The Keeper of Secrets (19 page)

‘I regret that as soon as he returns to his old surroundings, and, I believe, to his several bottles a day, he suffers a relapse, and is compelled to return to our care.’

‘He has done this more than once?’ Hansard asked sharply.

‘Indeed. One might almost describe his visits as regular, were there any set pattern to them. We first treated him two years ago, but his father insisted that his behaviour was simple high spirits, and removed him, despite our fears that he was not ready to return to society. Her ladyship thinks him too delicate for our regimen.’

If only I had spoken more forcefully to my cousin about her son’s behaviour! However, I could not imagine her having let me get beyond the first syllable of criticism. ‘Would you tell us the dates of his periods here?’ I asked.

‘Of course.’ Removing a key ring from an inner pocket, he selected a key and bent to open a drawer in his desk.

A loud bell sounded. Whoever was ringing it did not stint his energies – or stop.

He paused, removed the key from the lock, and replaced the key ring in his pocket. ‘Excuse me, gentlemen.’ None of would have said that he hurried, but he left the room swiftly, with an undeniable purpose.

A slight click from the door prompted Hansard to rise also. As he tried the door, he turned to us, hands spread. ‘Gentlemen, it seems we are locked in.’

After ten minutes of kicking our heels, I confess that had I been a housebreaker I would have taken a penknife to that tantalising drawer. To do so would at least have ended the speculation that filled the intervening minutes.

At first, with a gasp of shock, we had remained silent, especially when Hansard, still at the door, declared he could hear the footsteps of what he could only deduce must be a very large dog. A baying confirmed this.

‘So despite Dr Brighouse’s affability and ease, all here is not Paradise,’ Sir Hellman had observed. He rose to his feet and, shielding his eyes against the sun, peered through the window. ‘Nay, they might be preparing for a fox-hunt, with these hounds and these men on horseback.’

‘For a man-hunt,’ I corrected him, as I joined him at the window.

It did not take long. A figure – I do not like to say it was a man, though it was mother-naked – fled across the gravel and hurtled towards what he possibly saw as the safety of the meadow. He misjudged the ha-ha, and fell awkwardly, clutching his ankle, from which blood was streaming. There must have been a tripwire, which I had failed to observe. He strove nonetheless to hobble on. As we watched in horror he was floored by two dogs, and gathered into a straitjacket by no fewer than three burly attendants. Even as he lay panting and screaming on the soft grass, Dr Brighouse forced a contrivance into his mouth, and poured liquid inside. When he judged his patient sufficiently calm, he had him loaded on a large handcart and, still surrounded by dogs and attendants, trundled away.

Too shocked by what we had seen to talk, we resumed out seats. After a while, as our pulses slowed, we heard the click of the door being unlocked, and a footman and a maid brought in wine and a laden tray.

The butler, following on their heels, bowed. ‘Dr Brighouse’s compliments, gentlemen, and he is sure that you will understand the reason for his temporary absence. He hopes you will partake of refreshments while you wait.’

Although he retired, he left the two servants with us, thus inhibiting any conversation we might have wished for – and any unauthorised exploration of that drawer. He also locked us in again.

I noticed with distaste that there was still blood on Brighouse’s cuffs when he returned, clearly anxious to reassure us that such behaviour, while distressing to all, was easily controlled by those with experience. At the same time he contrived to suggest it was a rarity in the calm and ordered existence of his establishment.

‘Now, may we proceed to Lord Elham’s records, and, if necessary, to speaking to the young man himself?’ Dr Hansard asked, the servants having been dismissed.

‘I cannot think that the latter will be possible,’ Brighouse replied. ‘After an incident like today’s, all our inmates are unsettled and we find it necessary to…to pacify them.’

‘You mean by dosing them with laudanum, whether they need it or not?’

‘And by bleeding them,’ came the even response. ‘Dr Hansard, if you know of a better way of dealing with those of such a disposition, pray tell me,’ he added, more tetchily. ‘Now, to Lord Elham, and whether he will ever be able to take his place in the Upper Chamber.’

‘Nay,’ said Sir Hellman, breaking his silence at last, with a gust of laughter, strangely out of place in its vehemence, ‘put
him in there and his strange ways will never be noticed.’

‘Quite so,’ Dr Brighouse agreed smoothly, as he bent to unlock a drawer and produce a ledger. ‘In here I keep the dates of admission and discharge of all my patients.’ He ran an index finger along the columns. ‘See: there is the date; the patient’s alias; the reason for admission; any special regimen; date of discharge. And if the patient has to be readmitted, then we begin the whole process again.’

