“Laura met you when you were carrying your bundle of scraps. She met you on that landing above the stairs, below the attic where you concealed them. Perhaps you dropped some of them, and she wanted to help you, so she picked them up. Perhaps she saw the stains on them and wondered what you were about. And you, thinking she might speak to me, took alarm – no, you took advantage of the situation, and having taken one life, you took another.”
Then he upturned the chair, throwing Lady Warde sprawling onto the floor. She shrieked.
Major Vernon covered his face with his hands, and went running from the room. On the floor in front of him Lady Warde continued to flounder in a pool of her black skirts.
“Will you not help me?” she exclaimed to Felix. “Will no-one take pity on a poor widow?”
I would rather kick you, Felix thought and followed Major Vernon out of the room.
It was as well he did. He found the Major collapsed on the floor in a dead faint.
Chapter Thirty-four
Sukey lay sleeping on the chintz-covered couch in the dressing room, her print skirts and petticoats twisted up around her, her stockings on display. She did not look at all comfortable, and Felix was tempted to wake her and send her to her room to rest properly, but he did not like to disturb her. She had worked so hard.
In the next room, Major Vernon was asleep too, in a fitful way. But he was a great deal better than he had been. The fever had returned, just as Felix had feared it would, and this time, it had been fierce enough to be genuinely alarming for the space of a couple of hours. But it had passed, and he had fallen into a more or less settled sleep at about two hours ago. That it had persisted this long Felix counted a good sign, and an hour ago he had sent Sukey and Holt to rest. Holt was on the sofa at the foot of the bed, while Sukey had gone into the dressing room.
It was now a little past seven and promising to be another, fine settled day.
Felix sat down at the window, and watched Sukey sleeping, rubbing his own face in order to stay awake. As well as tired, he felt hungry, dirty and in need of coffee.
The dressing room door opened softly, and Bodley came in.
“How is he, Master Felix?” he asked gently.
“Stable.”
“I have a message for you, sir,” Bodley said, handing him a folded piece of paper. Felix opened it, supposing it to be from Lord Rothborough, and was a little surprised to see, in an unfamiliar hand the words: “Lady Rothborough requests Mr Carswell to wait on her at his earliest convenience.”
“She’s feeling very low, his Lordship said,” said Bodley.
“I cannot go looking like this,” Felix said, catching sight of himself in a pier glass. He was in his shirt sleeves.
“We can see to that, sir,” said Bodley. “If you judge it safe to come now, of course.”
Felix went to the door of the bedroom and looked in. The Major was still sleeping peacefully, but Holt stirred and sat up.
“Lady Rothborough is unwell,” Felix said. “I have to go. Send for me if there is any change.”
Holt nodded.
Bodley took him to a large, luxuriously appointed dressing room, which he guessed, from the objects that lay about the place, must belong to Lord Rothborough.
“I shall find you a shirt, sir,” said Bodley, when Felix had discarded his own.
Felix could not say he was not grateful for the luxurious comforts of Lord Rothborough’s dressing room, the warm water, the generous towels. It had been an unsettling, exhausting night.
“Perhaps, Master Felix, a shave might be in order?” said Bodley. Felix rubbed his chin. “Her Ladyship detests a beard,” Bodley went on, placing a chair.
Felix sat down and allowed himself to be shaved, wondering if this was the chair Lord Rothborough sat on each morning for the same procedure. It was not at all unpleasant.
“I hope Jacob is behaving himself,” Bodley said, as he slapped a little cologne on Felix’s cheeks before he had a chance to object. “He’s a little young, but he will learn soon enough... Your hair, sir,” Bodley added as Felix began to rise. “It is...”
“Oh, do what you must,” Felix said, sitting down again.
“It needs a barber, in truth, sir,” Bodley said, attempting to comb it.
“Major Vernon would agree with you,” said Felix, wincing as Bodley pulled at the tangles.
“Mr Coxe comes over from Stangate once a fortnight to cut his Lordship’s hair,” said Bodley. “I can tell him to wait on you, sir, if you like. Perhaps before the lady’s funeral?”
