‘Maybe… But I think not. If he did show something, he must have put it into his pocket very quickly when Richard staggered backwards, because I remember I saw the man’s hands very clearly then and they were empty.’
‘How very strange. And did Mr Montague speak?’
‘No – at least I don’t think he did. His back was turned to me, but I think I would have heard if he’d spoken – even through the music. You do, don’t you? I mean you can hear a voice you love when any other would be lost to you.’ Fresh tears welled in Catherine’s eyes and hung gleaming on her lashes.
Dido’s mind was working quickly. ‘Let me be clear about this,’ she said. ‘It was not simply the sight of the man that shocked Mr Montague?’
‘No. When he first saw him he seemed surprised – but pleasantly surprised. As if he had not expected the man to be there, but was pleased to see him nonetheless. It was only afterwards, when they had stood together for a moment, that Richard became distressed.’
‘I see. Go on,’ said Dido patting her hand. ‘What happened next?’
‘It was all so quick. The man walked away – I think he did, at least. I didn’t see because Richard seized my hand and pulled me out of the set. We went onto the terrace and he told me… He told me everything was over between us.’
Dido pictured the scene. The two of them out in the mild night, the music of the dance they had just abandoned still playing in the room behind them. There had been candles out on the terrace that night; she had seen the pools of wax they had left on the stone balustrade between the urns of roses. She imagined their light playing across the young man’s troubled face as he said…
‘What exactly did he say?’
It was some minutes before Catherine was collected enough to reply. ‘He said… He said that he and I must part because…because he was ruined.’
‘That was all he said?’
‘He barely stayed two minutes with me. He said he must go at once to his father. “I must talk to him,” he said, “and he will not like what he hears.” He said…’ Little frown lines gathered over Catherine’s eyes as she struggled to remember the words. ‘He said, “It is impossible that he and I can remain friends after tonight.”’
‘And then he left you?’
‘Yes. I waited above an hour on the terrace, thinking… hoping he would return. But he did not, and in the morning I learnt that he was gone from the house.’
‘Without speaking to you again?’
Catherine nodded. ‘He left this,’ she said in a flat, dull voice, holding out a folded note. ‘Tom Lomax gave it to me at breakfast.’
Dido opened it and read, in a hasty masculine scrawl:
She stared in confusion at the letter. ‘Catherine, this puts you in a very delicate situation. What have you done? Have you spoken to Sir Edgar? Does your father know what has happened?’
‘My father knows nothing,’ Catherine answered quickly. ‘And you must not breathe a word to him – or to Margaret! You must promise me you will not. I have spoken to Sir Edgar and he…he surprised me.’
‘Why? How did he surprise you?’
‘He was very calm. He does not seem to be angry with Mr Montague at all. He says the whole thing is a silly misunderstanding and it is best to say nothing about it and it will all blow over. He has put out a story that he has sent Richard to town on business – which seems strange to everyone so soon after the engagement and of course it gets stranger every day that he does not return. I know people are saying that we have quarrelled. But what can I do?’
‘You have no idea of where Mr Montague might have gone? Some place that he is partial to, perhaps. Or somewhere that he visits often.’
Catherine thought and shook her head.
‘And you do not mean to take his advice?’ Dido continued gently. ‘You are not going to end the engagement?’
‘No!’ Catherine’s nether lip jutted dangerously. ‘How can I give him up when I don’t know what has happened?’
‘But, my dear, supposing there is, in the end, a rupture with Sir Edgar and Mr Montague loses his fortune.’
Catherine glowered at her aunt defiantly and Dido said nothing more on that subject. In point of fact, Catherine was most unlikely to suffer poverty happily; but she was in love and naturally felt equal to any sacrifice.
‘Well,’ Dido said cautiously, ‘supposing…just supposing Mr Montague had done something which, well, shall we say, lowered your opinion of him… Something which showed him to be unworthy of your love.’
Catherine glowered harder.
‘My dear, we must consider that possibility. After all, he seemed to fear his father’s disapproval. What was it he said? “It is impossible that we can be friends after tonight.” And he writes in his note of shame coming upon the family.’
The tears had dried on Catherine’s cheeks; her little chin lifted proudly. ‘I will not believe any such thing until it is proved against him.’
‘And probably not even then.’
Catherine chose not to hear that remark. ‘I certainly will not end my engagement until I understand exactly what has happened,’ she said firmly.
‘My dear, your loyalty is very noble, very romantic. If I was reading about it in a novel I should applaud it with all my heart, but—’
‘I must know why Richard changed so suddenly,’ Catherine interrupted. ‘I must know who this stranger was and why he had such power over him. You must find out for me, Aunt.’
‘Must I?’ Dido echoed irritably.
But, in her heart, she knew that she must indeed. She must find out for her own peace of mind, and because it seemed the only hope for Catherine.
But what could have happened? How could this stranger, with no word spoken, change Mr Montague’s – and Catherine’s – life? Why had the young man become convinced, in that one moment of silence, that he must break with his father and end his engagement? It made no sense at all.
That task had seemed hard enough. But, since this evening’s grim news had broken upon the household, Dido had come to see that she had another as well. Now she must not only discover the cause of Mr Montague’s strange behaviour, she must also prove, to her own satisfaction at least, that what had happened between the young lovers had nothing to do with the terrible discovery in the shrubbery.
And Dido’s last thought as she settled to sleep that night was of how short a time Catherine had been acquainted with Mr Montague and how much there must be that she did not know about him and his family.
Chapter Three
