A gentleman of fortune mdk-2 Read online

  Miss Bevan frowned thoughtfully. ‘I remember her calling out that she had seen him walking to the door,’ she said very precisely.

  ‘But you did not see him yourself?’

  ‘No, he was gone when I came to the window.’

  ‘I see. Did you know that Mr Henderson was acquainted with Mrs Lansdale?’

  ‘No, I did not. But, my dear Miss Kent, I do not know anything about Mr Henderson.’

  ‘Oh? But you were a little acquainted with his daughters, I believe?’

  Mary looked uncomfortable. ‘A very little,’ she said with a slight blush. ‘I should not have known them of course – there had been no introduction. But somehow, I hardly know how, we became a little acquainted.’

  Dido looked at her in some surprise. ‘I see,’ she said. ‘Did you visit the young ladies?’

  ‘Oh no.’ Mary looked down at her hands. ‘I could not visit them because…Mrs Midgely would not have liked them. But I would meet them occasionally when they were walking in the park – and we would sometimes take a turn together.’

  ‘I see.’ Dido longed to know why Mrs Midgely should have disliked the girls, but it would be too impertinent to ask. ‘And what kind of young ladies were they? Miss Prentice says that she thinks they were pretty.’

  ‘Dear Miss Prentice! I doubt she ever saw their faces! But I do not suppose that she would ever call anyone ill-looking.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ agreed Dido with a smile.

  ‘They were very accomplished girls,’ Mary continued thoughtfully. ‘Quite remarkably accomplished. They all three spoke very pretty French – and I think Miss Margaret had a grounding in Italian too. And Miss Henderson seemed to have a very sound understanding of music.’

  ‘I am surprised that their father could have afforded them such an education. I understand that he was living in rather straitened circumstances while he was here in Richmond.’

  Mary bit her lip. ‘Is that the opinion of Miss Prentice?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. The circumstance of his giving no dinners and keeping only evening company did not escape her observation.’

  ‘No, I imagine it would not. And she is quite correct – there were a great many evening parties.’ As she spoke these last words a strange look came over Miss Bevan’s face. It was difficult to make it out clearly in the gloomy parlour, but it seemed almost to be…distaste. She clasped her arms about her as if she was cold. ‘At these parties I do not doubt Mr Henderson was well able to display the girls’ accomplishments.’

  ‘You think he was very anxious to get his daughters married?’

  ‘What would you suppose to be the motive of a man who has three unmarried women on his hands?’

  ‘I would indeed suppose it to be matrimony. But…’ Dido studied her companion rather anxiously. She was sitting with her arms clasped across her breast, her eyes troubled and downcast. ‘But the idea does not disgust me as it seems to disgust you.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ replied Mary, unclasping her arms and trying to smile. ‘In such matters anything contrived or mercenary…’

  ‘You suspect that Mr Henderson was mercenary and worldly in his schemes?’

  Mary coloured. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I believe he was…But I am being foolish! No doubt, Miss Kent, I am merely reminded of my own situation. Like me the Henderson girls were poor and must rely upon their charms and their accomplishments to make their fortunes.’

  Dido was concerned by her look of abhorrence. Such extreme delicacy did not promise well for the future happiness of a girl so ill-provided. ‘Marriage,’ she said gently, ‘is generally considered to be the pleasantest preservative from want for women of small fortune.’

  ‘Yes.’ Mary unclasped her arms, seemed to resolve upon appearing unconcerned. ‘And sometimes I am inclined to agree with the general opinion.’

  ‘But sometimes you disagree with it?’

  ‘Sometimes,’ she said, ‘sometimes I think that it is better to be a governess – better to be even a teacher in a school – than to…marry a man one does not care for.’

  ‘I see.’ Dido considered this carefully for several minutes – and remembered too what she had learnt of Miss Bevan’s ‘soul’ in the library. ‘But,’ she said at last, ‘what if one does care for the man? What if one cares for him very much indeed?’

  Miss Bevan met her gaze, with an appearance, at least, of calm. ‘To marry for love,’ she said quietly, ‘is a different matter entirely.’

