Sidney Chambers and the Shadow of Death (39 page)

He prayed in certain hope of an answer. Prayer was an act of will, Sidney thought; a discipline that had to be learned and practised.

He put his hand on Amanda’s.

It was so slender.

He gave it a gentle squeeze and hoped for a response but none came.

He looked down at her pale face.

He spoke aloud. ‘The Lord bless thee and keep thee. The Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee, and give thee peace, both now and evermore. Amen.’

He kissed her forehead. He kissed her bruised cheek. He laid his hand on hers once more.

Then he stood up and walked towards the door.

He took a last look and left her sleeping.

As he left the building he saw Inspector Keating coming towards him carrying a bunch of Michaelmas daisies.

‘Cathy was on a walk with the children and they picked them for Miss Kendall. But you’ve already taken her some roses, I’ll bet.’

‘I thought I would wait.’

‘Then I will tell her they are from both of us.’

‘She’s sleeping.’

‘I’ll just leave them with the nurse.’

‘I have to return for Evensong, Geordie. I don’t suppose you’d like to join me afterwards?’

‘I need to get back to the station.’

‘I understand.’

When Keating arrived in the room he found that Amanda was beginning to stir. ‘Are those flowers for me?’ she asked.

‘Of course . . .’

‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘I do not know.’

‘Could I please have some water?’

‘I will get some for you,’ Inspector Keating replied. ‘And I will find a vase for the flowers.’

‘Has Sidney been here?’ Amanda asked.

‘He has just left.’

‘I thought I heard his voice. I dreamed that he was holding my hand and praying for me . . .’

‘I am sure he was.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘He prays for us all.’

‘Even the man who kidnapped me?’

‘Probably.’

‘What happened to him?’

Inspector Keating sat down on the end of the bed. ‘He is in our custody.’

‘Will I have to tell you everything he did?’

‘Not now.’

‘But eventually?’

‘You can tell me everything that you feel able to tell me. Or we can provide a female police officer. It will be in confidence.’

‘It could have been so much worse, I suppose.’

‘Yes,’ Inspector Keating said quietly. ‘It could.’

‘Should I tell Sidney?’

‘If you would like to. He did see you in the house. And he knows that at least . . .’

‘I wasn’t raped or murdered?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then perhaps that is enough. Let’s not talk about that.’

‘You were incredibly brave.’

‘And foolish. What has happened to the painting?’

‘We have returned it to Lord Teversham.’

‘Was he pleased?’

‘Very much so. He told me that he is going to invite you to lunch as soon as you are better. I think he is planning a surprise for you; a little thank you. But you do not need to think about that now.’

‘And my parents . . .’

‘They are on their way.’

‘What have you told them?’

‘As much as they need to know.’

‘I’m so tired.’

‘You must rest. Cathy is going to bring in something she’s baked. She thinks the food in the hospital may not be up to your usual standards. Sidney has told me that you take a sorry view of the catering facilities on offer in Cambridge.’

‘It is because I am spoilt.’

‘Or perhaps because you have high standards?’

‘Let’s just say I am spoilt.’

‘Sidney has been worried about you. As have we all.’

‘He’s such a dear man.’

‘He is, and I know he thinks the world of you.’

Amanda turned her bruised face away from the inspector. ‘I think it must be hard being a clergyman. You can never do enough for people. But you have a calling and that is what it is. Sidney once told me; “I did not choose. I was chosen.” It’s quite hard to love a man who will always love God more.’

‘Perhaps it’s a different love . . .’

‘I don’t know what it is, Inspector. I try not to think about it.’

‘Some things are best left unsaid.’

‘What we have is friendship and I do not want to do anything to endanger that. I know that one day he will preside over my wedding and he will be a godfather to my children.’

‘One day . . .’

‘Yes, Inspector, one day. But not soon. I am not ready.’

‘And after that day,’ Keating pressed, ‘you wouldn’t mind if Sidney married someone else?’

‘Ah that . . . yes . . . that is different,’ Amanda considered, before turning over to sleep. ‘I think I might mind that very much indeed.’

It was three weeks before Amanda felt that she was well enough to revisit Locket Hall. She was weak after her ordeal, and found it difficult to adjust to everyday life, but she told Sidney that she wanted to return both to her work and to her friends as soon as she could. She would not be defeated by events. ‘If I have to change my life then that man has won. I will not live in fear.’

Lord Teversham arranged the luncheon party he had promised and made sure that Sidney was in attendance. He was thrilled to see that Amanda had felt able to come back so soon and kissed her on her arrival.

‘The vision of loveliness has returned,’ he declared, with a triumphant and generous gesture that suggested his guest was appearing on the London stage. ‘Aphrodite is in our midst once more.’

‘You flatter me, Lord Teversham.’

‘I tell only the truth. And you
must
call me Dominic.’

Cicely Teversham hugged her tightly, and Ben Blackwood kissed her for the first time. ‘Welcome back.’

‘Champagne! I think . . .’ Lord Teversham called to his butler. ‘We can’t be having anything as prosaic as sherry on a day like this.’ He shook Sidney by the hand. ‘I imagine you must be sick of the sight of sherry, eh?’

Sidney smiled. At last people were beginning to get the message. ‘It does have its limitations.’

‘Then why don’t you ever say?’

‘I don’t want to appear rude.’

Amanda touched him on the shoulder. ‘Oh, Sidney, don’t be such a saint. Let’s get on with the champagne.’

Mackay poured out the glasses while Lord Teversham made a little announcement. ‘Miss Kendall, before we go into luncheon we have a surprise for you.’

