Lord Broome was up, shaved, dressed and sitting in the chair by the window with a rug over his knees. He had a pad of paper at his side on which he was painstakingly making notes.
‘Frances, we’re in trouble. Two policemen have arrived in the village from Lewes, wanting to see me. Whoever it was who wrote that anonymous letter has a lot to answer for. If it hadn’t been for that, I might have been able to clear everything up without a scandal. As it is, I shall have to see the police to confirm what I wrote to them and give them as much help as I can about the assault in the train. I wish I could identify the two men positively, but I can’t. I know it was Lee and Jervis, but I can’t prove it, and I shall have to tell them so.’
‘But you can’t let them go around making attempts on your life.’
‘Believe me, I could have neutralised them without bringing the police into it. At least, I could have done before they murdered Nurse Moon.’
‘What was that?’
‘Theo identified her body yesterday. That was why he was so long in Lewes. They have a description of the man they think murdered her, and it sounds as if it could be Lee. Theo’s been to see me this morning already, to brief me on what’s been happening. He’s made it clear that I’ve got to see the police and allow them to issue warrants for the arrest of Lee and Jervis.’
‘So why are we in trouble?’
‘Because of all the other things that have been going on here, which are family affairs, and have nothing to do with the police. I don’t want the police nosing into things which don’t concern them, but now that they’re here, and unless we’re very lucky indeed, the whole sordid story is going to come out. I can’t stop them taking Lee and Jervis; on reflection, I suppose I don’t really want to. But if I can prevent them taking their investigations any further, I must do so. Now, you will have to see the police. They will want a statement from you about seeing the “monk” in my room. You should stick to the events of that night, and not mention anything else. You understand? Oh, yes, and it will not be necessary to mention that you were in your night-gown at the time. But don’t volunteer information about anything else. And now, my dear, before they come, I must speak to my aunt about you.’
She put her hand on his shoulder. ‘You will knock yourself up, I know you will. Why not receive your visitors in bed?’
He put his hand over hers and pressed it. ‘I’ve been out of action long enough.’
She withdrew her hand. She thought: It had to come to an end. Once his family come through that door, once they see he is on the road to recovery, once Lee and Jervis have been arrested, my part is done.
Mrs Broome arrived, her shawl trailing on the floor, and her hair untidy. She was astounded to find her nephew so very much alive. She kept repeating that she could not believe it, and yet within a minute she was talking about her own ailments, just as Lord Broome had foretold.
Frances made as if to depart when Mrs Broome arrived, but his lordship caught her hand.
‘Aunt, I really must thank you for making Miss Chard my nurse. She has saved my life several times over. Without her, I would have died, I am sure. I want you to know that I have asked her to be my wife ...’
Frances interrupted him. ‘But I have never said that I would, my lord.’
‘Yes. Well.’ Mrs Broome appeared uncomfortable in her chair. ‘Very understandable, Gavin, although not quite ... All that glitters is not gold, you know.’
‘I agree,’ said his lordship. ‘But Miss Chard is no imitation. The vicar will probably want to marry us, but I fancy a wedding in the Cathedral, with six bridesmaids. Don’t you think Maud and Isabella would enjoy acting as bridesmaids to Frances?’
Frances pulled her hand away and ran out of the room. She had not dreamed he would be so precipitate ... she had never given him to understand that she would marry him ... their intimacy had been the result of unnatural circumstances ... he would soon get over his infatuation ... he must not ruin himself by allying with a governess, whose past was so ...
Meakins was waiting for her in the Gallery. Hugo Broome wished to speak to Miss Chard at once, in the Great Hall. She turned to look at the sick-room door. Should she seek sanctuary there? Should she tell his lordship what Hugo intended? No. It was better to end it now, before Lord Broome compromised himself too far. She would accept dismissal without demur.
Hugo was sitting by the fire, smoking, and reading a newspaper.
