‘To what are you referring Mrs Midgely?’
She blushed so deeply that the colour of her cheeks was a fair match for her parasol. ‘This business of his aunt’s death – I fear that it will end in court you know.’
‘I do not think,’ said Dido, ‘that that apprehension would turn my cousin against her friend.’
‘Ah! But you see, she is not aware of all that may come out before the judge.’
Dido looked at her sharply: aware that there was something – something to the gentleman’s disadvantage – which Mrs Midgely most particularly wished to tell her. Her interest was keen: but she took great care to keep that interest from her voice. ‘And what is it that she is unaware of?’
Mrs Midgely looked sidelong at her. ‘Are you – or Mrs Beaumont – aware that Mr Lansdale was heard to argue with his aunt on the day of her death?’
Dido was shocked; but it was absolutely necessary to exert herself. She would not, for the world, have Mrs Midgely suppose she had bettered her. ‘And what… Or rather who… How is this known?’
Mrs Midgely shook her curls and whispered importantly. ‘Mr Vane was in the house when it occurred. He heard it all.’
‘And what was this “all” that he heard?’
‘A great deal. You see Mrs Lansdale considered herself to be very unwell that evening and it seems that she quite forbade her nephew to leave her. But he said he had to see his friend Mr Morgan on very important business.’
‘I see.’
‘And that is not all. When he persisted in saying that he would go, she fell into a great passion. And she began to threaten him. Miss Kent, she threatened him with a new will which she said would leave him poor: “as poor as his foolish mother had made herself”, that is what she said.’
‘And Mr Vane heard all this?’
‘Oh yes. For he could not help it, you know – it all being shouted so loud.’
‘And now he has told it all to the magistrate?’
‘Yes. He was very unwilling, of course. But as he said to me, on Sunday, Miss Kent, “Is it not the solemn and religious duty of every man to ensure that justice is done?”’
‘He is, of course, correct,’ said Dido thoughtfully. ‘It is the duty of us all to bring justice about.’ She sat considering for several minutes and, for once, Mrs Midgely was silent: as if content, now that her information was given, to wait for its effect.
Dido watched her companion. Her broad red face was complacent, her painted lips pursed up in a self-congratulating smile. Why, she wondered for the hundredth time, did the woman take such pleasure in spreading her poison?
Still watching closely, she said, ‘Mrs Midgely, I wonder whether you might help me. I am trying to discover the source of a quotation.’
‘A quotation, Miss Kent?’ she asked with some surprise.
‘Yes, it is something which has lately been brought to my attention and I find that I cannot understand its meaning because I do not know its origin. Do you know…? Have you ever heard the line, “The world is not their friend, nor the world’s laws”?’
There was certainly a consciousness: a deepening of colour in the cheeks, a rapid movement of the eyelashes. Mrs Midgely twisted the parasol about in her hands. ‘Why yes, Miss Kent, I know the line. It is by William Shakespeare.’
‘And do you know which play – or poem – it occurs in?’ cried Dido eagerly.
‘Yes I do. It occurs in Romeo and Juliet.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Oh yes, quite sure, for you see…’ the parasol spun rapidly in her hands, a shy little smile curled her lips so that she looked, for a moment, like a rather ugly china doll. ‘You see I once played the part of Juliet when I was a girl in school. The line is certainly from that play.’
After Mrs Midgely had gone, Dido yet remained in her alcove: reluctant to leave it as much for the sake of the information it had produced, as for the shade it afforded.
This latest intelligence was extremely troubling. Mr Vane’s account of a quarrel appeared very bad for Mr Lansdale. And yet, Dido reasoned, if it had not been followed by a death, would it have been remembered? For might not it – and others like it – have been a part of Mrs Lansdale’s usual intercourse with her nephew? One of those scenes which, according to Flora, Mrs Lansdale had delighted in. Wills were, all too often, the threat which the old and the rich held over their young people: the means by which they guarded themselves against neglect – real or imagined. And when they were in a passion, people frequently said things which they did not mean…
But in this case, murder – or death at least – had been the ensuing scene. And Dido found it impossible to determine either what was probable, or what was likely to be believed by a jury. And, all together, she could decide on very little, except that she should not – as Mrs Midgely wished – tell Flora of Mr Vane’s over-hearings. There was nothing to be gained by increasing her distress and anxiety.
And, as for this discovery that Romeo and Juliet was the source of the quoted line: what was to be made of that? Was it to be connected with the copy of that play which Mr Lansdale had borrowed from the circulating library?
It was, in one light, unsurprising: for who was more likely to be considered excused from the judgement of the world than those star-crossed lovers?
But if it was lovers for whom the writer of that letter wished to plead, then who were the lovers? Mrs Lansdale and Mr Henderson? But that did not seem right; for, Dido reasoned, it is the youth and innocence of Romeo and Juliet which appeals to our sympathy as much as their love.
And where, in all this strange business, was there a couple of young lovers to be found? Dido hesitated upon that question… An answer suggested itself; but it was not such an answer as she was anxious to believe…
‘Miss Kent,’ said a quiet voice, close beside her, ‘I declare you are looking very puzzled…again!’
She gave a start, turned – and saw Mr William Lomax smiling down at her.
‘Hello,’ she cried happily. ‘I had begun to fear that you would not be able to join our party.’
‘And so had I,’ said he, sitting down beside her. ‘I have but just escaped from the library and letters of business.’
‘I am afraid you will find the best of the strawberries all gone.’
‘It is no great matter.’
‘You do not like strawberries?’
‘I am very fond of them. But on the present occasion they were not my inducement to get away from business.’
Dido coloured and turned her eyes upon the path.
‘I have been particularly anxious to talk to you.’
Dido fell to studying the pale rose petals that lay upon the path, noting how their edges were becoming dry and brown.
‘I have,’ he continued, ‘been very concerned about you.’
‘Concerned?’ she cried, looking up. ‘Why ever should you be concerned about me?’
‘My dear Miss Kent,’ he said with all the appearance of great seriousness, ‘you must be aware that it is far from usual to find two young men of your acquaintance suspected of murder within a year.’
Dido raised her eyebrows. ‘And what precisely is the nature of your concern, Mr Lomax? Do you suppose that I endanger young men by being acquainted with them?’
He smiled. ‘I had considered that possibility,’ he said. ‘But, upon reflection, I have dismissed it as unlikely.’
‘I am very glad to hear it! But why should you be concerned about me?’
‘I fear that you are distressing yourself unnecessarily over this business of Mr Lansdale and his aunt’s death.’
‘Oh.’
‘These accusations of Mrs Midgely’s,’ he continued gently, ‘are probably no more than common gossip. As I had the pleasure of explaining to you and your cousin, it is unlikely that any harm will come of them.’ He studied her face. ‘I hope that you have now put them quite out of your mind.’