possible that had before seemed only wild surmise. There
could
have been a secret tryst: a meeting between Mrs Lansdale and Mr Henderson… A meeting about which the nephew and companion knew nothing… Unless one of them, returning, should have discovered it…and the discovery had made him, or her, desperate…

Dido turned to Miss Neville and saw that her cheeks were very red and she was holding a plain little handkerchief to her eyes. ‘And when did you return to Knaresborough House? Before Mr Lansdale, or after him?’

‘Oh before him,’ said Miss Neville eagerly, ‘I was very careful of that – because, you see, he did not know that I had gone. And, Miss Kent, if you would be so very kind…I should be very grateful if you would not mention my going to him.’

‘Why do you wish to hide it?’

‘Because I should not have left his aunt. It was my duty to remain with her. I am quite well aware of that. But then you know,’ she continued in a plaintive voice, ‘it was also my duty to go… And, I ask you, how was I to decide?’

‘What was it that took you out that evening?’

‘I had to visit my mother.’

‘Your mother?’ repeated Dido disbelievingly. She could see no reason for concealing such a respectable errand.

‘I always did visit mother on a Tuesday, you see. It was quite an agreed thing.’

‘I see.’

‘But, there was a problem. The truth is that there often was a problem,’ she added irritably. ‘It had become quite a habit with my cousin to complain on Tuesdays of feeling unwell – of feeling too unwell for me to leave her. And sometimes, as on this particular day, she would forbid me to go. You see, Mr Lansdale had told us that he was to spend the evening in town. It was not quite fair! But I thought there was nothing wrong with her, and after she had retired, I went out…to see mother. After all, she was expecting me…’

‘I see. It must have been very difficult for you.’

‘It was,’ came the eager reply. ‘The truth is, Miss Kent,’ continued Miss Neville, who seemed to be as fond of enunciating truths as any clergyman in his pulpit, ‘that I found myself in a
very
difficult situation. The role of companion, it is not an
easy
one, you know.’ There was a little, self-pitying shake of the head. ‘To be always at someone else’s command. I do not mean to complain, for I know it was very kind of Mrs Lansdale to invite me to live with her. But I scarcely had a moment to myself. She would call me at any hour if she felt unwell.’

‘I understand, of course. It must have been a very trying situation.’

‘And you see, I was so very worried about mother.’

‘Ah yes, your mother is unwell is she not?’

‘Oh no, thank you, she is well – as well as a woman of her age can be. Why should you think she is ill?’ she asked anxiously.

‘No reason – it is just that you were consulting Mr Vane on Sunday – I thought you were perhaps worried about your mother’s health.’

Miss Neville looked extremely uncomfortable. ‘No, no,’ she said, ‘that was quite a different matter.’

‘I see. But you say that you were worried about your mother on this particular day.’

‘Yes, because she was going to be alone on that evening and…you know how it is with old people. They can become confused and forgetful. They cannot be left long unattended.’

‘I see.’

‘And she was expecting me to go,’ said Miss Neville querulously. But then she recollected herself and added more calmly, ‘Naturally now, I feel that I should have stayed. Poor Mrs Lansdale really was unwell, you see. Perhaps,’ she said with great sentiment, ‘perhaps, if I had stayed, I could have helped her.’

‘It is only natural that you should feel so. Though I doubt your presence could have saved her. I am sure you have nothing with which to reproach yourself.’

Miss Neville seemed very grateful for this reassurance, but, nevertheless, she soon afterwards stood up and proclaimed her determination of resuming the hard labour of strawberry picking.

‘Before you go, Miss Neville, there is something else I was hoping to ask you,’ said Dido. She was unwilling to lose this rather promising opportunity of putting a very important question. ‘Can you tell me – was Mrs Lansdale at all acquainted with her neighbour, Mrs Midgely?’

Miss Neville stopped under the roses. A little cluster of petals spilt down onto the crown of her bonnet. She stared at Dido, rather perplexed. ‘No, she was not,’ she said. ‘That is, Mrs Midgely had called at the house but once.’

