A Gentleman of Fortune (30 page)

She withdrew her hand from his arm. ‘But, Mr Lomax,’ she said, ‘I cannot believe you to still hold that opinion. When you have heard all that I have discovered! Things which would still remain hidden if I had followed your advice. Come, admit it, you must have changed your mind.’

He drew himself up stiffly. ‘I do indeed still hold that opinion Miss Kent and I will repeat it. You should not have meddled in this business.’

She was annoyed. She had not expected him to be so very unbending. ‘Forgive me for saying so,’ she replied, her cheeks blazing, ‘but I cannot believe your position to be reasonable. When I have proved to you how very much there was to discover, it is not reasonable to say that I should have been content with ignorance!’

‘Your appeal to reason in this case is faulty on two counts,’ he replied, coldly. ‘Firstly, you are, I believe, basing the defence of your actions upon the good which you think they have achieved. But can you be sure that any real benefit will result from them? You have certainly discovered a great deal; but you admit yourself that the enormity of uncovering Lady Carrisbrook’s deceptions is beyond your powers. And if she is not to be exposed, then how can Mr Lansdale benefit from all your busyness?’

‘But if…’

He held up his hand. ‘And secondly. Even if your investigations were to have the most beneficial results imaginable, I should still maintain that you had erred in undertaking them. For when you embarked upon your course of action the outcome was unknown and it would be very poor morality indeed if our actions were to be deemed good or bad only by hindsight. I will not – I cannot in all conscience – change my opinion of your behaviour simply because it has proved more beneficial – and less dangerous – than either of us could have predicted.’

‘And so you believe that it would have been more virtuous in me to wring my hands and do nothing while poor Mr Lansdale was taken away to the hangman? Upon my word, Mr Lomax, this is much worse morality – to permit our friends to be endangered for the sake of preserving ourselves from a little exertion and danger! I am very glad that your creed is not more general in this kingdom. For what would become of our commonwealth if our brave soldiers and sailors were to imbibe a little of your morality?’

‘Miss Kent!’ he cried, ‘you are, I believe, taking pleasure in misunderstanding me. You are neither a soldier nor a sailor: you are an unprotected woman. Morality must, of course, depend upon situation. What is right for one, may not be right for another.’

‘Then you will not help me?’

‘I cannot. It would be wrong – it would be entirely inconsistent of me to assist you in an undertaking I cannot condone.’

She fought to overcome her anger. He really was insufferable! But, perhaps she should not have argued so strongly, or contradicted him so forcefully. Perhaps then he might have consented to help her. She might apologise and plead her cause more meekly… But she could not bring herself to form the words.

She walked to the stone balustrade which marked the end of the terrace, leant against it and peered over into the little wilderness below. The light of the lanterns showed thick foliage and a patch of ghostly white elder blossom. Above the dark shapes of the trees a crescent moon was rising and an owl hooted long and low. All was beauty and tranquillity in nature – but within her mind there was turmoil such as she had scarcely ever known before.

She looked back at him. He was standing beside the last lantern on the terrace, his hands clasped behind his back and his expression everything that was stubborn and unyielding. What was she to do? She must have his consent – he must be made to help her or everything would have been in vain: all her reasoning, all her discovering of secrets, and above all, the loss of his esteem, would all have been for nothing and poor Mr Lansdale would be condemned.

But try as she might, the soft, conciliatory words would not form in her mouth.

And suddenly it flashed into her mind that maybe there was another way. If his disapproval could not be overcome, then maybe that same disapproval could be made to operate in quite a different direction.

‘Very well, then,’ she said quietly. ‘If you will not help me, I suppose I must act on my own.’

‘Miss Kent,’ he said anxiously and came to stand beside her. ‘What is it, precisely, that you believe should be done?’

She turned her face from him and stared out into the trees. ‘There was a fourth dose of opium,’ she said calmly.

‘I beg your pardon.’

‘Mr Vane has said that Mrs Lansdale was given four times the usual dose of sleeping draught. I have so far accounted for only three. So, who gave her the other one?’