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Flora,’ said Dido at they dawdled over the sunny breakfast table next morning, ‘what do you know of the Henderson girls who used to live at Knaresborough House?’

  ‘Nothing at all. I have told you before, the family was already gone from Richmond when we came down from town.’

  ‘So I suppose you cannot tell me why Mrs Midgely might have disliked them.’

  ‘Oh yes, I am sure I can tell you that!’ replied Flora eagerly. She set down her teacup. ‘They were, I daresay, pretty.’

  ‘And you think that was the cause of her dislike?’

  ‘Most certainly. She was a very jealous wife, you know. When the poor colonel was alive he was scarcely allowed to talk to a pretty girl. Mrs Midgely always avoided the acquaintance of pretty young women.’

  ‘This argues a very great degree of jealousy. Was she really so very bad?’

  ‘Oh yes! My dear Dido, you have to remember what a very fine man the colonel was – and he was several years younger than his wife, you know.’

  ‘I cannot remember him at all. I never met the man.’

  ‘Oh! But you have only to look at the portrait above the mantelpiece in Mrs Midgely’s parlour to see…’

  ‘To see what?’

  ‘Well, to see that he was a great deal more handsome than his wife ever was! It was the most ill-matched marriage in the world!’

  ‘Mrs Midgely was not pretty when she was young?’

  Flora hesitated. ‘Her fortune was too good for her ever to be considered positively plain,’ she said.

  ‘I see.’

  Dido lapsed into thoughtful silence over her egg-shells. And Flora watched her a little uneasily. ‘I am sure I do not understand why you should still be asking so many questions, Dido. Dear Mr Lomax is quite sure that Mrs Midgely can do Mr Lansdale no harm. He does not think that Mr Vane will go to the magistrate – and even if he does…’

  ‘Well, if, by any ill-chance he does, it might perhaps be a good thing if we were…a little prepared.’

  ‘Oh well!’ cried Flora, ‘I suppose it can do no harm. Though I declare it is a great shame that you should have so much trouble for nothing.’ She shrugged up her shoulders and began to open the letters which had been left beside her plate.

  The room was quiet for a while except for Flora reading out the occasional snatch of news or invitation from her letters – none of which was of much interest to Dido, until the last item. And this was a letter from Sir Joshua Carrisbrook – a letter of supplication.

  It seemed that the poor knight and his lady were so plagued with a superfluity of strawberries that they must implore a party of their friends to come to their assistance. If only they would have the goodness to come, gather and eat as much of the troublesome fruit as they could, then they would be rewarded with spruce beer and a cold collation in the dining room of Brooke Manor.

  ‘So you see,’ smiled Flora, laying down the letter, ‘on Tuesday you will be able to see your delightful Mr Lomax again – and spend a whole day in his company!’

  Dido, who had already thought as much herself, endeavoured to look as if the invitation was of no great importance to her. ‘It will be very pleasant to go to Brooke, I am sure,’ she said demurely. ‘I have a great desire to see the new Lady Carrisbrook and to discover whether she is so excessively young and beautiful as she is reported… And of course I shall be glad to see Mr Lomax too.’

  Flora laughed and was about to say more, but fortunately for Dido, they were interrupted. The maid annou
nced a visitor and, a moment later, Mrs Midgely hurried into the breakfast room – full of self-importance, and news.

  ‘My dear Mrs Beaumont, Miss Kent, have you heard? Have you heard what has happened?’

  Dido and Flora stared blankly at their visitor. This morning she was dressed in pink, spotted muslin and there were also two spots of pink upon each cheek – one the product of art and one beside it which was the result of emotion.

  ‘Knaresborough House has been burgled,’ she announced, before they could even gratify her by admitting their ignorance.

  ‘Burgled!’ they both echoed.

  It had occurred to Dido that the news might be connected with that house – though she could not have foreseen burglary. For a moment she was too lost in surprise to say more.

  But, in a crisis, Flora could be relied upon to make a well-mannered reply. ‘Oh dear! Oh, how very distressing,’ she cried. ‘I do hope that Mr Lansdale has not lost anything of value.’