‘You are a very stupid girl,’ he said, as soon as she was well within the room. ‘You have deliberately thrown your chances away. I was prepared to be your friend and patron, but what do I hear? You have been meddling with affairs that don’t concern you. You have dragged the police into what was a purely family matter, and gossiped to the doctor. Did I not warn you?’
Frances said nothing. She felt tired and empty. She knew what was coming and although she dreaded it, she thought it was only right that she should go.
‘He is getting better, they tell me,’ said Hugo. ‘Sitting up, eating properly? Is that true?’
‘You must ask the doctor.’
‘I am asking the woman I put in charge of the sick-room.’
‘Yes, he is better. I think he will recover.’
Hugo threw his cigar into the fireplace. ‘I also hear that you have so worked on him that in his weakened state he is prepared to offer you marriage.’
How had he learned these things? By listening at doors? By getting Meakins to listen at doors? By bribing Polly and Abel? No, by bribing one of Arling’s men.
‘He did ask me to marry him, but I refused. Of course I know that marriage is out of the question.’
‘I am glad you realise that, at least. If you did marry him, you would never be received in Society. The story of your involvement with Walter Donne would always go before you. In public, your husband might be acknowledged by his acquaintances, but no one would dare to acknowledge your existence. You could never be presented at Court, and naturally you would not receive any invitations to the houses of families of good reputation. You would cut him off from Society.’
She bowed her head. Would it really have been as bad as that?
He said, ‘It would be better if you did not see him again. I am sure you agree.’ She shivered, but said nothing. ‘Go and pack. Arling will take you to the station. I assume you will return to your aunt’s. Your wages will be paid up to date, and your rail ticket bought for you. Please do not attempt to communicate with Miss Agnes or any member of the staff. I have given instructions that the child is to be moved out of the nursery until you have gone, so that she may not be further contaminated by your presence. Nurse will stay with you until it is time for you to leave. That is all.’
She hesitated. ‘The police want to see me before I go.’
Hugo swore. ‘Very well. I will try to arrange it that they interview you straight away, so that you may leave this afternoon.’
*
There was a tear-stained note in Frances’ work-box. “I don’t believe it. I’ll love you for ever. Agnes.” Frances bit her lip. She did not wish Nurse to see her cry. She packed, and sat down in a chair to read. She did not take in the sense of what she saw. Nurse sat at the table, darning; she did not reply when Frances spoke to her. The day wore on. She waited for a summons to see the police, but it did not come. The great house seethed with excitement under and around her; the news was out that Lord Broome had made an astonishing recovery. Frances could hear running footsteps, and the sound of excited laughter. But in the schoolroom all was silent. A footman — not Abel — brought them lunch.
A knock on the door. It was Theo. Nurse hesitated when the doctor signed for her to leave them, but she finally did so. Frances was pleased to see Theo but feared he had come to tell her Lord Broome was worse.
‘No,’ said Theo. ‘He is well enough. But I found him trying to haul himself up the stairs here. He’d been told you were ill, and he wanted to see for himself. I said I’d act as his courier. Oh, yes, and the police want
you in ten minutes’ time in the gun-room.’
‘I’m not sick. I’m leaving this afternoon. Mr Hugo dismissed me. Don’t look so upset. It’s only right that I should go.’ She told him about Mrs Palfrey and Walter and how she could never bear to drag Lord Broome down, when he had already done himself so much damage in the eyes of the world. ‘Tell him that I go of my own free will,’ she concluded. ‘He won’t understand at first. Maybe he won’t understand for some time. He’s inclined to deceive himself into thinking that if he wants something, he’s going to get it. He wants me, now; but he’ll get over it. He must marry well to retrieve his position in Society.’
‘And you?’ He took her hand. She did not withdraw it, but shook her head. He sighed. ‘Well, you can’t leave today, that’s for certain. He’s commanded us all to appear in the music-room after supper tonight, and that means you, too. He made that very clear. The Armstrongs are invited and the vicar and the family solicitor, and some of the servants. He says he’s going to clear up all the irritating little mysteries which have been bedevilling the Court, but we’re not to let the police get wind of the meeting. It’s to be very private. And so I shall see you again tonight. And, Frances, if you ever change your mind about ... if you are short of money ... you know where to find me.’
