Shadow of the Past Page 8

  ‘There is another interpretation, my Lady – a much more positive one,’ Dr Hansard declared. ‘Imagine he was unable to reach you and sent his envoy on ahead with proof of identity! Alas,’ he added in more sober tones, ‘we cannot know which is correct.’

  ‘Dum spiro, spero,’ I suggested.

  But for long moments she stared into the middle-distance, unaware, I would have sworn, of our presence. Dr Hansard stepped across to the decanter, pouring half a glass of wine, which he placed gently in her ladyship’s hand. Almost visibly coming to her self, she agreed to take a sip. Then, something like gaiety returning to her eyes, she insisted that we join her too. ‘Provided that we drink a toast, gentleman: to Hugo – no longer Viscount Wombourn but now Lord Chase.’

  ‘To Lord Chase,’ we responded.

  The glasses set aside, we discussed our next moves.

  ‘Will you make enquiries,’ Lady Chase began, ‘about the poor man who died so close to warmth and shelter? I will bear all his funeral expenses, Tobias, it goes without saying. When Furnival returns from Warwick I will ask him in which journals he placed advertisements.’ She rang. A maidservant appeared as promptly, as magically, as they did at my parents’ houses. ‘The moment Mr Furnival enters the house, send him up here. The very instant, do you understand?’

  The girl bobbed a reply and scuttled off.

  ‘Pray, your Ladyship, do not make demands so particular,’ Edmund begged her. ‘Normality – that is the key.’

  She made a moue, half-irritated, half-apologetic. ‘Soon we can determine what to do next. Oh, what it is to be a woman, and unable to help you in your search for the truth.’ She beat her fists on her lap in frustration.

  I began to understand why Mrs Hansard should have joined Toone in his examination of the corpse.

  ‘And worse, my Lady, to be unable to confide in a soul,’ Dr Hansard added with quiet authority. ‘No. I pray you, not a word to anyone. Anyone at all except us – and my dear wife, of course.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Your Ladyship, if someone killed this man, it could have been because he did not want you to receive the information he carried. It is not inconceivable… Madam, the last thing I want is to put you in danger.’

  ‘Danger? Nonsense, Dr Hansard. From whom could I possibly be in danger? From revolutionary villagers? We are not in France.’

  ‘And I thank God for it. I was thinking of danger rather closer to home, Lady Chase.’

  She stared, regally. Rarely have I seen her regard someone de haut en bas but that, for an instant, was what she did now. As Edmund met her eye, unflinching, she dropped her pose, however, and burst out laughing. ‘My dear friend, the only fear I have from Sir Marcus and his family, still clinging on like bedbugs despite the clemency of the weather which clearly permits travel, is being bored to death. I know our young friend here has a tendresse for Sir Marcus’s pretty sister, but in truth, she lacks conversation, and has this much courage in love.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Discouraged by my idiotish nephew from casting her eyes in the direction of the only eligible man in the neighbourhood, indeed. Oh, poor Tobias, did you not know? I am so sorry. He means her to make a good match – a profitable one, in other words.’

  I stared at the carpet, my face, even my ears aflame.

  ‘Come, Tobias, you may have the demeanour of the humblest clergyman, but I know that your family is one of the most noble in the country.’ She watched me intently. ‘Poverty was not thrust upon you: you chose to embrace it. Why?’

  Why on earth had she chosen this moment to make such an enquiry? Fearing she would not approve my opinion of the origins of old families, I cast around for an explanation that would convince her without sounding sanctimonious. This was not a room in which one repeated what Our Lord said about rich men and the eyes of needles. At last I smiled, at her and at Dr Hansard equally. ‘Noblesse oblige,’ I said.

  I was spared the need to elucidate by a knock at the door. It was Furnival, still dressed for travel. He gave the half-bow her ladyship preferred from her household.

  ‘Dear Furnival, I wonder if you would be so kind as to tell me in which journals you placed advertisements asking for tidings of my son, Lord Chase.’

  ‘Advertisements, my Lady?’ Furnival repeated, as if the sudden warmth of the parlour fire had melted his wits.

  But there was no warmth in her ladyship’s voice. ‘Advertisements, Furnival. For news of my son.’

