A Gentleman of Fortune

by Anna Dean

  Mary avoided her eyes, but nodded. ‘There were,’ she whispered, ‘letters in his desk…from my mother. Of course I have not seen them… But I believe they were letters of such…intimacy…as left Mrs Midgely in no doubt of the relationship subsisting between them.’

  ‘And, until she read these letters, she had never suspected anything?’

  Mary shook her head. ‘Until then neither she nor I had ever thought that the colonel’s actions in taking me into his family were anything but good and disinterested. It was a shock. For poor Mrs Midgely I believe it has been painful beyond measure. She has, I believe, been beside herself with the suffering of it… Miss Kent, please do not think too badly of her for what she has done. I truly believe that she scarcely knows what she is about.’

  ‘You would defend her?’ cried Dido wonderingly. ‘After all she has done to injure you?’

  ‘No,’ said Mary, ‘I cannot defend what I know to be wrong. But, believe me, I would gladly suffer her malice ten times over if only I could retain that affection and respect I had been used to feel for her husband: a man I have, since the age of five years old, looked up to as all that was noble and honourable.’

  ‘It is very much to your credit that you should feel so. And I am sorry – very sorry – if anything I have said or done has added to your pain.’

  Mary shook her head.

  ‘I am sure I do not need to tell you that the information will be spread no further by my means.’

  ‘Yes, I have no fear on that score, Miss Kent,’ she replied with a small smile. ‘I have observed that you are a collector rather than a disseminator of information.’

  ‘And I would not have tormented you with this conversation if I had not thought that I could assist you in your present situation.’

  ‘You mean then to continue with you enquiries concerning Mrs Lansdale’s death?’

  ‘Oh yes, for it will soon all be in the hands of the magistrate and his jury. And how else, but by the uncovering of the truth, is Mr Lansdale to be saved from being punished for a crime he did not commit?’ As she spoke she took care to watch her companion closely. The fine brown eyes held her gaze steadily; not a muscle moved in the face to betray doubt – or any other emotion.

  ‘He is innocent,’ said Mary solemnly. ‘I have no fear of you, Miss Kent. I am sure that he must…that he will, in the end, be proved entirely guiltless.’ She sighed. ‘I wish with all my heart the engagement had not come out. I have done everything within my means to conceal it.’

  Dido eyed her keenly. ‘And, may I ask – how long has the engagement existed?’

  ‘No, I do not mind your asking at all. I have been engaged for about five months. Mr Lansdale asked me to marry him while I was at Ramsgate. I was unsure of my own feelings then; but, soon after my return, I wrote and accepted his offer. As soon as he received my answer he began to make plans to come to Richmond – so that he might be near me and so that he might work to bring about our marriage.’

  ‘And how did he plan to do that? Considering the very great opposition he must have suffered from his aunt. Did he mean to get her consent or act without it?’

  ‘He meant to…persuade her into acceptance. She was extremely fond of him in her own way. And he is a very determined young man. He had ways of working upon her.’ She caught Dido’s eye and shook her head very solemnly. ‘But I know,’ she said very firmly, ‘that it was not his intention to harm his aunt.’

  ‘I am very much afraid that it will appear to the jurymen that he did.’

  ‘To my mind, Miss Kent, they would be more likely to come at the truth by attempting to find the housebreakers. They are probably the guilty ones. For it seems to me that such fellows might have made more than one attempt upon the house. Perhaps they came on the night of Mrs Lansdale’s death – carried out the murder, but failed to take anything of value – and so they returned.’

  Dido looked doubtful. ‘It is not easy to see how housebreakers might have poisoned the lady, but I grant you that they would have had good cause to dispose of the little dog.’ She considered for a while. ‘The thieves appear to have been searching for something when they entered the house,’ she continued. ‘Have you any notion of anything that Mrs Lansdale had which was of particular value? Something which might be the object of such a search? Something which was of greater value – at least to the thieves – than silver candlesticks?’

