mounted in her cheeks. She clasped her arms across her breast and stood up abruptly. ‘We may hope, Miss Kent,’ she said with great feeling, ‘that our government will soon put an end to the barbarous trade in men and women which is carried on in the West Indies, but I doubt the abolitionists will ever set themselves against the governess trade. Here in England, even though women are not themselves for sale, I fear their
She stopped herself and stood in silence looking down at her feet. Then she drew a long breath and raised her eyes to Dido’s. ‘I am very sorry. I should not have spoken so violently. I hope you will forgive my outburst.’
‘Of course,’ said Dido gently. ‘I am the one at fault. You are tired and anxious and I should not have asked so many questions. Besides, your feelings are entirely natural.’ In order to give her companion time to collect herself, she rose, went to the instrument and began to turn over the music which lay upon it, making an inconsequential comment or two upon the pieces – and noticing, at the same time, that these songs were written in a neat, businesslike hand which put no loops at all upon its letters.
But Miss Bevan’s little outburst had quickened her interest in the girl.
Once, a few days ago, Dido had made some passing remark to Flora, saying that Miss Bevan was a shy, quiet girl; but Flora had laughed. ‘Oh no!’ she had said, ‘I declare it is only when she is at home with her guardian that she seems so. When we met her at Ramsgate, in the autumn, she was lively enough! She was staying with her friends the Hemmingways, you know – the pleasantest, merriest people in the world – and then she was very different: she played, she danced and she talked a great deal.’
At the time, this character had surprised Dido greatly; but now, as she looked at Miss Bevan, standing beside the pianoforte, just brushing the keys again with the tips of her fingers, it was brought more within her comprehension. Now she could not doubt that there was a great deal of feeling here – and the ability to express it. And there was, furthermore, something intriguing in the way in which the girl looked so directly as she spoke – and spoke with such startling honesty – and yet had such an air of reserve. Dido was convinced that, though she might avoid uttering falsehoods, Mary Bevan might yet have the knack of keeping a great many truths unspoken.
Meanwhile Miss Bevan herself was beginning to suspect her visitor’s desultory interest in waltz tunes and Irish airs.
‘Miss Kent,’ she said gravely, looking up from the instrument, to gaze very directly at Dido. ‘I would by no means wish you to think me ungrateful for your visit. I am very happy to see you. However,’ the hint of a smile flashed across her pale face, ‘I cannot help but feel there is some particular reason for your calling – some motive for your seeking me out alone.’ She paused, her brows raised questioningly. ‘If there is some such motive, I beg you will bring it forward immediately, for I do not think we shall have this room to ourselves for very long.’
Dido stared, disconcerted. Here was a much more astute observer than little Miss Prentice, or any of the others she had so far questioned. Her mind raced in search of excuses…
And then, all at once, she decided to abandon pretence. She would state her case honestly – and see how her honesty was received…
She confessed her purpose – her desire of discovering the truth behind the rumours which were circulating about Mr Lansdale – watching her companion’s face very closely as she did so. There was certainly a little start from Miss Bevan when the subject was introduced, a look of consciousness; but perhaps that arose only from shame at her connection with Mrs Midgely, for, although Dido took care not to mention that lady’s name, Miss Bevan could not help but know her guardian was the culprit.
However, by the time the explanation was complete, Mary was smiling composedly. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I wish you success with your enquiries, Miss Kent. And I am very glad that you have told me of your purpose. For now, if I happen to see you going about this business, I shall not think you guilty of idle curiosity!’
‘Thank you.’ Dido laughed. ‘For, though I know that I am frequently guilty of curiosity, I sincerely hope that it is
‘And now,’ said Mary, sitting down in one of the straight-backed chairs and folding her hands neatly in her lap. ‘I am entirely at your service. You may catechise me as you choose! How can I help you in this very serious undertaking?’
Dido considered for a moment and then began with: ‘Miss Prentice is certain that Mr Henderson visited the Lansdales on the evening that Mrs Lansdale died. Do you know if she is remembering correctly?’
Miss Bevan frowned thoughtfully. ‘I remember her calling out that she had seen him walking to the door,’ she said very precisely.
‘But you did not see him yourself?’
‘No, he was gone when I came to the window.’
‘I see. Did you know that Mr Henderson was acquainted with Mrs Lansdale?’
‘No, I did not. But, my dear Miss Kent, I do not know anything about Mr Henderson.’
‘Oh? But you were a little acquainted with his daughters, I believe?’
Mary looked uncomfortable. ‘A very little,’ she said with a slight blush. ‘I should not have known them of course – there had been no introduction. But somehow, I hardly know how, we became a little acquainted.’
Dido looked at her in some surprise. ‘I see,’ she said. ‘Did you visit the young ladies?’
‘Oh no.’ Mary looked down at her hands. ‘I could not visit them because…Mrs Midgely would not have liked them. But I would meet them occasionally when they were walking in the park – and we would sometimes take a turn together.’
‘I see.’ Dido longed to know why Mrs Midgely should have disliked the girls, but it would be too impertinent to ask. ‘And what kind of young ladies were they? Miss Prentice says that she thinks they were pretty.’
‘Dear Miss Prentice! I doubt she ever saw their faces! But I do not suppose that she would ever call anyone ill-looking.’
‘Perhaps not,’ agreed Dido with a smile.
‘They were very accomplished girls,’ Mary continued thoughtfully. ‘Quite remarkably accomplished. They all three spoke very pretty French – and I think Miss Margaret had a grounding in Italian too. And Miss Henderson seemed to have a
‘I am surprised that their father could have afforded them such an education. I understand that he was living in rather straitened circumstances while he was here in Richmond.’
Mary bit her lip. ‘Is that the opinion of Miss Prentice?’ she asked.
‘Yes. The circumstance of his giving no dinners and keeping only evening company did not escape her observation.’
‘No, I imagine it would not. And she is quite correct – there were a great many evening parties.’ As she spoke these last words a strange look came over Miss Bevan’s face. It was difficult to make it out clearly in the gloomy parlour, but it seemed almost to be…distaste. She clasped her arms about her as if she was cold. ‘At these parties I do not doubt Mr Henderson was well able to display the girls’
‘You think he was very anxious to get his daughters married?’
‘What would you suppose to be the motive of a man who has three unmarried women on his hands?’
‘I would indeed suppose it to be matrimony. But…’ Dido studied her companion rather anxiously. She was sitting with her arms clasped across her breast, her eyes troubled and downcast. ‘But the idea does not disgust me as it seems to disgust you.’
‘I am sorry,’ replied Mary, unclasping her arms and trying to smile. ‘In such matters anything contrived or mercenary…’
‘You suspect that Mr Henderson was mercenary and worldly in his schemes?’
Mary coloured. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I believe he was…But I am being foolish! No doubt, Miss Kent, I am merely reminded of my own situation. Like me the Henderson girls were poor and must rely upon their charms and their accomplishments to make their fortunes.’
Dido was concerned by her look of abhorrence. Such extreme delicacy did not promise well for the future happiness of a girl so ill-provided. ‘Marriage,’ she said gently, ‘is generally considered to be the pleasantest preservative from want for women of small fortune.’
‘Yes.’ Mary unclasped her arms, seemed to resolve upon appearing unconcerned. ‘And sometimes I am inclined to agree with the general opinion.’
‘But sometimes you disagree with it?’
‘Sometimes,’ she said, ‘sometimes I think that it is better to be a governess – better to be even a teacher in
