Shadow of the Past Read online

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mr Vernon, the coroner, did not give the grand surroundings of Moreton Hall a second glance, as if used to conducting proceedings under the blind eyes of Graeco-Roman gods, and was inclined to regard the gawping of some of the bucolic jurors with a slightly irritated amusement. He was a fashionable-looking man of some forty years, broad-shouldered and erect, with still-dark hair. He was dressed with elegance, his coat surely cut by Weston. He had been provided with an oak refectory table and a handsome but viciously uncomfortable Elizabethan straight-backed chair, both from the gun room. His clerk, sitting a few feet from him, occupied a much lowlier – but probably more comfortable – stool.

  Vernon noted with apparent approval and a respectful bow the presence of Lady Chase, whom I had not expected to attend the proceedings. Presumably these would be very short, a question of my giving evidence of finding the corpse, a brief account of our attempts to identify the man, Toone’s evidence that he met his death before he fell into the water, and then – pending other information – an adjournment.

  I was indeed the first called to the witness stand, but scarcely had I begun my account than Mr Vernon interrupted me.

  ‘You tell me you were not first on the scene, Mr Campion. Might I enquire who was?’

  ‘Two young ladies were beside the swollen stream, your honour, and a third, their governess, was actually in the water.’

  ‘For what purpose? Did she have some idea of assisting what she presumed was a drowning man?’

  ‘I do not think so, your honour. She became exceedingly distressed when I indicated her proximity to him.’

  ‘So what was she doing in the water? Where is she?’ he demanded tetchily, looking round as if she might step down from one of the niches. ‘Let her answer for herself.’

  I coughed. ‘Miss Southey is not present, your honour. It seems she left the Bramhalls’ employment and indeed the district the same day. She has yet to be found.’

  ‘This is disgraceful. Stand down, sir. Stand down this minute. And let Mr Bramhall step forward.’

  His clerk whispered a swift correction.

  ‘Very well, let Sir Marcus Bramhall step forward. Not here? Not here? Where the devil is he? He and his governess, flouting the court like this. Parson Campion, a moment, please.’

  Halfway to my seat, next to the Hansards, I turned.

  ‘These young ladies you spoke of – their names. And are they present? No need for the witness stand, sir – aye or nay?’

  ‘I do not see them here, sir.’

  ‘Where might they be? And what are their names? I warn you, sir, if you do not reply I shall hold you in contempt.’

  Had I had a quizzing glass, I fear I would have raised it at that moment. Humble country parson I might now be, there was still enough of my father in me to resent such Turkish treatment. I permitted myself a frigid bow. ‘Your honour, a simple enquiry would have sufficed. The young ladies are Sir Marcus Bramhall’s daughters, Lady Honoria and Miss Georgiana. As I said before, they are not present in this court.’ I bowed once more and sat down.

  ‘And who might be representing Sir Marcus and the rest of his family?’ Vernon demanded, scanning the courtroom.

  Lady Chase rose to her feet. Tall, and still elegant, she cut such an imposing figure that I heard gasps. ‘I do not claim to represent my late husband, Lord Chase’s, family but I may inform the court that, though they are my guests, they do not appear to be at home today.’

  Furnival got to his feet and scuttled from the room.

  ‘Indeed,’ she continued, ‘I understand that there was talk of a carriage journey. My steward is even now seeking news of them.’ She bowed slightly and resumed her seat.

  ‘Thank you, Lady Chase,’ Vernon said, clearly mollified. ‘Now, although this will throw the narrative out of order, I would like to ask Mr Campion to return to the stand. If you would be so kind, Mr Campion? Thank you. So would you continue your account of what happened next?’

  I had completed my evidence, and so had Hansard. The only information that caused a frisson was that the poor man had hair resembling that of an African’s.

  ‘And was his skin of an appropriate hue?’

  ‘It was no darker than that of a man regularly exposed to the elements, your honour.’

  ‘So he might have been of mixed blood?’

  ‘He might indeed.’

  ‘So the victim could not in fact have been the missing Lord Wombourn?’

