A Gentleman of Fortune

by Anna Dean

  ‘And Mr Vane heard all this?’

  ‘Oh yes. For he could not help it, you know – it all being shouted so loud.’

  ‘And now he has told it all to the magistrate?’

  ‘Yes. He was very unwilling, of course. But as he said to me, on Sunday, Miss Kent, “Is it not the solemn and religious duty of every man to ensure that justice is done?”’

  ‘He is, of course, correct,’ said Dido thoughtfully. ‘It is the duty of us all to bring justice about.’ She sat considering for several minutes and, for once, Mrs Midgely was silent: as if content, now that her information was given, to wait for its effect.

  Dido watched her companion. Her broad red face was complacent, her painted lips pursed up in a self-congratulating smile. Why, she wondered for the hundredth time, did the woman take such pleasure in spreading her poison?

  Still watching closely, she said, ‘Mrs Midgely, I wonder whether you might help me. I am trying to discover the source of a quotation.’

  ‘A quotation, Miss Kent?’ she asked with some surprise.

  ‘Yes, it is something which has lately been brought to my attention and I find that I cannot understand its meaning because I do not know its origin. Do you know…? Have you ever heard the line, “The world is not their friend, nor the world’s laws”?’

  There was certainly a consciousness: a deepening of colour in the cheeks, a rapid movement of the eyelashes. Mrs Midgely twisted the parasol about in her hands. ‘Why yes, Miss Kent, I know the line. It is by William Shakespeare.’

  ‘And do you know which play – or poem – it occurs in?’ cried Dido eagerly.

  ‘Yes I do. It occurs in Romeo and Juliet.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Oh yes, quite sure, for you see…’ the parasol spun rapidly in her hands, a shy little smile curled her lips so that she looked, for a moment, like a rather ugly china doll. ‘You see I once played the part of Juliet when I was a girl in school. The line is certainly from that play.’

  After Mrs Midgely had gone, Dido yet remained in her alcove: reluctant to leave it as much for the sake of the information it had produced, as for the shade it afforded.

  This latest intelligence was extremely troubling. Mr Vane’s account of a quarrel appeared very bad for Mr Lansdale. And yet, Dido reasoned, if it had not been followed by a death, would it have been remembered? For might not it – and others like it – have been a part of Mrs Lansdale’s usual intercourse with her nephew? One of those scenes which, according to Flora, Mrs Lansdale had delighted in. Wills were, all too often, the threat which the old and the rich held over their young people: the means by which they guarded themselves against neglect – real or imagined. And when they were in a passion, people frequently said things which they did not mean…

  But in this case, murder – or death at least – had been the ensuing scene. And Dido found it impossible to determine either what was probable, or what was likely to be believed by a jury. And, all together, she could decide on very little, except that she should not – as Mrs Midgely wished – tell Flora of Mr Vane’s over-hearings. There was nothing to be gained by increasing her distress and anxiety.

  And, as for this discovery that Romeo and Juliet was the source of the quoted line: what was to be made of that? Was it to be connected with the copy of that play which Mr Lansdale had borrowed from the circulating library?

  It was, in one light, unsurprising: for who was more likely to be considered excused from the judgement of the world than those star-crossed lovers?

  But if it was lovers for whom the writer of that letter wished to plead, then who were the lovers? Mrs Lansdale and Mr Henderson? But that did not seem right; for, Dido reasoned, it is the youth and innocence of Romeo and Juliet which appeals to our sympathy as much as their love.

  And where, in all this strange business, was there a couple of young lovers to be found? Dido hesitated upon that question… An answer suggested itself; but it was not such an answer as she was anxious to believe…

  ‘Miss Kent,’ said a quiet voice, close beside her, ‘I declare you are looking very puzzled…again!’

  She gave a start, turned – and saw Mr William Lomax smiling down at her.

  ‘Hello,’ she cried happily. ‘I had begun to fear that you would not be able to join our party.’

  ‘And so had I,’ said he, sitting down beside her. ‘I have but just escaped from the library and letters of business.’

