It was Dr. Ross’s loneliness that had been the means of Sulborne finally becoming an intimate of this stern and difficult man. Once accepted, Dr. Ross told him of the great hatred he had for non-conformists and any who rejected the established ways. Sulborne also discovered that the man’s self-righteous moralising had arisen, at least in part, from his failure to find acceptance and warmth in his own household.
‘He knew even his wife and children had come to dislike him,’ Sulborne said. ‘Yet he seemed unable to deal with this by any means other than forcing them at least to obey him.’
Thus matters had continued until, of a sudden, Ross had become excited. Some contact had been made with him: contact that would, he said, allow him to prove he had been right all along about the rottenness infecting society. He would not explain much more. All he would say was that he must go somewhere on a certain date. At that time, his contact would reveal all to him. Then he would have the means of uncovering a most damnable group of men engaged in the extreme of perversions. All was arranged and he only had to await the call.
‘Did he mention revolutionaries or the French?’ Adam asked. ‘What you say sounds like something more related to morality than the political world.’
‘No, sir,’ Sulborne said. ‘As I told Mr. Wicken, he described whatever and whoever it was he was seeking to reveal as wicked, filthy and depraved. He said nothing of a political nature. Indeed, it was my own belief that he was not especially interested in political events. He abhorred the revolutionaries of France, but on moral and religious, not political, grounds.’
Then, according to Sulborne, Dr. Ross’s world tumbled into chaos about him. ‘He told me – these were his very words,’ Sulborne said, ‘ – that he had done a most damnable thing, for which he would suffer for the rest of his life. He had driven his only son from his house and intended to disinherit him. The lad had first disgraced him by being sent home from Oxford University, then defied him by refusing to enter the church. Worse, he had announced he would take a wife of his own choosing, a young woman of good fortune, but of a dissenting family.’
‘Yet all might have been resolved in time,’ Adam said. ‘Was there really cause for such an extreme response?’
‘He knew he had done wrong, doctor,’ Sulborne replied. ‘He knew he had allowed his passions to rule him. Yet he had been unable to resist flying into a rage. The words were out before he had stopped to consider what he was saying. I believe he still hoped he might talk with the boy again and try to set things right between them, but it was not to be.’
‘Why not?’
‘He did not know where his son had gone, nor how he might make contact with him. Even his wife had finally said she would have no more to do with such a husband. He was alone, facing the ruin of all his hopes and knowing that he had brought this calamity on himself.’
For a moment, both men were silent. Until now, Adam had assumed Dr. Ross so firm in self-righteousness that the banishment of his only son would mean little. Now the picture was rather of someone torn apart by guilt, yet unable still to set aside the habits that had brought him to disaster.
‘In the midst of this, his contact sent him a message to come for a meeting,’ Sulborne went on. ‘In a way, it must have come as a relief to have something to do, even though he ought to have ignored all save mending what he had done. He went in great haste. I did not see him at that time, but I heard that he disappeared, speaking to no one. Only when the news of his death reached us did we have the smallest information about his destination. Of his purpose, most knew nothing at all.’
‘So this rapid departure had nought to do with his son?’ Adam asked, more for the sake of final certainty that any other purpose.
‘Oh, no,’ Sulborne said. ‘As I told you, he had no idea where the young man had fled. Nor would his pride yet have allowed him even to enquire. It was a terrible death that awaited him.’
’Why so?’ Adam asked. ‘If all is as it seemed, he died in an instant, and from a single blow.’
‘Because he died unforgiven of his sins, doctor. He died without proper repentance and the opportunity to make reparation. None of us know the time when God may call us to His judgement. Dr. Ross died, as it were, in the midst of his sins. He must have faced the Lord thus. Only one outcome would have been possible, I fear. Hell awaits the unrepentant sinner, the Bible tells us. Hell and all its terrors.’
Adam did not believe in Hell, but now was not the time to enter into theological dispute. Instead, he asked the other question that had bothered him for so long. ‘I wondered at the time why the authorities of the church seemed to accept the verdict of accidental death so easily. Even if that was correct, would they not have wished to discover why one of their dignitaries was in such an unlikely place?’
‘I cannot answer for them,’ Sulborne said. ‘I know the bishop sent his chaplain to observe events. I also know that the story of the archdeacon’s quarrel with his son, and the action he had taken, was common knowledge about the Close. It is my belief – no more than that, mind – that the church authorities were becoming embarrassed by the archdeacon’s behaviour. He was upsetting too many people of power, wealth and influence, which are all much the same thing. To have engaged in a public quarrel with his son would have been the final straw. When his death was ruled accidental, and his own family raised no question at that, I suspect there was a collective sight of relief. The man could be buried and forgotten.’
‘A sad epitaph,’ Adam sad.
‘Sad indeed, doctor. I never liked Dr. Ross. Indeed, I would have avoided him like all the rest, had not Mr. Wicken asked me to do otherwise. Still, by the end I pitied him greatly. There was much about his fate that should be a warning to us all.’
