Place of Confinement (34 page)

‘Have I been a fool to believe he loves me?’ she asked abruptly. ‘Have I been deceived?’

‘You are certainly no fool,’ said Dido, stepping into the deep, cool shadow of the yew. ‘It is not foolish to be trusting. And as to deception … Well, you will soon know about that. It must all depend upon how the gentleman behaves when he knows the truth.’

‘Yes,’ said Martha quietly. ‘You are in the right.’

Dido waited for more, expecting excuses and arguments in the young man’s favour. But none came. Martha pressed together her lips, as if she had determined upon keeping her own counsel. There was a new dignity. It seemed almost as if the girl had grown closer to being a woman in the course of the night just past. And the look suited her – it gave to her long, heavy features a kind of distinction. Perhaps, thought Dido, losing the constant companionship of her friend had been to Martha’s advantage, and the deficiency might now be supplied, not by a new confidante, but by a greater reliance upon her own judgement.

She took Martha’s arm and, by unspoken consent, they began upon another turn along the gravel walk.

‘You want to talk more about Tish going away, don’t you?’ said Martha.

‘Yes. I have been thinking over your account of the day Miss Verney disappeared – and there are one or two points I particularly wish to ask you about.’

Martha sighed. ‘Upon my word, I have scarce thought of anything else since we talked. But I am sure I don’t know any more than what I have told you.’

‘At what time did you set out on your walk?’

‘It was half after two. I remember hearing the clock chime the half-hour as we was walking down the drive.’

‘I see. And,’ said Dido pursuing a thought which had occurred during the restless hours of the night, ‘what did Miss Verney plan to do while you were absent from the house. She would have had to remain hidden, would she not? For she was the one who everyone supposed had walked out onto the moor. I believe you said that she meant to hide in the bedchamber which you shared?’

‘Yes.’

‘But that is rather odd. I did not think of it when you first told me, but now it appears a little strange.’

Martha looked puzzled.

‘How was she to get to the bedchamber?’ asked Dido. She stopped walking and turned towards the house, drawing her companion with her. ‘Look.’ Across the sunny lawn the ancient house front faced them: with its grey stones; its green creeper, starred here and there with the first pink flowers; its steep, mossy roof; its thicket of twisted, irregular brick chimneys; its old porch that fronted the great hall.

Miss Gibbs looked and shook her head.

‘Look at the drive and the door,’ said Dido giving their joined arms a little shake. ‘Do you see the difficulty? To return to your chamber, Miss Verney must walk back along the carriage drive and into the house. Through the main door there.’ She indicated the jutting porch. ‘And
through the hall.
Where – you will remember – the gentlemen were talking.’

‘Oh! Yes.’

‘There is, of course, a back door and backstairs. But I have observed that the back door of this house leads directly into the kitchen. She certainly could not have entered there without a dozen maids and men seeing her.’

‘But I swear, that that is what she said she would do – she said that she would go to the bedchamber and wait there for my return.’ Martha’s look of worry deepened. ‘Oh dear, Miss Kent, do you suppose the gentlemen saw her – and guessed at our scheme – and were so angry about it that Tish ran away?’

Dido shook her head and they walked on slowly. ‘I can see no reason why the gentlemen would be much in anger about your scheme to deceive Mr Lomax. Nor why the discovery should make Miss Verney wish to escape the house. But, if we are to come at the truth, I believe we must discover exactly what she did after she left you at the gates.’

Martha rolled her eyes about as her habit was when forcing herself to think deeply. ‘She stood beside the gates, I remember, watching us as we crossed the highway. And then we started along the track to the downs…’ Her eyes rolled frantically. ‘When we was a little way down the track – almost to the stream – I looked back…’

‘And Miss Verney was still by the gates?’

‘No. She had turned about and was walking down the drive. That was the last I saw of her.’

‘She was walking towards the front of the house?’

‘Yes.’

Dido stopped and turned once more to look across the lawns to the house. Again the drive and front door presented themselves uncompromisingly to her view … But then her eye was drawn away into the shadow of the creeper. ‘Oh!’ she cried, staring in momentary bewilderment.

‘What is it, Miss Kent?’

