value my society very highly.’
‘And you were quite right to say it.’
‘I said, in fact, that you enjoyed my society so much you were prepared to go to quite remarkable lengths to secure it.’
‘I am sorry.’ He was still leaning over her, in the attitude of a lover, but his face was troubled. ‘I am sorry, Miss Sophia, I am not sure I quite understand you.’
‘Do you not?’ She raised her eyes at last. Her voice lost all its silliness; her manner became businesslike. ‘But it is quite simple, Mr Lomax. I referred of course to the remarkable conversation that took place between you and Papa.’ She met his eyes fearlessly.
Tom started back from her. For the moment he was beyond speech, but the look that he threw in Dido’s direction suggested that he was not beyond calculating who was to blame for this sudden turn of events.
Amelia left her seat and went to stand behind him. ‘It is in all the letters,’ she said quietly.
‘All fourteen of them,’ said Sophia.
‘All about your agreement with Papa,’ said Amelia.
‘And the horrible threat that you have made.’
‘We have told all our friends about it.’
‘All our unmarried friends.’
‘All our unmarried,
‘And if you attempt to expose Mama,’ Sophia continued gravely, ‘we shall take those letters to the post office.’
Tom’s face was burning red. He looked from one to the other of them in confusion. ‘You mean you would broadcast the matter yourselves?’ he said in bewilderment.
‘What would we have to lose?’ said Amelia.
‘If you had already spoken out against her, it would do our mother no more harm. And you see, Mr Lomax, we would not wish any of our friends to be deceived by your attentions – deceived into thinking you a gentleman.’
He stared at her – too dull-witted to comprehend that a woman could be threatening
‘And there is something else which I ought to mention,’ Sophia said, calmly rising from her seat. ‘Each one of our letters contains a request that the reader send seven similar letters to her friends – particularly her wealthy friends – with a request that each of those friends send another seven to
Dido smiled her approval. They had carried out her plan to perfection. And there was certainly no doubting that, if they were sent, those letters would be copied and sent out again and again. There was hardly a young lady born who would not delight in being part of such a scheme. From the look on his face she judged that Tom certainly did not doubt it.
Sophia and Amelia linked arms and walked to the door – just as the sound of tea processing across the hall to the drawing room began to be heard. At the door they turned.
‘Remember, Mr Lomax,’ said Sophia, ‘if you breathe one ill-natured word about Mama, it is most unlikely that you will ever be able to make your fortune by marriage.’
Chapter Nineteen
It was almost four and twenty hours since Dido’s triumph over Tom Lomax and the glow of success had faded sufficiently from her mind to allow her to recall that her real purpose at Belsfield was still not accomplished – nor, indeed, very near to being accomplished.
She still had no proper answers to give Catherine about Mr Montague’s behaviour, nor any explanations of the murder which might satisfy herself. Failure seemed to stare her in the face wherever she looked. And still she was haunted by the feeling that there was something which she was not seeing, something which perhaps she was not wanting to see because it would somehow involve her in very painful considerations…
So it was in a rather desponding state of mind that she set out across the park, an hour or two before the usual dinner time, to try yet again what air and exercise might do for the stimulation of her brain. It was a pleasant, mild evening with a red sky and a smell of burning leaves from the gardeners’ bonfire. Skeins of geese honked across the sky and, far out in the park, sheep bleated occasionally to one another.
She walked again towards the chapel, for it was a pleasant direction to take…and, though she would not of course eavesdrop, it would be very interesting to just know whether Mr Lomax had gone to pray again this evening. She would perhaps just look around the chapel door… She would certainly not be so dishonourable as to listen…
The little church presented the same tranquil appearance; a dove was roosting on a ledge above the porch, adding its soothing, bubbling song to the air of calm and retirement. The door was again standing slightly open.
She peered in; but the afternoon was brighter than the one before and by contrast the darkness in the chapel was impenetrable. She took a few cautious steps into the building.
‘Good evening, Miss Kent. You are walking late.’ It was the voice of William Lomax.
Dido gasped, stepped back and squinted into the gloom. She could just make out his figure – standing close beside her.
‘Yes,’ she stammered, feeling very foolish. ‘It is a beautiful evening and…and I have not visited the chapel before.’
‘I am sorry that I startled you,’ he said. ‘But please come in and look around. The place is well worth looking at.’ His manner was as smooth and well bred as usual – or perhaps a little more so, as if he was trying just a little too hard to act in his accustomed way.
‘Yes, it is pretty, is it not,’ she said, trying valiantly to match his calmness. She took a few steps along the aisle and, as her eyes adjusted themselves to the darkness, began to make out the family monuments upon the walls with their blackly written eulogies.
‘The chapel is Elizabethan,’ Mr Lomax continued smoothly, coming to stand beside her. ‘About the same age as the house.’ She took a sidelong look at him and now she was able to distinguish his features – and to see that there was a gleam of damp upon his brow. And there was something else that disquieted her. If it had not been indelicate to notice such things, Dido might have thought that there was a smell of fear about him – as if he was rather heated in spite of the chapel’s coldness.
But she made an effort to appear as if she had noticed nothing unusual and did her best to meet him in conversation. ‘I had not known that the house was so old,’ she said.
‘Ah, that is because of the new facade that was built after the Great Storm. I daresay, Miss Kent, you have heard of the storm that did so much damage here in 1780. The park lost many of its finest trees and several chimneys were blown down from the house. Sir Edgar had the front of the house rebuilt. The style is Palladian – as I am sure you know…’ And he talked on very pleasantly, until, fearing that she was becoming chilled with standing still for so long, he offered her his arm back to the house.
Dido was flattered by his attention and, as usual, enjoyed his discourse very much, for the conversation of a sensible, well-informed man was a pleasure she tasted but rarely. Yet she could still not quite forget what she had seen and heard yesterday, nor cease to wonder. Why had he come here today? To pray again for a deliverance from evil and temptation?
As they left the chapel, he seemed to become more at ease. ‘It is a great pleasure for me to have such an attentive audience, Miss Kent. I hope I have not wearied you with my little lecture.’
‘Certainly not. You know a great deal about the family history; I think you must have been acquainted with the Montagues for a long time.’
‘I grew up here on the estate. My grandfather managed the affairs of Sir Edgar’s father. It seems sometimes