There was a silence. Clearly he was hoping that she would continue without prompting from him. But at last he was forced to speak. ‘There is that in your voice,’ he said, ‘which convinces me that you know – or suppose that you know – the answer to your own question.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I believe I do.’ She turned and smiled at him. ‘Poor Mrs Lansdale,’ she said, ‘she really was a very great encumbrance to everyone around her that evening. Her nephew wished to go to town; her companion had to attend to her mother – and even her physician would not do as she wished and remain in the house with her.’ She could see that she had his complete attention. ‘That is what she wished him to do, you know. She considered herself to be very unwell: she wished Mr Vane to stay with her. But he declined. He said that he would be at home all evening and that she must send for him if she felt herself at all worse.’

Mr Lomax frowned – a great deal more interested than he would have liked to confess. ‘And this you believe to have been of some consequence?’

‘Oh yes, for you see, Mr Vane was not at home all that evening. He went to play cards at Mrs Midgely’s house.’

His chin was once more upon his fingertips – which must be considered a very good sign. ‘Are you suggesting that Vane himself drugged Mrs Lansdale?’

‘I think it is…possible. By doing so, you see, he could ingratiate himself with two wealthy widows at once – he could attend upon Mrs Midgely without Mrs Lansdale suspecting that he was neglecting her. Indeed I cannot help but think his behaviour otherwise was very strange indeed. Mrs Lansdale was his wealthiest, most important patient: was he likely to risk her waking and sending for him – and discovering that he had not done what he had promised to do. And of course, we cannot know that the dose he administered that evening was no more than her usual cordial.’

‘But it is he who has started the story of an unnatural death.’

‘Yes, because, like everyone else who wished the poor lady to sleep that night, he cannot conceive that he is guilty of doing anything wrong.’

Lomax stood for several moments, watching her closely as he thought. ‘And you believe that the magistrates should be informed of these suspicions?’

‘Oh! No. Not quite. For then, you know, the whole story would have to come out, and there is no telling what the upshot of it all might be. No, Mr Lomax, what I am proposing is that Mr Vane should be informed of these suspicions.’

‘To what end?’

‘Why, so that he might be persuaded into withdrawing his accusations, of course. He should be made to understand that if he insists upon taking the matter to court there might be very unpleasant consequences for himself as well as Mr Lansdale. It should be pointed out that, if everything was brought to light, he would look as guilty as Mr Lansdale. His habit of ingratiating himself with wealthy women is, I am sure, well known…the jurymen might suspect that he had hopes of a legacy from Mrs Lansdale…’

‘In plain language, you mean that Mr Vane should be threatened.’

‘Ah…Yes, I believe that I do.’

‘I see.’ He continued to watch her; but unluckily the light was behind him and she could not see the expression of his face. ‘And this,’ he said at last, ‘is what you mean to do? You mean to approach Mr Vane and threaten him into silence?’

It had certainly not needed the incredulity in his voice to make her modesty shrink from the prospect. She very much doubted whether all her sense of justice and indignation could make her capable of it. But she must stake everything upon the pretence.

‘It is not,’ she said, lowering her eyes demurely, ‘it is certainly not an errand which I – or any woman – would wish to undertake, Mr Lomax. But, as you have pointed out, I am alone, unprotected. I have no gentleman to act for me.’

‘This,’ he cried stepping back from her and bringing his hand down upon the balustrade with considerable force. ‘This is intolerable! Now you are threatening me!’

‘I am very sorry that you should think so, Mr Lomax. That was certainly not my intention.’

‘Pardon me for contradicting a lady, but I rather think that it was.’

She made no reply.

He had half-turned as he stepped back and now the light of a lantern was shining upon one side of his face. His warring emotions were visible in every feature. The muscles moved in his throat as he forced back furious words. She guessed that anger and humanity were fighting it out inside him; but did not suspect the rest of his torment. For she did not see how pleasantly the shaded light played across her own face, nor how the heat of argument had brightened her eyes and brought back the bloom of youth to her cheeks.

At last he let out a kind of groan. ‘If,’ he said slowly. ‘If I consent to act for you in this matter, Miss Kent. If I take it upon myself to approach Vane and to…bring all these matters to his attention, it will be purely in order to protect you from further…unpleasantness. You must understand that it does not, in any way, mean that I condone your past behaviour.’