*
Polly came up to hook Frances into her black silk evening dress, and drape her black shawl across her shoulders. She had heard that Frances was to leave, and the news had made her unhappy. Frances kissed the little maid before she descended into the Gallery.
Lord Broome was waiting for her, Benson at his side.
Frances’ erstwhile patient was resplendent in civilian evening dress. She had cherished the hope that he might appear in uniform because she thought it would have become him, but he had obviously put all military things behind him. His left hand was in a sling. He looked tired and stern.
‘Haven’t you a dress in any bright colour?’ Such was his greeting. ‘Turn round.’ Frances hid a smile and revolved. ‘Well, it will have to do for now. Benson, didn’t you get her some more shawls? If she had something in jade green or old gold to wear on that dress, it would look better.’
‘No, Major; I haven’t had time yet.’ Benson grinned at Frances. ‘Don’t take any notice of him, Miss. He’s always fidgety before a battle.’
‘I quite understand,’ said Frances. ‘Some of my children have actually made themselves sick with excitement before a party.’
Lord Broome looked outraged, and then laughed. ‘So be it. Frances, give me your arm. I don’t want to make my entrance into the music-room by falling down the stairs.’ As they walked slowly to the end of the Gallery, he lowered his voice. ‘You don’t really mean to leave me, do you? You don’t have to take any notice of what Hugo says; his reign is over. But you knew that. You are not such a weakling that you had to take his orders quietly.’
‘I am not going to marry you, to drag you down. Nor will I take advantage of the infatuation of a man who has been dangerously ill.’
‘Do I detect the fine Italianate hand of my cousin Hugo at work? Wherever he goes, he causes trouble. Do you know, the first time he came to stay, he broke a window and blamed it on a gardener’s boy. The boy was dismissed and Hugo commended for having discovered the culprit. Richard gave Hugo a black eye, and I got father to reinstate the gardener’s boy. Do you know who that boy grew up to be? It’s Abel. It was he who brought me the news of your “illness”. Promise me something; promise you’ll not go until we’ve had time to talk this over. What good would it do if you did run away, anyway? I’d only come after you. Do you really think a man of thirty-four doesn’t know what he’s doing when he proposes marriage?’
Another minute and she might have promised, and avoided much misery for both of them. But they were in the ante-room, and Spilkins was throwing open the double doors at the head of the steps down into the music-room.
The room seemed crowded. Theo appeared at Lord Broome’s elbow, to help him down the steps. ‘They’re all here,’ said Theo, sotto voce. ‘And I hope to God you’re not going to fag yourself out, old man, for they’ll be a tough lot to convince. A grimmer set of faces you never did see.’
‘The police?’ said Lord Broome, also under his breath. ‘They won’t interfere?’
‘They’re at the Furze Arms for the night. I’ve got a man watching them. If they leave, we’ll be informed. They got Jervis all right, but I’m afraid Lee slipped through their fingers.’
Then they were nearing the fireplace, and the ranks of the family were solid before them. Hugo, standing beside Mrs Broome and Lady Amelia; Mrs Armstrong, that arbiter of society; the vicar was standing with the General; Mr John Manning was leading Isabella to a seat, while Maud stood beside a strange man in the oriel window.
A large high-backed chair had been placed to one side of the fireplace, and Lord Broome sank into this. Theo smilingly indicated that Frances take a chair near Lord Broome, and took one at her side. Benson had withdrawn to stand guard on the door which led up to the ante-room, because Spilkins had gone to stand with the other servants by the door which led to the dining-room. Frances saw that Arling, Polly and Abel were among those present, and then Lord Broome cleared his throat.
