‘Oh, there you are, Aunt Dido!’ she cried peering around the hood. ‘I have been looking everywhere for you!’
‘Well, now that you know that I am safe, you may leave me in peace to think, may you not? And you can take this dog away with you.’
‘There is no need to be so peevish,’ said Catherine, dropping into a chair on the opposite side of the hearth. ‘It is very ungrateful of you, when I have been all morning spreading your fame as a future-gazer. Mrs Harris is particularly pleased with the notion and now she is telling everyone how clever my old aunt is.’
‘I am not anybody’s old aunt, Catherine.’ Dido pushed the dog’s paw from her lap, but it was speedily replaced.
‘No, perhaps you are not so very old. But you are odd; I am sure people here were beginning to notice your strange ways. But now, you see, it does not matter how odd you seem, because you have remarkable talents and remarkable talents excuse all manner of oddness.’
‘I see. If I can predict the future then I am allowed to be poor. I can wear pattens and have a shabby pelisse.’
‘Yes.’
‘And this is why you are friends with me again! I am not at all sure that I welcome such popularity, Catherine.’
‘Upon my word! You are quite determined to quarrel with me this morning.’
‘On the contrary, I do not wish to quarrel with anyone. I wish rather to be left alone.’
‘But I need to talk to you,’ persisted Catherine.
‘What do you wish to talk about?’
‘Well, I have been thinking over what you asked me when you first came to Belsfield. Where might Richard have gone? Do you remember?’
‘Yes,’ said Dido, wondering what might follow. ‘I remember. Have you thought of where he might be?’
‘Yes, I think perhaps I have. Of course everyone believes he has gone to town. But I do not think so. Richard does not like town, you see. When he goes away – as he does when he feels unwell – he likes to be quiet. Somewhere in the countryside. But I could think of no particular place. Nowhere that he had mentioned as somewhere he liked. And then I remembered!’
‘Remembered what exactly?’
‘Lyme!’
‘Lyme?’
‘Yes. Once, when he was a little boy of about six years old, he was sent to a tutor at Lyme. He had been ill with scarlet fever and he was sent to Lyme to recover. To a house overlooking the sea. He told me about it. He said it is a beautiful place and the summer he spent there was the happiest summer of his life.’
‘I see. And you think perhaps…?’
‘No, no I don’t think at all, Aunt! I am sure. Absolutely sure. Richard is at Lyme.’
‘I do not see how you can be sure.’
‘But I am. I know Richard, you see. You would not understand…’
‘No, of course I would not, because I have never loved a man.’
Catherine looked a little ashamed. ‘I did not mean to hurt your feelings, Aunt Dido.’
‘It is of no consequence. But I think your idea is worth considering…’
‘We must do a great deal more than consider it. We must go to Lyme.’
‘Must we indeed? And how are we to accomplish that? It is more than twenty miles off.’
‘Nothing could be easier. Sir Edgar has said he wishes you to see the countryside, has he not?’
‘Yes…’
‘And of course you would wish to see Lyme. Everyone goes to Lyme. It shall be a regular exploring party.’
‘I am not sure I wish to go exploring just now.’
But Catherine would not be denied and a moment later she was off to ‘talk to Mama about it.’
Dido sighed. She really was a very wilful, difficult girl!
Which was, of course, just what Margaret was forever saying and what Dido and Eliza regularly denied. Margaret maintained that it was those three formative years spent with her aunts that had done the damage; she believed – and frequently said – that by the time she had taken control of Catherine at six years old, she had been spoilt beyond hope of correction.
Maybe she had been spoilt, just a little, the sisters would sometimes admit to each other. But not so very much. And who could help indulging a little lost child who used to open her eyes every morning to ask, ‘Has Mama returned yet?’ It was certainly more than they had been capable of.
But today Dido was ready to admit – to herself at least – that it might have been better if the girl had not learnt so early the pleasure of getting her own way; nor formed such a determination to believe only what she wished to believe.
All she could hope was that Catherine’s exploring party would not take them from Belsfield while there were still questions to be answered there.
It was beginning to seem that the interview in the library had been going on a very long time and Dido was becoming very impatient to know whether a charge of murder had been brought against Tom and whether Mr Harris’s information had told heavily against him. The clock ticked on beside her and she became drowsy. She was dimly aware of someone playing the pianoforte in the drawing room and she was wondering who the musician could be since the performance was much too assured and accomplished to be Miss Sophia’s, when the door opened at last and the three men came out of the library.
The dog at last dropped its paw from her lap and crept away to hide behind the chair.
She peered eagerly around the great wooden hood, but, to her surprise, only one of the three was looking at all distressed – and that one was Mr Harris. His colour had improved a little, but he still looked seriously discomposed. Sir Edgar, on the other hand, was smiling benignly. And, as for Tom Lomax, he strode out into the hall looking very pleased with himself indeed.
Chapter Eleven
‘Sir Edgar, might I speak with you a moment?’ Dido made her way across the hall as Mr Harris hurried off up the stairs and Tom lounged away towards the billiard room.
Sir Edgar stopped and eyed her gravely. She rather fancied that there was disapproval in his look. ‘Good morning, Miss Kent. How may I help you?’
‘I was,’ she said with a look of innocence, ‘I was just wondering whether my young friend Jack had spoken to you. He told me yesterday that he had a rather delicate matter on his mind. I recommended that he should speak with you.’
‘Ah! He mentioned the matter to you, did he, Miss Kent?’ There was no mistaking the note of dignified disapproval now: the slight, the very slight, emphasis upon the pronoun, which was intended to remind her of what a humble position she occupied in the great commonwealth of his house.
‘He did not give any details, of course,’ Dido assured him.
‘I am glad to hear it. I would not recommend that you trouble yourself over the business.’
‘So,’ said Dido, rather wondering at her own audacity, ‘his information was of no use to you?’
Sir Edgar sighed. ‘Well, I would not say that it was of no use. I know now that the young woman was killed after five and twenty past twelve. It seems Mr Tom Lomax was in the shrubbery at that time and saw nothing.’
‘So it is true? He was in the shrubbery?’
‘Miss Kent, I beg you will not trouble yourself over this matter.’
‘I am sorry, Sir Edgar, but it does seem so very odd that he should not have mentioned this circumstance before.’
Sir Edgar looked so angry for a moment that Dido quaked. But then, all of a sudden, he seemed to relent. He gave his benign smile. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘but Mr Lomax was there upon a private matter – an affair of the heart – you see, Miss Kent. Something he preferred to keep silent about. It seems he and Mr Harris came down together from the spinney to the hermitage. On a rather happier errand than murder.’ He rocked himself ponderously upon his toes. ‘They wanted a quiet talk, you see – about Mr Lomax’s offer for one of Mr Harris’s daughters.’