The stooping figure of Mr Hewit was just retreating into the shadow of the bushes. ‘I am sorry, dear lady. Please accept my profound apologies.’ He bowed deeply. ‘I did not intend to intrude upon your solitary musings.’
Dido quickly reassured him. ‘I shall be very glad if you will walk a little way with me,’ she said, jumping up. He stepped forward politely and they started together down the walk which led between the high dark banks of yew to the sparkling stream and sunny meadows beyond, bright with the red, blue and yellow of wild flowers.
‘I understand that we are to have the pleasure of hearing you preach only once more Mr Hewit?’
‘Well, I will say nothing at all about the pleasure, Miss Kent, but it is true, I preach only once more at St Mary’s.’
‘And will you satisfy the congregation by railing against the French this time?’
He smiled and shook his head. ‘No, I think not, dear lady. Though perhaps I may use their example to remind my congregation of the outrages that inevitably follow when we abandon our sense of duty and obligation, as the poor misguided French have done.’
‘I think that will be very acceptable to your listeners,’ said Dido, stealing a glance at his lined face, ‘for it will prove you to be no Jacobin, which, you know, you must be a little suspected of since you have lived some time in France.’
He looked very solemn. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I am no revolutionary, not now. I have seen too much…’ He stopped, shook his head as if it were full of memories he would be rid of. ‘At least,’ he finished sadly, ‘I advocate now only that revolution which our saviour preached – a revolution of the heart.’
He seemed oppressed by thoughts upon which Dido did not like to intrude and they walked in silence for a while. She found herself liking the man more and more: found herself hoping that Flora’s guesses were correct and that – since his mind now seemed free of radical ideas – he and Miss Prentice might yet find happiness together.
They came to the end of the yew walk where the rest of the party were now gathered at the side of the stream. Mr Hewit began to take leave of her – she suspected he was anxious to join Miss Prentice. But she delayed him a moment. There was one more question which she must ask.
‘Where precisely is this living which you are to take, Mr Hewit?’ she said.
‘In Westmorland.’
‘Westmorland!’
‘Yes. Why should you be so surprised?’
‘Oh, I am sorry, it is nothing,’ she said hastily. ‘It is just such a remarkable coincidence. For that is the county in which Mr Lansdale’s estate is situated.’
But Mr Hewit shook his head. ‘It is no great coincidence, dear lady,’ he said calmly. ‘For it was Mr Lansdale’s aunt who gave the living to me. The business was settled just a few days before the poor lady died.’ And then with a smile and a bow he left her, strolling out quite unconcernedly to join their companions in the sunshine.
But Dido was in no mood for company; she had a great deal too much upon her mind.
She walked past the company upon the river-bank and found her way to a little rustic summer house – a simple, open construction of stone walls and wooden benches that smelt very pleasantly of fresh timber and heather thatch. And here, as clouds gathered across the bright afternoon sky, she fell to thinking very carefully indeed about the reverend Mr John Hewit. She liked him; she could not help but warm to him; she certainly did not wish to suspect him. And yet…
And yet there was no escaping some very uncomfortable facts about him. Firstly there was his person. He was a slight man who wore powder in his hair; just like the man who had sat in one of the chairs in Mrs Lansdale’s drawing room on the final evening of her life.
And secondly there was his situation. He was dependent upon Mrs Lansdale for his living and he had a past which he wished to hide. His old acquaintance Mrs Midgely certainly knew his secret and she was known to have visited his benefactress intending to give her some information.
Miss Prentice certainly believed that Mrs Midgely had gone to Knaresborough House to reveal Mr Hewit’s radical past – and so deprive him of his living. Hence the fainting and the tearing up of the book in an attempt to hide any evidence.
And perhaps Miss Prentice’s guess had been correct.
It was, perhaps, very convenient indeed for Mr Hewit that death had intervened before Mrs Midgely could call again…
Another, louder crack of thunder shook the summer house and the afternoon seemed to darken more than ever. Sir Joshua stepped in under the thatch, looking anxiously at the sky.
‘Oh dear! I fear the weather is turning, Miss Kent.’
Dido looked up from her musing. ‘Well,’ she said politely. ‘It is too late to materially spoil our party. It has been a very enjoyable day. I am sure we are all very grateful to you and to Lady Carrisbrook for inviting us.’
‘Thank you. I am glad so many of my friends were able to come. For my wife’s sake. She has no acquaintance in this country, you know. And we live a very quiet life here. I am very glad,’ he continued, his eyes turning upon the river bank where Lady Carrisbrook and Mary Bevan were now walking together, deep in conversation…‘very glad to see her making new friends.’
There was something doubting in his voice at the last – as if he did not quite approve the friendship she was presently forming. A governess was, no doubt, an unsuitable intimate for the new Lady Carrisbrook. That was Dido’s first thought; and her second was that here was an irresistible opportunity for discovery…
‘You have so many friends yourself, Sir Joshua,’ she began cautiously, ‘that I am sure Lady Carrisbrook will soon feel herself comfortably settled here.’
‘I hope it may prove so.’ Sir Joshua was standing with his hands clasped behind him, gazing out into the darkening afternoon.
‘Oh!…That reminds me…There is, I believe, an acquaintance of yours who is also a friend of my brother… And Charles was asking whether I had heard anything of the gentleman since my being in Richmond… A Mr Henderson? Do you know if he is still residing in Surrey?’
There was no answer; but Sir Joshua’s hands began to clasp and unclasp rapidly. Dido upbraided herself for the mistake of putting the question when the gentleman’s face was turned from her.
The uncomfortable silence was shattered by a roll of thunder directly over their heads. A few drops of rain hit the grass and Sir Joshua sprang forward as if anxious to escape.
‘Please, excuse me, Miss Kent,’ he cried and ran out to usher his guests into the shelter of the summer house.
As they all crowded in exclaiming and laughing, the darkness thickened and the rain began in earnest: great fat drops, falling with such force that they bounced about on the lawns. Having seen them into shelter, Sir Joshua – together with Mr Lomax – set out at a run towards the house to fetch umbrellas.
Standing beneath the dripping heather thatch, Dido watched him go with regret. What might a few moments more have revealed? Would he have answered her question? She rather thought not. But why did he not wish to acknowledge the acquaintance? As she watched his soaked figure running across the lawns, it was impossible not to think that he was fleeing from her and her question. He was certainly running remarkably fast for a man of his years… Indeed, all of a sudden, he looked almost young.
Chapter Nineteen
…And so you see, Eliza, now I cannot help but suspect dear Mr Hewit. Which is very unpleasant indeed. I wish with all my heart that this business of solving mysteries would work out some other way and one had only to detect guilt in people one did not like. I am quite at ease suspecting the dreadful Mrs M, or even the whining Miss Neville. But Mr Hewit, who looks so very sad and talks so very gently and who is, furthermore, almost certainly in love with dear Miss Prentice, it is just too bad to have to wonder whether he is a murderer!