‘You do not list the patients by name?’

‘It would not be easy to steal this ledger, but it would not be impossible. You can imagine that confidentiality must at all times be maintained, when information in the wrong hands could lead to…unpleasantness. I am thinking of inheritances, marriage settlements and so on. So full details of the patients are kept separately, under a numerical system.’

‘Very creditable. Now, might I just compare the dates that I have in my notebook with those of Elham’s
residence
?’

I might have known that Dr Hansard would be so efficient, noting down details I had kept but vaguely in my memory.

His face impassive, he copied information from the ledger into his notebook. ‘You are absolutely certain of these dates?’

‘Absolutely?’

‘I think that we may need to speak to Lord Elham, as soon as you deem him to be fit.’

‘In connection with what, Dr Hansard? A criminal offence? Because I must warn you that in a court of law he might not be considered to be fit to plead.’

‘Even though he would be tried – as a peer of the realm – in the House of Lords!’ Sir Hellman observed.

If I had had a choice of being treated by Dr Brighouse or by Mrs Brighouse, I would have chosen the former.

We encountered his good lady as we made our way to the west wing of the house, every door being unlocked for us and locked behind us, a decidedly intimidating experience. A soberly dressed female, weighed down by a huge chatelaine laden with keys, was berating a quaking maid for some failure. She made no attempt to lower her voice, let alone desist altogether, as we approached, Dr Brighouse escorting us. At last, when it was a choice between sending the young woman on her way or continuing to block the corridor and prevent our further progress, she abandoned her prey.
Us
she treated with more affability than we would have chosen as her husband introduced us.

‘This is Mrs Brighouse, gentlemen, who does me the honour of acting as matron and housekeeper here at Lymbury Park.’

Instead of curtsying, she shook our hands in an almost mannish way, her grip being the equal of any sportsman I had met. In her forties, she had the air of one who had married above her station, but was determined not to be obsequious in any way.

‘Good day, gentlemen. You catch us at one of our rare crises, you see.’

‘Indeed, madam, the sight of that poor patient being pinioned and drugged was not what we hoped for,’ I said.

‘You would rather have seen him run, as he was, into the village and ravish the nearest female? Well, that would not I. Mr Brown, as I shall call him, is a danger not just to himself, you see, but to others. If he was not here, I swear you’d see him swing at Tyburn, gentle birth or not.’ She lifted her chin in challenge, arms akimbo.

‘My dear, I have explained to these gentlemen that we are providing a most discreet and useful service.’

‘Good. And little enough reward we get for it too. I’d return these monsters to their families, for two pins, to see how they liked having them wandering round at all hours.’

‘Surely you lock them in!’ I could not help looking around me in some apprehension.

‘Mortal cunning, some of them, you see. But, bless your soul, gentlemen, you’ve no need to fear. Look’ee here.’ Reaching for the nearest door, she lifted a panel that concealed a small barred spy-hole. ‘Go on, see for yourself how docile they can be.’

Her husband swiftly closed the panel. ‘Nay, Honoria, my love, they are here to meet one man only. Mr Bossingham.’

She pulled a face. ‘He’s up on the third floor this week. The more restless they are, the higher we put them, you see, gentlemen.’ Surely this contradicted her husband’s optimistic assurances. ‘Now, if you’d be so kind, just step this way.’

We followed her up what would have been, when the house was a family residence, the backstairs, their mundane meanness somehow emphasised in what I increasingly felt, despite Brighouse’s earlier optimism, to be a place of despair.
Each pace, moreover, took us deeper into a smell, and then a stench, of human ordure, such as one is most used to in the stews of poor towns and cities.

Mrs Brighouse bustled ahead, banging vigorously on any door behind which an inmate was foolish enough to cry out or weep. No words were exchanged, but it was clear that on other occasions they might have been, and at once the hidden room fell unnaturally silent, with not the movement of a chair or the scratch of a pen to be heard.

At last she stopped, and, with a theatrical flourish, lifted Mr Bossingham’s hatch.

Hansard stepped forward softly. As he peered in, his face became inexpressibly sad. He gestured me to take his place. There was the noble lord, the Eleventh Duke of Elham, reduced to a sobbing boy, clutching a child’s rag doll for comfort as he lay, wearing no more than soiled small clothes, on a straw mattress on the floor. A stinking bucket in one corner catered for his bodily needs. I was reminded, most horribly, of the cell from which we had plucked young William Jenkins. Never had I liked Elham, nor found him a decent human being, even, but to see him like this was past enduring.

