‘That I believe is common among individuals who suffer from the…weakness of character which Mrs Neville has demonstrated. In all outward shows a lady or gentleman may be moral and rational, and yet have burning within this wicked desire to posses what belongs to others.’
Dido made no protest against that. She did not try to defend Mrs Neville with any claim of a ‘mistake’ having taken place. It would have been impossible to do so since, after she had been safely removed from the haberdasher, a search of her reticule had revealed two pairs of new kid gloves, a cameo brooch and even a toy whistle…
‘I could not know,’ she protested.
‘But why were you so very determined to take an elderly lady upon an outing which you knew neither her maid nor her daughter would be easy about?’
Dido blushed. ‘Because,’ she began a little uncomfortably. ‘Because it all looked so very strange. You must remember, Mr Lomax, that I did not know what the lady was capable of. I saw only a harmless…a seemingly harmless old lady, whose daughter prevented her from going out or talking to visitors. You must grant me, that that had a very strange…a very suspicious appearance.’
He stood up and began to walk about the hearth rug in some agitation. ‘I regret, Miss Kent, that the only thing I can grant is that you have determined upon suspecting Clara Neville. You discover that she left Knaresborough House on the night that her cousin died – and immediately you suspect her. She explains to you that she left to visit her mother; but you continue to suspect her. Why? It seems to me that the concern of a dutiful daughter is explanation enough for her actions.’
‘But she lied!’ The words burst out before she could stop them. She forced herself to speak more calmly. ‘Why should she lie about only visiting her mother?’
‘For two good reasons,’ he countered. ‘Because of the guilt she felt on leaving her cousin alone; and because she was ashamed to admit the cause of her concern for her mother. What other reason did you have to suspect her?’
‘She associates with – she employs – a woman of very doubtful character.’
‘Consider the poor lady’s dilemma. With such a secret to hide about her mother, she dare not employ a decent maid. Her only recourse would be to engage the services of such a one as Jenny White who no one else will take – and then to pay her well to hold her tongue.’
‘Yes, yes I grant you, I can see that now. But this is not a fair argument. I did not know – I could not know – about Mrs Neville’s shocking behaviour. You cannot use against me a circumstance which has only just come to light. I only saw that Clara Neville had crept away from Knaresborough House without the consent of her cousin. And that she kept her mother almost a prisoner.’
He sighed and passed a hand across his face. ‘And what do you think now? Do you still harbour these suspicions against Miss Neville?’
Dido hesitated. It was a question to which a large part of her night-time musings had been devoted. ‘I do not know…I cannot help but wonder what it was she was discussing with Mr Vane at church – what it was that she wished him to keep secret.’
‘I think I can supply an answer to that question. I have made enquiries and I discover that Mr Vane is one of those who has suffered in the past from Mrs Neville’s…weakness of character. There were, I believe, several bottles of eye tincture taken from his shop.’
‘Oh!’
‘Well? Have you anything else to say against the poor lady?’
‘Oh well…perhaps she is innocent…But…’
‘But?’
‘I do not quite know why it is,’ said Dido frowning, ‘but there is something…I feel as if something she has told me is wrong…’
He cast his eyes up to the ceiling as he endeavoured to keep his temper. He had never before met with a woman so very determined to pursue her own ideas. He had always considered himself a very calm man, but here was a test even of his patience. ‘But you will not trouble Miss Neville, or her mother, with more questions?’ he asked at last.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I shall try not to. But as yet I cannot decide where I ought to look next. You see, if Miss Neville is innocent, then I must admit I am no nearer discovering the truth than I ever was.’
He sat down and regarded her very earnestly. ‘Miss Kent,’ he began with a renewed effort at calm. ‘It is very much to your credit I am sure that you should wish to spare your cousin pain by proving her friend innocent. But I cannot help but wonder whether your affection and concern are not getting the better of your considerable powers of reason in this case. After all, Mr Lansdale may well be the guilty party. He had the opportunity of committing the deed and he was the only person to benefit from the lady’s death.’
‘Yes, I do not deny any of this.’
‘And yet you continue to defend Mr Lansdale.’
‘No. I do not defend him,’ she cried. ‘I agree with you that he may be guilty. I only say that his being guilty cannot be a sufficient explanation for all that has happened at Knaresborough House.’
He sighed at her stubbornness. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘since we last talked I have learnt something which I believe rather supports his guilt. I asked Lady Carrisbrook about the line in your mysterious letter. And she is certain that it is taken from Romeo and Juliet.’
‘Ah yes!’ said Dido eagerly. ‘“The world is not their friend, nor the world’s laws…” And do you believe that it is young lovers to whom the poet refers?’
‘Of whom would it be more appropriate than Romeo and Juliet – or any pair of lovers suffering opposition from their families?’
‘And you believe the writer of that letter meant to tell me that Mr Lansdale was guilty – but to plead that this was a special case, that the extremity of his situation excused him?’
Mr Lomax raised his brows. ‘It is something which I believe you should consider,’ he said.
Dido smiled. ‘I have considered it, Mr Lomax,’ she said. ‘But, you see, there is a difficulty. I have read the play; and I find that the words are not spoken about the play’s principals at all. Those lines are spoken of an apothecary. It is the apothecary from whom Romeo procures poison that is said to be unfriended by the world and its laws.’
He stared at her – momentarily silenced. ‘I do not understand,’ he said at last. ‘Do you believe the writer of the letter wished to plead for Mr Vane?’
‘No. Upon consideration, I do not believe that the writer meant to plead for anyone. Of course while I thought that it was a pair of lovers who were to be considered beyond the restraints of law, I believed the writer to be defending them – from some romantic notion or other. But I cannot conceive of any argument of emotion or reason which could be brought for the excuse of apothecaries. Can you?’
He shook his head.
‘In short, I think the writer meant to do no more than to point me in the direction of Mr Vane.’
‘But you cannot seriously suspect Vane of harming the woman. What could his motive be?’
‘I did not say that I suspect Vane,’ said Dido carefully. ‘I only suggested that the letter might be designed to make me suspect him. After all, we have no reason to assume the writer of that letter is either honest, or disinterested.’
He considered a while and at last admitted, ‘It is well reasoned.’ She smiled, extremely well pleased to have carried her point. ‘However,’ he continued, ‘it does not change my opinion that it is dangerous for you to interest yourself in this business. It is for a court to decide. It is their duty to determine the truth, not yours.’
Her spirit rose against that. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, that I cannot accept. I believe it is the duty of all rational men and women to ensure that justice is done.’