I shall call upon her as early as I may; but before I do so I shall pay another visit to Miss Merryweather at the circulating library.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The lady readers of Richmond were not, it seemed, particularly fond of William Shakespeare: there were very few of his plays to be found upon the library shelves. However, among those few was Romeo and Juliet: unhappy lovers no doubt appealing more to the literary tastes of the neighbourhood than murdered kings or Roman history.
Having secured the volume, Dido was reluctant to return home. This morning Maria Carrisbrook had come very early to the house and she and Flora were now deep in discussions over a musical party which was soon to be given at Brooke and, if Dido returned, she would, no doubt, be obliged to give her opinion upon the arranging of the dining table and the hiring of violin players.
So she walked on past the inn and the chestnut trees and came to a favourite place of hers where there was a walk deeply shaded by lime trees and a few green benches set against the wall of the royal park. Here, she had found, she could sit in tolerable retirement and yet watch over one of the busiest parts of Richmond.
She read rapidly and with mounting interest, distracted only by the sight of Mr Vane riding past importantly on his grey horse and once by three little boys whose ball had rolled under her seat. Warmed by the sun, beguiled by Shakespeare and very deep in her own thoughts, she became insensible of the scene around her and read on until she had almost finished the play…
‘Here’s to my love,’ cried Romeo as he drank poison in Juliet’s tomb. ‘Oh true apothecary: thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.’
It was at this point – and when she had a tear in her eye – that the little boys came running again to retrieve their ball and, upon consulting her watch, she discovered that it was eleven o’clock and time to make her visit. She put the book into her reticule and set off for Mrs Neville’s house, very deep in thought. For the lines that had appeared in her letter were certainly there in Shakespeare’s story, but they were included in such a way as to give them quite a different meaning from the one she had expected.
It was all very strange indeed…
Mrs Neville was delighted at the prospect of walking out with Miss Kent and, though Jenny White might fold her thick red arms and say, ‘I reckon you’d better not go, madam. Your daughter’d not like it at all,’ she could not positively forbid the airing.
‘Would you like me to come with you, miss?’ she asked while her mistress was putting on her things. ‘In case there’s trouble.’
‘No, no of course not. What trouble could there possibly be?’
Jenny’s face became as red as her arms. ‘Well, miss you never know with old folk, do you? I think I’d better come.’
But Dido was resolute in refusing her company.
‘Your maid is very careful of your safety,’ she remarked gaily as they left the house and strolled out into the street. ‘She guards you quite fiercely.’
‘Oh yes. She is very careful indeed.’ Mrs Neville clasped her gloved hands together on her capacious knitted reticule and looked happily about her like a child on a treat. ‘Why I declare, how warm the sun is! I am sure it must be above a month since I took a walk.’
‘Is it indeed? That is a very long time.’
‘Well, Miss Kent, last time I took a walk it ended with me talking to the constable you know – and Clara was so angry about that!’
‘Was she?’ said Dido with great interest. ‘And what was it that you talked about with the constable?’
‘Oh!’ Mrs Neville seemed to recollect herself and became more sober. She looked back at the shabby little house. From the parlour window a round red face was watching them. ‘It is a secret. I have given my word to Clara that I will not tell it to anyone.’ She turned and regarded Dido anxiously. ‘I am sure you are too kind to press me.’
‘Yes,’ Dido consented reluctantly. ‘Of course I shall not press you to tell anything you should not.’
They walked on together – Dido’s mind very busy about how she might come at this secret without seeming to do so – and soon left the narrow, dirty streets behind, for broader, tree-lined thoroughfares. Mrs Neville was glad to take Dido’s arm, but altogether she walked very briskly and steadily for a lady of her years.
They came to the inn and the lime-walk and sat down to rest a while upon the bench by the park wall. They had not been settled there long, and Dido had not yet hit upon an innocent seeming question which might discover more about Mrs Neville’s last airing, when they spied Mrs Midgely and Miss Prentice hurrying away from the little row of fashionable shops which fronted the green. As they approached, Dido wished them both good morning and Mrs Midgely returned the greeting with a very contented smile. But there was only a nod from Miss Prentice as she hurried past.
Mrs Neville shook her head as she looked after the retreating backs: one broad and bright in puce-coloured muslin, the other narrow and grey and slightly bent. ‘Dear, dear,’ she said. ‘Poor Miss Prentice does not look at all well, does she?’
‘No,’ Dido agreed, ‘no, she does not.’ But to herself she acknowledged that there had been more of distress than sickness in the lady’s looks. Her face had been pale and there had, almost certainly, been tears sparkling on her lashes.
‘What could have happened in the shops to discompose her so much?’
‘Miss Kent,’ said Mrs Neville tentatively when they had sat for a little while watching the passers-by, ‘would you be so very kind as to accompany me into Mrs Clark’s shop? I am in sore need of new gloves and I am so rarely able to make any purchases.’
Dido readily agreed and they crossed the green to the row of pretty bowed shop windows which were bright with bonnets, trinkets, handkerchiefs and parasols.
Mrs Neville was soon happily engrossed with looking at gloves on Mrs Clark’s high counter and she proved to be very dilatory over her business. Dido walked off a little way along the counter and eventually found herself a seat beside two ladies who were gossiping ferociously beneath the nodding feathers of their bonnets.
‘…Mr Lansdale certainly looks guilty now…’ The hoarsely whispered words caught her ear as she sat down – and immediately her attention was chained.
One lady seemed to be retailing to her friend some particularly interesting information which she had just heard. ‘For of course, you see, he had to keep it secret. For his aunt would never have approved. And Mrs Clark says…’
The lady’s voice dropped to a particularly intriguing undertone and Dido held her breath to listen. But, unfortunately, Mrs Neville had now discovered that there were no gloves in the shop to suit her and she was forced to quit the interesting seat.
‘You look distressed, my dear,’ said Mrs Neville as they walked slowly into the street.
‘It is nothing. Just a little…news that I have heard. But I hardly know what it was about.’
‘Oh.’ Mrs Neville gave her a long, considering look. ‘Perhaps,’ she suggested, ‘if we were to visit some more shops, you might hear more.’