‘There is,’ she said slowly, ‘another door.’

Martha followed her gaze with a puzzled frown. ‘But that,’ she said at last, ‘leads only to the library. If Tish had gone in that way she must still have crossed the hall to the stairs – and the gentlemen would have seen her returning.’

Dido’s only answer was to withdraw her arm from Martha’s and snatch her hand instead. She began to run across the lawn, drawing Martha after her.

‘Whatever is wrong?’ cried Martha as she was propelled past a disapproving Mrs Bailey, who was pressing her hands to her breast in a vast gesture of alarm – and scattering flowers about the lawn.

‘I think,’ said Dido breathlessly, ‘that I understand now why Miss Verney moved the toilette table.’

Chapter Thirty-Six

Dido did not stop until they reached Martha’s chamber and there she dropped down upon the bed, facing the hearth.

‘I remember,’ she said, gasping a little, ‘Mr Lancelot claiming that this was your friend’s favourite room. That she had had a fancy for sleeping here ever since she was a little girl. And I believe that is because she knew something about this room.’

‘But what?’

‘Something which is quite clear to see if one sits here and only looks closely at what is before one.’

She turned to Martha, but there was no sign of understanding: she sat with flushed cheeks staring uncomprehendingly, the bonnet falling back awkwardly from her head, the precious locket still clutched in one hand.

‘What do you see directly ahead of you, Miss Gibbs?’

‘A fireplace.’

‘And to your left?’

‘Nothing, just panelling.’

‘And the place in which the toilette table stood when you and your friend took possession of this room?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what do you see to the right of the fireplace?’

‘A closet.’

‘Exactly so!’

Miss Gibbs shook her head.

‘If,’ said Dido, pointing her finger accusingly at the innocent-seeming wall, ‘there is space for a closet on the right-hand side, why is there only a flat panel on the left-hand side of the chimney? I knew there was something amiss with this room! It made me feel uneasy the first time that I entered it!’ She jumped up and put her hand against the panelling on the left-hand side of the fireplace.

‘What are you looking for?’

‘I am looking for the reason why Miss Fenstanton’s little cats have been disturbing your sleep continually, while troubling no one else in the house.’

She ran her hands along the oak panels, pressing as she had seen Emma do in the library below. And at last – just as she was beginning to doubt her own genius – the wood shifted beneath her hand. There was a creak and the panel moved inward, revealing itself to be a very cleverly constructed door.

Martha screamed.

And even Dido must hesitate a moment. There was something too closely akin to a horrid novel in the creaking open of a hidden door. She could not quite escape the idea that there were skeletons and torture chambers to follow; and it was several minutes before she could reason herself into exploring the space beyond the panel.

But there were no skeletons, only a little dusty space the size of a convenient closet – and, within it, the head of a narrow stone staircase. A chill musty draught of air was blowing up the steps, bringing with it the reassuringly mundane sound of cats.

Martha crept pale-faced to the door, as if all the horrors which had occurred to Dido had now possession of her brain. ‘That is why Tish wanted the table moved. So that she could come at this secret door.’ She peered anxiously into the space. ‘But where do you suppose the stairs lead?’ she asked tremulously.

‘To the library,’ said Dido with conviction. She turned back into the hidden room; but the stairs were an inky-black well and all the reason in the world could not prevent a shudder as she stepped forward.

‘Is it safe?’ asked Martha.

‘Oh yes,’ replied Dido with more assurance than she felt. She made her way down the first two or three narrow steps. The air struck a chill through her and her footsteps echoed; below she could dimly see a stone staircase twisting down, as in a castle tower. ‘Yes, it is quite safe.’ She brushed away a spider’s web which had attached itself to her face and continued downward. ‘Miss Fenstanton and Miss Verney discovered the priest’s hole and the stairs when they played in the house as children. It was their secret.’ She stopped and held out her hand to Martha who had begun to follow her cautiously. ‘But it would seem that upon this visit, they both decided to make use of the secret for their own purposes. Oh, take care! There are kittens here near the foot of the stairs.’ There was a crack of light ahead, and it showed three puzzled little furry faces; three little pink mouths opened in protest.

