A Gentleman of Fortune (17 page)

And yet there was no escaping some very uncomfortable facts about him. Firstly there was his person. He was a slight man who wore powder in his hair; just like the man who had sat in one of the chairs in Mrs Lansdale’s drawing room on the final evening of her life.

And secondly there was his situation. He was dependent upon Mrs Lansdale for his living and he had a past which he wished to hide. His old acquaintance Mrs Midgely certainly knew his secret and she was known to have visited his benefactress intending to give her some information.

Miss Prentice certainly believed that Mrs Midgely had gone to Knaresborough House to reveal Mr Hewit’s radical past – and so deprive him of his living. Hence the fainting and the tearing up of the book in an attempt to hide any evidence.

And perhaps Miss Prentice’s guess had been correct.

It was, perhaps, very convenient indeed for Mr Hewit that death had intervened before Mrs Midgely could call again…

Another, louder crack of thunder shook the summer house and the afternoon seemed to darken more than ever. Sir Joshua stepped in under the thatch, looking anxiously at the sky.

‘Oh dear! I fear the weather is turning, Miss Kent.’

Dido looked up from her musing. ‘Well,’ she said politely. ‘It is too late to materially spoil our party. It has been a very enjoyable day. I am sure we are all very grateful to you and to Lady Carrisbrook for inviting us.’

‘Thank you. I am glad so many of my friends were able to come. For my wife’s sake. She has no acquaintance in this country, you know. And we live a very quiet life here. I am very glad,’ he continued, his eyes turning upon the river bank where Lady Carrisbrook and Mary Bevan were now walking together, deep in conversation…‘very glad to see her making new friends.’

There was something doubting in his voice at the last – as if he did not quite approve the friendship she was presently forming. A governess was, no doubt, an unsuitable intimate for the new Lady Carrisbrook. That was Dido’s first thought; and her second was that here was an irresistible opportunity for discovery…

‘You have so many friends yourself, Sir Joshua,’ she began cautiously, ‘that I am sure Lady Carrisbrook will soon feel herself comfortably settled here.’

‘I hope it may prove so.’ Sir Joshua was standing with his hands clasped behind him, gazing out into the darkening afternoon.

‘Oh!…That reminds me…There is, I believe, an acquaintance of yours who is also a friend of my brother… And Charles was asking whether I had heard anything of the gentleman since my being in Richmond… A Mr Henderson? Do you know if he is still residing in Surrey?’

There was no answer; but Sir Joshua’s hands began to clasp and unclasp rapidly. Dido upbraided herself for the mistake of putting the question when the gentleman’s face was turned from her.

The uncomfortable silence was shattered by a roll of thunder directly over their heads. A few drops of rain hit the grass and Sir Joshua sprang forward as if anxious to escape.

‘Please, excuse me, Miss Kent,’ he cried and ran out to  usher his guests into the shelter of the summer house.

As they all crowded in exclaiming and laughing, the darkness thickened and the rain began in earnest: great fat drops, falling with such force that they bounced about on the lawns. Having seen them into shelter, Sir Joshua – together with Mr Lomax – set out at a run towards the house to fetch umbrellas.

Standing beneath the dripping heather thatch, Dido watched him go with regret. What might a few moments more have revealed? Would he have answered her question? She rather thought not. But why did he not wish to acknowledge the acquaintance? As she watched his soaked figure running across the lawns, it was impossible not to think that he was fleeing from her and her question. He was certainly running remarkably fast for a man of his years… Indeed, all of a sudden, he looked almost young.

 Dido scattered her alphabets across a table in the breakfast room and Flora watched her in bewilderment.

‘I do not at all see how this can be necessary! If you would but tell me what you have to say, I daresay I would understand very well indeed.’

‘I have no doubt you would. But you might not appreciate my cleverness in discovering it,’ Dido answered with a smile. It would be best, she thought, to treat the whole matter as a game. She must, at any rate, not seem to think that Flora had any particular interest in the information she was about to communicate.

Flora looked out of sorts – which was not to be wondered at since her cousin was being so very mysterious – and the hood of the barouche-landau had leaked rain upon them in their return from Brooke – and this morning the rain continued to fall.

Beyond the windows, rain dripped disconsolately off roses and formed muddy little pools in the new flower garden. Within the pretty room the open netting box, the two discarded novels and the bound volume of Dr Johnson’s
The Rambler
which were scattered on Flora’s sofa spoke of her efforts to fill the dull, confined morning. The blank look on her face bore witness of her failure to do so.

She was in a mood to be diverted.

‘You say that you have discovered what it is that Mr Lansdale is uneasy about?’ she asked Dido.

‘Yes. It is a secret – something which, I fear, may well make the world suspect him of harming his aunt?’

Flora looked concerned, but, for all that, she said anxiously, ‘You did not ask him any horrid questions did you?’

‘No,’ said Dido virtuously, ‘I can set your mind at rest on that point. I do not believe I addressed a single question to Mr Lansdale yesterday. I did not need to. I only had to watch the things that he said and did, in order to discover…’

‘To discover what? Tell me! I declare I hate mystery more than anything in the world!’