“Yes, I suppose...” Felix said, dry-mouthed suddenly at the thought of it.
“Very sad business,” Bodley said turning away. “Very sad.”
At this moment the door opened and Lord Rothborough came in, dressed in a blue silk dressing gown.
“How is he?” he asked.
“Much improved,” said Felix. “Lady Rothborough – what is the trouble?”
“She had a wretched night, it seems,” he said. “She is frightened of a fever in the house, of course. She was anxious. You had better get dressed.”
Bodley was holding out a fresh shirt for Felix and a black silk cravat, both of which belonged to Lord Rothborough. Felix had no time to object, nor to the waistcoat and coat which followed. It was unnerving how well they fitted. However, whatever it was Bodley had done with his hair was far too suggestive of Lord Rothborough and he pushed his hands through it quickly, as he followed Lord Rothborough from the dressing room.
They entered first Lord Rothborough’s bedroom, and then went to a tiny closet of a room which presumably led to her Ladyship’s room. Lord Rothborough knocked on the door, and went in.
Lady Rothborough was sitting up in a large, high bed, hung with complicated frilled muslin curtains, and with covers of the same. Behind her were half a dozen large pillows, also frilled and white, and she herself was wearing a ruffled bed-bonnet, tied under the chin with a huge bow. He wondered how on earth he would get close enough to examine her. He could see she looked somewhat flushed, but that was no doubt from the warmth of the room. There was, he saw with astonishment, a fire burning in the grate.
“How is Major Vernon?”
“He is safe, now, I think, my Lady,” he said.
“My prayers have been with you all,” she said. “I was afraid, at one time this night, that the husband would have to be buried alongside his dear wife... but...” she gave a slight sob. “But God has spared one of his servants a while longer.”
“Yes, ma’am, I hope so.”
“So trying, very very trying,” she said, with a slight flap of the handkerchief she held.
“Yes, my dear,” said Lord Rothborough.
“I will see Mr Carswell alone,” said Lady Rothborough. “La Roche, you may go.” She spoke to her maid who was standing in the shadows. The maid went out without another word.
“Are you sure, ma’am?” Felix said, glancing at Lord Rothborough.
“Yes. Leave us, Rothborough.” Her manner to her husband was more peremptory than it had been to her maid.
“As you will, my dear,” said Lord Rothborough. “I shall go and dress.”
Lord Rothborough left and Felix wondered if she was actually sick, or this was all some ruse to have a private conversation with him. If this was the case, what on earth did she want to say to him? She had made her feelings quite clear on the occasion they had first met.
“So, my Lady, how may I help you?” he began. “You are unwell?” He came a little closer to the bed, and stood in what he hoped was a respectful manner. She continued to look him over, and he wished he had not let Bodley give him Lord Rothborough’s coat to wear. It made him feel as presumptuous as he was sure she thought he was.
“I think the Lord is testing me by making you so resemble my husband, Mr Carswell,” she said at length. “And I shall not fail that test,” she added. “Come a little closer.”
Felix obeyed.
“I did not sleep at all last night,” she s
aid. “That awful business – I cannot make any sense of it. Those accusations, so very wild, and Major Vernon’s behaviour –”
“It is most unsettling ma’am. For all of us.”
“It irks me to have to ask a person such as you for assistance,” she said. “But circumstances demand it and I have seen that you are competent in your profession. I feel, well, rather warm, and it concerns me. And I am hoarse in the throat, I think you can hear it?”
“Would you like me to examine you, ma’am?” said Felix.
“I fear I must ask you to do so,” said Lady Rothborough, as if this were a great martyrdom for her.
He proceeded as delicately as he could, for she flinched at his first touch. He took her pulse, sounded her heart, took her temperature and examined her throat. She was not, in fact, at all unwell. The heat of the room was causing most of her discomfort.
“I suggest we open the windows, put out the fire and ask them to bring you a cup of hot water with lemon juice and honey in it, ma’am,” he said.
