A gentleman of fortune

the deficiencies of her present home were more than compensated, by its being in so fashionable a place as Richmond. Miss Prentice certainly shared her friend’s interest in ‘the neighbourhood’. Only, while Mrs Midgely valued fashionable people for the reflected grandeur she believed they threw upon herself, Miss Prentice’s regard for them was perfectly disinterested: she delighted innocently in wealth and titles as a naturalist delights in the birds and beasts that he watches.

‘And I hear that Sir Hugo Wyat is to take the red house near the top of the hill.’ she was saying now. ‘And Sir Hugo’s is a very old title. I do so love the old titles. There is such solidity about them, is there not? Such Englishness! And so, when Sir Hugo comes, that will be three Baronets residing here in this street. Which is so very… For last summer, I understand, there was but one.’

‘You do have some very – interesting – neighbours,’ said Dido, looking thoughtfully out into the bright sunshine beyond the window, at the dusty road and Knaresborough House. From here it was possible to see the whole of the sweep and the house-front, with the smooth green lawns sloping upward to the dark mass of laurel bushes that shut out the offices at the back of the house.

‘Ah!’ cried Miss Prentice, following her gaze. ‘You are thinking of the Lansdales, I don’t doubt. It is a sad business,’ she continued in a half-whisper, ‘and, for myself, I do not care what Susan says. If I must give my opinion, I am all for the young man. He seems a very pleasant gentleman indeed and he always bows very prettily when he walks past and sees me at the window – which not many fine young men would think to do.’

Dido smiled and ventured to say, ‘You have perhaps heard of the death of Mrs Lansdale’s little dog?’

‘Oh yes. I have indeed!’

‘Mr Lansdale tells us that it went missing on the evening that its mistress died. And I wondered… You have such a remarkably clear view of the house and its grounds… I wondered whether you might have seen what became of it…’

‘No.’ Miss Prentice thought carefully. ‘No, I do not believe that I did.’

‘But I daresay you saw the butler searching the garden for it?’

Miss Prentice looked very thoughtful and pressed a bent finger to her lips: seemed pleased that, for once, she had indeed been asked to give her opinion. ‘No, I cannot say that I remember that at all. But Mary came to sit with me for a little while after dinner, and Susan had company that evening. Mr Vane and Mrs Barlow came to play at whist – and I went in to join them. Dear Mary insisted that I join them. “You must come”, says she, “for I am sure I cannot bear to think of you sitting all alone”. Which was so very… So, you see, I do not think I was by the window for long.’

‘I quite understand. But, I wonder, what exactly did you happen to see that evening?’

Miss Prentice considered very carefully, so gratified to be consulted that she did not seem to wonder at Dido’s motives. ‘Well now, let me see,’ she said, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. ‘What can I remember? This is like that game we used to play when we were children. Did you play it too? With all the little objects – reels of thread and pennies and oranges and I know not what – all put upon a tray and then a cloth put over them and we must say all that we could remember.’

‘Yes,’ said Dido, ‘it is just like the game, is it not?’

‘Well…’ She closed her eyes. ‘I do not remember the dog. No, he was not there. Nor the butler. I saw Mr Lansdale: he drove away in his barouche… And I believe I saw the maids going away to their homes… And a beggar came and stood against the gate post… And then I saw Mr Henderson. I saw him walking across the lawn in his way to the front door.’

‘Mr Henderson?’

‘Yes,’ said Miss Prentice, opening her eyes. ‘Mr Henderson is the gentleman who used to live in Knaresborough House before the Lansdales came there. He left it but three days before they came.’

‘And are you quite sure it was him?’

‘Oh yes. I remember it very clearly, for I remarked upon it to Mary. “Why look!” I said, “here is Mr Henderson come to call upon Mr Lansdale”. Because Mary was a little acquainted with him you see. At least she was a little acquainted with his daughters.’

‘And at what time did you see him?’

‘At about eight o’clock I think – for it was just before we went to cards.’

‘I wonder,’ said Dido after a pause. ‘Do you know if Mr Henderson wears powder in his hair?’

Miss Prentice looked all amazement. ‘Why, how remarkable that you should guess that, Miss Kent! Yes, indeed he does. He is a well-looking, tall man. He has very fine black side-whiskers; and he always has his hair very nicely dressed. And I think it is such a becoming fashion, do not you? And so few gentlemen take the trouble these days to put on powder. Yes, so very becoming.’ She smiled fondly – as if, perhaps, she was remembering a particular powdered gentleman from her distant youth.

Dido thought for a moment or two, then risked asking: ‘You are quite sure, that Mrs Midgely had a card party that day – that she was at home all evening.’

‘Oh yes. Quite sure.’

‘I just wondered whether…whether, perhaps, Mrs Midgely went herself to visit Mrs Lansdale that day.’

Miss Prentice’s little face twisted about in surprise. Her eyes widened. ‘Susan?’ she said, ‘Susan, visit Mrs Lansdale? No indeed! Why ever should you think such a thing? She was not at all acquainted with her.’

‘Oh but she was!’ cried Flora before Dido could prevent her. ‘She certainly had visited the house you know. We found her visiting card in Mrs Lansdale’s drawing room!’

There was a gasp from Miss Prentice: something between surprise and pain. All the colour drained from her round cheeks. Her lips moved but no sound came from them.

‘Miss Prentice? Are you unwell?’ Dido stood up and went to her – and was but just in time to catch her as she slipped from the chair in a dead faint.

Chapter Five

Next morning Dido walked beside the river – alone. She had received such a letter from her sister as made liberty and solitude essential: such a letter as must turn her mind away from the mysteries surrounding her in Richmond: such a letter as must, for a while, even make her cease to wonder why Miss Prentice should faint upon hearing of her friend’s visit to Mrs Lansdale.

Dearest Dido, wrote Eliza, quite unaware that she was about to inflict severe pain upon her sister, I take up my pen to assure you that I put your questions to Mr Lomax at the earliest opportunity. However, I very much regret that I am not yet able to give any report of his opinion upon the matter of Mr Lansdale’s danger under the law. For, although he listened very courteously to my request, (and, by the by, he is a very pleasant man, is he not? And I quite agree with you as to his profile which I remember you describing as particularly fine. And I agree too about his kindliness and consideration, which I think are quite remarkable.) But, what I mean to say is that, although he attended to the matter like the perfect gentleman which I make no doubt he is – and I am sure he did not mean to disappoint you – for I do not believe it is in his nature to disappoint anyone. But, the fact is that before he could properly consider the matter, he was called away from Belsfield upon business. And, since he was not able to give any idea of when he may return, I am afraid that I cannot give any idea of when I may be able to send an answer to your questions. Though I assure you that I will send an answer just as soon as I have one to send…

Mr Lomax’s going away from Belsfield just now, and leaving her questions unanswered, was a severe blow. It spoke such an indifference to her and her concerns, as must make her doubt that he retained any affection for her at all…

How was it to be understood? Did he mean to convey to her some message? To let her know that she must think no more of him? Or had he merely forgotten the understanding which had seemed to exist – which had existed – between them? Was she become just another acquaintance whose requests could be brushed aside as convenience demanded?

These were the questions which had sprung up to torment her in the morning room as soon as she had read the letter. These were the questions which had followed her as she walked out. Now, seated upon an old log on the