‘Ah!’ cried Dido eagerly. ‘And when was it that she called?’

‘It was on the morning before my poor cousin died. But she was not admitted because Mrs Lansdale did not…feel equal to company that morning.’

‘And so she left her card and went away?’

‘Yes. And she left a message too – with Fraser – she asked to be allowed to call again. She had, she said, something she particularly wished to say to my cousin.’

‘Did she indeed! And tell me,’ Dido pursued, ‘did Mr Lansdale know of her visit – and her message?’

‘Why yes, I believe he did.’

Dido remained in the alcove. The heat became oppressive; the chatter and laughter from the strawberry beds became more languid as the pickers tired; bees droned in the pale roses. Hidden in her corner, she considered what she had learnt.

It would appear that when Mr Henderson called at the house, Mrs Lansdale was alone. That raised a multitude of possibilities.

And then there was Miss Neville herself to consider. There was a kind of dissatisfaction about the woman: a reined-in anger, which was most intriguing. And what was the ‘bad business’ she had been discussing with Mr Vane, if it was not her mother’s health? Dido did not trust her at all. She had a great idea that anyone who was so very eager to point out that she was stating truths, must be concealing some other – perhaps more important – truths.

And finally, and perhaps most interesting of all, there was this visit of Mrs Midgely’s. What had been its purpose…?

She was able to proceed no further in her musing. There was a heavy footstep on the path and she looked up to see Mrs Midgely herself bearing down upon her, her cheeks very red and her cherry-coloured parasol aflutter.

‘Miss Kent! Here you are! I hope that you are not unwell. Your cousin is becoming quite anxious about you.’

‘No. Thank you, I am quite well – just a little heated.’

‘Well then, I am very glad to have this opportunity of talking to you.’

As Mrs Midgely began to settle herself and her skirts upon the bench, Dido was busily considering a direct question about that visit to Mrs Lansdale. But, regretfully, she decided it had better not be attempted. To admit an interest in the matter would only put the lady on her guard and an honest answer was scarcely to be expected.

‘I think,’ she said, half rising, ‘that I had better not stay – if Flora is worried about me.’

‘There is something which I most particularly wish to say to you, Miss Kent,’ said Mrs Midgely, lowering her voice to a very impressive undertone, ‘something concerning Mr Lansdale and the late events at Knaresborough House.’

Dido decided that Flora might be allowed to worry a little longer.

‘Dear Mrs Beaumont,’ continued Mrs Midgely, ‘has, I discover, a great regard for Mr Lansdale.’

‘Yes,’ said Dido carefully, ‘I believe she has. She –
and her husband
– have been friends of the Lansdales this past year.’

‘Yes, quite so. And I am sure it is very unpleasant for her to hear ill of him.’

‘As to that…’

‘My dear Miss Kent, as a friend I would wish to warn her. I wish you would speak a word of warning to her in my behalf.’

Dido stared. ‘What manner of warning, Mrs Midgely?’

‘I would advise her to drop the acquaintance, for I believe there will soon come out such things! Things which will… Well, my dear, shall we say they are such things as will prove her confidence in him to be quite misplaced.’

‘To what are you referring Mrs Midgely?’

She blushed so deeply that the colour of her cheeks was a fair match for her parasol. ‘This business of his aunt’s death – I fear that it will end in court you know.’

‘I do not think,’ said Dido, ‘that that apprehension would turn my cousin against her friend.’

‘Ah! But you see, she is not aware of all that may come out before the judge.’

Dido looked at her sharply: aware that there was something – something to the gentleman’s disadvantage – which Mrs Midgely most particularly wished to tell her. Her interest was keen: but she took great care to keep that interest from her voice. ‘And what is it that she is unaware of?’

Mrs Midgely looked sidelong at her. ‘Are you – or Mrs Beaumont – aware that Mr Lansdale was heard to argue with his aunt on the day of her death?’

Dido was shocked; but it was absolutely necessary to exert herself. She would not, for the world, have Mrs Midgely suppose she had bettered her. ‘And what… Or rather who… How is this known?’