  ‘Indeed not, sir. The man in question had, apart from his unusual hair, perfect teeth. I happened to attend Lord Wombourn after a hunting accident in which he chipped an incisor – a front tooth,’ he added, touching his own lest there be any doubt.

  ‘What else can you tell us about the man?’

  ‘He was poor. One of his boots was leaking, and he had stuffed it with folded newspaper. His clothes, once excellent, I would say, were threadbare. His drinking flask, which was located in a tussock of grass, was humble pewter, badly dented.’

  Vernon looked up. ‘Two questions, if I may? How was it found?’

  Edmund told him about the search party.

  Vernon nodded his approval. ‘But I may deduce that this flask was not in fact upon his person?’

  ‘No, sir. Further upstream, where I presume he originally lay.’

  ‘Presume? Presume? Dr Hansard, you are a physician with an enviable reputation, but I must ask you to stick to the facts, not venture into the realms of speculation.’

  I dared not catch Edmund’s eye lest I explode with unseemly laughter. But, having been rebuked, would he then mention the ring?

  He bit his lip, as if acknowledging his fault, and perhaps wrestling with his conscience. Would he tell the whole truth or protect Lady Chase? In the event, he did not have to make the decision for himself.

  ‘Without indulging in theories about how it might or might not have arrived at the scene, did you find anything else, in what sounds like a commendably thorough search?’

  ‘Not I, sir, but the village lad I have already mentioned. He found a leather bag containing a ring. The ring was subsequently identified as one belonging to Lady Chase’s son, Lord Wombourn.’

  Even the solemnity of the occasion could not prevent uproar at this point. Several women burst into tears, and two men threw their hats into the air with a loud cheer.

  ‘He is alive! Thank God, he is alive! Her ladyship was right!’ The room buzzed with comment.

  With a most compassionate glance, at last Vernon insisted on silence. ‘Let us pray God that this is one assumption that we can indeed make. However, all we may record is that such a ring was found. My profound apologies, your Ladyship.’

  Now Dr Toone was speaking of the state of the deceased.

  ‘Mud in his nostrils! What bearing does that have on the case?’ Vernon demanded, clearly taken aback.

  I shot a surreptitious glance at Mrs Hansard, who responded with what in anyone else I would have said was a wink.

  ‘In my opinion,’ Toone responded, ‘it shows that the deceased lay face down in mud while he was still alive, dragging mud into his nose as he breathed. Whether he simply lay in the mud, or had his face pressed into it until he expired, of course I cannot speculate,’ he added with a seraphic innocence that made me briefly warm to him. ‘What I can add was that his lungs contained no water, which they would have done had he drowned.’

  ‘And how did you discover this?’

  Toone regarded him steadily. ‘In the usual way, your honour.’

  ‘By a post-mortem examination?’

  The words cast a chill on those capable of understanding them. As comprehension dawned, a murmur of anger arose. Pray God that for Maria’s sake Toone guard his tongue.

  He continued, addressing Vernon, ‘I should add that decomposition had already begun, of the facial features particularly. Perhaps it is fortunate that the young ladies left the scene before the body was recovered.’

  ‘Very well, Dr Toone – you may
step down. But do not leave the room. You may be needed later.’

  Indeed he was – but not as a witness. He and Edmund were required in their capacity as physicians, both Lady Honoria and Miss Georgiana succumbing to the vapours as, having returned to Moreton Hall from their carriage-drive, they were summoned one after the other to give their evidence. In public, neither seemed able to explain why Miss Southey should have been in the stream; both retreated into hysterical spasms I for one considered entirely feigned. It seemed I was not the only cynic. Wafting the aromas of Hungary water and lavender vinaigrettes from his nose, Vernon ordered the girls from the hall, bidding the two medical men do what they could to silence them.

  As their cries rang down the corridor, mercifully muffled by the huge mahogany doors, Vernon summoned their father to the stand. Clearly it was not to ask for evidence.