  He shook his head as if doubting what he heard. ‘I have tried all the provincial periodicals once or twice, without success. But of late I have confined myself to the Morning Post and the Times. I believe the last one in the latter would have been inserted in early October. But I assure you, my Lady, that there have been no responses, none at all.’

  ‘Of course there have not. I merely wished to enquire. And the advertisements will continue at regular intervals?’

  ‘I fear it is no more than throwing good money after bad, madam.’

  There was no doubting her fury. ‘You wish to desist in our efforts to find Lord Chase? Good God, man, how can that be a waste of money? Spend all this and you do not spend half enough.’ In her rage, her ladyship strode to her writing desk and produced a purse, which she flung down. It shot off the polished surface and landed at Furnival’s feet.

  No one moved.

  Even though his position as a most loved and trusted retainer had surely given him the right to mention his misgivings, I was shocked that he had questioned her orders. I was even more shocked, truth to tell, by a side to her ladyship I had never seen before. He bent painfully slowly, scrabbled on the floor with his poor swollen fingers, and straightened with what dignity he could.

  ‘Thank you, Furnival.’ It was not an expression of gratitude. It was the coldest dismissal. Lady Chase waited till he had quitted the room before saying, ‘October. London. So can we deduce, Dr Hansard, that that is where the poor dead man came from?’

  ‘We can make an intelligent guess that it was, Lady Chase, but that is all.’

  ‘If we make it our premise,’ I rushed in, ‘then I will set out myself in the morning.’

  Her ladyship flung up her hands. ‘And now I will have to demand my purse back from Furnival,’ she said ruefully. ‘Or humbly ask him to supply me with guineas.’

  ‘It would be good to return to friendly terms with such a loyal servant,’ I began.

  ‘Not so friendly that you tell him the reason why,’ Hansard put in. ‘No, Tobias. No, your Ladyship. All this is too hasty. Tobias cannot dash off anywhere without knowing whither he is dashing. We must put local enquiries in train before he makes a grand assault on the capital. There is, after all, another enquiry to make – what has happened to the young woman who found the corpse? Where is Miss Southey, and why did she disappear so swiftly?’

  The person who should be able to answer that was of course, Sir Marcus, deny it as he might. By chance, we encountered him with his wife on the main staircase. However, before we could raise the matter, he pressed on us an invitation for dinner, overriding whatever Edmund was trying to say.

  ‘Nay, I insist, gentlemen – my wife and I will not take no for an answer, will we, my dear?’

  ‘But—’ I objected weakly. How could we cross-question a man in a social situation? In any case, I could scarce forbear to glance at my watch – surely it was almost five o’clock already.

  ‘You will recall we now keep town hours, gentlemen.’ His bow was an uneasy mixture of the arrogant and the ingratiating. ‘No, I will accept no excuses. Lady Chase herself has promised to honour us with her company at seven. Dr Hansard, what do you say?’

  Whether or not Edmund felt similar inhibitions, he responded with a civil bow. ‘My wife and I would be pleased to accept your invitation,’ he said clearly, with what I saw as a challenge in his eye. Lady Chase treated Mrs Hansard as an intimate friend, but the presence of a mere doctor’s wife might not be as welcome to this upstart.

  ‘Excellent,’ Sir Mar
cus declared, not missing a beat. ‘A new batch of music arrived this very morning, Mr Campion. I trust you will not disappoint my sister?’

  I already had done that, of course, with my chosen mode of life, but let that pass. In any case, Lady Chase’s words about Lady Dorothea still ringing in my ears, I felt positively queasy. Nonetheless, forbidding myself even a glance at Dr Hansard, I declared I should be charmed indeed. ‘Will Lady Bramhall be pleased to play on her harp?’ I pursued.

  A curtsy and a blush were my reward. Indeed, despite the length of our acquaintance, she was still more of a simpering miss than a matron in her behaviour. No wonder her daughters were so lacking in savoir-faire with such a model before them. And with such a domineering father, no wonder they were bullies. I could always treat them as if they were subjects of scientific inquiry. Perhaps if I did so, I would after all look forward to our conversations this evening.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I returned to the rectory to change for dinner, thanking goodness, for once, that the Bramhalls had persuaded Lady Chase to adopt London hours for dining. As I hurried past the churchyard, I saw Simon Clark still at work tidying some graves, although it was nearly dark. He deserved my courtesy as much as the Bramhalls did, so I stopped to greet him.