Mrs Midgely shook her curls and whispered importantly. ‘Mr Vane was in the house when it occurred. He heard it all.’

‘And what was this “all” that he heard?’

‘A great deal. You see Mrs Lansdale considered herself to be very unwell that evening and it seems that she quite forbade her nephew to leave her. But he said he had to see his friend Mr Morgan on very important business.’

‘I see.’

‘And that is not all. When he persisted in saying that he would go, she fell into a great passion. And she began to threaten him. Miss Kent, she threatened him with a new will which she said would leave him poor: “as poor as his foolish mother had made herself”, that is what she said.’

‘And Mr Vane heard all this?’

‘Oh yes. For he could not help it, you know – it all being shouted so loud.’

‘And now he has told it all to the magistrate?’

‘Yes. He was very unwilling, of course. But as he said to me, on Sunday, Miss Kent, “Is it not the solemn and religious duty of every man to ensure that justice is done?”’

‘He is, of course, correct,’ said Dido thoughtfully. ‘It is the duty of us all to bring justice about.’ She sat considering for several minutes and, for once, Mrs Midgely was silent: as if content, now that her information was given, to wait for its effect.

Dido watched her companion. Her broad red face was complacent, her painted lips pursed up in a
self-congratulating
smile. Why, she wondered for the hundredth time, did the woman take such pleasure in spreading her poison?

Still watching closely, she said, ‘Mrs Midgely, I wonder whether you might help me. I am trying to discover the source of a quotation.’

‘A quotation, Miss Kent?’ she asked with some surprise.

‘Yes, it is something which has lately been brought to my attention and I find that I cannot understand its meaning because I do not know its origin. Do you know…? Have you ever heard the line, “The world is not their friend, nor the world’s laws”?’

There was certainly a consciousness: a deepening of colour in the cheeks, a rapid movement of the eyelashes. Mrs Midgely twisted the parasol about in her hands. ‘Why yes, Miss Kent, I know the line. It is by William Shakespeare.’

‘And do you know which play – or poem – it occurs in?’ cried Dido eagerly.

‘Yes I do. It occurs in
Romeo and Juliet
.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Oh yes, quite sure, for you see…’ the parasol spun rapidly in her hands, a shy little smile curled her lips so that she looked, for a moment, like a rather ugly china doll. ‘You see I once played the part of Juliet when I was a girl in school. The line is certainly from that play.’

After Mrs Midgely had gone, Dido yet remained in her alcove: reluctant to leave it as much for the sake of the information it had produced, as for the shade it afforded.

This latest intelligence was extremely troubling. Mr Vane’s account of a quarrel appeared very bad for Mr Lansdale. And yet, Dido reasoned, if it had not been followed by a death, would it have been remembered? For might not it – and others like it – have been a part of Mrs Lansdale’s usual intercourse with her nephew? One of those scenes which, according to Flora, Mrs Lansdale had delighted in. Wills were, all too often, the threat which the old and the rich held over their young people: the means by which they guarded themselves against neglect – real or imagined. And when they were in a passion, people frequently said things which they did not mean…

But in this case, murder – or death at least – had been the ensuing scene. And Dido found it impossible to determine either what was probable, or what was likely to be believed by a jury. And, all together, she could decide on very little, except that she should not – as Mrs Midgely wished – tell Flora of Mr Vane’s over-hearings. There was nothing to be gained by increasing her distress and anxiety.

And, as for this discovery that
Romeo and Juliet
was the source of the quoted line: what was to be made of that? Was it to be connected with the copy of that play which Mr Lansdale had borrowed from the circulating library?

It was, in one light, unsurprising: for who was more likely to be considered excused from the judgement of the world than those star-crossed lovers?

But if it was lovers for whom the writer of that letter wished to plead, then who were the lovers? Mrs Lansdale and Mr Henderson? But that did not seem right; for, Dido reasoned, it is the youth and innocence of Romeo and Juliet which appeals to our sympathy as much as their love.

And where, in all this strange business, was there a couple of young lovers to be found? Dido hesitated upon that question… An answer suggested itself; but it was not such an answer as she was anxious to believe…