  ‘No, I cannot think of anything.’

  ‘Do you know of a particularly dangerous document which is presently in Mr Lansdale’s keeping?’

  For the first time since their conversation began, Mary seemed anxious to avoid her eyes. She stood up, clasping her arms about her. ‘What kind of document do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘I do not know,’ said Dido, watching closely. Mary began to chafe at her arms as if she were cold, though it was such a warm day there was no chill in the air even in this shady corner. ‘A will perhaps?’ she suggested.

  ‘No,’ said Mary sharply. ‘I know nothing about a will. However, I am quite sure that if Mr Lansdale had such a document in his possession he would not conceal it.’

  ‘I am sorry, I did not mean to suggest anything dishonourable.’

  ‘Of course you did not. But, I really feel that we have said enough upon this painful subject. I pray you will excuse me. I have a great deal of business to attend to, for I am to go away today.’

  As she spoke, a very unexpected memory stirred in Dido’s mind. She paused and took a long survey of her companion, taking in the pale face, the crossed arms, the agitated manner. She was touched by doubt – almost suspicion.

  ‘Of course,’ she said slowly as she stood up. ‘I am sorry to have delayed you so long. You must have a great deal of business to attend to, Miss Bevan – I don’t doubt that you have all your gowns to pack, and your travelling dress to prepare, have you not?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, with a puzzled look, ‘I have.’

  Mary waited – expecting some explanation of this strange speech; but Dido merely bade her a rather distracted farewell, and walked away.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Dido walked slowly down the hill to her favourite seat by the park wall and looked about her.

  It was a lively, interesting scene; two grand carriages were drawn up outside the inn to deposit a large family with all the proper busyness of footmen and trunks and band-boxes and children and nursery-maids. In the lime-walk, ladies strolled about under parasols and, close by, in the little row of shops, other ladies and gentlemen were more purposefully engaged.

  But, once she was comfortably seated, her thoughts began to turn inward and she soon forgot her surroundings as she fell to considering everything which her talk with Miss Bevan had revealed.

  First of all, she was quite sure that Mary believed Mr Lansdale to be innocent. There had been no doubts, no demurs; she had answered every question with candour and intelligence… At least she had done so until mention was made of a document. Then there had certainly been consciousness and a desire for evasion. Dido was sure of that – though she still held to her earlier view of Mary’s character and doubted very much that she had given a direct lie. For Mary was an exceedingly bad liar. When she had lied about the letter in the post office, her red face and downcast eyes would have betrayed her to any listener more sensitive than Mrs Midgely.

  But just now, in the garden, there had been no symptoms of dishonesty – though, perhaps, there had been a desire to avoid some truths…

  Dido recollected her words carefully. She had said that she knew nothing of a will… Yes, it had only been a will she denied knowledge of… Did it follow then that she knew of some other document? And, if so, what could it be? And why did Mr Morgan believe that it was so dangerous to his friend…?

  She shook her head helplessly and tried to come at the business in a different way entirely. She imagined how it would all look to the jurymen. Here was Mrs Lansdale dead and the apothecary saying she had died of too much opium mixture
. And it would seem that there were but three people who had had opportunity to administer it. There were Mr Lansdale and Miss Neville who might have introduced the fatal dose to the evening’s chocolate; and there was Mr Vane himself who might have administered it under the guise of the ‘usual draught’. But Miss Neville and Mr Vane, far from having anything to gain from the terrible act, could only be made the poorer by it: she by the loss of a comfortable home and he by the loss of a wealthy patient. Only Henry Lansdale had any motive for wishing the poor lady dead.

  She found herself so extremely discontent with this conclusion that she could not help but wonder whether Mr Lomax was right and she had, almost without knowing it, determined upon exonerating Mr Lansdale…

  ‘I shall not apologise for disturbing you, Miss Kent,’ said a merry voice beside her, ‘for, by the look upon your face, I see that your thoughts are so unpleasant you ought to be disturbed.’

