Serpent in the Garden (37 page)

Astley House

Sir,

I understand from Francis that you wish to tender your apologies and that your message from Mr. Brown concerns my brother. I, too, am anxious that we discuss these matters in private. In order that we may be sure we will not be overheard or interrupted, I will come to your rooms this evening at ten o’clock.

Until then I am, sir, yr obedient servant,

Elizabeth Manning

Joshua had opened the note with trepidation. But on reading these words, his spirits soared.

Throughout the evening, anxious to avoid giving further offence, he concentrated on what he would say, and thus immersed, joined in little of the conversation. As soon as was decent after supper Joshua left the assembled party and went to his rooms to compose himself. To pass the time until the appointed hour he began to write a letter explaining his actions as honestly as he thought wise. This was no easy matter due to the bandages, and after a short time he gave up and poured himself a glass of claret.

He sipped the wine and watched the hands of his father’s timepiece move close to ten. His heart began to race. When ten chimes rang, he listened for every creak of the floorboard. But the corridor was silent. There was no sound of approaching footsteps, no rustle of skirts or petticoats. Another half hour came and went; the clock sounded eleven; a further half hour passed. Still there was nothing: no knock, no muffled footsteps, no sound at all apart from the thunderous roar of blood in his ears.

By now, feelings of despair overwhelmed those of hope. A cloud descended. The heat in the room seemed stifling. He threw open the window and gulped the air, but this didn’t satisfy him—the air outside was too warm. Instead it brought a great thirst upon him. He poured himself a second glass of claret and gulped it down, then another and another.

By the time his timepiece sounded twelve, the decanter was drained and Joshua was numb with drink and disappointment. He staggered to his feet and discarded his shoes, his velvet breeches, his silk coat, his stockings, cursing the bandages and dropping each article carelessly on the floor before he unbuttoned or untied the next. Dressed only in his shirt, he kicked the heap of clothes out of his way, extinguished the candle, and fell in a stupor on his bed.

Joshua thought that he would never sleep, and yet he must have quickly lost consciousness. Some hours later he became dimly aware of the sound of footsteps, the door catch opening, the floorboards creaking, the soft sounds of someone walking about his room disturbing things in it. He rose slowly to consciousness, opened his eyes, and thought he was still dreaming. By the paltry flame of a night-light he saw that Lizzie Manning had at last arrived. She was walking about his room, holding the candlestick, dressed only in her nightgown.

“Miss Manning,” he murmured, “is it you? You kept me waiting half the night.”

She seemed to start at the sound of his voice. “I didn’t mean to anger you. Violet kept me talking for hours, and then, when I went upstairs and saw the hour, I did not dare call for fear you were already abed. I went to bed myself but then the thought of the message you had concerning my brother kept me from sleeping. So here I am. You may save yourself the trouble of expressing your apology, for I have already read what you wrote and left on the table. I took the liberty of looking at it in case it was sent for me from Mr. Brown.”

The night-light illuminated the underside of her chin and face, leaving much in shadow. Feeling profoundly uncomfortable at her proximity and state of undress, he lowered his eyes. It crossed his mind that the contours of her body would have been visible were it not for the dimness of the night-light. He could scarcely believe she was there, but he did his best to muster his reasoning faculties and conceal his surprise with a yawn.

She came toward him, placed her hand on top of his, and shook him. “Mr. Pope, did you hear what I said? Rouse yourself. I want you to tell me what you know about my brother.”

“I heard you,” said Joshua. The oddity of her visit struck him with the force of a fist in the belly. He knew enough of Lizzie Manning to comprehend this nocturnal visit had been carefully orchestrated. Even her flimsy gown was calculated to distract him. The question was: what precisely was her motive?

“I will tell you what I know if you tell me why you have come here at such an uncommonly late hour.”

“Why does that matter?” she said softly. Now that she saw he was fully awake she straightened and began walking about the room. “Is it not enough that I am here and read what you wrote?”

“But you could have waited till tomorrow morning. That would have been a more proper hour to come calling, surely?”

“I have not seen my brother for two weeks. He said he was going abroad and would send word of where he was, but no letter has come. He is younger than I, and all I have, Mr. Pope, apart from my father, who is often called away on business. I know he has his faults, but I feel responsible for him. Moreover, I cannot believe him guilty of theft or murder, which is what you have suggested.”

As Joshua regained proper command of his faculties he observed that as she continued her perambulations, she appeared to be scanning the walls and furniture, albeit surreptitiously. Was she looking for something? Why did she not say what she wanted? It wasn’t hard to guess what it was.

“It seems to me,” said Joshua sternly, “that quite apart from your anxieties for Arthur, you are here for another reason. Why else would you come to my bedchamber in the dead of night? I hazard you are searching for something.”

