Chapter One
Richmond, Wednesday 27th May
1806
My Dear Eliza
The great Mrs Lansdale is no
more.
She was carried off on Tuesday night by a sudden
seizure. It is a very heavy loss, for now the neighbourhood
can no longer discuss the alarming symptoms of her nervous
complaints, nor can it exclaim over every rumoured
disagreement between the lady and her nephew.
However,
it seems we are not done with Mrs Lansdale; she may yet
provide a subject of conversation – for there is already an
alarming rumour begun about her death.
Besides that
half-pleasurable sorrow which is always felt at the death of
a fine lady one hardly knows, there is a great distrust of
the nephew. For it has not passed without notice that he has
lost a remarkably tyrannical relation and gained a very fine
inheritance.
Miss Dido Kent lifted her
pen from the page and gazed beyond the little pool of light
thrown by her candle, to the open window and the warm
darkness beyond. She knew that she should not continue. What
she was about to write was hardly proper. A letter should
contain news but never gossip, and the great rule was to
mention no person or event which could not be written about
with charity.
But then, Dido mused with a smile, if
the rule were adhered to too faithfully, letters would
become so exceedingly dull that they would not be worth
getting. They would scarcely justify their cost to the
receiver.
And, besides, she had a very good reason for
communicating this particular piece of gossip to her
sister.
It is the odious Mrs Midgely who
has begun this rumour. She has ‘the gravest doubts’ about
Mrs Lansdale’s death. Mrs Midgely considers it as being
altogether ‘too convenient’ for the nephew. In short, she
believes that he took steps to hurry his poor aunt out of
this world…
There! It was said. And very
shocking it seemed now that it was written
down.
Please do not blame me for
repeating this slander, Eliza. If you will only keep from
throwing my letter aside in disgust – and will but continue
reading to the end – I hope you will understand why I must
write to you upon this subject.
You see, it all came
out yesterday during Flora’s exploring party to the
river.
And a very pleasant party it would have been,
but for Mrs Midgely and her venomous conversation. Everyone
was punctual, the sun shone upon us and there was an
abundance of walking about, sitting down, fine views, pigeon
pie and cold lamb.
Sir Joshua Carrisbrook was returned
from town in time to join us – which pleased Flora greatly.
And, by the by, it seems that what we had heard of Sir
Joshua is true – he is to be married again, and very soon.
And you may tell all his friends at Bellfield that he seems
vastly contented – and in a great hurry to get to church!
For, by his own account, the lady only gave her consent a
week ago, but he is determined to be married before the end
of another week and has got himself a special license for
that purpose. I suppose he does not wish to wear out what
youth he may suppose remains to him in waiting a full three
weeks for the banns to be called.
It is extraordinary
to see a man of his advanced years so very much in love! And
I could not but pity him; for he was so wanting to tell us
all of how he was soon to become ‘the very happiest of men’
and to enumerate the many virtues and talents of his lady;
and he had scarcely begun to describe her musical genius and
had not spoken one word about whose music she chiefly plays,
when his happiness was quite hurried out of the way by Mrs
Midgely who was wanting to be talking herself.
So I
confess that I remain in ignorance upon the important issue
of whether the future Lady Carrisbrook delights most in
concertos or in folk airs – and I cannot even tell you what
her maiden name may be…
But, to return to Mrs Midgely
and her suspicions. By her account, Mr Vane, the apothecary,
is uneasy about Mrs Lansdale’s death. He says that, ‘there
was nothing in Mrs Lansdale’s general condition to make him
expect such a seizure as carried her off! Which,’ says Mrs
Midgely, looking about at us all, with a very red face and a
satisfied manner, ‘which, I think you will all agree, seems
very odd indeed, does it not?’
‘Oh, but I do not know
that it is so very odd!’
This mild protest came from
little Miss Prentice – Mrs Midgely’s boarder – who seems to
rent from Mrs Midgely not only her back parlour but also a
share in her right to spy upon all the grand people of the
neighbourhood.
‘If I must give my opinion,’ says Miss
Prentice – though no one there had asked for her opinion –
‘I do not think it is so very odd at all. It does sometimes
happen that a person can be taken with a sudden attack such
as they have never had before. For it happened to poor
Lord…’
But Mrs Midgely had no patience to let her go
on. For once Miss Prentice is begun upon lords and sirs
there is no end of it.
‘Mr Vane,’ says Mrs Midgely,
speaking very loud, ‘is very much puzzled by the lady’s
death. And, in my opinion, he ought to take the appropriate
steps.’ And she lowered her voice to a suitably portentous
whisper. ‘I have told him that he must speak to the
magistrates.’
And then we had all to listen to a great
many accounts of what I had heard many times since coming to
Richmond: of how Mrs Lansdale had demanded a great deal of
attention from her nephew – on account of her many illnesses
– that he had often wanted to ‘pursue his own pleasures’ in
town, but had been restrained by her poor health and nervous
disposition which would not permit her to be left alone. Mrs
M was very eloquent upon these subjects – and no less so
upon the subject of how ‘young men these days’ do not like
to have their pleasures curtailed.
Well, Eliza, what I
have not told you of yet, is how very distressed poor Flora
was looking all the while that this was carrying on. For,
you see, Mr Henry Lansdale, the nephew – this very gentleman
that Mrs M was slandering – is a great favourite with our
cousin. She and her husband met the Lansdales at Ramsgate
last autumn and, though I have not yet been introduced to
the young man, I have observed that she always speaks very
highly of him.
I do not think Mrs Midgely knows of
Flora’s connection with the Lansdales and believes them to
be strangers to her, as they are to everyone else here in
Richmond. At least I sincerely hope that she knows nothing
of the friendship – or else she was being unpardonably rude
to be talking so of her hostess’s acquaintances! (Though, in
truth, I do not put anything beyond the licence that woman
allows her tongue!)