Dido made a hasty explanation of the kittens’ presence, stepped past them, ran her hand along the panelling, and found a tiny catch. It clicked softly and, a moment later, the two women were ducking their heads and stepping, out of the dark, dusty little priest’s hole into the bright ordinary world of Mr Lancelot’s library.

The black kitten with white paws toddled out after them, blinking delightedly and looking about for adventure.

Miss Gibbs brushed dust from her white muslin gown and stared at Dido. ‘Tish
knew
about the hidden stairs?’ she said, struggling for understanding.

‘Oh yes. And that, you see, was how she intended to return to your bedchamber. She planned to come in through the little garden door, to the library, and then once here she could slip up the hidden stairway.’ She looked about at the room, the shelves of books, the watching portraits, the door into the hall which stood ajar. ‘But I believe something happened while she was on her way to the bedroom. Something which made her leave this house—’

She stopped. From the hall came Mr Lancelot’s hearty voice.

‘It ain’t no good arguing with me, George,’ he was saying. ‘My mind’s made up and I have already spoke to the lady.’

Dido stepped cautiously to the door and looked out. The two gentlemen had stopped as they crossed the hall in the sheltered corner where a table stood in the shadow of the gallery.

‘Spoke to her?’ George Fenstanton was bouncing with rage – like a small terrier snapping at a hound. ‘Why, I cannot believe it! You have asked a penniless little old maid to be your wife?’

‘Ha! Mind what you say, please! Remember you are talking to a fellow in love.’

Martha giggled and turned an expressive look on her companion, but Dido hurriedly closed the door and leant her back against it. ‘That,’ she said quietly, ‘is our answer, I think. Miss Verney
overheard
something, just as we did now.’

Martha began upon a question, but just then both women were distracted by a pitiful wail. The kitten had found the library steps and begun to climb them with enthusiasm – only to discover that coming down was a great deal harder than going up. He was now on the fifth step, clinging desperately with all four paws and crying for assistance.

Dido lifted him down and returned him to the priest’s hole.

Martha pushed closed the panel and turned about with eyes full of questions. ‘What do you suppose Tish overheard?’

‘I am not quite sure. But anyone at the table in the hall would think themselves safe from prying ears
so long as they supposed the library to be empty.
The gentlemen were talking in the hall that morning. And I would guess that they were sitting at the table under the gallery.’

‘They were, but it was only business they were talking about – no one would care a jot about Tish overhearing it.’

‘Oh, I cannot agree. Business was their subject, and so was
money,
was it not?’

‘Lord! Yes, but it was only how they was to get enough money for the new town. No great secret.’

‘Oh! But I think there might have been a very great secret under discussion,’ said Dido thoughtfully. ‘For Mr George has a scheme for getting money which I do not think he would wish to be generally known.’ She stopped as another idea took hold of her mind. She turned away and began to walk about in great agitation, attempting to arrange her thoughts into a satisfactory shape.

Miss Gibbs watched anxiously.

‘The note!’ cried Dido turning suddenly to her companion with a look of enlightenment. ‘The note which you found in your bedchamber when you returned from your walk with Mr Lomax. What did it say?’

‘It said, “You must not tell what you know. It will be the worse for you, and everyone you care about, if you do.”’

‘Miss Gibbs, that note was not about your deception of Mr Lomax.’

‘Was it not?’

‘It was not even meant for you.’

‘Oh it was, you know. For it had my name writ upon it.’

‘But that was only because the gentlemen believed
you
were the one to have returned to the house. Do you see?’

‘No.’

‘They thought that Letitia had walked out with Tom Lomax.’

‘Yes.’

‘It was
you
they believed to have stayed close to home. After you had both left the house, I think they fell into rather particular discussions – discussions which they would not wish anyone else to hear. They felt secure because they thought the house was empty. But they were wrong: the house was not empty. Miss Verney was making her way back through the library. The gentlemen perhaps heard a sound – feared that their scheming had been detected. Now they would immediately think that it was
you
creeping about the house. Not Miss Verney, because they believed her to be out on the downs with Mr Lomax. So the note was written to you, telling you not to tell what you had overheard.’