Dido looked down at her alphabets and began to move them around the table with one finger. ‘To discover,’ she said quietly, ‘that he is secretly engaged to Mary Bevan.’

There was silence in the room. From outside came the sound of rain splashing on the glass and running freely down the gutters. Dido pretended to be intent upon her letters: forming them into little lines, breaking them up, rearranging them.

‘Engaged?’ said Flora at last in a tolerably steady voice. ‘How can you think so? No, he cannot be! I always know about these things.’

‘Ah, but they have been most anxious to keep it hidden and I do not think…I am sure you did not wish to suspect them…’ Dido continued to look at her alphabets. ‘You are his friend, of course you would not wish to suspect him of double-dealing.’

‘But it is just too shocking! Why ever should you think of it?’

‘Well,’ Dido ran on, keeping her eyes upon the table and allowing her cousin time in which to recover. ‘I have suspected it these last few days. There were hints. Miss Bevan’s receiving letters which she wished no one to know about was one – and then there was her choice of books. It is, in my experience, very unusual for an unmarried lady to read books upon household management, unless she is engaged and expecting soon to have a home to manage for herself. And then her reading about the lake country pointed out a possible connection with Mr Lansdale. Once that possibility had arisen, of course, I looked about for an opportunity for the engagement being formed – and I recalled that they had both been at Ramsgate last autumn.’

Dido paused and looked up quickly at Flora. To her relief, she seemed to be more wondering than distressed.

‘Of course,’ she continued cautiously, turning her attention back to the letters, ‘his devoting himself to such a good friend as yourself was another clue. He knew that there was no danger in paying attentions to you – for such a sensible and very happily married woman would not be misled by them.’

‘No. No, of course not,’ said Flora with at least an air of calm.

‘With you he was safe. And while he played that game, he hoped no one would suspect him of any attachment to Miss Bevan. Under cover of flattering you, he could pay attentions to Mary which she might understand, but which would pass unnoticed by everyone else. It was very cleverly done.’

‘Admirably! If indeed it was done.’

‘Oh, it certainly was.’

Dido judged that Flora might now be looked at again. There was a little heightening of colour in her cheeks but nothing else to suggest suffering. It was to be hoped that she really did care nothing for the young man beyond friendship. And Dido was very pleased to see that, if she did care, she was determined not to show it.

‘Well! I am sure it is the strangest thing I ever heard!’

‘I have been reluctant to believe it myself. But then, yesterday, all my suspicions were confirmed.’

‘How? Did you overhear them talking together?’

‘In a way, yes I did,’ said Dido with a smile. ‘I shall explain it all to you. Do you remember,’ she began, ‘the conversation at luncheon yesterday?’

‘Very little – except it was the dullest talk in the world! I do not think Mr Lansdale said anything at all.’

‘He certainly did not say a word during the last half of the meal. And do you recall the point from which his silence originated?’

‘No.’

‘It began after Mrs Midgely informed the company that she had procured a situation for Miss Bevan.’

‘Did it?’

‘Yes, I am sure that it did. And you see that news presented him with a terrible dilemma. Ever since it was decided Miss Bevan must go out as a governess I am sure he has been wondering whether or not he should make public the engagement. Publicity is much to be desired for Miss Bevan’s sake and yet…’

‘And yet he dared not tell his aunt of it!’ cried Flora.

‘Exactly so. I daresay he feared she would cut him off. And then, after she died…’

‘Why! Revealing the engagement would make the gossips say that he wished his poor aunt out of the way. Oh dear, how perfectly dreadful!’ Flora was sitting very straight upon her sofa now. Her hands held to her face. Whatever else the news of Mr Lansdale’s attachment had meant to her, it had certainly proved a cure for ennui. ‘Why, Dido! After Mrs Lansdale died, he had to keep the engagement hidden. He dared not let it be known.’

‘Quite so. Though I do not think silence suited his gallantry at all. I do not doubt that he was longing to make the announcement which would save Miss Bevan from her guardian’s officious schemes. And I rather fancy that it is only her opposition which has prevented him.’

‘Oh yes, for I am sure he is the most gallant man that ever lived!’

‘Well, I confess that I too am rather inclined to think well of Mr Lansdale after what I observed yesterday. You see news of this situation in Yorkshire burst upon him at luncheon. Clearly Miss Bevan had found no opportunity to tell him of it herself. At Brooke he discovered that Miss Bevan was to be sent away almost immediately. He could not allow it to happen and he was quite determined to prevent it. He wanted only her permission to announce the engagement to the world.’

‘But how do you know this?’

‘Because, my dear Flora, he asked for her permission while we were all in the drawing room.’

‘But he cannot! It is impossible! How could he ask her before all those people?’

‘I will show you how it was done.’ She carefully assembled her alphabets into three words: relative, license, solver. ‘These,’ she explained, ‘were the words that were made in our game yesterday. And there is a great deal of meaning hidden in them. This first one was the anagram which Mr Lansdale made and which Miss Bevan discovered.’