by Dean, Anna
Dido stopped walking abruptly and pulled him to a standstill. ‘The note!’ she cried. She turned shining eyes up to his face. ‘The other document which you found, it was a hurriedly written note, was it not? A note written in pencil!’
‘Yes it was…’
‘I knew it!’ she cried in delighted relief. ‘For that was my third argument against Mr Fenstanton’s character. He is lacking in religious devotion.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ He was looking down with an expression of utter bewilderment on his flushed face. She noticed that there was soot still upon his hands – a smudge of it on his cheek.
‘In church last Sunday I saw Mr Lancelot writing during the sermon. And I supposed that he was noting down the beauties of the discourse. But such piety is certainly not a part of his character. In fact, his mind was upon other matters entirely. He had received the letter from Mr Brodie before he entered the church. I saw the boy deliver it to him. And during the service he wrote a reply. The reply changed the time of his meeting with Mr Brodie. He suggested that instead of the gentleman coming to Charcombe Manor next morning, they should instead meet behind the inn at midnight.’
‘He did indeed.’
‘And that was the note you discovered in the chimney?’
‘Yes, and it is very powerful evidence against him,’ said Lomax in a voice of great relief. ‘Together with the marriage document, it will suffice to get Tom released.’ They had reached the cliff’s edge and the hedge of gorse now, and they turned together to watch the destruction of Mrs Bailey’s delightful little exploring party.
The boots of the constables had left a trail of mud and broken pie crust across the rugs as they made their relentless way to the arrest. But they had passed Mr George by entirely; he was still at liberty, bouncing and voluble.
The men were hurrying instead towards the shocked, unmoving figure of Mr Lancelot Fenstanton.
Chapter Forty-Two
Mr Lomax – anxious to protect Dido from distressing sights and the need of painful explanations – began to lead her away down the steps which led through the gorse to the little beach.
The sound of upraised voices faded away behind them and was replaced by the crash of waves on the rocks below. The steps were narrow, and ran between a variety of spiked and hostile bushes; they were obliged to walk close, and she leant heavily upon him. Soon there would be all manner of questions to be answered, a hundred explanations to make. But, for now, she only wanted to be with him.
As they walked he attempted to express his gratitude for her help in saving Tom. The phrases were broken. To a grammarian they would have been quite unintelligible; but to Dido they were eloquent of appreciation and affection.
The steps led them to a little cove of deep pools and large irregular rocks ranked with cormorants gravely watching the foam of an incoming tide. And they stood for a moment, as still as the birds, watching the bright sea framed by the dark curving arms of the headlands.
‘Miss Verney might be sent for now, I suppose,’ said Mr Lomax quietly at last. ‘For we may be sure now that she is in no danger.’
‘Yes. You know where she is, do you not?’
He nodded. ‘Like you, I have known it ever since we learnt the story of the altered identities. She is with her friend, Mrs Hargreaves, I do not doubt. For Mr Hargreaves’ information to Mr Fenstanton was only that there was no Miss Verney in his house. I suppose if he was asked about a Miss Gibbs his answer would be different.’
‘I am sure it would.’
They stood in silence a little longer and – like a general regrouping his forces after a hard-won victory – Dido arranged her straggling thoughts.
‘My aunt will feel the loss of her favourite nephew acutely,’ she said at last. ‘But that is her only loss. No doubt her family and their lawyers will now claw away her fortune and squabble over it in the courts. But, since her wish is only to be becomingly poor in Mr Sutherland’s eyes, I hope that, in time, she will be reconciled with the way I have acted.’
‘I hope it too. But you must not be hurt if she is not reconciled. You certainly have nothing with which to reproach yourself.’
‘Thank you for saying it. But I should like to have my aunt’s good opinion. I find that I value it more highly than I supposed. She and I are rather alike, I think. Though I never suspected it before, and if anyone had suggested it just two weeks ago I should have laughed in his face.’
He smiled and offered no contradiction.
‘I hope that Mr Sutherland will satisfy her hopes,’ Dido continued. ‘Perhaps a love match may even cure her of those illnesses which her marriage of convenience caused.’
‘Perhaps it will. Everybody in the town assures me that he is a very clever doctor!’ He paused. ‘And a man of honour too, I think,’ he added more seriously. ‘He seems to have acted with integrity throughout this business.’
‘I confess,’ said Dido, turning to a more troubling notion, ‘I am rather disappointed that the law has no power over Mr George Fenstanton. For, though he is no murderer, his behaviour is such as ought to be punished.’
‘Well, he may escape a noose and a prison,’ said Lomax, ‘but I think that after all he will not go unpunished.’
‘By the loss of his sister’s money and the calling in of his debts?’
‘Yes, and that, of course, will entail the loss of all his ambitions for his new town. That I believe will be the heaviest blow – New Charcombe is very dear to him.’
Dido considered and her sense of justice was appeased. ‘And besides all this,’ she added with a brightening smile, ‘there is another suffering preparing for Mr George. His daughter has just that spirit of independence which can bring misery to a self-seeking parent! She will have her own way with her life in spite of him.’
She stood for several minutes, watching the sun dart and sparkle on the sea and the sombre cormorants stretching out their wings to dry in the warm breeze. She wondered just what might be achieved by a woman twenty years her junior setting out upon a life of defiance …
But then her mind turned to a very different young lady and her smile faltered. ‘It is Miss Gibbs I grieve for most,’ she said. ‘There will be no justice for her. She is guilty of nothing but a trusting heart, and yet her punishment will be severe. Your son will reject her when he learns the truth – and she will suffer acutely. She talks bravely of releasing him from their engagement, but I am sure she more than half believes that he will stand by her.’