I replaced the flap as quietly as I could, not wishing him to have the further humiliation of knowing he was the object of derision or pity.

‘You still wish to question him?’ Brighouse asked curtly.

‘Indeed I do,’ Hansard declared. ‘Pray have him cleaned up and conveyed to a more presentable room where he and we may have a little more dignity.’

We declined the offer of further refreshment, and passed the time calming our souls in the delightful pleasure gardens to the rear of the house. They were laid out in the French fashion, with elegant promenades between weed-free beds. One man lazed in the shade of a tree, while four or five others, all dressed in the same drab blue shirts and breeches, applied themselves with hoes and rakes. None of the latter took any notice of us, but the solitary man sprang to his feet and touched his hat. A large dog, which I had not seen till that moment, was instantly alert, almost begging its master for permission to spring into action. But he kept it firmly to heel, and walked authoritatively towards us, an upright carriage combined with a pronounced limp suggesting an erstwhile military career.

It was clear that neither Sir Hellman nor Dr Hansard felt inclined to explain our presence, but I said mildly, ‘I take it these are your trusty inmates? And that you care for them out here, in the open air? We are visiting Mr Bossingham, you know.’

‘Waiting for them to make him presentable, are you? If you asks me, there’s nothing wrong with him that a spell under Old Hookey wouldn’t put right, begging your pardon, Padre. If his father purchased a cornetcy for him, he would have done in Portugal or Spain just as well as here. A few route marches under the sun, a few nights bivouacked under pouring rain, and under a good sergeant he’d soon have learnt to mind his temper and his tongue.’

‘And where did you see action?’ I made myself ask, despite the familiar feelings of nausea rising in my gorge.

‘Back in ’08, sir, at Vimerio. We showed them our mettle, I
can tell you. Then they replaced Old Hookey, and we were done for, no argumentation.’ He spat, copiously. ‘A well
set-up
man like, you, Padre – I’m surprised you’re not in the Peninsula yourself.’

It was time I told someone, however lowly, the simple truth. ‘I am too lily-livered. I would have disgraced any army unfortunate enough to have me in its ranks.’

‘Well, you’ve missed out on some good times, Padre. And some bad,’ he added, as if he were meeting my frankness with some of his own. He patted his hip. ‘But I was lucky enough to find a clean billet, even if it wasn’t how I meant to end up. Luckier than most in my position, even if my girl did take it into her head to marry one of them navvies.’

I pressed his shoulder. We both had sorrows to endure, and preferably in silence.

In a hoarse undervoice he added, looking each way to see that we were not overheard, ‘It’s the drink what does for young Mr Bossingham. Keep him off his port and his blue ruin, make him stick to proper gentlemen’s liquor, and he’ll be as fine as fivepence before the year is out. God knows what they pours down his gullet here, but it leaves them more than a bit foxed the next day, I can tell you. They comes in
want
ing a drink, and ends up
need
ing something stronger, if you take my meaning.’

I slipped him a couple of coins, and he backed away, knuckling his forehead.

Hansard and Sir Hellman had drifted away from me, and were engaged in a desultory inspection of the borders. But as they neared one of the inmates, we heard a shout from the terrace, and a flustered-looking Dr Brighouse, with more
haste than dignity, was summoning us to the house.

Assuming that Lord Elham was ready for interview, we returned briskly, but we were kept waiting in a small saloon for nearly a quarter of an hour. With two servants at hand to pass round yet more unwanted refreshments, we could not have any serious conversation; our ire could not altogether be hidden, however, when at last Dr Brighouse deigned to return, with a miserable-looking Lord Elham in tow. Two male orderlies brought up the rear, and as before there was a click as – presumably – the door was locked behind us.

Elham was dressed in the same shapeless blue shirts and breeches as his gardening colleagues. He had recently been shaved, by none too gentle a hand, and his hair was so dishevelled one hesitated to call it even a Brutus cut. He bowed, but the movement was as rigid as if a rocking horse were mimicking a flesh and blood beast.

We bowed in return; he was, after all, a scion of a noble family.

‘How do you do, my lord?’ Hansard asked, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. ‘I am sorry to find you here. How long have you been unwell?’

The young man – today he looked scarcely more than a boy – shook his head as if to clear it. Slack-mouthed, he turned to Dr Brighouse for guidance.

‘Nay, Mr Bossingham, try to answer the gentleman for yourself.’

His eyes rolled with terror.

Hansard took his hand and his elbow to guide him to a sofa on which they sat side by side. ‘Surely you remember me, my lord? Your mother’s physician, Dr Hansard.’