  She looked up and saw Mr Lansdale himself making his bow and asking if he might sit with her a moment.

  ‘I have,’ he said as he sat down, ‘been seeking you in order to ask a very great favour. I have been to Mrs Beaumont’s house but found you both from home. Mrs Beaumont has, I understand, driven out to Brooke Manor, but the maid said that you had walked out and I hope you will forgive me for coming after you.’

  ‘Of course. And I am sure that both Flora and I will be happy to help you in any way we can.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He then said nothing for a while, gazing out across the busy scene. He had begun in his usual laughing way with all his usual determination to be serious about nothing. But now he had changed and his handsome face was more solemn than she had ever seen it before. A frown had gathered on his brow. ‘I am hoping,’ he said at last, ‘that you and Mrs Beaumont will be so kind as to perform the office of true friends to Miss Bevan.’

  ‘In what way do you wish us to show our friendship?’

  ‘Will you be so good as to persuade her…or, at least, to represent to her the wisdom of complying with my wishes – and marrying me immediately.’

  Dido could only look the astonishment which she felt, the application had taken her so completely by surprise. He held up a hand. ‘Please, Miss Kent, do not begin upon the dangers – the impolicy – of a hasty marriage. I have had it all from her.’

  ‘I shall make no such argument, then. I shall only say that I can see no reason for such a step being taken while matters are in their present unfortunate state of uncertainty.’

  Something of his usual smile returned. ‘Matters,’ he said, ‘are perhaps not quite so uncertain as you suppose. There is at least the certainty that I am to be brought to court. I am summoned to appear at the Quarter Sessions in just five days’ time. The paper was delivered to me yesterday.’

  ‘I am extremely sorry to hear it. It grieves me beyond measure.’

  ‘I am innocent,’ he said quietly. ‘And in that and in the will and justice of God, I will put my trust. However…’ And, although he had been speaking with great solemnity and feeling, the irrepressible smile was returned now. ‘However, when it comes to the justice of men… Well, I hope I shall not shock you when I say that I have not quite so much faith in our English laws not to suspect that they have sometimes hanged an innocent man – and may do so again.’

  ‘I sincerely hope… It will be my most fervent prayer that, in this case, they will not.’

  ‘Thank you. And now, as to my marriage…’

  ‘Forgive me, but I cannot understand what possible reason there can be for hurrying it on. It had better not take place… Not until after you are released from this dreadful suspicion. For I cannot help but feel that your marriage – the apparent self-interest and heartlessness of such a measure so soon after your aunt’s death – would greatly prejudice a jury against you.’

  ‘Miss Kent,’ he said, instantly solemn and fixing his eyes upon her face, ‘you may not be aware – there is, of course, no reason why you should be – that a man condemned for murder forfeits his estate.’

  ‘No,’ she admitted, ‘I did not know it.’

  ‘Consider it now then. Consider that if…if the laws of England should fail me, I will lose not only my own life but also the power to provide for Miss Bevan’s future comfort. I would be able to make no will. I could bequeath nothing to her.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Consider too her present poverty, her friendless state, and I am sure you will agree that a marriage – which would enable me to settle money upon her – is the best possible course of action. Jem is drawing up the settlement now. We could be married tomorrow and my mind would be at ease. Miss Kent,’ he said, turning pleading eyes upon her, ‘I hope I can face my own fate with fortitude; but to leave her alone and unprovided for is more than I can bear.’

  Dido was so affected by this appeal that it was several minutes before she could speak; but when she was able to make a reply she could not do other than to promise her assistance in persuading the lady to an immediate marriage. ‘Though I rather doubt my arguments will have any effect. She is a very…determined young woman.’

  ‘She is indeed!’ he cried, his lively air immediately restored by her promise. ‘But I will be extremely grateful if you will make the attempt.’

  ‘And are you sure that a marriage can be accomplished within four days?’

