Yes, I wanted to see him and I dared not see him.
As I approached the house I noticed a rider coming towards me. It was Peter Lansdon, one of the last people I wanted to see at that moment.
“Jessica!” he cried.
“Hello.”
“Amaryllis is coming over to see you. She’s very anxious about you. You look drawn. This is a terrible business.”
I was silent.
“Have you just come from Eversleigh?” he asked. “I suppose the parental wits are being exercised to fullest capacity.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“This kind of situation … it’s always difficult for the spouse in the case. It’s a commentary on marriage, I suppose, that when a man or woman dies mysteriously, the first suspect is the wife or husband.”
I hated him, with his cool supercilious eyes. How could Amaryllis love such a man? How could I myself have ever considered him romantically?
He was a man who could change his personality as easily as most changed their clothes. It was the secret of his success.
“I have no doubt,” he went on, “that your parents will extricate you from any difficult situation in which you find yourself. How fortunate you are to have a father who is not only doting and determined to save his daughter from any predicament into which she may project herself, but has the influence to do something about it!”
“The truth will be told,” I said. “That is what I want and what my father wants.”
“The truth? The whole truth and nothing but the truth?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows.
“We want the truth,” I said.
“There is one little aspect which I think it would be wise to keep secret. You know to what I refer for we have discussed that matter before.”
“What do you want now?” I said.
“I am no blackmailer. I just seize opportunities. And I would be a fool to blackmail you with staunch Papa standing guard. You and I share secrets about each other. What I want from you is perpetual silence. Suppose … just suppose … all goes well at this inquest and you and your lover are exonerated from all blame. Suppose you marry. Then you might say, ‘What does it matter now if the whole world knew that I took a lover before my husband’s death? The verdict is given. The matter is closed. What then? Why should I not tell what I know of Peter Lansdon and his less than respectable activities in London Town?’ I do not take risks. I want a vow of perpetual silence from you, Jessica, and I want it now before the inquest.”
“And if I do not give it?”
“Then I shall be forced to tell the coroner that you had a motive for wanting your husband out of the way, that I had discovered … quite by chance of course … that you and your lover used to meet surreptitiously in London. So … I shall be obliged to hint that you had a reason for wishing him out of the way.”
“You’re despicable.”
“One has to be ruthless sometimes to fight one’s way in the world.”
“I wonder what Amaryllis would say if she knew the sort of man she had married.”
“Amaryllis is devoted to the man she has married. She has never had a moment’s regret on that score.”
“That is strange to me.”
“Then it should not be. We all appear differently to different people. To you I am the abandoned sinner. To Amaryllis I am the hardworking and successful businessman who at the same time is the perfect husband and father. You judge too superficially. I am all that when I am with Amaryllis just as I am the wicked adventurer when I am with you. I am both these people, Jessica. Life is like that. Of course, I do not believe that you administered the fatal dose. But what of that other who would gain his desires by so doing, eh? What of the passionate Jake? Come on … give me your word. Forever more you keep my secret, and I shall not come forward at the inquest and tell what I know of you and Cadorson.”
I remembered then one day long ago when we had met Leah and she had told our fortunes. She had said that Amaryllis would go through life happy because she could not see the unpleasantness and danger all around her. How right she was! I supposed Amaryllis had always been like that. It was why life had always seemed so good to her. She saw no evil and therefore for her there was no evil.
I remembered that Aunt Sophie had seen nothing but evil and how unhappy she had been; and it occurred to me that people made their own happiness or otherwise in this life; and that it was in the hands of us all to shape our own lives. And this was never more true than when one was passing through a situation such as this which now beset me.
“Well,” said Peter, “what is it going to be? Let us both take the vow of silence, eh?”
I said slowly: “I will never tell what I know.”
He leaned towards me. “Nor I of you, dear Jessica.”
He lifted his hat and rode away.
The day of the inquest came at length.
Jake was there; so was Amaryllis with Peter Lansdon. James and Toby would be called as witnesses, as I should with Jake. We had been the last to see Edward alive.
I sat between my father and mother. My father’s face was set and grim. He looked old and tired. How much of that was due to sleeplessness and anxiety I did not know. I knew he had been deeply worried by the danger which hung over me.
I watched Jake giving his evidence. He told how he had helped Toby to get Edward to bed. It was explained that it was James’ duty but because of his strained back Toby had been called in. That was all.
Then James said that he had put the dose into the glass of water and left it at the bedside on top of the cabinet. He had gone out with Toby, Sir Jake had remained behind for a few minutes, chatted with Mr. Barrington and then he had gone.
It was my turn. I told them that I had returned to the house on Christmas night and my husband had been brought out of the carriage and put into the wheelchair to go into the house. After he was in bed I had visited him which was a normal practice. The water containing the sleeping draught had been on the top of the cabinet and I had handed it to him as I usually did before I said goodnight.
Had there been anything different about it?
I had noticed nothing.
Had my husband noticed anything?
“He grimaced when he took it, but then he had done that before. He said the draught had a bitter taste.”
Had my husband ever said to me or implied in any way that he might take an overdose?
“Never,” I said.
That was all.
The sensation came with Toby’s evidence.
He had been a gardener, he told them, when Mr. James Moore had strained his back and could not easily lift Mr. Barrington. He had given up his work in the garden and had been solely employed in the sick room ever since.
Had Mr. Barrington at any time given the impression that he might have considered taking his life?
“Yes, he did on one occasion.”
“When was that?”
“The night before Christmas Eve.”
“What did he say?”
“He looked at the glass and said, ‘Sometimes, I feel I am a burden to so many.’ He asked what I thought of the morality of taking one’s own life; and he said was morality more important than common sense?”
“Was the bottle containing the sleeping draught within easy reach of Mr. Barrington?”
“It was in the cabinet. Not exactly within easy reach. But Mr. Barrington could just about reach the bottle … by stretching over.”
“Was it wise to leave it in such a place?”
“It would not have been possible to remove it without Mr. Barrington’s knowing that it was done,” said Toby.
It seemed the bottle was there where he could reach it, and he had considered the possibility of taking his own life.