Serpent in the Garden (17 page)

Joshua wasn’t sure whether she said this mockingly or seriously, and the threat of Mrs. Quick’s disapproval loomed larger than ever. “I heartily concur,” he said, attempting a smile. “The last thing I desire to do is annoy your mother.”

At this she smiled mischievously. “My mother’s daunting manner belies her real character. She is not as harsh as many people think.”

“Perhaps that is so,” said Joshua, “but in any case she and I are not on the most cordial terms since my unexpected return last night.”

Bridget would doubtless have defended her mother, but just at that moment Mrs. Quick’s strident tones were heard bellowing for her daughter.

Joshua shut the door behind Bridget and leaned against it with eyes half closed. His spirits dived; he chastised himself for being a fool. He had not wanted to kindle false hopes in Bridget, and yet, however unwittingly, he feared that was precisely what he had done.

THE COACH took two hours. For most of the journey he spoke to no one, nor did he examine the faces of his fellow travelers for oddities of physiognomy. What he had learned thus far absorbed his thoughts entirely. He felt no closer to comprehending recent events. Assuming Granger was correct in his suspicion that Sabine knew Cobb, why would she deny the fact yet instruct Joshua to look into it? Was it because she was concerned about Cobb’s relationship with her daughter but wanted to conceal it from Herbert? But if Dunstable was to be believed, Herbert also knew about Cobb, because he had visited him at the Star and Garter and argued with him there. What was the dispute over inherited property that had brought Cobb to Richmond? The inconvenience of Hoare’s disappearance struck him as most unfortunate when Hoare’s involvement with Cobb seemed so crucial. If he could trace Hoare, most of his questions would be answered.

He could only hope that, before Crackman wrote to inform him of the name of the other parties involved in this dispute, Hoare would reappear and send his version of events. Joshua felt certain that Mrs. Mercier must be one of the people involved. She had been recently widowed and she had come from Barbados. Cobb’s story about advising her on her pineapples was surely no more than a concoction to gain entry to Astley. Presumably the wrangle was over property left to Sabine by her second husband. Perhaps she had possession of something Cobb believed was rightfully his. If this were the case it would provide Sabine with a strong motive to want Cobb dead.

A vision of Sabine emerged in Joshua’s mind. She was a woman of haunting charms. He remembered that something she had said concerning the necklace had the power to terrify Caroline Bentnick. He remembered the last time he had seen her, when she sat for him, and how her grotesquely distorted profile had been cast on the wall. It struck him then that her beauty wasn’t radiant; it was the beauty of a siren, a distracting allure that hid something deeper, led men astray, made them forget who they were. He assumed that the disputed property must be the necklace. That was why she set such store by it. What if Cobb had threatened to take it from her?

•    •    •

JOSHUA reached the portals of Astley soon after three in the afternoon. He thought it peculiar to see Herbert standing in the doorway waiting for him. Herbert’s face registered no relief or pleasure at his arrival. Why was Herbert not sitting down to his dinner? Whatever the emergency, it must surely be a grave one to have caused such a drastic postponement.

As Joshua approached, leaving a footman to carry his bags, Herbert glowered at Joshua. He refused Joshua’s outstretched hand and did not respond to Joshua’s proffered “Good afternoon.”

“So, Mr. Pope, you have come at last.”

“Indeed, Mr. Bentnick, your letter asking for my assistance arrived only this morning. I came the minute I could. What is the matter? Has something dreadful happened?”

“In a manner of speaking. And I am doing my utmost to give your actions the benefit of the doubt. Your return here is much in your favor, but at the very least you have some explaining to do.”

Joshua frowned in confusion. “I regret I do not understand, sir. Have I caused some offence? If so, let me assure you—”

“More than that, sir,” Herbert broke in. “You have been the cause of the greatest distress. I will speak frankly, Mr. Pope. You will recall, I take it, the necklace that Mrs. Mercier entrusted to you? The necklace you placed in the drawer of your writing table and were supposed to hand to Mrs. Mercier’s maid?”

Joshua’s heart began to sink. “Indeed I do, sir. For you recall I told you of the undertaking and Miss Mercier said she would retrieve it.”

“That same necklace has disappeared.”

B
LOOD SURGED to his brain; his hands grew clammy; he was aware of a feeling of sickness seeping into the pit of his belly. He felt as if he had been doused with a bucket of freezing water, yet at the same time he was roasting with heat. He could scarcely believe the evidence of his own ears: the necklace was lost and for some reason Herbert thought he was responsible.

This, then, was the reason behind Herbert’s dreadful, stilted letter. Herbert distrusted him profoundly. Herbert believed he, Joshua Pope, whose works were exhibited in elegant salons up and down the land, who was proclaimed the equal of the great masters of history and courted by the gentry and nobility, was no more than a common thief. But as he mused on the ignominy of his situation, his initial sense of dismay and shock yielded to a more considered response. The sense of injustice he had felt regarding Cobb’s death was now echoed in his own case. He wouldn’t concede to disgrace any more than he would let Cobb’s death be ignored.