‘It will be a blow, I do not doubt. But it is to be hoped that the pain will be of use to her. It may make her a little more cautious in future.’
‘Oh,’ she cried. ‘I am sure that is all very sound and moral! But I wish there was something I could do to help her.’
‘You have done enough,’ he said gently, taking her hand. ‘You must be satisfied. You cannot hope to solve every difficulty of everyone around you!’
She sighed, began upon an objection, but then, looking up into his face she was silenced by the wonderful relief that she saw there. His easy look sent her heart soaring.
Despite all the business which lay ahead of him, despite his concern for the scene enacting on the cliffs above, Mr Lomax was happy. He was more free from worry than she had yet seen him since his coming to Charcombe. His face was still hollow, but the look of dread had lifted; his grey eyes shone calm and clear as ever.
She drew out her handkerchief and, with her hand on his arm, reached up to wipe away the smudge of soot from his cheek.
He smiled at the attention and looked searchingly into her eyes. ‘There is one small matter I still wish to be explained,’ he said quietly.
‘And what is that?’
‘The question which Mr Lancelot Fenstanton had asked you: was it a proposal of marriage?’
‘Yes, as it happens, it was.’ She recalled the interview just past and blushed. ‘My reply – my reason for refusal – was a little unusual. I do not suppose that many suitors are rejected on the grounds of
murder.’
‘I doubt they are! But, if he had not been the guilty man and…’ he hesitated ‘… and if I had failed to find the certificate – in short, if Tom had remained in danger, would you have accepted Mr Fenstanton?’
‘There is nothing to be gained by considering so very many ifs,’ she said firmly. ‘Mr Lancelot is a murderer. I could not accept him. There is nothing more to be said.’
‘But you did not know he was guilty until the last hour. When we talked at the inn you were quite sure that his uncle had done the deed. An hour ago you held Mr Lancelot Fenstanton in high regard – and it is not unreasonable to suppose that your answer might have been very different.’
Dido thought for a long time, watching the waves boil and tumble about the rocks.
‘No,’ she said at last. ‘I do not believe I could ever have brought myself to acceptance. Some instinct would have made me draw back, I am sure.’
‘An instinct which informed you that your suitor was a murderer?’
‘No. An instinct which, I believe, has protected me ever since I was sixteen years old – continually warning me of the great danger to a woman in marrying a man she does not know.’
She smiled and began to pick her way across the slabs of rock towards the sea. ‘I believe,’ she said as he followed her, ‘that a lack of real knowledge is, after all, the great difficulty which exists between men and women. I think that Miss Wollstonecraft, for all her revolutionary ideas, has come at but half the truth.’
Lomax took her hand to steady her as they approached the sea and the rocks became treacherous with damp. ‘You believe that the sexes have insufficient knowledge of one another to form successful alliances?’
‘Yes. We are, generally, so separated our intercourse before marriage is limited to trifles and compliments. It is impossible for the real character to be known.’
‘And so there is a great danger that unthinking young ladies may marry murderers?’
‘I grant that few women marry to find their husbands guilty of killing in cold blood, but a great many unfortunate women discover faults which are almost as dangerous to their peace.’
He began to laugh. ‘And what remedy would you advocate for this great social evil?’
She turned a smiling face up to his. ‘Argument,’ she said with great conviction. ‘Constant argument. Dispute should be the very foundation of courtship. Young women should be taught not to paint landscapes and play upon the pianoforte, they should be taught to express their ideas.’
He laughed louder and she loved the sound as it echoed about the damp rocks and sent the cormorants flapping out over the sea on slow, black, ponderous wings. It seemed an eternity since she had heard him laugh.
‘Perhaps,’ she suggested, ‘I shall write a shocking and revolutionary book of my own upon the subject of how young women should be prepared for the world!’
‘It would be a remarkable book,’ he said. ‘It would make Miss Wollstonecraft’s Vindication appear like an etiquette manual in comparison!’
‘Do you advise me to write it?’
‘No.’ He stopped laughing and looked very seriously upon her. ‘I advise you instead to marry me; marry me and prove to the whole world what a very happy union a man and woman may argue themselves into.’
She thought for the space of time which it took two waves to break upon the rocks. Then: ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I should like that much better.’
‘Yes?’ he repeated, not daring to believe he had heard aright.
‘Yes,’ she said with quiet decision.
He laughed aloud and seized both her hands. His intention perhaps was to raise them to his lips. But she happened to step towards him, and she happened to turn her face up to his. And, for one reason or another, the kiss fell full upon her mouth.
Also by Anna Dean
The Dido Kent series
Bellfield Hall
A Gentleman of Fortune
A Woman of Consequence
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A THOMAS DUNNE BOOK FOR MINOTAUR BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.
A PLACE OF CONFINEMENT. Copyright © 2012 by Anna Dean. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
www.minotaurbooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Dean, Anna.
A place of confinement : the investigations of Miss Dido Kent / Anna Dean.—1st U.S. ed.
p. cm.
(The Dido Kent series)
ISBN 978-1-250-02967-6 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-02968-3 (e-book)
1. Maiden aunts—Fiction. 2. Abbeys—England—Fiction. 3. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. 4. England—Social life and customs—19th century—Fiction. I. Title.
PR6104.E235P53 2013
823'.92—dc23
2013011842
Originally published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby Limited
First U.S. Edition: August 2013
eISBN 9781250029683
First eBook edition: July 2013