A moment of silence

fingers, but could find no way of accounting for Miss Sophia’s last, strange remark. With a little shake of her head, she opened the door and went into the parlour. She had hoped to find the room empty and to be able to think in peace there until breakfast was ready, but she was disappointed. Tom Lomax was lounging upon a bench, reading a newspaper.

‘Miss Kent,’ he cried as she entered. ‘I believe you never sleep! Now, what are you busy about so early in the day?’

Dido smiled serenely. ‘Why, I am just poking about,’ she replied. ‘In the way that I do, Mr Lomax.’

‘And what do you hope to discover here at Lyme?’

She sat herself down beside the newly lit fire and considered as she gazed into the flames, which were burning white and blue as they consumed the salty sticks of driftwood. No better opportunity to confront Mr Tom might appear and she decided to make the best of this chance meeting. ‘One thing I hope to discover, Mr Lomax,’ she began slowly, raising her eyes to his, ‘is why you were in the shrubbery on the day that young woman was killed.’

Tom folded his newspaper and sat up, looking extremely wary. ‘You know the answer to that,’ he said.

‘I know the answer which you gave to Sir Edgar.’ Tom said nothing. ‘But,’ she went on, ‘in your own inimitable words, that explanation “will not do.” Come, Mr Lomax, we both know that it “will not do at all.”’

‘Sir Edgar was quite satisfied with it,’ said Tom sulkily, rubbing a finger across his bristling cheek.

‘He was, but I cannot say that his satisfaction is a great credit to his understanding. For it is clear – clear even to a woman – that you are not engaged to either of the Misses Harris. Neither of the ladies seems to know anything of the business and, since you cannot even remember which of them has been so fortunate as to win your devotion…’ Dido finished with a smile and a shrug.

‘I do not think, Miss Kent, that it is any concern of yours whether I am engaged or not.’

‘But, you see, it is. I am very concerned that you seem to be lying. For when a life has been taken, I believe it is the duty of us all to ensure that justice is done.’

Tom shifted on his bench and gave a strange smile – though whether it was intended to charm or to threaten she could not quite determine. ‘And have you decided that I killed that woman?’

Dido continued her level stare. ‘Did you?’ she said.

‘No!’ His face was red. ‘I don’t even know who she was.’

‘Then you will not mind telling me – or telling the magistrates – the real reason for your presence in the shrubbery that day.’

He gave a kind of snort and kicked furiously at the leg of his bench. ‘You had better ask Harris about it,’ he said. ‘For what you don’t understand is that there are a great many things beside murder which a gentleman might wish to conceal.’

‘I do not doubt it, Mr Lomax. But I think that to clear himself of the suspicion of murder a gentleman might own to most secrets.’

‘You really are the most insufferable, interfering woman I ever met!’ cried Tom furiously. He jumped up from the bench, paced to the window then back to the fireside and stood before her on the hearth rug, talking vehemently. ‘But it is not me, it is Harris who most wants secrecy in this case. And though you do not seem to mind stirring up trouble for me, I think you might regret the embarrassment you will bring on John Harris – and on his womenfolk – with your infernal questions.’

That made Dido hesitate. But it was only for a moment. ‘If you would but tell me the facts of the case, Mr Lomax.’

‘And if I do not then I suppose you will go running to the magistrates bleating about me not being engaged?’

‘Yes, I will.’

He strode back to the window, kicking the bench out of the way as he went. He leant upon the window sill and stared out into the yard.

‘Mr Lomax, I believe it will not be long before our friends join us. And if I have not received some assurance from you before we return to Belsfield…’ She left the broken sentence to hang in the air of the little parlour.

‘Very well, I shall tell you what my business was in the shrubbery,’ he said violently. ‘And you will not like what you hear. But remember you pressed me to tell you. It is not me that chooses to relate such details to a respectable spinster.’ (There was a sneer in that.) ‘Harris and I went to the hermitage to talk. He was too afraid of being overheard to transact our business in the spinney. And I was not lying: we went to talk about me marrying one of the girls. And it is true that he and I came to an agreement.’

‘Indeed? I think it must have been a rather unusual agreement.’

‘Perhaps it was.’ He turned to face her, which put her at rather a disadvantage for the morning sun was behind him and, though he could watch her face, he was nothing to her but a tall dark figure against the brightness and she could make out nothing of his expressions. ‘The agreement was that he would not oppose me marrying either of his daughters. But I did not fix on either of them. In fact,’ he added with a heavy attempt at humour, ‘I was gentleman enough to say that I would wait for Colonel Walborough to take his pick and pay my addresses to the one that was left.’

‘How very generous of you! But what interests me, Mr Lomax, is how you persuaded Mr Harris to this arrangement. What was he to get in return for his consent to the marriage of his daughter to a man so deep in debt that even the village apothecary is refusing his business?’

That hit home. The dark figure looming against the shining squares of the window started visibly and when he spoke again his voice was choking with fury. ‘He is to get my silence, Miss Kent. That is what he is to get – and very valuable it is to him.’

‘Yes?’ said Dido calmly. ‘Your silence on what subject?’

‘On the subject of his marriage.’

‘I see,’ said Dido, taking great care that neither her face nor her voice should betray the shock which he hoped to detect. ‘Now, I wonder what you have to tell on that subject. It is nothing to do, I am sure, with Mrs Harris’s low origins, for all the world must know of those since she talks so freely of them herself.’

‘Ah,’ said Tom with relish. ‘All the world knows that John Harris’s present lady was nurse to his first wife, but what no one else in England knows is that she was still no more than a nurse when Miss Amelia was born. And that was a month before her patient died. Now, what do you say to that?’

‘One of your acquaintance in India has informed you of this, I suppose?’

‘More than one, as it happens; bad news has a way of travelling. And there is nothing to be gained by trying to doubt my word, Miss Kent, for Harris has admitted to the business himself – or as good as done so, for he has not denied it.’

Dido did not doubt its truth, nor could she doubt that Mr Harris would be anxious to keep it hidden – for the sake of his wife’s reputation. She became aware that Tom was watching her closely and she did not doubt that he was smiling. Indeed, when he spoke again she could actually hear the smile in his words even though the sun was still dazzling her too much to see his face.

‘So you see, Miss Kent, if you broadcast your suspicions about me, you would do no good at all and you would be the means of destroying the Harrises’ respectability. Is that what you wish to do?’

He knew that it was not. He knew that she would not now speak out about her suspicions. In short, he was sure that he had got the better of her. He really was the most horrible, provoking man!

‘No,’ she said, standing up. ‘That is not what I wish to do. All I wish to do is to find out who killed that woman, and to discover why Mr Montague has absented himself from his father’s house.’ She walked to the door, but there she hesitated. ‘Though I believe I have just acquired a new purpose,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘I think I now also intend to put a stop to your selfish plans. Good morning, Mr Lomax.’

Chapter Sixteen

…And so, Eliza, here I am back at Belsfield, and I have just received a piece of news which I had hoped very much not to hear.