‘No, of course not,’ she said quietly. ‘I understand that entirely, Mr Lomax.’ 

‘It is a great pity,’ observed Flora at breakfast two days later, ‘a very great pity that you should have been at so much trouble over this affair of Mr Lansdale’s. For after all, you know, there was nothing to be done and it has all worked out quite harmlessly in the end.’

‘Oh! Oh yes,’ said Dido looking up from the note which she was reading. ‘It was very fortunate indeed that Mr Vane should have failed to appear in the court and that the magistrate should have discharged Mr Lansdale.’

‘Well, perhaps,’ said Flora with a sly smile, ‘perhaps you might now agree with dear Mr Lomax that such matters are best left to the authorities appointed to deal with them.’

Dido laid down her letter with a frown. ‘Has he expressed that opinion to you?’

‘Oh yes, he told me all about it at Brooke – while you were talking with Maria, you know. But,’ she added, ‘he also gave me to understand that it is the only point upon which you and he disagree. Oh yes! We had the most delightful conversation about you! And he assures me that in all else you and he are in perfect accord. And as for your person,’ she finished, ‘you are quite the loveliest and cleverest woman in the world!’

‘Well,’ said Dido ungraciously, ‘when you and Mr Lomax next discuss me, you may tell him that I am not at all sure that I have changed my opinion of the appointed authorities, for they have shown themselves to be neither diligent nor clear-sighted in the performance of their duty.’

‘You may tell him whatever you wish yourself – he is to call here this morning. It is to be a farewell visit, for he returns to Belsfield tomorrow,’ said Flora – still smiling. ‘And so, since I am sure the two of you must have a great deal to talk about, I shall take care to leave you alone together.’

‘Oh no!’ Dido rose hastily from the table. ‘You will not do anything of the kind, my dear cousin, for I shall not be here to see Mr Lomax. I have another engagement.’ She picked up her letter. ‘It so happens that Mary Bevan has written and asked me to meet with her this morning.’

‘But you cannot go!’ cried Flora. ‘I am sure he wishes most particularly to see you.’

‘On the contrary,’ said Dido as she walked out of the room, ‘I think Mr Lomax will be very happy to find that he has missed me!’

This morning the weather was rather cooler than it had been of late. Small white clouds were drifting across the sky and a pleasant breeze pulled at the ribbons of Dido’s bonnet as she walked down the hill towards the green and the inn.

As she approached Mrs Midgely’s house she discerned Miss Prentice’s white cap at its usual station beside the window. She raised her hand to wave, but then, as she drew nearer, she saw that, for once, the lady was not looking outward at all – nor was she alone. Mr Hewit was there – sitting so close and talking so earnestly that his companion had no attention to spare even for the window and the activities of the neighbourhood.

Dido smiled. She could not but suppose that the gentleman must be saying something very interesting indeed to hold her attention, for there was actually a coroneted coach driving past; furthermore, just across the road at Knaresborough House, a wagon was drawn up on the sweep and men were carrying the trunks and boxes of new tenants up the steps.

Suppressing a desire to stop and watch the couple, Dido passed on, pausing instead by the big stone gateposts of Knaresborough and gazing up at the solid, peaceful bulk of the house. The breeze was rustling through the ivy on its walls and one thin column of smoke was rising from a back chimney. She recalled how she had stood here on that first day – and thought how very respectable the place looked. She had then had no notion of everything these red-brick walls might contain. She could not have predicted hidden passion, nor thieving, nor elopement, nor the daring charade which ambition had played out here… And she certainly could not have had any suspicion of that other, more terrible sin which she believed to have taken place here…

Of course, she thought as she turned and continued on her way down the hill, she might be mistaken – only Mary Bevan could confirm, or dispel this final suspicion. And very glad she was that Mary had agreed to meet with her and satisfy her curiosity. This last detail of her mystery might be something which she could never speak about to anyone else – she had certainly lacked the courage to enter into the subject with Lady Carrisbrook – but it was, nevertheless, a matter which she could not bear to remain in ignorance of.