“Oh,” she said, as if he had prescribed some dreadful course of treatment. “If you advise it, then I suppose I must.”
She gave a great sigh and Felix realised what she was about. Her decision to send for him on this flimsy pretext was to demonstrate her saintliness and her tolerance to her husband. However it was not to win his favour or show him love. It was rather that it was a convenient weapon to use against him.
“Very well, you may go now,” she added.
He left the room with some relief, retreating the way he had come.
Lord Rothborough was in the dressing room, putting the finishing touches to his dress.
“So?” he said.
“She is quite well,” said Felix.
“I thought as much,” he said, with a frown which only confirmed Felix’s suspicions. He was surprised to find himself feeling something like pity for Lord Rothborough. “Now are you ready for Sir Arthur?”
“If I can have some breakfast and some coffee first?” Felix said, unable to prevent himself yawning.
Lord Rothborough smiled.
“Yes, there is time for that. After all one must never do battle on an empty stomach. Let us go downstairs and plan what we will say to him. I want that woman out of my house!”
-0-
“But these allegations,” said Sir Arthur, after Felix had laid out what they had discovered. “Where is the evidence?”
“We have the evidence,” Felix said, trying to stay calm and feeling that Sir Arthur was being deliberately obtuse. “Major Vernon would present it to you himself if he were not indisposed.”
“But I cannot arrest this lady on such flimsy grounds,” said Sir Arthur.
“They are not flimsy,” said Felix.
“Then do not arrest her, sir,” said Lord Rothborough. “Take her into your protection – that is all we are requesting at present. Until Major Vernon is recovered it is the best way to proceed. If she were to leave here as your guest, the presumption of her innocence is maintained, and you will have time to examine her yourself, and the evidence. It is a complex business. It will attract far less notoriety and when the moment comes when action must be taken, it can be done discreetly.”
“You are convinced of her guilt, sir,” said Sir Arthur.
“Major Vernon has convinced me. He does not act without good reason.”
Sir Arthur considered a long moment and then said,
“Very well, I will take her back with me. I shall speak to her, and take what action I think necessary. But, gentlemen, please be aware, I shall not fall into your way of thinking so easily, no matter what the great Major Vernon has said. If I see an innocent woman, then I shall have no choice but to release her.”
“It is a gamble, but we may be lucky,” said Lord Rothborough, an hour later, as they stood on the portico, and watched the carriage containing Sir Arthur and Lady Warde depart. “She will no doubt tell him about that business with the chair. That was unfortunate.” Rothborough exhaled. “Understandable though.” He turned, and caught sight of Walter the footman, who had come out on the portico.
“What is it, Walter?”
“Message from her Ladyship, my Lord,” said Walter, handing him a folded note on a salver.
“What now?” muttered Lord Rothborough, walking away reading it.
“Any answer, my Lord?” said Walter.
“As her Ladyship wishes,” said Lord Rothborough after a moment. “As ever.” He waved his hand in dismissal.
Walter left and Rothborough crumpled up the note.
“She is taking the girls to Sussex directly after –” He broke and took a deep breath, “After we have buried Mrs Vernon! Oh dear God –” He rubbed his face. “Do you think Major Vernon will be fit to –”
“I can’t say. Possibly not.”
“Then you and I will have to see the poor lady to her rest for him, my lad,” Rothborough said.
Chapter Thirty-five
“I’m afraid there is no good news, sir,” said Felix.
He had hesitated a while before going up to Major Vernon’s room. His strength was much restored – ten days had passed since the events at Holbroke that had led to his collapse, and almost a week since they had come to Ardenthwaite. However, he was still an invalid, and Felix did not wish to burden him unnecessarily. Yet coming in, and finding him out of bed and on the sofa, his writing slope on his lap, apparently writing letters, he judged that the moment was as good a one for unpleasant news as there might be. It was better to be out with it.
“I hardly expected there would be,” said Major Vernon, putting down his pen. “So it did not go well?”