‘I’m not sure I like surprises any more.’

‘I think this one will amuse you. Come into the Long Gallery. You too, Canon Chambers. Bring your glasses. Ben will explain.’

They walked out into the Long Gallery and stopped in front of the painting of Anne Boleyn. It looked darker than Amanda had remembered from before. Perhaps it was because the weather had turned for the worse. It was a dull and sombre day and the picture was illuminated only from the windows.

Amanda took a step closer.

‘What do you think?’ Lord Teversham asked.

Amanda paused. ‘Isn’t this still the forgery?’

‘It is. I knew that you would be able to tell. You are clever.’

‘Then where is the original?’

Lord Teversham opened the door beside him that led into a small anteroom. ‘Step this way.’ He pointed to a large packing case ‘It is here.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Lord Teversham laid a gentle hand on Amanda’s shoulder. ‘I have been on the telephone to the Director of the National Gallery. He knows what you have done. He reminded me that the painting was priceless. Then he started to tell me about the tax advantages of gifting the painting to the nation. He could take care of it and have it on permanent loan while I am alive, and he could take care of it in such a way that the picture would never be endangered again. I listened to him very carefully . . .’ Lord Teversham smiled.

‘And then?’ Amanda asked.

‘I thought of you and all that you had gone through. And I thought of what I do. Nothing much happens in Locket Hall, you know? I have my lovely sister, and I have Ben. I shoot, and I have parties, but what have I actually done with my life? Nothing. What will I be remembered for? Nothing. This is one small thing I can do. I am giving the painting to you, Miss Kendall, or rather I am donating it to your employer.’

‘Oh . . .’ said Amanda. She inadvertently took Sidney’s hand and he squeezed it. Then she began to cry. ‘That’s so kind.’

‘It is nothing, my dear.’

‘It is everything. I’m sorry. I cry so often these days. I can’t help it.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with crying.’

She let go of Sidney’s hand.

He remembered her lying on the hospital bed, and then, her bruised and broken body on the lavatory floor. He had never felt so protective of anyone before.

Amanda gave Lord Teversham a kiss on both cheeks. Then she took Ben’s hand. ‘Did you have something to do with this?’ she asked.

‘We all decided it was for the best,’ said Cicely, opening her arms.

Amanda collapsed into her embrace.

‘There, there,’ said Lord Teversham. ‘We can’t go on like this otherwise we will all start blubbing. We need a good bit of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and some heady red wine. I have a rather good Mouton Rothschild from ’49. Do you know the vintage, Canon Chambers?’

‘I can’t think of anything more appropriate,’ Sidney bluffed.

They walked through to the dining room, where Mackay was waiting. He placed Amanda to Lord Teversham’s right and luncheon was served.

The host was keen to hear the full story of the kidnap. ‘How frightening it must have been, Miss Kendall. Has Phillips confessed?’

‘I believe he has.’

‘He sounds a very unnerving man,’ Cicely added. ‘He must have had a very odd upbringing.’

‘Yes,’ said Amanda quietly. ‘Although, would you mind if we didn’t talk about it? I’m still finding it rather hard.’

‘Of course.’ Lord Teversham turned to Ben. ‘It’s surprising we didn’t notice that the man was mad in the first place. Perhaps it’s because we spend so much time with eccentrics in our own family. My uncle thought that pine nuts made you invisible. He used to come down to breakfast naked.’

‘I don’t think that’s the same thing’, Cicely said. ‘Mr Phillips must have been a different kettle of fish altogether.’

‘But that doesn’t mean we should take pity on him,’ Lord Teversham continued. ‘What do you say, Canon Chambers? Even madmen deserve our forgiveness? Surely in some cases people are beyond mercy? There is so much evil in the world.’

‘That is true, of course.’ Sidney answered.

‘You are thinking, I see.’

‘It is not the right time to discuss my thoughts.’

‘Go on.’

Sidney looked at Amanda who smiled encouragingly. ‘He always has something interesting to say.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ her friend began, but he recognised that he should move the subject of the conversation away from Amanda’s ordeal. ‘People often ask me about the problem of evil,’ he began, ‘but there is, of course, another way of looking at it.’

‘Which is?’ Lord Teversham asked.

‘The problem of good. If we are all animals why are some of us good, kind, altruistic when we do not have to be? The capacity to behave morally is as interesting as the will to behave badly.’

‘Ah, the question of the selfish good,’ Ben intervened.

‘But that is not always the case.’ Sidney replied. ‘Some people are selfless. They are good without any expectation of reward. It is almost, or perhaps it really is, natural to them.’

‘You do always think the best of people,’ Amanda replied. ‘If you’d been kept prisoner by someone as vile as that man you might feel a bit differently. Just thinking of him makes me feel sick.’

‘Then let’s not,’ said Lord Teversham.

Sidney explained. ‘Amanda’s been rather off her food ever since. I just think it’s an interesting dilemma that people overlook . . .’

Cicely Teversham began to clear the plates. ‘I see you managed the beef all right, Amanda.’

‘It was delicious, thank you, and it’s so kind of you both to loan the painting. You know that you can come to the National Gallery and see it whenever you like?’

Lord Teversham handed his sister his plate. It was unclear where the butler had gone. ‘Perhaps we should crack on with pudding,’ he continued. ‘I think Cook has organised one of her specials. It’s a childhood favourite of mine and now that the tiresome business of rationing is over we have it as much as we like. I hope you will crave my indulgence. I think we’ve also got a rather agreeable dessert wine to go with it.’ He stood up to look for it. ‘Let me see if it is here; a rather fruity little Gaillac, I believe.’