  ‘I am afraid you will find the best of the strawberries all gone.’

  ‘It is no great matter.’

  ‘You do not like strawberries?’

  ‘I am very fond of them. But on the present occasion they were not my inducement to get away from business.’

  Dido coloured and turned her eyes upon the path.

  ‘I have been particularly anxious to talk to you.’

  Dido fell to studying the pale rose petals that lay upon the path, noting how their edges were becoming dry and brown.

  ‘I have,’ he continued, ‘been very concerned about you.’

  ‘Concerned?’ she cried, looking up. ‘Why ever should you be concerned about me?’

  ‘My dear Miss Kent,’ he said with all the appearance of great seriousness, ‘you must be aware that it is far from usual to find two young men of your acquaintance suspected of murder within a year.’

  Dido raised her eyebrows. ‘And what precisely is the nature of your concern, Mr Lomax? Do you suppose that I endanger young men by being acquainted with them?’

  He smiled. ‘I had considered that possibility,’ he said. ‘But, upon reflection, I have dismissed it as unlikely.’

  ‘I am very glad to hear it! But why should you be concerned about me?’

  ‘I fear that you are distressing yourself unnecessarily over this business of Mr Lansdale and his aunt’s death.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘These accusations of Mrs Midgely’s,’ he continued gently, ‘are probably no more than common gossip. As I had the pleasure of explaining to you and your cousin, it is unlikely that any harm will come of them.’ He studied her face. ‘I hope that you have now put them quite out of your mind.’

  Dido hesitated – thought for a moment of putting off the subject and talking of something else, but found that she could not.

  ‘I cannot put them out of my mind,’ she said quietly. ‘You see, I think there may be a great deal of harm to come. I think there will be new evidence against Mr Lansdale.’

  ‘Why should there be?’ he asked quickly.

  ‘Because I believe that…that maybe Mr Vane is right to be suspicious of Mrs Lansdale’s death…I think… In short, I think that she may indeed have been murdered…’

  ‘My dear Miss Kent!’

  ‘You think that I am being fanciful?’

  ‘No,’ he said hastily, ‘no, not at all. I know that it is not in your nature to be fanciful. But…I think that perhaps your late, distressing experiences at Belsfield have – very understandably – biased your mind and made you a little too liable to see mystery and infamy. You are perhaps too inclined to suppose the worst because, last autumn – at Belsfield – all your very worst suspicions were proved to be true.’

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Dido, rather vexed, ‘but this sounds remarkably like fancy to me.’

  ‘I am very sorry if I have offended you. I assure you that nothing but my very great interest in your welfare could make me speak so plainly.’

  It was several minutes before she could answer him. Her feelings were in confusion. His concern for her well-being was very pleasing indeed. But his suggestion that she was behaving irrationally was intolerable.

  She sat with her hands clasped in her lap, struggling for control, unwilling to speak until she could be sure that her voice would not betray her; and he watched her in silence, not wishing to say anything which might provoke her further.

  The sun, almost at its highest, was beginning to find its way even into the alcove, warming her face. A cuckoo was ca
lling in the wood. The housekeeper appeared a little way off and began scattering corn for the pheasants. Dido watched them as they ran jerkily to peck grain from the crevices of the old brick path.

  She must remain calm, or how could she hope to convince him that she was speaking rationally?

  ‘I am very grateful for your concern, Mr Lomax,’ she said at last. ‘And if I had been led astray in the way which you are suggesting, it would be very kind of you to set me right, I am sure. However…’ She drew a long breath. ‘However, I cannot by any means agree that I am biased, or that I am fancying intrigue where none exists. The evidences I have observed are too strong… In short, it would be dull and blind to see no mystery in this case.’

  And then, before he had time to reply, she began to set forward, as calmly as she could, all the reasons for her suspicion; beginning with the unaccountable death of the lap-dog, through the mystery of the emerald necklace, and the extraordinary ill-will of Mrs Midgely towards Henry Lansdale; and winding it all up with an account of the strange letter which she had herself received.