“No,” said Felix with a sigh. “No sign of any charges being brought yet.” He wandered over to the window and looked out. A figure in a wide-brimmed hat was crossing the lawn, basket in hand. It was Sukey. He wished he might dash down and catch her in his arms. “Warde has contrived to get herself some heavy-weight counsel. I think Sir Arthur must be behind it.”
“Undoubtedly. Who is it?”
“Someone called Atherton-Barnes.” Major Vernon winced. “That was pretty much Lord Rothborough’s reaction,” Felix said.
“He is very able and quite ruthless. She has done well. I suppose she proposes to bring a civil action against me for assault.”
“Yes, I am afraid so.”
“I thought she would break,” Major Vernon. “I underestimated her determination to survive. But then again her every action was about survival, was it not? Why I thought I could get her admit it there and then, I do not know. You told me to wait, and I did not listen. I was a fool, and I have pulled you all into a mire now.”
“No, you have not, you have done nothing wrong. She made the mire – she and Sir Arthur who has such a staggering disregard for the truth even when he has it laid out for him. He simply will not countenance charging her. And she is living in his house like an honoured guest! It is unsupportable.”
“I should not have pushed that chair over,” Major Vernon said. “If I had not done that, then it might have gone differently. I should have simply handed over the evidence to Sir Arthur and climbed back into my bed.”
“And what would he have done with it? Ignored it. Just as he is doing now. Taking her words and tears as proof of her innocence. At least you have made it public by your action. There are witnesses who cannot be easily discredited. It will all have to come out if she does bring her action, if you do have to go to court.”
“That is Lord Rothborough’s opinion, I think,” said Major Vernon.
“Yes, and I agree with him. He says you are to weather the storm, and that it can be weathered. That he will put at your disposal the best men.”
“I am going to need them,” said Major Vernon. “And this is going to become a great noisy thing, isn’t it, with the parties lining up against one another, and columns in the newspapers? It is a marvellous tale for them: a half-crazed chief constable brutally interrogates a widow and then physically ass
aults her! This is a stain that will take some washing out.”
“If she is charged and convicted then nothing of it will be remembered, except her notoriety.”
“I am not confident that will happen,” Major Vernon said. “Are you?”
“Not at this minute, but Lord Rothborough says we must play a long game with this.”
Vernon rubbed his face and said,“He is right, but I don’t have the stomach for it yet.”
“No, how could you?”
“I was writing to the Watch Committee,” he said, “when you came in. I do not suppose they will want me back.”
“They will when you are vindicated. In the meantime, you are on sick leave and there is no dishonour in that. You do not need to write to them just yet.” Felix took the slope from the Major and placed it on the side table. “I think a brief turn in the garden would do you more good than writing letters,” he went on. “It is not too hot today.”
“With pleasure,” said Major Vernon. “I am grateful for the privilege.”
“You can walk with my father,” Felix said. “He will keep your pace sensible.”
“Agreed,” said Major Vernon with a smile. He got up from the sofa, with more ease than Felix had witnessed previously. “Will you ring for Holt, then?”
Leaving Major Vernon in Holt’s capable hands, Felix ran downstairs, pulling off his coat. He retrieved his old wide-awake hat from the cloakroom, and went straight into the gardens by the side door, feeling, in spite of himself, a pleasant sense of being comfortably lodged in the house. If he did not yet dare to call himself the master of the place, he was happy to be an honoured guest, charmed by all the advantages of the picturesque old mansion. In late morning, on a summer’s day that had been freshened by a night of soft rain, the gardens and old stone paths had a beauty to them that he could not resist. He was seduced, and various impractical but compelling dreams filled his mind, as the heady scent of the old damask roses filled his nostrils.
The gate to the kitchen garden was ajar, and he slipped in, feeling he was entering the garden of Eden, such was the ridiculous abundance of fruit and vegetables. There, in the far corner, past the scarlet garlands of beans in their rows and the trees, already heavily decorated with swollen green apples, he glimpsed Sukey in her dark dress, lost in a tangle of raspberry canes. She was picking fruit.
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