  ‘I cannot understand how a man of sense, such as I supposed you might be, should allow a material witness to leave your household – I do not say house, as I understand that you are the guests of Lady Chase. Pray make every effort to find the young lady in question. I understand that Moreton has no village constable to assist in uncovering the identity of the deceased. Is anyone making an effort so to do? No? I am adjourning the case now, ladies and gentlemen, until a later date, but once the session is closed, I would like to speak in private to Mr Campion, if you please.’

  Vernon sat in the armchair opposite me, sipping the sherry Mrs Hansard had swiftly provided before she excused herself and left us on our own. A tray of her best savoury biscuits lay at his elbow. It had been suggested that he pass the night at Langley Park, though the reason – it being less difficult socially than Moreton Hall, with the family he had so roundly castigated – was not spelt out. He had no sooner crossed the threshold, however, than Edmund had been summoned to a difficult childbed, and Toone had chosen to go with him, keen, he said, to learn from a master.

  ‘Are you the only sane man in the village, Campion?’ Vernon asked with a dry smile.

  I shook my head firmly. ‘Dr Hansard is both a fine scholar and an excellent doctor. We have a remarkably low mortality rate in this area, his skill in childbirth especially being exceptional. The mother he is attending now could not be in finer hands were Sir William Knighton himself available. If a man like that considers Toone his superior in matters dealing with the dead we must respect his judgement. Meanwhile, Hansard and I have not been inactive since poor Miss Southey disappeared,’ I explained, concluding with the information that the search of the woods Edmund and I had yesterday set in train had so far proved fruitless.

  ‘So why should anyone wish to run off with the young woman’s trunk?’ he demanded at last, having listened without interrupting. Little by little he was shedding his abrasive manner. ‘And risk losing some of his sleeve,’ he added with a distinct twinkle. Perhaps I might come to like him.

  ‘As to that, poverty is so rife in the countryside that many folk – and I do not exclude my parishioners – would be tempted by its contents, not to mention by the article itself. And a desperate man might well have tried to kill the dog he saw guarding his potential booty. However,’ I continued, adding a further log to the fire, ‘I think this is too much of a coincidence. All our enquiries about the young woman’s departure have come to naught, and while Lady Bramhall has sent to the steward in charge of her London residence for all the details of Miss Southey’s employment – her family, her references, and so on – as far as I know she has had no reply: certainly none that she has vouchsafed to Hansard and myself. You, of course, may have more success.’

  He nodded grimly. ‘I had wondered why Hansard suggested I return here. But I think he was right to do so. There is something altogether havey-cavey about the doings of the Bramhalls. And one can hardly dine en famille with a family of whom one harbours profound suspicions. However, I do think that tomorrow I should press Sir Marcus on the matter of Miss Southey – Lady Bramhall too, perhaps, reluctant as one is to question the fairer sex. But I believe our enquiries must spread further afield.’ He rose, smiting one fist against another in exasperation, and took a turn about the room. ‘I cannot believe that in these enlightened times you do not have a parish constable. Mind you, I suppose that even if you did anything more than a little poaching and minor theft would be beyond his powers.’

  ‘The missing trunk would fall into such a man’s purview,’ I suggested. ‘Both Hansard and I are professional men, with other responsibilities we cannot shirk. I for one would fain be on the road to London, to make further enquiries about the missing Lord Chase, but in all honour, even if I can provide my flock with a temporary shepherd, I would not know where to start.’

  Vernon resumed his seat. ‘There are the Runners, of course.’

  ‘But with such a paltry reputation. And with such indolent magistrates in charge of the law.’

  ‘Indeed. I had great hopes that Colquhoun might achieve something, but when he was overlooked and Richard Ford became chief magistrate at Bow Street the chances of turning London into a law-abiding city disappeared. Now all everyone looks for is Napoleon’s agents! Oh, I grant you that the horse patrols and the river police have had successes, but where are the means to control those criminal refuges, the rookeries? To rid the streets of petty theft? Of prostitution?’ He continued in the same vein for several minutes, reminding me that once I would have had, as the son of a rich household, such interest in the maintenance of the capital’s law and order.