Herbert escorted Joshua to his study, lined from floor to ceiling with mahogany bookcases overflowing with large heavily bound volumes and smelling of leather, musty paper, and beeswax. There were cases filled with scientific curiosities—a dodo’s egg, the skull of a large ape; the skin of a tiger lay stretched out upon the hearth; teeth from a crocodile and an elephant were ranged according to height along the mantel shelf. Herbert positioned himself in a leather-upholstered armchair behind a vast pedestal desk. Sabine was nowhere to be seen.

Joshua lowered himself wretchedly into a library chair to face him. “Mr. Bentnick, let me assure you I know nothing of the disappearance of Mrs. Mercier’s necklace. I am completely innocent of any misdemeanor, save the one I admitted—of failing to pass the necklace to the maid in person before I departed. It was only a momentary lapse—you said so yourself.”

A look of watchful distrust flickered in Herbert’s eye. “I took you at your word when you said you had left the necklace in your rooms. I hardly expected this.”

“The necklace was there when I left. I am quite certain of it.”

“Did you see it when you returned to your rooms to pack?”

“Not exactly, no, but the drawer was still locked, there was no sign of disturbance.”

Herbert said nothing. Joshua sensed he was weighing his responses, as though he was uncertain how to proceed and was waiting to be convinced of Joshua’s innocence or guilt. Joshua had no choice but to plead for justice.

“In truth, sir, this is the first I have heard of the loss. I cannot be expected to defend myself until I know all the details. Perhaps there is some logical explanation for the jewel’s disappearance. It might be a case of misplacement.”

“I damn well hope so, Pope. Unless we find it, I shall have to call Manning, the justice. When he hears what has happened, he will no doubt have you thrown into jail and branded, or quite possibly transported.”

The varnish of rationality had now all but disappeared. Joshua’s knees began to quiver, not with fear so much as with disbelief and outrage. He clamped his hands on his thighs and pressed down hard to hold them still. If Herbert detected his agitation it would only confirm his suspicions.

“Yes sir, I understand the concerns. I see now why things seem black against me,” Joshua replied, though he very much wanted to say: “No sir, this is the grossest injustice. How can you even consider for one second I might be a thief ?”

Joshua’s apparent acceptance of his probable fate appeared to please Herbert. “I confess, Mr. Pope, that even though you were the last person to have had the necklace in your possession, I have my doubts about your guilt and I have said as much to Mrs. Mercier, though, I must say, she regards you more doubtfully. It is fortunate for you that Justice Manning is away—according to his daughter, Lizzie, he is unlikely to return for a fortnight. At any rate, I am giving you the chance to redeem yourself. I task you with retrieving it.”

Joshua was at a loss to know how he should react. Clearly Herbert believed he had just demonstrated great forbearance and clemency and expected some sign of gratitude, but Joshua knew he wasn’t guilty of taking the wretched jewel, so why should he be grateful at being ordered to find it? He was an eminent artist, not a contemptible purloiner. Nevertheless he quietly shielded his indignation with politeness.

“Ask yourself, Mr. Bentnick: if I had stolen the jewel, what reason would I have to return here? You must see that this action alone proves my innocence.”

“Your reason for returning may well be that you do not wish to sully your reputation as an artist. Besides, you have twenty guineas resting on the finished canvas. And if those are your motives, then I declare you are the most brazen criminal I ever encountered.”

Joshua could no longer contain himself. “May I point out, sir, that I have more commissions than I know what to do with? The sum of twenty guineas is neither here nor there to me. You speak of threatening my reputation. I trust it is so well established that it would not be damaged by a spurious accusation such as this. If you desire it, I can call upon numerous eminent acquaintances to testify to my good character.”

“For the time being that will not be necessary, Mr. Pope. I am quite well aware of the high esteem in which you are held. I would not have commissioned you otherwise. But be that as it may, I must ask what have you to say regarding the disappearance.”

“What can I say when I have not the first notion what has happened here? Before I proffer any solutions, you must tell me what took place.”

Herbert seemed willing enough to comply with this request. He told Joshua then that after they had left for London, Violet, accompanied by Caroline, had gone to his room. They had found the box pushed to the farthest corner of the drawer in the writing table and Violet had taken it to her mother’s room. The maid, Marie, had just returned from her expedition, and so she handed the box to her without opening it and watched her put it away.

Sabine Mercier returned from London early the next afternoon. She immediately went to her bedchamber to change out of her traveling garb and took out the box containing her beloved jewel. On opening it she had discovered the necklace gone.

“I tell you, Pope,” said Herbert with great feeling, “you can well imagine her dismay, her disbelief, her distress. She gave a most pitiful cry, then a wail of desolation, then immediately fell into a faint to the floor. So deep was her state of unconsciousness that I feared, when I was called to attend her, she might have died from shock. However, after some time I detected the faintest of pulses and summoned my physician. After several hours of his ministrations, she opened her eyes and sat up. Her first words on regaining consciousness and seeing me at her bedside were, ‘Dear God! Sweet Herbert, tell me I have been dreaming that my jewel was taken. It was a dream, was it not?’