  ‘Oh yes. It can certainly be accomplished.’

  ‘But what about the calling of banns?’

  ‘There need be no banns, Miss Kent.’ He stood up and made his bow. ‘For it just so happens that I have about me a special marriage licence!’

  And, before Dido could consider all the meaning of this reply, he had made his final thanks and adieus and was walking away. She almost called him back, but then changed her mind and sat instead watching his retreating figure and thinking very hard indeed. It was one of those rare moments when human thought seems to transcend the limit of words and move with all the rapidity of a higher power.

  As she watched him stride across the green – and throw a sixpence to the ragged little boy who was holding horses outside the inn – she was considering this special licence and everything that his possession of it might mean…

  By the time he was hurrying past the bright bow-window of the trinket shop, she had come to an understanding of exactly what it meant…

  And, before she lost sight of him in the crowd beyond the haberdasher’s, she was very busily reckoning up exactly the part he had played in his aunt’s death.

  At last some of the tangled knots of this mystery were beginning to unravel.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ‘It is all a matter of Trump Loy, Flora. It is nothing more.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Flora, though she had very little hope of understanding her cousin. When Dido was in such a mood as this, it was advisable not to attempt too much understanding – for it was liable to occasion headaches. And, just now, she would gladly forgo comprehension for the sake of only getting the french doors closed before the drawing room was quite filled with evening air. Henry Lansdale and Clara Neville were engaged to drink tea with them and she did not wish to receive them in a damp room.

  But Dido was too restless to remain within doors and was gone out to pace about on the veranda while they awaited their guests. ‘It is Trump Loy,’ she repeated. ‘Or, if you will insist upon the French being spoken correctly, “trompe l’oeil” – an appearance of reality that is entirely false. You see, Flora, for the last few weeks I have been supposing that what I saw at Knaresborough House was either murder or accident. But, the fact is, it was neither.’

  Flora decided that she must, after all, expose herself to the risk of headache and her drawing room to the risk of damp. She went to stand beside the door and watched the figure of her cousin moving ceaselessly in the slanting light of the setting sun. ‘Do you mean that Mr Vane is lying?’ she asked hopefully. ‘That it was not by taking too much medicine that Mrs Lansdale died?’

  ‘Oh no. I am
sure he is telling the truth – as far as he knows it. But he too has been deceived – deceived into seeing something which is not there.’

  ‘Deceived by whom? Who has been lying?’

  ‘No one has been lying. That is the remarkable thing. There have certainly been truths left unsaid, but, since Miss Neville has confessed that she left the house on the night of her cousin’s death, I do not think I have detected lies in anyone. I have had before me all the details of the case – but the picture they have made has been false. False through and through! It is all a matter of perspective. A change of perspective can make those details form an entirely different picture. Do you understand?’

  ‘No! I am sure I do not!’

  Dido sighed. ‘Well, I have told you about the marriage licence, have I not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That, you see, is what changed my perspective. Mr Lansdale made a joke of it – he laughed about just happening to have such a convenient document to hand. But I could not help but wonder why he should have it. Such a thing can only be obtained with some difficulty – and expense. He cannot have got it in a day. And only a day had passed since he was summoned to the court – and decided that he must marry Miss Bevan immediately.’

  ‘Why then, when did he get it?’

  ‘That is the great question! It is extremely unlikely that he would have risked getting it in the last few weeks while he has been under such suspicion. In short, I am sure that he has had it “to hand” since before his aunt’s death. It was, in fact, the document which Mr Morgan wished him to destroy.’

  ‘But why had he got it?’

  ‘Well, when I turned to that question, I remembered something which has been puzzling me ever since I recalled it in Mrs Midgely’s garden this morning. Do you remember, on the first occasion of our visiting Miss Prentice, she spoke of Mary going away to be a governess – and she said that she had had her gowns packed and her travelling dress prepared for a week.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I do remember it! That she should be so very… resigned! I was so moved by it!’