Scarcely able to believe that this scene was taking place, Dido looked the shopkeeper in the eye and said – with all the dignity she could command – ‘Are you accusing us of stealing from you, Mrs Pickthorne?’
‘Not you, Madam, no,’ was the sturdy reply. ‘You weren’t by when she did it. You,’ she said, returning Dido’s level stare, ‘were at the front of the shop – listening to other folk talking.’ Dido blushed. ‘But, if the lady’d just open up the bag, you’ll see if I’m telling the truth.’
Without saying a word, Mrs Neville bent her head over her green and yellow knitted reticule and began to fumble with the bit of ribbon that held it closed. She pulled it open. And there, clear to see, even in the dark shop, was a length of the best white French lace.
‘Joseph!’ called the woman, leaning back into the darkness behind the counter. ‘Joseph, run out and fetch the constable.’
‘But,’ cried Dido in dismay. ‘I am sure it was a mistake. It must have been a mistake.’
‘Well Madam, we shall let the constable decide about that, shall we?’
Dido gripped the counter and experienced an alarming number of visions in the time that it took for Joseph to clatter down the stairs at the back of the shop. There was a vision of Flora crying, ‘A thief? You were caught in company with a thief?’ – And there was one of an assize court judge pronouncing sentence – And then one of Mrs Neville, in her crisp white cap, clutching her knitted reticule as she boarded a transport ship bound for Botany Bay…
‘Please,’ she said weakly, ‘please, there is no need to trouble the constable.’
Mrs Pickthorne made no reply. Mrs Neville only stood with her eyes upon the floor, saying nothing. And the shock seemed almost to have robbed Dido of her faculties: the only clear thought in her head being that this was an example of Mrs Neville’s ‘confusion’.
Chapter Twenty-Three
…Well, Eliza, it was Mr Lomax who saved Mrs Neville and me from our oppressor: coming, like the hero of a novel, at precisely the right moment. Though, naturally, the setting of Mrs Pickthorne’s shop did not lend itself to the usual garb of great coat and spurs – nor was there any leaping from his horse nor challenging to duels. But, despite these deficiencies, his assistance was timely and effective.
He appeared upon the scene just as little Joseph with his black curls and his snub nose and his big, wondering eyes arrived behind the counter to stare at us. And I will not deny that I was extremely glad to see him. (I mean of course that I was glad to see Mr Lomax, not Joseph.)
He seemed to understand at once everything about the situation and his first endeavour was to persuade Mrs Pickthorne that a mistake had taken place. This she was not willing to countenance, for I truly believe that the woman has a heart of stone and in a moment would have had young Joseph running off to inform the law of Mrs Neville’s crime.
However, just as I thought that all was lost, Mr Lomax said, very quiet and grave, ‘Madam, it cannot possibly benefit you to pursue this matter. Your property has been recovered,’ he said, ‘and I promise you that the lady’s family will ensure no more such mistakes are made.’
And then Mrs Pickthorne said something about property having to be protected. ‘Or where would we poor shop keepers be?’
‘Quite so, madam,’ said he, very calm, ‘quite so. But,’ and at this he leant a little closer over the counter. ‘But I doubt the pursuit of the law will profit you much in this case – and I fear it might do you some harm.’
‘Harm sir?’ says she.
‘You may not be aware,’ he says very quietly with a nod at Mrs Neville, ‘you may not be aware madam, that this lady’s daughter is a friend of the new Lady Carrisbrook.’ And at this I saw her eyes widen! ‘In fact,’ he goes on, ‘in fact, it was Lady Carrisbrook herself who sent me here on some errands this morning. My lady is a stranger in this neighbourhood and I did not hesitate to recommend your establishment to her,’ he says. ‘But I doubt very much whether she would wish to deal at a shop in which her friend had been…embarrassed…’
And then she changed! For though she might complain a bit more about how ill-used she was, she was not willing to forfeit such a customer and the upshot of it all was that we were allowed to leave the shop and take Mrs Neville home – where her daughter, alerted I suppose by Jenny, was waiting anxiously for her return.
I was, I confess, shaken and distressed by this adventure, Eliza. I cannot help but blame myself and I have passed an almost sleepless night…
Dido broke off as the maid announced a visitor. Mr Lomax was come and, since Flora was from home, she must receive him alone.
There was no little confusion attending the meeting, for she had not seen him since they parted yesterday at Mrs Neville’s door and there had been that in his manner then which spoke, if not quite anger, then at least a very strong disapproval of her behaviour. She met him now with heartfelt, but rather nervous thanks and raised her eyes anxiously to his face.
He looked very grave as he took a seat and gazed down at the breakfast room floor.
‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that you have recovered from the shock you sustained yesterday.’
‘Oh yes, thank you. I am quite recovered.’
There was a silence and Dido longed to begin talking of something else, but somehow she could not. She knew that more ought to be said about the situation in which he had discovered her; for there had been little opportunity for discourse yesterday while Mrs Neville was with them. But she was not entirely sure what it was that must be said. She certainly did not wish to admit that she had been at fault; though she half-suspected that she ought to.
She tried to thank him again, but he raised a hand to stop her.
‘Miss Kent,’ he began, ‘I perhaps presume too much upon the friendship which I hope exists between us. But I cannot help but speak. It was, if I may say so, an ill-judged undertaking to accompany Mrs Neville into a shop.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed quietly. ‘It was.’ And then discovered, rather to her dismay, that she could not stop there. She just could not. For, painful as it was to suffer his disapproval, it was even more painful to admit that she was wrong – or to accept unjust criticism. ‘At least,’ she said, ‘if I had known of the danger, it would have been very ill-judged indeed. But, please consider, Mr Lomax, that was not the case. I had no reason to suppose that the outing would end as it did.’
His gravity deepened. ‘Pardon me,’ he said, ‘but I understood you to say, when we talked at Brooke, that Mrs Neville’s daughter had given you a warning.’
‘No,’ she protested. ‘No. Not quite a warning. She had only mentioned in a general way that her mother was confused and forgetful.’
Mr Lomax closed his eyes and shook his head with a pained expression. ‘That should have been…’ he began, but checked himself. ‘It is to be regretted,’ he said more calmly, ‘that that general warning was not sufficient to put you upon your guard.’
‘But it could not put me on my guard, Mr Lomax,’ she said. She was becoming a little angry herself now. He was being unreasonable and she could not help but justify herself. ‘How could it put me on my guard? For the daughter’s words were entirely contradicted by the mother’s demeanour. She showed no signs of confusion or forgetfulness.’