A Gentleman of Fortune (9 page)

‘Now,’ she said as they emerged from the low shop door. ‘Do not look so very worried, Flora. I am in no danger of becoming a Jacobin! I only wish to know what it is that Miss Prentice has been reading.’

‘Miss Prentice has been reading a
treatise
about
citizens?’ 

‘It would seem she has.’ Dido linked arms again and, as they threaded their way along the busy street, she told Flora all about the book and the river and Miss Merryweather’s system of detecting souls – though she kept to herself the information which the lady in black had supplied.

Flora was all amazement. ‘I would not have thought,’ she said, wrinkling her nose, ‘that two such women as Mrs Midgely and Miss Prentice could afford so much to puzzle over. I have known them for ever and I have always found them so very…ordinary.’

‘And how long is “for ever” in this case?’

‘Let me see…’ Flora considered. They had left the shops behind them now and were come to the inn where the London coach was just drawing up with all its usual bustle. There was a green here and three broadly spreading horse-chestnuts, and they were both very glad to rest for a moment in the shade of these trees while all the busyness of Richmond flowed about them.

‘I believe I have known Mrs Midgely for more than three years,’ said Flora thoughtfully, ‘but I have not known Miss Prentice so long. She came to Richmond this January last, you know; but James and I were not down from town until March.’

‘I see.’ Dido was disappointed to find that, in this case, Flora’s eternity was so short, for she was anxious to learn as much as she might about the two ladies. ‘Do you know,’ she asked, ‘how long Miss Prentice and Mrs Midgely have been acquainted with one another?’

‘Oh yes. A great while. They were girls together you know – somewhere in Northamptonshire, I believe.’

‘Hmm, I see.’ Dido considered – the long acquaintance provided opportunity for a great many secrets between them… And yet they were so ill-matched one could not but wonder at their choosing to live under the same roof. ‘Why do you suppose Mrs M decided to take her friend as a boarder?’ she asked. ‘Do you suppose that she has found herself a little short of money since the death of her husband?’

‘No, I do not suppose any such thing!’ cried Flora. ‘I don’t doubt Mrs Midgely has money enough – and to spare – but the dreadful woman takes a great deal more pleasure in saving money than she ever does in spending it, you know.’

‘And so you believe it was her love of economy which made her let her back parlour?’

‘I do indeed! Why I remember just how it was last autumn when she made up her mind to it. “That back room is wasted,” she said again and again, “quite
wasted
. And it might be let very nicely if only all the old books and papers of the colonel’s were cleared out of it. And there is a bedroom too,” she said, “beyond the two that are needed for me and Mary. And I cannot abide
waste
!” I declare, it was all about avoiding waste!’

‘I see. And do you suppose,’ continued Dido thoughtfully as they left the inn and started to walk slowly up the hill, ‘do you suppose that this sending out of Miss Bevan to be a governess is also a matter of economy?’

‘Ah! Now that is a very strange business indeed. I cannot make it out at all.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, it has all come about so very suddenly. There was not a single word spoken about it until last November, you know. Not a word. But suddenly it was all, “she must make her own way in the world”. And Mrs Midgely was looking out for a place for her. Everyone was surprised by it – and I am sure the dear colonel himself would
never
have  countenanced such a measure. It is quite shocking that she should go against her husband’s wishes – and so soon after his death too!’

‘Ah!’ said Dido, ‘Miss Bevan, I presume, is a relation of the colonel – not of his wife?’

‘Yes. At least she is a
connection
of the colonel’s. No relation I think. Her father was an officer in his regiment and the colonel thought particularly well of the young man – there is some story about a camp fever – the colonel did not believe he would have survived without the attentions of Lieutenant Bevan. Something of that sort, you know. But I do not remember the details.’

‘And so, when the little girl was orphaned, the colonel undertook her care? How very kind!’

‘He was the kindest, most generous man in the world! And as unlike his wife as you can possibly imagine!’

Dido continued some way in silence, intrigued by this picture of the late Colonel Midgely – and surprised too. Somehow she had always imagined a husband as
small-minded
and illiberal as his wife.

