‘Oh thank you Mr Lomax!’ said Flora with great feeling. ‘You have quite set my mind at rest.’ She was now smiling very happily. His kindly manner and quiet authority had been more than sufficient to bring conviction where conviction was so very welcome.
But Dido’s mind was far from being at rest. She was thinking of fresh evidence: evidence which might increase suspicion against Mr Lansdale and send Mr Vane to the magistrates. She was thinking of Mr Henderson’s secret visit; of red-shaded candles and a great many other things. But she said nothing – partly out of consideration of Flora’s feelings and partly out of consideration of the very solemn look which Mr Lomax had turned upon her.
Chapter Seven
…It is very considerate of Mr Lomax to travel so far just to ease Flora’s mind, is it not, Eliza? He is a remarkably humane man.
But I confess that I can take little comfort from the information which he gave us and I remain as anxious as ever about Mr Lansdale. For, you see, by Mr Lomax’s account, the young man’s security must rest upon there appearing no new evidence against him… And I am afraid, Eliza, I am very much afraid, that new evidence may appear.
Supposing Mrs Lansdale was…receiving attentions from Mr Henderson.(For, though her age must argue against it, her large fortune would certainly render it possible – if she was sufficiently vain and he was sufficiently flattering.) The anticipated marriage of his aunt would be a severe blow to Mr Lansdale’s expectations – and if it should come to light – if Mrs Midgely should know of it and decide to spread it abroad – then is it not the very kind of evidence which would tell most heavily against him? The very circumstance which the jurymen might believe had driven him to desperate action?
And there is something else which I keep remembering and which troubles me greatly: Mr Lansdale’s remark that he was not guilty of feeling too little affection; did he mean to say that his fault is rather that he feels too much? And, if so, to whom is that affection directed? I will not suppose, for the sake of our cousin’s reputation, that she can be his object – in spite of the look which he gave her as he spoke. But there is no escaping the thought that an unsuitable attachment of his own – one which his aunt would disapprove; one which might have caused her to disown him – would also strengthen the case against him: provide, in the eyes of the jury, a reason for his wishing his aunt dead.
And, all in all, it seems to me that, if the justices are brought to believe that Mrs Lansdale was murdered, then they will certainly believe Henry Lansdale to be the murderer. The rumours against him must be stopped. I must, somehow, find out the ‘rottenness’ in Richmond before it is too late.
No doubt, having read so far, Eliza, you are beginning to fear that I am in danger of setting up as a professional solver of mysteries as I once threatened to do. But do not worry: I have not yet leased consulting rooms in town, nor arranged with the brass engravers to announce my existence to the world. I will proceed very cautiously indeed.
There are, however, several questions to which I am most eager to find answers…
Dido stopped writing, for it had occurred to her as she completed the last words that the question foremost in her mind was one which she could not share with her sister – or with anyone else…
It was dusk now and she was once more writing beside the open window of her bed chamber, with a slight cool breeze blowing in upon the stored heat of the day and just lifting the pale curtains. The owl was calling again from the river, and the laughing voices of people returning on foot from a party drifted up from the road. A crane fly had found its way in and circled about the candle before dropping down to tiptoe daintily across her letter. She watched its progress through the black words and once more let her mind return to Mr Lomax’s visit: recalling every speech, every look, every meaning – and every imagined meaning.
Why had he come? That was the question which kept recurring.
She wished most earnestly to believe that his motive was simple affection – a desire to be in her company. And his laughing insistence that she was the true cause of his journey had promised well… But afterwards there had been other remarks which were much less satisfactory – and his looks! Sometimes it had seemed there was more anxiety than affection in his looks. Sometimes she had even suspected disapproval…
And then he had been most decided in refusing Flora’s invitation to stay to dinner. Of course his excuse that he was expected back at Brooke must be allowed – but he could have regretted that expectation a little more!
What did it all mean? Was she as dear to him as she had once been, or had he changed?
The uncertainty was very painful. Perhaps, she thought, a woman of five and thirty was not constitutionally suited to love. The agitations and heightened emotions which were delightful at one and twenty were now become tiresome…
Although, upon reflection, Dido recalled that she had always been a little impatient in these matters… There had been the young man at her uncle Grainger’s ball, many years ago… Mr Willet… No, Captain Willet. Everyone had said he would make her an offer that evening. And he had been half an hour stammering the most trivial nonsense to her on the terrace, after saying that he particularly wished to talk to her… Half an hour of the state of the roads and its being, ‘a remarkably dry season, do you not think, Miss Kent?’ In the end Dido had lost patience with him and returned to the dancing – and so had never known whether she might have aspired to the dignity of becoming Mrs Willet.
Ah well! She would certainly listen for more than half an hour to Mr Lomax, if he was ever got to the point of stammering upon a terrace, but, in the meantime, there was little she could do but wait for more opportunities of being in company with him, and watch his behaviour closely when they were together…
And, while she waited, she had more than enough to occupy her mind, for the danger in which Mr Lansdale stood seemed to be increasing. The need to solve the mysteries surrounding him was becoming urgent – and an exercise in strict reason was just what was needed, at the moment, to make her calm and rational.
She would set out a considered list of all the questions which troubled her.
…Firstly, I would like to know why Mrs Lansdale’s little dog was killed – and by whom.
Second: what was the exact nature of Mrs Midgely’s connection with the dead woman? They cannot have met regularly or Miss Prentice would surely have known about it. But there was one visit for sure. What was the purpose of that visit?
Third: why was Miss Prentice so shocked to hear of the visit that she fainted?
Fourth: who else, besides Mr Henderson, came to Knaresborough House on the evening before Mrs Lansdale died? There was certainly another gentleman, and, very probably, a lady too.
Fifth: why did Miss Prentice borrow a book from a library and tear it up?
Sixth: why should Mary Bevan wish to conceal from her guardian the fact that she had received a letter? I know that this does not seem to be at all connected with Mrs Lansdale’s death, but nonetheless it troubles me. It is so out of character for her to tell a lie – and, from the colour in her face, I would judge that it caused her a great deal of pain to do so.