For a moment, they sat in silence again. Then Mr. Sulborne seemed to recall something. It caused him first to take out his watch and ascertain the time, then to jump up in alarm. ‘Forgive me, doctor. I do not wish to suggest any rudeness towards you, for I have found talking with you most helpful for easing my own conscience in this matter. Yet I have quite forgot the time. I have a pupil who will be here in but moments and nothing is ready. Will you excuse me, sir? I demand punctuality of those who come to me for teaching. It will never do to be late myself.’
Adam rose at once, full of his own apologies for arriving unannounced and taking up Mr. Sulborne’s time without prior arrangement. And so, with repeated apologies from Sulborne and profuse thanks from Adam, the two men parted.
23
Discretion and Trust
Early evening the same day
The day had been a long one, for Adam arrived back at his mother’s house with scarcely enough time to change before dinner. However, his talk with Mr. Sulborne had made him forget his disappointment over Mr. Jempson and so his good temper was restored. He determined not to mention talking with Mr. Sulborne, at least for the present, since that would provoke questions – especially from Miss Lasalle – that he had no idea yet how to answer. He was not able to visit his mother as often as either would like. Now the opportunity to spend another evening in her company – and that of Miss Lasalle – was most welcome. Why spoil it by inviting any situation where he must, in all conscience, refuse to answer their questions?
Over dinner, as if by some unspoken agreement, they each avoided any return to the events of the day. Instead they conversed of generalities and the many friends that his mother had made in the city of Norwich. Later, family matters predominated. Giles was at last getting the finances of his estate into order. While it would be many years before he could pay off all the mortgages, it was good land. He had high hopes of soon restoring his income to a more acceptable level. By selling his father’s most extravagant purchases for the Hall, he had raised enough money to start on the most urgent repairs. Improvements to the various farmsteads would follow. The tenants had been pressing his father to undertake this work for some years. That was why most had resisted any increase in rents. Now, with the tenants happier, Gile
s’s land agent would be able to bring the rentals up to a more satisfactory level.
In like vein, Adam was able to tell his mother that his medical practice had increased substantially since he saw her last. He would no longer be so dependent on carrying out inoculations to bring in a basic income. The benefits of this process were now more widely recognised. In several localities, the town council, the Boards of Overseers for the poor, or even local charities were paying for people to receive inoculation. But while Adam applauded such improvements in public health, it made it impossible for him to charge reasonable fees for the same service. It was fortunate that he could now find profitable employment in other fields.
To all this Miss Lasalle listened most attentively, though she spoke little. It must all be new to her, Adam thought. How interesting that she had the good sense to stay silent and absorb the new ideas. Many ladies seemed to feel ignorance of a topic should be no barrier to expressing their opinions.
Once the servants had cleared away the remains of an excellent meal, Adam and the ladies retired to his mother's small parlour. The arrival of hot water, teapot and dishes for taking tea would, he knew, signal the start of her questions. He could expect a prolonged and most detailed investigation of recent events. Would Miss Lasalle contribute? Or would she stay quiet, listening and thinking? He could not resist hoping it would be the latter.
He had considered what he would say as he changed his clothes before coming down to dinner. There were certain matters that he could not in good conscience reveal. It was clear he must try to direct the conversation into safer areas.
Adam began by revealing how Mrs. Ross had first written to him. This visit to Norwich had been the earliest opportunity for him to call on her as she had asked. Thus he had gone to her house by arrangement yesterday morning. He had expected, he said, her wish to hear first-hand all he could tell her about the circumstances of her husband’s death. What he had not anticipated was the delicate state of health in which he had found her. As he knew it would, this tale brought several exclamations of the most profound sympathy from both ladies.
Next he explained how he had done his best to allay her worst fears and left her with the best medical advice he could. After Mr. Wicken left, it had suddenly occurred to him that he might do more. That was why he was so eager to see her again, before he returned to Aylsham. Thankfully he had found her somewhat improved.
As his mother knew, he said, the matter of the rift between Dr. Ross and his son had been mentioned to him. Now, on this second visit, she had told him of it herself and how she had been unable to intervene. It was his firm opinion that grief over this event was causing great injury to her health. She feared her son’s continued absence meant that he was not able to forgive her for appearing to take his father's part.
‘I always disliked Dr Ross,’ his mother said at this point, ‘but now I find that I have nothing but the most profound contempt for the man. What a loathsome creature! To be such a tyrant to his poor wife and family. If indeed, after death, we face that strict judgement which he so often proclaimed, he resides now in one of the lower depths of Hell.’
Then Miss Lasalle spoke. As Adam had hoped, she had stayed silent until now, absorbing his words without comment. ‘I wonder that so many parents see marriage as the natural end of any daughter's existence. Some unions, I own, bring much joy. It would be best had others never taken place. My own father was horrified when I renounced any intention of marriage. Yet your tale, doctor, offers ample proof that I may yet avoid great sorrow by my choice.’
‘Do not judge all men by the standards of one, my dear,’ Mrs. Bascom said. ‘Yet I cannot but agree that a bad marriage is like to be worse than none at all.’