I swear that if Elham could have shown more signs of terror, he did now. He gripped the arm of the sofa convulsively, and tried to stand. The hands of the two attendants forced him back.

Hansard looked up at them. They quailed before his glance. ‘Do you know, Dr Brighouse, I think we might be able to manage without our friends here. And, if I might be so bold, without your good self too.’ His smile was steely.

Brighouse stood his ground. ‘If you are going to try to question him, I must be present – as his medical adviser.’

‘But I am also his medical adviser; Sir Hellman here is a justice; and Mr Campion a divine of repute. I think he will be safe with us, do not you? We will tell you when you may return.’

Elham regarded all this as a child might watch a disagreement between his parents, eyes flying anxiously from one face to another.

At last, Sir Hellman walking compellingly to the door, Dr Brighouse retreated, taking his servants with him. But he did not omit to relock the door behind him.

Reaching gently for Elham’s wrist, Hansard checked his pulse. ‘There, that didn’t hurt, did it, my lord? Will you stick out your tongue for me now? Good. And let me look at your eyes. Very good.’ Whatever he observed there tightened his face in a frown. ‘We’re getting on very well now, are we not? Do you remember my doing all these things when you took a toss one day down by Birchanger Wood? You had a new hunter, a showy bay, and he never did like hedges, did he, though he’d fly over fences and gates with the best of them.’

‘Too short in the back,’ Elham said, speaking as if from the bottom of the sea.

‘That’s right. Good lad.’ He turned briefly to me. ‘He’s so full of laudanum he’ll take a month to dry out. I would not be surprised if he acquires an addiction to it, just like any Bath tabby. At his age, too. Well, I shall recommend to her ladyship that we remove him from here and place him in the care of Dr Baillie or Sir Henry Halford. I have half a mind to take him with us—’

‘But how could we care for him?’ I objected, and then wished I could swallow my words. Was I not a follower of Christ, some of whose greatest miracles involved healing the sick?

‘Exactly so. Weaning him from his opium will not be pleasant, either for the patient or for the physician. But it must be done.’ He patted Elham’s hand again. ‘I will come and visit you again very soon, I promise you.’

‘But you have asked him no questions!’ Sir Hellman exclaimed.

Hansard shrugged. ‘I will try, but cannot imagine that anything he says will be of any use to us.’

‘Please try,’ I begged. The living face, piteous as it was, was replaced in my mind’s eye by the tragic face of my dead Lizzie.

‘Very well.’ His glance told me that I was being foolish. ‘Tell me, my lord, do you know how long you have been here?’

He shook his head.

‘But you remember your home in Moreton Priory?’

A glimmer of the old arrogance showed itself. ‘I have many homes now I am a lord.’

‘Any one of which would surely provide him with better shelter than this,’ Sir Hellman muttered.

‘And which one do you like best?’

‘Grosvenor Square. I like London best. Better than the country.’

‘Do you like Moreton Priory? Do you like the people there?’

‘I didn’t like him. He was rude to my friend.’ Elham pointed an accusing digit at me. ‘But I got my revenge! Set some twine to make him take a tumble. Hope he bloodied his nose when he parted company.’

‘Do you recall why I was rude to him?’ I asked.

‘I want to go now. Tell them I want to sup early in my room. Call my valet now!’

Hansard’s glance at me spoke volumes. ‘Was there anyone you did like at the Priory? Any young lady?’

The response was a decided negative.

‘Did you like any of the servants?’

‘Didn’t like Corby. Too nosy by half. Mama got rid of him.’

The kind old butler! And whence had he been removed?

‘Didn’t like Davies,’ Elham continued. ‘Didn’t like Mrs Beckles. Sour-faced old bitch.’

At least Hansard now had a taste of his own medicine.

‘Liked Lizzie.’

I did not need Hansard’s finger on his lips to make me silent.

‘You liked Lizzie. Did you kiss Lizzie?’

He smirked, and then made a suggestive movement with his hips. I gripped the arms of my chair. The man was an invalid, or I should hardly have been able to contain my ire.

‘Are you saying you were intimate with her?’ Hansard asked, with a minatory but sympathetic glance at me.

Elham pointed at me. ‘You wanted her, but it was I
who—’ He framed a vulgarism matching his gesture.

Hansard put up a hand to restrain him. ‘Enough!’

He fell silent. But his smirk became a vile, licentious leer, which spoke louder than a thousand obscenities.

Perhaps sensing that neither Hansard nor I could have spoken, Sir Hellman got to his feet. ‘My young friend, I understand that you enjoyed marital relations with the young woman. Were you indeed married to her?’