‘Mrs Armstrong, General; I am delighted you were able to come at such short notice. Mr Cotton — may I introduce you to Miss Chard? Frances, Mr Cotton is our family solicitor and very welcome on such an occasion. Do take a chair, everybody. Aunt, godmother, cousins all, please find seats. Forgive me if I get down to business straight away. I have much to say and little strength to do so.’
‘If you are sure you want to go through this, Gavin,’ said Mr Manning. He looked worried. ‘The police ...’
‘Have got Jervis, but not Lee. They will no doubt continue in the neighbourhood until they do apprehend Lee. I want to clear up all the other mysterious things that have been happening here before they start to get curious. I do not mean to obstruct justice. There are more than enough of you here to constitute a jury ...’
‘Not so,’ interjected the General. ‘Women. Not competent, you know.’
‘In this case, I think they are,’ said Lord Broome. ‘Bear with me, please. I am going to put my case, and then I will leave it to you to decide what action ought to be taken. If you decide to turn the matter over to the police, I will offer them my full cooperation.’
‘Highly irregular,’ said Mr Cotton, speaking for the first time. He was a sandy-haired man with precise features. ‘However, I gather that your idea is to avoid airing certain — ah — unpleasant features of the case in public. Naturally, I would be in agreement with such a course.’
‘It does seem odd,’ quavered Mrs Broome. ‘You mean that you want us to be both judge and jury in your own case?’
‘Dear aunt,’ smiled Lord Broome. ‘How acute you can be on occasion, especially where your own interests are involved.’
No one else had anything to say, though one or two people looked as if they would have liked to object, if they could have found the right words in which to do so.
‘Then I will begin,’ said Lord Broome, ‘with my brother Richard. He was in many ways a lovable man, but he was flawed. He was brought up in the belief that he deserved the best of everything, and that if that cost money, then money would somehow be forthcoming to gratify his whim. I was partly to blame in fostering this delusion. Like him, I thought it not entirely fair that I had inherited the whole of my great-uncle’s fortune, and I was only too happy to help Richard out when he got into financial difficulties. Richard was also flawed in another way. You will forgive me, ladies, if I refer to a matter not usually mentioned in mixed company, but it was an open secret that Richard was not as perfectly made as a man might be. If he had only had the courage to go to a doctor who specialised in such cases, if Dr Kimpton had not been so sure that Richard was impotent, none of this would have happened. Or perhaps it would. There were other people involved ...
‘Richard came to manhood
believing himself set apart from mankind. He avoided the company of women, and urged me to marry to carry on the line. Maybe I would have done so, if I had met the right woman, but it did not seem urgent, and so time passed until I came home last summer on leave. Richard was no penman, and I had had maybe two letters from him in the previous two years, both of which contained requests for money. That does not mean that he had lost his affection for me. He was delighted to see me, and within twenty-four hours of my return he had told me his great secret — he had found a woman who loved him, and who was pregnant by him. The flaw which had kept him a monk for so many years proved to be utterly unimportant, and he felt a new man. I believe I congratulated him,’ said his lordship with a thin smile. ‘I certainly did not reprove him, or enquire the details of his liaison. He had not mentioned marriage. I assumed, rightly as it happened, that the woman was already married. The affair certainly seemed to have done him a lot of good. For the first time he was able to speak to women without blushing. Oh, he was still shy in their presence, but he had ceased to avoid their company. I was very struck by the way his eyes followed Maud when she came into a room, and equally struck by the way her eyes sought his. My aunt had long wished Maud to marry one of us, and it was only natural that Maud should take advantage of Richard’s changed outlook on women. Before I could counsel caution, Richard asked me to congratulate him on his forthcoming marriage. Naturally, I did so. Richard was so happy that I could not bear to ask him whether he was sure Maud returned his regard in equal degree.’
Maud turned in her chair to look at Hugo. He, however, sat with his eyes on Lord Broome, and did not appear to have noticed her movement.
‘When the engagement was announced, Lilien Jervis came up to the Court with the idea of making things unpleasant for my brother. Richard was out, so she asked to see me instead. I agreed, without realising that it was she with whom Richard had been having an affair.
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