  As she talked, she was pleased to see, from his changing expressions, that he was very far from being unmoved by her story. Once or twice he interrupted her with a question.

  Had the villains been apprehended? he wanted to know, when the burglary at Knaresborough House was mentioned. What steps had been taken to discover them?

  And a little later: had anyone else any cause against Mr Lansdale? Was he an unpopular man in general?

  But it was the letter which troubled him most. ‘Have you no notion,’ he cried when she described it, ‘have you no suspicion at all as to who could have sent you such an extraordinary note?’

  ‘None at all.’

  ‘I do not like it.’ He jumped to his feet and took a few restless steps along the path. ‘It is very worrying.’ He sat down beside her again with an agitated look. ‘Miss Kent, has it not occurred to you that the letter might have been sent by the guilty party? That it might, in fact, be a threat.’

  ‘A guilty party, Mr Lomax? I did not think that you believed there was guilt of any kind – except in my wild imaginings. Have I convinced you otherwise?’

  He passed one hand across his face. ‘I do not quite know what I think,’ he confessed. ‘But your account proves that there is something afoot. There is – at the very least – housebreaking. There is some villainy going on and you are known to be concerning yourself with it. I am very much afraid that you are putting yourself in danger.’

  ‘Danger? I hardly think so. I have done nothing but ask some questions.’

  He looked at her very earnestly. ‘I have the pleasure of knowing your character too well,’ he said, ‘to suppose that you will easily abandon this mystery. And I do not have the right of a father or a brother to advise you. But,’ he added feelingly, ‘I do beg you, Miss Kent, to be careful. Very careful.’

  Dido was silenced. She could only look into his anxious face. He was about to press the point further. For a moment it seemed as if he might take her hand – indeed she wondered afterwards whether she might not have half-offered it to him.

  But just then they were disturbed by the sound of rapid steps on the gravel. They moved slightly apart.

  Lady Carrisbrook was hurrying along a side path alone, in a state of such agitation that her bonnet was slipping off her head, exposing shining red-brown curls to the sun. Dido thought that she was coming to speak to Mr Lomax; but she did not seem to see them in their alcove. She ran instead to the housekeeper.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Stephens!’ she cried and then, lowering her voice, she began talking eagerly. It was not easy to make out her words, but the established habit of an over-curious mind prompted Dido to struggle for them. Mr Lomax gave an exasperated smile as he noticed her listening, but only shook his head and said nothing.

  The lady seemed to be asking how something was to be done – and when. Her eyes were wide as she spoke, her gaze fixed upon the servant’s face as if she were half-pleading with her.

  The answer was clearer than the question. There was definitely nothing for her Ladyship to worry about. ‘I will see to everything,’ was spoken with assurance and an obvious desire to comfort.

  It was not quite possible to see whether or not she was comforted by the answer; her face was turned a little away. Dido leant forward to see more clearly and at that very moment Lady Carrisbrook turned back – and saw them. There was a moment of confusion and then she came tripping along the path, holding out her hands and laughing.

  ‘My dear Miss Kent! And Mr Lomax too! I pray you will not allow any other of my guests to know that I am so very anxious about the luncheon! You will not tell them, will you?’ She sat down between them on the bench and prattled on about it being her first, her very first, party since she was married and how very, very particular Sir Joshua was that everything should be done properly.

  It was all said very prettily and somehow managed to convey a flattering conviction that they might both be counted upon as close confederates and allies. But it failed to convince. There was no believing that any lady could be so very worried about a cold collation.

  However, a little quiet reflection assured Dido that the intrusion had come at the right moment. For she had undoubtedly been enjoying Mr Lomax’s anxiety for her safety rather too much.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Whether or not Her Ladyship had worried excessively over it, the luncheon was excellent, and plentiful enough to satisfy even the appetites of ladies and gentlemen who had toiled a full hour in the strawberry beds.