“What?” said Lizzie, looking at him as if he were suggesting something quite preposterous. “I have not the faintest notion what you mean.”

“I presume the object of your interest is the bag belonging to Cobb?”

She shrugged, half smiling. “Very well. If you want to know why, I will tell you. It occurs to me there may be more contained in Cobb’s bag than we realized. If the necklace is inside, it would prove my brother’s innocence.”

“Do you think I haven’t looked? What a fool you must consider me, Miss Manning.”

She stood over him and met his gaze. Joshua caught a gleam of something in her eye before she turned her head away. What was it? Shame? Concealment? Whatever it was, it seemed she too had her doubts about Arthur.

She positioned herself on a chair not far from the bed. “Please tell me all you know concerning my brother, and what you have done with Cobb’s bag.”

Joshua sensed that unless he told her what she wanted to know she might leave, and then he would lose his best chance of finding Arthur and surviving the encounter. “I gave the bag back to Cobb,” he lied, “but not before I searched it thoroughly. And so, I believe, did your brother. I met him three days ago in the grounds by the lake. He told me he had come to my room one night. Neither of us found anything in it.”

“You saw Arthur here?”

“Yes, as I said, in the grounds.”

“And was he well? Where is he staying?” The relief in her voice was unmistakable.

“He seemed quite well, though perhaps a little inebriated. He didn’t say where he was staying. That was why I called on Brown.”

“I do not understand. What was the message you had from Brown?”

“It’s not a message in a straightforward sense, it is something I learned from him. I went to visit him because I believed your brother might have stolen the necklace and be hiding with it at Barlow Court.”

“Impossible. He may be misguided, but he is not a thief. And if he had the necklace, why did he search your room?”

“Perhaps he was looking for something else of value to him.”

Joshua waited for some furious reaction or denial, but when there was none, he assumed he was correct and wondered what it might be. “Brown’s conclusion was that it would be impossible for him to conceal himself for any length of time at Barlow Court. However, he also pointed out there were two suitable places a man might conceal himself at Astley. Considering my recent conversation with your brother took place in these grounds, I think it is a possibility worth investigating.”

“What places did he suggest?”

“The grotto and the basement beneath the octagon tower that houses the overflow chamber for the lake, according to Brown, in a storm. That is why I believe we should go together to find him and warn him.”

Joshua heard her sharp intake of breath. “Of course I will come; you need have no fear of that. Shall we go now? Will you get dressed?”

“No,” Joshua said firmly. “It is out of the question. We will see nothing in the dark and only endanger ourselves. And in any case the weather tonight is fine. Even if he is there he will come to no harm. We will wait till first light. I will knock at your bedchamber door.”

Lizzie concurred with this arrangement, and so with no further discussion, she left his room. Joshua tossed and turned, pondering the motive for her nocturnal visit. Did she really believe the necklace was in Cobb’s bag? Or was there something else it contained? He had thoroughly examined every object in it twice and there seemed nothing untoward. Nevertheless, the thought that he might have overlooked something bothered him. It was some time before he slept.

AS SOON AS the first light began to illuminate the room, Joshua opened his eyes and saw that several things were not as they had been the night before. The clothes that he recalled kicking under the bed now lay piled on a chair. The papers on his writing table were disarranged. Several of his possessions—his father’s timepiece, his pocket book, and a brush and comb left on the dressing chest—had been moved. The bottom drawer was slightly open. The door to the linen press in which his clothes were stored stood ajar.

Lizzie had not been taken in by his lie that the bag wasn’t here. She must have returned while he slept and searched the room. Neither of them trusted the other. He looked at the washstand that hid the closet wherein he had secreted Cobb’s bag. With relief, and a surge of triumph too, he saw that the washstand remained exactly where he had left it.

He leapt from his bed, resolving to ignore the ache in his temples. What had possessed him to drink so much wine? After he poured cold water in the bowl in the washstand and performed his toilette, he felt somewhat revived. He dressed as speedily as his injuries allowed, choosing plain black breeches, a white linen shirt (leaving the cuffs unbuttoned), and his blue everyday topcoat, then went to rouse Lizzie Manning and begin the search for her brother.

I
T WAS AFTER SIX by the time Joshua and Lizzie stepped outside. The air remained still and heavy. A large orange sun hung low in the sky, and the western horizon was fringed with mounds of purple clouds. A few swallows darted about, dipping low over the fishpond to drink, or to catch the fragile insects that hovered there. Hedgerows and shrubs were alive with the shrill sound of birdsong, which seemed only to emphasize the strained silence between Lizzie and Joshua.