Adam wondered at Miss Lasalle's words. She was still young. She was comely enough and undoubtedly capable and intelligent. What might have brought her to such a firm decision to remain single? Sometime, he might be able to satisfy his curiosity on this matter, but not now.
For the moment, Adam excused himself from explaining more about Mr Wicken’s identity and the reasons for his visit. Instead, he said, he would note only this. Mr. Wicken came from the Alien Office in London and his interest in Adam and what he had seen stemmed from certain questions asked at the inquest on Dr. Ross. The detail was, he said, confidential and he was not at liberty to divulge what he had been told in that way.
However, part of what Mr. Wicken had said made it clear that there was no connection between the death of the archdeacon and his falling out with his son. On his second visit to Mrs. Ross, Adam was able to assure her that her fears on this count were baseless.
It took a moment for his mother to make the connection herself, then, her hand pressed to her mouth, she stared him in horror. ‘Oh…it cannot…not murder! She cannot have imagined that! Oh, the poor woman. That must be enough to destroy the most balanced mind, let alone one already weighted down with shock and grief.’
‘In such a situation,’ her son said, ‘human beings are rarely able to consider matters in a rational way. No, I do not think she ever believed it was possible. I think she was so sick with guilt at her own inactivity and submission to her husband, that she feared the greatest of all punishments. What drove her mind to near total distraction was remorse, not a belief in her son’s real capability to commit murder.’
‘It must be so,’ Miss Lasalle murmured. ‘No mother would think that.’
‘Even though, in her heart, she knew her fears must be false,’ Adam continued, ‘she could not set them aside. Rather she used them to punish herself for what she had done – or rather not done.’
‘She has no guilt,’ his mother declared, speaking with total firmness. ‘All this is on her husband’s head, not hers. Whether it was chance or another’s hand that sent Archdeacon Ross from this world, it has but rid us of a foul hypocrite.’
‘Aye, madam,’ Miss Lasalle added. ‘What you say is true. That man must prove a most shameful stain on the church that he claimed to serve. I am glad I never encountered such a one.’
For a time, none of them wished to speak further. Their hearts were too full of pain and anger. It was Adam who sought to lighten their mood.
He explained that he hoped by contacting Mr Jempson to set enquiries in train that might serve to locate young Mr. William Ross. If that proved possible, he would next send a message imploring him to return home and set matters right again with his mother. Only then, in Adam’s opinion, would she be able to return to full health. His mother applauded this action warmly and Miss Lasalle too smiled upon him. To his surprise, he found he liked that very much.
Finally, he turned again to the matter of Mr. Wicken.
This was the subject on which he felt he must tread with most care. He did not doubt that Mr. Wicken had told him things which he should not share with anyone else. Yet he had also assured Adam that matters regarding the smuggling gang – and the business of ferrying people in and out of the country in secret – were completed. Adam had spent some time before dinner considering how he might best explain Mr. Wicken’s visit on that basis alone.
Thus he now began. First he told his mother how the archdeacon’s death had been a most inopportune event for the plans to seize the smuggling gang. How the authorities had feared that too close an investigation might scare the criminals away. And how, when it appeared the death might be accidental, they seized on this as the best way to calm suspicions. Mr. Wicken had, he said, assured him that his questions at the inquest had been appropriate both from a legal and a logical point of view. Only the overriding need to preserve the planned operation had made them seek to suppress his curiosity. His visit today was a belated explanation and an apology for what had happened.
‘I suppose that was kind of Mr. Wicken,’ his mother said at this point. ‘Yet it was no more than your due.’
‘This Mr. Wicken seems a most important person,’ Miss Lasalle added. ‘I wonder that he came so far to do what he could have done in a letter. Was there not more t
o his visit than this?’
Adam's startled glance at Miss Lasalle when she said this must have conveyed more than he had intended, for she blushed and hung her head.
‘Pardon me, doctor,’ she said. ‘I interrupted you with my curiosity. Pray continue and I will hold my tongue. In some matters, I suspect, discretion is worth more than I guessed.’
Adam was discomfited by her sharpness of mind. But since she must have realised he was editing his story a good deal, he was still more grateful she had the good sense to assume he had reason for doing so. Miss Lasalle, he decided, was even cleverer that he had first imagined.
His mind relieved, Adam continued after the briefest of pauses. Mr. Wicken, he said, had next told him the smugglers had all been captured, thanks to the deception the authorities used to direct attention to the area around Lynn. Best of all, they had also been able to seize a man who was involved in the secret passage of spies and other undesirable people into and out of England. That was none other than Constable Garnet.
The circumstances of the archdeacon’s death had no connection with the smugglers. Indeed, Adam told his little audience, Mr. Wicken had no idea why Dr. Ross went to that place. Nor had any signs or information emerged that pointed to any other person being present. It was this latter news that he had carried to Mrs. Ross with all dispatch.
An Unlamented Death: A Mystery Set in Georgian England (Mysteries of Georgian Norfolk Book 1) Page 16