  Simon seemed pleased to be interrupted. He leant on his scythe, contemplating the mound he’d just neatened, though the grass hardly grew at this time of year.

  I complimented him on his endeavours. ‘You have another grave to prepare now, of course, Simon. That poor lost soul. Lady Chase has undertaken to bear his funeral expenses.’

  ‘That man Dr Hansard cut open?’

  How on earth did he know that?

  He spat. ‘It’s not right, Parson, that it isn’t, opening a man’s insides. With Mrs Hansard under the same roof, too.’

  Little did he know how closely I shared his feelings, but I said bracingly, ‘Dr Hansard and Dr Toone merely wish to learn more about the poor man’s death, and they believe that is the best way.’

  He straightened and looked at me sideways. ‘Learning more, indeed. He’s dead, that’s what he is, and that’s all you can say.’

  I was sure there was much more to say. However, it was not an argument I wanted, but progress in my enquiries. ‘What we really must discover now is his identity.’

  He narrowed his sad eyes. ‘Seems he’s mighty important, with all this fuss.’

  ‘My friend, if your son were lying in a strange churchyard, would you not wish to know? Until we know his name, we cannot can trace his family. They will never know what fate befell him, never be able to mourn him.’

  ‘’Tis no worse than losing a lad to they press gangs for godamany years,’ he argued. ‘And what the head doesn’t know the heart can’t grieve over.’

  ‘And while there’s life there’s hope,’ I agreed ironically. Seeing no response, I continued, ‘But Simon, you can’t want an unnamed gravestone in the area you tend so diligently. Let us make an effort to lay this man to rest with all due dignity – and dignity, to my mind, involves a name.’

  Jem received the prospect of curry soup with pleasure, having, he said, often enjoyed it at Langley Park. He had kept to his room, he assured me, toasting himself before the fire which even now glowed brightly.

  ‘I did venture out to your study, Toby,’ he confessed, ‘while young Susan stripped the bed and made it anew. I brought these back with me.’ He patted a pile of books on his fireside table. But he somewhat negated his good report by succumbing to a bout of sneezing. He waved me away with the hand he was not employing with his handkerchief, and I did not argue.

  Changing with some haste, I set off as briskly as I could. It was already dark, and the gig’s puny lamps did little beyond warn other travellers that I was on the road. However, not many folk stirred abroad at that time of night, and though I made my way unhindered to the main gates of the Hall, Old Mother Powell was just about to close them. Since Mrs Trent had charged me to deliver a fine cake, I hopped down.

  Nothing ever seemed to give the old lady more pleasure than to dose me with her cowslip wine, which she reckoned was a powerful preventative of all ills from gout to the ear ache. My theory was that, having drunk enough of the innocent-seeming but potent brew, one cared not what ills might afflict one.

  ‘No Master Jem?’ she demanded.

  I explained that he was unwell. In her mind a common cold became inflammation of the lungs, and the sounding of the death knell.

  ‘To be sure, you must take him a bottle of my blackcurrant wine,’ she said.

  ‘Blackcurrant?’ I repeated stupidly.

  ‘Ah, you were thinking of my cowslip wine. Cowslip is a wonderful preserver of health, Parson, but if you’ve succumbed to an ailment, then it’s my blackcurrant wine you need. Come along in and I’ll find you a bottle. He’s a good young man, Jem,’ she said, bustling ahead of me, ‘always ready with a smile and a jest. Cheers Mr Powell up something proper when he’s in his dismals.’ Mr Powell was so old that he was in truth little more than Lady Chase’s pensioner, his wife carrying out all the duties she could and other estate workers undertaking anything she was unable to tackle.

  Before I knew it I was inside her kitchen, a glass in my hand. I raised it to Mr Powell, who, slumped in a Windsor chair, responded with a sad smile. At last, his wife produced a nip for him, too, though this was a different colour – rosehip gin, she said. She’d heard it might cure his joint pains, and even if it failed in that regard it would warm his old heart.

  ‘It is not I who am unwell,’ I protested, ‘and indeed, I am expected any moment at the Hall.’

  ‘Just a sip will set you up nicely. There’s bad things happening up there, they tell me. Poor Miss Southey.’