And as for Mrs Midgely’s character, she could not make that out at all. Cold-hearted and over-fond of money she certainly appeared, but there was nothing in all this to show why she should so dislike a rich and handsome young man such as Mr Lansdale. Indeed women of Mrs Midgley’s stamp were usually but too inclined to seek the favour of the rich and powerful…

At last she stopped in the shade of an old pear tree which hung over a high garden wall. They were come now almost to Mrs Midgely’s house and, looking at its shaded windows and dark, sunless garden, Dido sighed. ‘There is only one thing I am able to conclude about Mrs Midgely,’ she said. ‘It would seem that Miss Merryweather is correct – the woman
did
lose her soul last November and it is that which is making her behave so very strangely.’

‘Well,’ said Flora comfortably, ‘we need not worry about the tiresome woman any longer. Your charming Mr Lomax is quite sure that Mr Lansdale is in no danger.’

‘Yes…’ Dido was confused – partly from finding herself given possession of the gentleman, and partly from the memory of what she had lately heard in the library, which led her to suspect that Mr Lansdale was, in fact, in a great deal of danger. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘of course, we must hope that there will be no prosecution… But, I wish that I could understand Mrs Midgely a little better. How much does she know about events at Knaresborough House?’

Flora looked troubled and Dido’s heart smote her. Hurting Flora seemed as wicked as hurting a child. ‘There is, of course,’ she added hastily, ‘nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. But I think I may perhaps just call upon Mrs Midgely…since we are so close now to her house.’

‘You will not find her at home,’ said Flora frowning. ‘For I saw her just now in the town.’

‘Oh.’ Dido was disappointed. But, in a moment, her mind had picked up one of the many other threads of the mystery. A new idea slipped into her head. ‘Then perhaps I will take the opportunity of calling upon Miss Bevan while she is alone,’ she said.

In order to prevent any further questions, she began to walk quickly towards Mrs Midgely’s grim little villa. But, as they passed the gates of Knaresborough House, something caught her eye. There was a movement by the bushes near the back of the house. Her curiosity was piqued. She stopped.

‘What are you looking at?’ asked Flora.

Dido waved a hand to silence her. ‘Look,’ she whispered, ‘there on the path of Mr Lansdale’s house. There are two women. Is not one of them Miss Neville?’

‘Yes, I believe it is; but…’

‘Who is the woman she is talking to?’

‘I do not know, I am sure! Why…’

‘Hush! they are coming towards us.’

The two women had emerged now from the shadow of the bushes into the bright sunshine. They walked slowly towards the front of the house. One of them was, indeed, Miss Clara Neville – looking as tall and bony and as discontent as ever – and the other was a stout woman in a grey gown and a shabby straw bonnet. They were too deep in earnest conversation to notice that they were being watched, and, when they came to the gravel of the sweep, they stopped. The stout woman thrust out her hand and Miss Neville put something into it. The woman frowned, said something – and walked away. Miss Neville turned back to the house.

‘Now,’ said Dido, drawing Flora further into the shadow of the gatepost, ‘I wonder what they were talking about.’

They moved a few steps along the road as the woman approached the end of the sweep, but then, as she turned into the road, they stopped and looked back at her. She had a plump face, red and shining with the heat, and blemished with a great many broken veins. She was now smiling as she looked down at what she held in her hand. But it was not a pleasant smile.

‘Why! What an ugly, trollopy-looking creature!’ whispered Flora as the woman walked off. ‘Do you suppose she was come to beg?’

‘I do not know,’ said Dido thoughtfully. ‘But she had not the look nor the manner of a beggar.’

‘No,’ agreed Flora. ‘And I am sure Clara Neville has nothing to spare for giving away to chance-comers.’

‘Hmm,’ said Dido as she watched the plump woman hurry along the shady road. ‘Is Miss Neville so very poor?’

‘Oh dear, yes! I have known her and her mother for ever. They have barely enough to live on, you know, and cannot even afford a proper servant. I believe Mrs Lansdale paid Miss Neville an allowance while she lived with her – but I think it was very small.’

‘Indeed,’ mused Dido. ‘Then that is very strange indeed.’

‘Why do you say so?’

‘Because I am almost sure that it was a guinea which that woman was holding in her hand just now.’ She paused and shook her head. ‘Why would an impoverished lady like Miss Neville give so large a sum to such a very
rough-looking
woman?’

