Dido hesitated – thought for a moment of putting off the subject and talking of something else, but found that she could not.
‘I cannot put them out of my mind,’ she said quietly. ‘You see, I think there may be a great deal of harm to come. I think there will be new evidence against Mr Lansdale.’
‘Why should there be?’ he asked quickly.
‘Because I believe that…that maybe Mr Vane is right to be suspicious of Mrs Lansdale’s death…I think… In short, I think that she may indeed have been murdered…’
‘My dear Miss Kent!’
‘You think that I am being fanciful?’
‘No,’ he said hastily, ‘no, not at all. I know that it is not in your nature to be fanciful. But…I think that perhaps your late, distressing experiences at Belsfield have – very understandably – biased your mind and made you a little too liable to see mystery and infamy. You are perhaps too inclined to suppose the worst because, last autumn – at Belsfield – all your very worst suspicions were proved to be true.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ said Dido, rather vexed, ‘but this sounds remarkably like fancy to me.’
‘I am very sorry if I have offended you. I assure you that nothing but my very great interest in your welfare could make me speak so plainly.’
It was several minutes before she could answer him. Her feelings were in confusion. His concern for her well-being was very pleasing indeed. But his suggestion that she was behaving irrationally was intolerable.
She sat with her hands clasped in her lap, struggling for control, unwilling to speak until she could be sure that her voice would not betray her; and he watched her in silence, not wishing to say anything which might provoke her further.
The sun, almost at its highest, was beginning to find its way even into the alcove, warming her face. A cuckoo was calling in the wood. The housekeeper appeared a little way off and began scattering corn for the pheasants. Dido watched them as they ran jerkily to peck grain from the crevices of the old brick path.
She must remain calm, or how could she hope to convince him that she was speaking rationally?
‘I am very grateful for your concern, Mr Lomax,’ she said at last. ‘And if I had been led astray in the way which you are suggesting, it would be very kind of you to set me right, I am sure. However…’ She drew a long breath. ‘However, I cannot by any means agree that I am biased, or that I am fancying intrigue where none exists. The evidences I have observed are too strong… In short, it would be dull and blind to see no mystery in this case.’
And then, before he had time to reply, she began to set forward, as calmly as she could, all the reasons for her suspicion; beginning with the unaccountable death of the lap-dog, through the mystery of the emerald necklace, and the extraordinary ill-will of Mrs Midgely towards Henry Lansdale; and winding it all up with an account of the strange letter which she had herself received.
As she talked, she was pleased to see, from his changing expressions, that he was very far from being unmoved by her story. Once or twice he interrupted her with a question.
Had the villains been apprehended? he wanted to know, when the burglary at Knaresborough House was mentioned. What steps had been taken to discover them?
And a little later: had anyone else any cause against Mr Lansdale? Was he an unpopular man in general?
But it was the letter which troubled him most. ‘Have you no notion,’ he cried when she described it, ‘have you no suspicion at all as to who could have sent you such an extraordinary note?’
‘None at all.’
‘I do not like it.’ He jumped to his feet and took a few restless steps along the path. ‘It is very worrying.’ He sat down beside her again with an agitated look. ‘Miss Kent, has it not occurred to you that the letter might have been sent by the guilty party? That it might, in fact, be a threat.’
‘A guilty party, Mr Lomax? I did not think that you believed there was guilt of any kind – except in my wild imaginings. Have I convinced you otherwise?’
He passed one hand across his face. ‘I do not quite know what I think,’ he confessed. ‘But your account proves that there is something afoot. There is – at the very least – housebreaking. There is some villainy going on and you are known to be concerning yourself with it. I am very much afraid that you are putting yourself in danger.’
‘Danger? I hardly think so. I have done nothing but ask some questions.’
He looked at her very earnestly. ‘I have the pleasure of knowing your character too well,’ he said, ‘to suppose that you will easily abandon this mystery. And I do not have the right of a father or a brother to advise you. But,’ he added feelingly, ‘I do beg you, Miss Kent, to be careful. Very careful.’
Dido was silenced. She could only look into his anxious face. He was about to press the point further. For a moment it seemed as if he might take her hand – indeed she wondered afterwards whether she might not have half-offered it to him.
But just then they were disturbed by the sound of rapid steps on the gravel. They moved slightly apart.
Lady Carrisbrook was hurrying along a side path alone, in a state of such agitation that her bonnet was slipping off her head, exposing shining red-brown curls to the sun. Dido thought that she was coming to speak to Mr Lomax; but she did not seem to see them in their alcove. She ran instead to the housekeeper.
‘Ah, Mrs Stephens!’ she cried and then, lowering her voice, she began talking eagerly. It was not easy to make out her words, but the established habit of an over-curious mind prompted Dido to struggle for them. Mr Lomax gave an exasperated smile as he noticed her listening, but only shook his head and said nothing.
The lady seemed to be asking how something was to be done – and when. Her eyes were wide as she spoke, her gaze fixed upon the servant’s face as if she were half-pleading with her.
The answer was clearer than the question. There was definitely nothing for her Ladyship to worry about. ‘I will see to everything,’ was spoken with assurance and an obvious desire to comfort.
It was not quite possible to see whether or not she was comforted by the answer; her face was turned a little away. Dido leant forward to see more clearly and at that very moment Lady Carrisbrook turned back – and saw them. There was a moment of confusion and then she came tripping along the path, holding out her hands and laughing.
‘My dear Miss Kent! And Mr Lomax too! I pray you will not allow any other of my guests to know that I am so very anxious about the luncheon! You will not tell them, will you?’ She sat down between them on the bench and prattled on about it being her first, her very first, party since she was married and how very, very particular Sir Joshua was that everything should be done properly.
It was all said very prettily and somehow managed to convey a flattering conviction that they might both be counted upon as close confederates and allies. But it failed to convince. There was no believing that any lady could be so very worried about a cold collation.
However, a little quiet reflection assured Dido that the intrusion had come at the right moment. For she had undoubtedly been enjoying Mr Lomax’s anxiety for her safety rather too much.
Chapter Seventeen
Whether or not Her Ladyship had worried excessively over it, the luncheon was excellent, and plentiful enough to satisfy even the appetites of ladies and gentlemen who had toiled a full hour in the strawberry beds.
However there was among the guests an unease which was not surprising, if one knew the reasons that many of them had to feel awkward with one another, but which poor Lady Carrisbrook blamed herself for. She tried continually to introduce topics which might be of general interest and Flora did her best to assist. But the company seemed dull and heavy and too inclined to talk of whatever was uppermost in their own minds without reference to the interest or entertainment of their fellows.