  However there was among the guests an unease which was not surprising, if one knew the reasons that many of them had to feel awkward with one another, but which poor Lady Carrisbrook blamed herself for. She tried continually to introduce topics which might be of general interest and Flora did her best to assist. But the company seemed dull and heavy and too inclined to talk of whatever was uppermost in their own minds without reference to the interest or entertainment of their fellows.

  Mr Morgan told interminable tales of his own cleverness; Mr Hewit remained silent and thoughtful; Miss Prentice talked nervously of titles; and Mrs Midgely triumphantly related to the company all the details of the delightful situation which she had secured for Miss Bevan as governess to the large family of a Mr Grimbould – a woollen manufacturer in Yorkshire.

  This last Dido was very interested to hear about, since it explained to her the evidence of tears upon poor Mary’s face. But no one else seemed to share her interest. Sir Joshua sighed deeply, Flora smothered a dainty yawn and Mr Lansdale was so disgusted by such tedious chatter that he settled into a grave silence and did not say another word throughout the whole time of their remaining in the dining room.

  It was not a comfortable meal and, once it was over, a languor descended upon the party. The heat beyond the solid old walls of the house was excessive and the walk to the stream and hay meadows, which had been proposed in the morning, now seemed to be an exertion beyond the spirits of them all.

  The drawing room was a pleasant place to linger. The leaded casement windows – open to catch what breeze there might be – and the low black beams gave at least a sense of coolness and a great mass of flowers that filled the wide hearth scented the air with roses and lilac.

  There was a little chat, a little turning over of books – chiefly Elegant Extracts and Dr Johnson’s The Rambler. No one seemed inclined to move.

  Lady Carrisbrook began to look anxious – as if the enjoyment of her guests weighed heavily upon her mind. She again proposed walking, and then, when the company made no favourable response, she became very active in promoting their entertainment. Rather too active perhaps, for she began eagerly proposing games and conundrums – employments better suited to a winter evening than a summer luncheon party. She produced cards and counters and even a box of yellowing alphabets from Sir Joshua’s long-abandoned nursery.

  There was, Dido noticed, a moment of silent surprise from the guests at the
inelegance of the proposal. Mrs Midgely raised a thick eyebrow. ‘Well I never,’ she said in a powerful whisper, ‘what a strange way of passing the time!’

  Sir Joshua looked extremely displeased. There was an expression of confusion upon Maria Carrisbrook’s pretty face: an awareness of having blundered; anxiety to put right the mistake; and uncertainty as to how this was to be achieved. She looked fearfully towards her husband.

  And then those of the party with good manners and good nature prevailed.

  Mr Hewit stirred himself from his thoughts and pronounced a conundrum in his strong pulpit voice:

  ‘My first doth affliction denote

  Which my second is destined to feel

  And my whole is the best antidote

  That affliction to soften and heal.’

  It was not the most original of riddles and several voices had chimed the answer of ‘woman’ almost before he had finished the last line. But he succeeded in what Dido did not doubt was his chief aim of covering over her ladyship’s embarrassment.

  Others quickly followed his example. Mr Lomax produced another (fresher) conundrum and Henry Lansdale scattered the nursery letters across a table and began to make anagrams to puzzle his companions.

  Meanwhile Flora’s foot was pressing Dido’s as she nodded in the direction of Mr Hewit. And there was certainly no denying that his own gallant conundrum had served to fix the gentleman’s attention upon Miss Prentice.

  In fact, the games answered rather well for people who were too hot to walk and too ill-assorted to have much to say to one another. Soon the drawing room seemed more at ease, more animated. Before very long even Sir Joshua was smiling and teasing his brain for puzzles and enigmas.

  Dido watched with great interest the expression of relief upon her ladyship’s face – noticed how she was becoming easy…

  At the table beside her, Mr Lansdale was busy with his word games: mixing letters together and asking his companions to form them into words. ‘Now this,’ he said with a grave look, ‘this is a great puzzle. I wonder if any of you can answer this for me?’