  I sat on the stool she had polished with her apron and raised the liquid to my lips. Never had the call of duty been so sweet. ‘What was it that occurred at the Hall that resulted in her dismissal?’

  ‘With no roundaboutation, the story is that she set her cap at you, Parson,’ came her unflinching reply.

  ‘Come, Mrs Powell, you know that the young lady never lifted a flirtatious finger in her life.’

  She regarded me steadily, her eyes bright despite the mesh of wrinkles surrounding them. ‘Nor, I’d stake my life on it, did you compromise the poor girl’s reputation.’

  I gasped. ‘I–I—’

  ‘Of course you didn’t,’ she said comfortably. ‘Indeed, the talk downstairs is that you are sweet on Lady Dorothea, though I always say—’ She stopped abruptly.

  ‘Say what, Mrs Powell? You know that nothing will go beyond these four walls.’

  She looked at me appraisingly.

  ‘Come, we are old friends, are we not?’

  She swallowed hard. ‘Indeed, sir. Which is why I always said you had too much sense.’

  Now it was my turn to blush. ‘Lady Dorothea is a very talented and attractive young lady.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. But as I have always said to them as match-made, sir,’ she added firmly, ‘you want someone like Mrs Hansard, and that’s the truth. Pretty faces won’t make a clergyman’s wife, and no more will fingers clever on the fortepiano. A young Mrs Hansard,’ she concluded with a nod.

  ‘And will you look out for such a one for me?’ I asked gaily. The cowslip wine must have been even stronger than I remembered. I set the glass aside firmly, though it was still three-quarters full. A gleam in Mr Powell’s eye told me it would not go undrunk.

  ‘With all my heart.’

  It was clearly time to bring the talk back to more conventional lines. ‘So, Mrs Powell, what really made them dismiss Miss Southey?’

  ‘And without a reference they did, God help the poor young lady. At least that’s one thing that’s said, though ’tis also put about that she left of her own accord. It was all done behind closed doors, sir, you know how it is, and ask how I might I can’t find the truth. Those young minxes might have had something to do with it. Always trying to find fault, just because she was
trying to cure their faults. It was they that told Sir Marcus about the fires lit to give her comfort in her room, and next thing Mrs Sandys knew was that fires were forbidden and she threatened with I don’t know what if she disobeyed. And her having to support her old parents, too.’

  I nodded slowly. Perhaps that explained Mrs Sandys’ hostility to me.

  ‘Sir Marcus said Miss Southey was invited to the drawing room every evening and had no need of a fire. And then he would have her play to them all. It was almost as if…’

  ‘Go on, please.’

  ‘’Tis said it was almost as if they were goading her, like boys teasing a stray dog. But she never snarled, never gave any cause to dismiss her. And suddenly, there she was, gone.’

  ‘Someone must have seen her depart?’

  ‘Not according to what they say. And neither did I, Mr Campion. I may be slower than I was, but I’ve still got my eyes and ears, thank the Lord. And I swear to you I saw neither hide nor hair of her passing through my gates.’

  I did not even raise an eyebrow to question her. If she said it was so, it was so.

  ‘Which makes me think she must have been in such disgrace as to be sent out through the servants’ gate – oh, yes, did you not hear? Seems Sir Marcus has taken it on himself to open the old lodge gates, to keep working folk away from the gentry.’

  ‘Has he indeed?’ What had Lady Chase made of that? ‘Thank you for telling me all this, Mrs Powell. It makes my task easier.’

  She stood up, smoothing down her spotless apron. ‘Task?’ she repeated shrewdly. ‘Mr Campion, you aren’t ever going after her? Now, that would set tongues a-wagging.’ She shook her head disapprovingly.

  ‘Did anyone mention a loving home? Even distant relatives with whom Miss Southey might seek sanctuary? No?Well, tell me this, Mrs Powell, how may a young woman, alone, unattended, with little money, and, I hazard, no references, find her way in the world?’

  ‘Indeed, I know not, Mr Campion. ’Tis a sad fix to be in. But take care not to make her difficult situation worse.’ She stared at the fire for a moment before continuing. ‘If you ask questions, Mr Campion, people may remark upon it. But if an old gossip like me asks where Miss might be travelling, it’s only to be expected, isn’t it? And I’ve got plenty of people passing this way every day. Trust me, I shall keep my ears open.’