  ‘As to that,’ said Mrs Midgely reluctantly, ‘no, I do not believe that he has. For he was roused by a noise and found the man, Fraser, already in pursuit of the thieves.’ She frowned; two ill-natured little lines appeared above her nose. The spots of natural colour deepened. ‘I do not believe they took anything at all,’ she admitted.

  But, thought Dido, she would dearly love to report that Mr Lansdale’s losses were heavy. ‘How did the thieves gain entrance to the house?’ she asked.

  ‘Through a window in the drawing room,’ said Mrs Midgely eagerly. ‘The window beside the front door. They broke open the catch upon it. And they left in the same way. When Mr Lansdale came into the room the window was wide open and, it seems, Fraser saw them escaping through it. Two big, rough-looking fellows, he says. And a great mess they had left behind them in the drawing room,’ she added brightly. ‘Drawers torn open and things thrown everywhere.’

  ‘Indeed?’ cried Dido. ‘And are you quite sure that they took nothing at all? What of the candlesticks? Were they not stolen?’

  ‘No, I do not think so.’

  ‘But they are of good, solid silver! Very valuable. Why would any thieves disregard such things and begin searching elsewhere? Unless…’ she stopped, frowning thoughtfully.

  Neither of her companions took much notice of her question. They were both too occupied in either lamenting or rejoicing over the business. But, later that morning, when Mrs Midgely had hurried away to spread the glad tidings and Flora was shut up with her mantua-maker, Dido had the breakfast room to herself, and she was able to sit down quietly to consider it all.

  She sat in the sun which was flooding through the french doors, fixed her eyes upon a robin bobbing about upon the veranda, and gave herself up to very serious thought.

  First she considered Mrs Midgely’s glee over the burglary. It had been so very marked! She had positively delighted in it. What was one to make of this fresh evidence of the woman’s dislike of Henry Lansdale?

  And the burglary itself was a very strange business! Why, Dido wondered, had such valuable goods as the candlesticks been left untouched? Was it possible that the two ‘big rough-looking fellows’ had come not simply to plunder but to search for something particular – something which they did not seem to have found?

  Well, she thought with a little shake of her head, perhaps it would all prove to be no more than a thing of chance, unconnected with Mrs Lansdale’s death. After all, the very appearance of Knaresborough House spoke wealth loudly enough to tempt a thief. But somehow she could not quite think that it would prove to be a matter of chance. She could not quite forget Mrs Midgley’s description of the drawing room – the evidence that a search had been made.

  She was becoming restless now. She must do something… Perhaps she would just walk out to look at Knaresborough House – call upon Miss Prentice, perhaps. There must be more discoveries to be made about this burglary.

  She jumped up and fetched her bonnet from her bedchamber – then hesitated upon the stairs. Mr Lomax might call on them again today – call while she was out. She half-turned – nearly took the bonnet back.

  But, with so many important questions filling her head she did not think she could bear to sit quietly at home – even for Mr Lomax… She would not be away long… If he called, Flora would be sure to detain him until she returned.

  She put on the bonnet and set off.

  Chapter Twelve

  Miss Prentice was delighted to receive another visit from Miss Kent: it was so remarkably kind of her to call; she did not know how to thank her enough; it was so very…

  As Dido entered the gloomy little parlour, half-blinded after the brilliance of the sunshine, Miss Prentice was sitting at a corner of the large desk and very busy about settling her accounts; but she immediately swept her papers together, put them into the deep, scarred drawer of the desk and, after struggling a moment with its broken lock, succeeded in shutting them out of sight. Then she unhooked her spectacles from her ears and turned gratefully to her favourite seat beside the window.

  Dido was particularly glad to follow her and to sit down there, for her chief motive in coming was that she might look at Knaresborough House unobserved. And it was very convenient indeed to sit in the dark room, listening with half an ear to Miss Prentice’s chatter and looking out at the big house.