Dido found Miss Bevan sitting alone at the pianoforte in the dismal front parlour of Mrs Midgely’s house, where the blinds were half-closed to prevent the sun injuring the furniture, every inch of carpet was covered with green baize, and a grim, hook-nosed old fellow in military dress stared down disapprovingly from his dark frame above the fireplace. It might be high summer beyond the walls, but here within Mrs Midgely’s domain it was winter: a settled chill filled the room, together with the lingering smell of old coal fires.

Mary’s greeting was pleasant and well-mannered and she fell into conversation easily enough; but there was something wary in her look – as if, perhaps, she suspected the motive of the visit. As they exchanged remarks about the weather, Dido studied her face. It was undoubtedly pretty, but the dark hair was dressed with unbecoming plainness, as if Mary had already chosen to adopt that
self-effacing
style which would be expected of her in her future life. And there was, besides, a pallor and thinness which spoke of sleepless nights and ill-health.

She was clearly anxious about something. Of course, with her future so unsettled, anxiety was quite natural; but certain things she had noticed were beginning to make Dido suspect that Miss Bevan might have something else upon her mind…

‘I am sorry,’ began Dido after a short pause in the conversation, ‘I am extremely sorry to find that we are soon to lose you from our society here in Richmond.’

‘You are very kind.’ As she spoke, Miss Bevan lowered her eyes with a sad smile.

‘I hope that you will be settled with an agreeable family.’

‘Thank you, Miss Kent.’ There was a very serious little shake of the head. ‘But, in truth, I cannot believe that the agreeableness of the family will be of much consequence, can you? At least it would be a very remarkable family in which the life of the governess herself could be described as agreeable.’

Startled by the young lady’s honesty, Dido was forced to consider the governesses she had known, including her own, rather fearsome Miss Steerforth, who had not led a very easy life in their household.

‘No,’ she said, humbled by the memory of her own youthful transgressions, ‘perhaps you are right.’ They sat for a while in silence. ‘I have heard you sing and play, Miss Bevan,’ she said at last, ‘and know how very accomplished you are. I am sure you will have no difficulty in securing a position.’

‘Thank you.’ Miss Bevan looked away, ran her fingers absently over the keys of the instrument.

‘You are now searching for a place?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where have you made enquiries?’

‘There are places…’ Miss Bevan, paused, took her hand from the pianoforte and smiled wryly. ‘There are places in town where enquiries can be made,’ she said, ‘offices that exist solely to deal in this…trade.’ Colour mounted in her cheeks. She clasped her arms across her breast and stood up abruptly. ‘We may hope, Miss Kent,’ she said with great feeling, ‘that our government will soon put an end to the barbarous trade in men and women which is carried on in the West Indies, but I doubt the abolitionists will ever set themselves against the governess trade. Here in England, even though women are not themselves for sale, I fear their
accomplishments
always will be.’

She stopped herself and stood in silence looking down at her feet. Then she drew a long breath and raised her eyes to Dido’s. ‘I am very sorry. I should not have spoken so violently. I hope you will forgive my outburst.’

‘Of course,’ said Dido gently. ‘I am the one at fault. You are tired and anxious and I should not have asked so many questions. Besides, your feelings are entirely natural.’ In order to give her companion time to collect herself, she rose, went to the instrument and began to turn over the music which lay upon it, making an inconsequential comment or two upon the pieces – and noticing, at the same time, that these songs were written in a neat, businesslike hand which put no loops at all upon its letters.

But Miss Bevan’s little outburst had quickened her interest in the girl.

Once, a few days ago, Dido had made some passing remark to Flora, saying that Miss Bevan was a shy, quiet girl; but Flora had laughed. ‘Oh no!’ she had said, ‘I declare it is only when she is at home with her guardian that she seems so. When we met her at Ramsgate, in the autumn, she was lively enough! She was staying with her friends the Hemmingways, you know – the pleasantest, merriest people in the world – and then she was very different: she played, she danced and she talked a great deal.’

At the time, this character had surprised Dido greatly; but now, as she looked at Miss Bevan, standing beside the pianoforte, just brushing the keys again with the tips of her fingers, it was brought more within her comprehension. Now she could not doubt that there was a great deal of feeling here – and the ability to express it. And there was, furthermore, something intriguing in the way in which the girl looked so directly as she spoke – and spoke with such startling honesty – and yet had such an air of reserve. Dido was convinced that, though she might avoid uttering falsehoods, Mary Bevan might yet have the knack of keeping a great many truths unspoken.