  Now my concerns were parochial indeed, and perhaps in the worst sense of the word. Somehow, moreover, I needed to return the conversation to my main concerns. Who was the dead man? Where was Miss Southey? And, above all, did the young Lord Chase live?

  It was Toone, at dinner served perforce late enough for the most fashionable London taste, who provided me with a sudden spark of inspiration. Or perhaps it was the Almighty, to whom I was able to give thanks not simply for the wonderful repast Mrs Hansard and her cook had conjured from nowhere but for the safe delivery of a lusty son to a mother neither doctor considered in any danger.

  All servants having been dismissed, despite the presence of the distinguished guest, Toone was explaining his method of examining corpses – not by any means one’s preferred topic of conversation over a green goose, with removes of saddle of lamb, roasted vegetables and macaroni. Apparently he made a sketch of the deceased before he started, with another sketch of each relevant body part as he examined it.

  ‘So you have an image of the man from the stream?’ I said, an idea forming itself slowly at the back of my head.

  ‘I do indeed.’

  ‘But it would not be fit for public display?’

  ‘Indeed, it would be fit to show fellow doctors. But to the general populace, no. It would be too shocking.’

  Vernon was looking at me as if I were mad. But Hansard gave me an encouraging smile.

  ‘Would it be possible to adjust the sketch, to make it as if it were of the living person?’ I pursued.

  Toone shook his head frowningly. ‘Why should one want to do that?’

  ‘Because it occurred to me during a conversation with Mr Vernon that the majority of Londoners might not be literate – that the newspaper advertisements so assiduously inserted by Furnival on her Ladyship’s behalf might indeed be almost useless. Agreed, the man in the stream might have seen and understood it, but what of his associates? If we are to tell his family, his friends, of his fate, we may need another means of communicating with them. We need a picture.’ Embarrassed by my long harangue, I drew deeply on my wine.

  Vernon smiled slow approval. ‘What an excellent idea, Parson.’

  Toone shook his head. ‘My skills are limited to drawing – not well – from what I see before me. I am no artist, to breathe life into the dead. Sketching of that order is in general a female accomplishment, such as would be possessed by Lady Honoria and Miss Georgiana; and even if it were possible I would not expose such loudly lachrymose females to such as task.’
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  Mrs Hansard broke the ensuing gloomy silence. ‘One task that they may have undertaken, gentlemen, is sketching their governess. She would be an easily available model. I dare swear that they have not so much as entered their schoolroom since her departure.’

  ‘Allow me to congratulate you, Hansard, on such an excellent wife. Indeed, Mrs Hansard, I will send round my groom for them first thing tomorrow.’

  ‘If I were you,’ Hansard put in dryly, ‘I would go yourself, with the full weight of your authority. They systematically flout my authority as a justice; they may try to do the same with yours.’

  ‘We will go together,’ Vernon declared. ‘But Toone, having made these anatomical sketches, are you certain that you are not capable of turning them into something…more artistic?’

  ‘I very much doubt it.’

  I recalled dear Mrs Hansard’s sitting room when she was employed at Moreton Priory. The walls were covered with silhouettes of her own making. Genteel young lady with a drawing master she might not be, but she had the skills and also the cool head to do what we needed. The only question was how to suggest it without betraying her part of the post-mortem examination.

  I caught Mrs Hansard’s eye, and raised an eyebrow. Having her attention, I mimed drawing and pointed at her. It took her a couple of moments to understand my meaning, but when she did, she shook her head minutely, rolling her eyes in the direction of her husband, as if to convey that she would need his approval. Knowing I could rely on her to seek it in private, I smiled warmly and turned the subject.

  The hour was so late that there was no question of us sitting long over our port, although on this occasion Mrs Hansard had withdrawn from the table to allow us men to talk out our talk. Without her presence, however, conversation turned to the intricacies of medicine and it was hard to tell whether Mr Vernon or I was happier when the party joined her for the tea tray, which she summoned almost immediately.