  The sun was shining warmly upon the house-front, and gleaming upon its windows. There were, Dido noticed, three ground floor windows upon each side of the door. They were all casement windows and cut rather low down to the ground. And the one just to the left of the door – the one through which the burglars had broken – was particularly conveniently placed: close to the front steps. It could have been climbed through with the greatest of ease.

  As she watched – and Miss Prentice talked about Sir Hugo Wyat’s new curricle and Sir Joshua Carrisbrook’s nuptials – a tall thin workman in a very long white apron appeared at the front of Knaresborough House and set to work upon mending the broken catch of the window. She watched him for several minutes and then took the next opportunity of a slight pause in her companion’s talk to say, ‘My cousin and I were extremely concerned to hear of Mr Lansdale’s latest misfortune.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Miss Prentice with a little frown. ‘I daresay Susan has told you all about it.’

  ‘Yes, she has. She was with us before we had finished our breakfast this morning.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ fretted Miss Prentice, ‘Susan has a thousand good qualities, I am sure, but I wish she was not quite so fond of spreading ill-tidings. It is so very…’

  ‘It is only her way, I am sure,’ said Dido, seizing upon the opening, ‘but I cannot help but wonder… I wonder whether she may have a particular dislike of Mr Lansdale. She seemed almost pleased to convey this news of the burglary.’

  Miss Prentice sighed deeply. ‘I confess, I have thought as much myself, Miss Kent. But I know of no reason why she should dislike the young man. For he seems – from everything we hear about him – to be a remarkably good young gentleman. We hear nothing against him – his behaviour is unexceptionable and his opinions sound.’ She paused, shook her head. ‘If they were not, if it should appear that he had unsound opinions, or progressive ideas, then I should not wonder at her dislike. For she has quite a horror of progressive ideas – she always has. And, of course, I agree… But Mr Lansdale is a very proper young man.’

  ‘Yes, I am sure he is.’

  They sat in silence for a while, Dido watching the workman at the window and Miss Prentice watching a very smart carriage with a coat of arms upon its door.

  ‘I wonder,’ said Dido at last, ‘whether you happened to notice any strangers approaching Knaresborough House yesterday evening – or anything which might be connected with the housebreaking?’

  ‘Yesterday evening? No, I do not remember seeing anything at all. But Mary was with me again yesterday evening. She often sits with me after dinner now.’

  Dido was about to ask her more, when she noticed that the man had finis
hed repairing the window latch and was beginning to pack his tools away into his bag. She rose hastily, took her leave and was – by only loitering in the street a few minutes – just in time to accidentally fall in with him as he reached the gates of Knaresborough House.

  ‘I am very glad to see that you have restored the catch of Mr Lansdale’s window,’ she remarked, ‘for one cannot be too careful with such villains about in the neighbourhood.’

  ‘Ah well now, miss, as to that,’ said the man, shifting his canvas bag of tools from one shoulder to the other and looking exceedingly wise, ‘as to that, I reckon you’re right. Can’t be too careful.’

  ‘Do you suppose,’ she asked, ‘that it was very difficult to break into the house? Was the catch upon the window very strong?’

  ‘Well…no… As to that, it’d only take one really good hard push of that window to break the catch.’

  ‘So,’ mused Dido, ‘the burglar would not have needed any sort of tool to break it open?’

  ‘No, Miss. There weren’t no kind of tool or bar used to break that open. I’d have seen the mark of it on the window frame if there’d been anything like that.’

  ‘I see. Thank you very much for explaining it to me.’

  The man walked away, but Dido remained in the shadow of the gateposts a little while, contemplating the front of Knaresborough House.

  Its shutters were open now that the first stage of mourning was over. In the thick creeper that covered one corner of the building, swallows were busy about their nests. It was a very pleasant, respectable prospect.

  But there were secrets hidden here. She was sure of it… There was certainly something very odd indeed about this burglary…

  She shook her head at the house. What did it have to hide? And how could one penetrate such respectability, to come at the truth? She dared not approach its door and question its master. Nor could she think of any reason to enter the kitchens and pursue her enquiries among the servants. And how else was she to discover anything? It seemed an impossibility.