However, I think that, maybe, Mrs
Midgely’s ward, young Mary Bevan, was quick-witted enough to
suspect the truth, from her gentle efforts to smooth things
over. She pointed out, in her quiet precise way, that, ‘Mr
Vane had been attending upon Mrs Lansdale for little more
than a month,’ and suggested that, ‘he might not have a very
accurate knowledge of all the poor lady’s disorders and
symptoms.’
This did little to stop the abuse; but one
must admire the real elegance of mind which prompted it; and
one cannot help but wonder how such a pleasant, sensible
girl can have been brought up by the dreadful Mrs
M.
But, to return to Flora. She was close to tears by
the time the carriages came, and she broke down completely
in our journey home.
‘I cannot understand,’ she said
again and again, ‘why Mrs Midgely should say such things!
Why should she wish to malign poor Mr Lansdale? And why
should she wish to persuade the apothecary to cause trouble
for him? I have never known her be so very unkind
before.’
And, in all honesty, neither can I understand
it, Eliza. It is a level of interference and trouble-making
far beyond the usual malice of gossip.
Poor Flora! She
keeps to her room today with the headache which, I make no
doubt, was brought on by yesterday’s distress. Her
sufferings are, I believe, all the worse for being unfixed
and uncertain; for neither she nor I can judge the exact
degree of danger in which Mr Lansdale might stand – I mean
if Mr Vane should yield to the tiresome woman’s advice and
refer the matter to the magistrate. And, since Flora’s
husband is still absent upon business in Ireland, we have no
gentleman here to whom we can turn for advice upon such a
delicate matter.
And this, my dear sister, is the
reason for my troubling you with this most unpleasant
business. It occurs to me that, since you are staying at
Bellfield Hall, you might seek advice on our behalf. Would
you be so kind as to ask Mr William
Lomax…
Dido was forced, by the shaking in
her hand, to stop writing.
There was already a blot
spreading through her neat black words. And her cheeks were
burning too. She laid down her pen and turned her face into
the night air which was blowing in through the open window
of her bedchamber, bringing with it the scents of roses and
cutgrass and dew – and the high, shivering call of an owl
from somewhere down beside the river.
She had thought
that she had long outlived the age at which the mere writing
of a gentleman’s name could bring a blush to her cheeks. Yet
she could not help but wonder what Mr Lomax would think –
how he would look – what he would say – when Eliza mentioned
her name and her request.
Dido’s situation with regard
to this gentleman was a particularly delicate one.
Mr
William Lomax was the man of business who overlooked the
running of her niece’s husband’s estate at Bellfield Hall.
Last autumn, when she had been at Bellfield, Dido had come
to esteem him very highly indeed and, before she was called
away, she had been certain – almost certain – as certain as
a lady can ever allow herself to be – that he returned her
regard: that he was, in fact, only prevented from making a
declaration by a want of wealth and independence.
Then
she had been full of hope; sure that they could not be
separated for ever; sure that the particular circumstances
which kept him poor just then, could be removed. But now,
after six months of hearing almost nothing of him, it was
all but impossible not to be desponding: not to believe that
her influence over him was weakening; not to calculate very
exactly her five and thirty years, or to disregard the
opinion of all her friends who had long reckoned her a
settled old maid.
As she had once overheard her
sister-in-law, Margaret, remarking: ‘An heiress may fairly
look for a husband at any age. But a portionless woman had
better give up all such thoughts when she is thirty, and
spare her family the expense of going much into company. For
it will all be wasted. Nothing will come of it.’
Until
she had come to know Mr Lomax, Dido had been, if not quite
content to be a spinster, then at least reconciled to it
because she had never found in the usual round of dinners
and balls and visits much temptation to change her state.
But a remarkable set of circumstances had brought her
together with Mr Lomax and authorised a kind of
communication far beyond the usual littleness of social
intercourse. She had learnt the pleasure of sharing ideas
and confiding in a way which she had never known before. And
now…
And now, as she sat beside the window of her
bedchamber in Flora’s pleasant summer villa, she was
beginning to suspect her own motives.
For, oddly
enough, it had been a murder and the mystery associated with
it which had first brought her together with Mr Lomax. So,
was she now only taking an interest in this affair of Mrs
Lansdale’s death because it was a means of bringing herself
once more to the gentleman’s attention?
She smiled.
Hers must be a very singular affection if it could only
thrive upon infamy and mystery! But she would not allow one
half of her to suspect the other. There could be nothing
wrong in only asking a gentleman’s advice and, besides, she
really did wish to discover the exact degree of danger in
which Mr Lansdale stood.
Would you be so
kind as to ask Mr William Lomax – for I know that he has a
very thorough understanding of the law – whether, in his
opinion, Mr Lansdale is in any danger? Might Mr Vane’s
information lead the magistrates to bring a prosecution?
And, if it should go so far, how heavily would the testimony
of such a man as this apothecary tell against him? It cannot
be denied that the young man has gained a great deal from
his aunt’s death: if there was a suspicion of murder, would
not that suspicion fall immediately upon him?
Flora is
most anxious that we should somehow find a way of putting an
end to these dreadful rumours, before they have any serious
consequences.
I agree that it ought to be attempted;
but I cannot conceive how such a woman as Mrs Midgely is to
be worked upon. I doubt she has ever, in the whole course of
her life, held her tongue at someone else’s request. And she
seemed to take such an inordinate pleasure in spreading her
poison that I could not help but wonder whether she has some
grudge or cause against the young man. Something which might
make her particularly venomous in this case.
And I do
not think we can silence her without first discovering her
motive.