face.
Dido watched with great interest.
But Flora suddenly seized her arm. ‘Pray excuse us, Mr Hewit,’ she cried. ‘We must hurry away, you know.’ And without more ado she pulled her cousin out of the cool porch into the sudden heat and glare of the churchyard.
‘But I wished most particularly to hear what they said,’ protested Dido as they came to a halt beside a gravestone, just a few yards from the porch.
‘And they,’ whispered Flora with a giggle, ‘most certainly did not wish you to hear.’
‘What do you mean?’ Dido looked back through the ivy-hung doorway into the shadows where it was just possible to see the stooping clergyman leaning close to the neat little figure of Miss Prentice. Her eyes were cast down. He was still holding her hand as if he had forgotten to release it.
‘Why, is it not obvious?’ said Flora. ‘I am sure it is plain for all the world to see! They are in love!’
‘In love?’ cried Dido. ‘How can you know? You have never seen them together before.’
‘Oh, but they are! Or at least they were when they were young. And now they have met again and they find they have not forgotten… Only look at how he is talking to her – and how she listens to him. Yes, they are in love for sure! I am never wrong about these things.’
‘I do not know…’ said Dido doubtingly. Miss Prentice was withdrawing her hand now, turning away. She walked out into the sunshine, her face pale and distressed. ‘I do not know at all. That does not seem so very much like love. She seems in quite a hurry to get away from Mr Hewit.’
Flora laughed, linked her arm through Dido’s and drew her away along the worn flagged path that led through roughly mown grass to the lych-gate. ‘Oh!’ she cried, ‘but it is very like love. You see, I have noticed that some women are not at all comfortable about being in love.’ She shook her curls and flashed a very meaning, sidelong glance at her companion. ‘And I have observed,’ she continued, ‘that such women will go to quite extraordinary lengths to conceal their attachments – even from their most intimate friends. Why, I do not mean to shock you, but I believe that sometimes they will even try to hide their love from their cousins!’
Chapter Fourteen
…I am not at all sure whether to believe Flora – I mean as to Mr Hewit and Miss Prentice being in love. I do not at all share her belief that she is always right in these matters, though she can sometimes be quick-sighted enough… That is to say, I have known her guess correctly in another case…
And there did, I suppose, seem to be some evidences of affection – they were certainly very glad to meet. And he held her hand a great while longer than was necessary. And I think perhaps they were acquainted with one another when they were young, back in Northamptonshire… Maybe it is possible…
But if there is a real attachment, Eliza, why were they not married long ago? Flora, I should say, believes that they were parted by a lack or fortune on his side and a fiercely disapproving Papa on hers. She has made up quite an affecting little story about it.
But, whether or not there was ever a disapproving Papa, there is undoubtedly now a disapproving friend! For Mrs Midgely certainly does not like Mr Hewit. Dear me! I begin to think that that woman does not like anyone!
And I keep remembering Mrs M’s visit to Knaresborough House – and how Miss Prentice fainted when she heard of it. I wonder whether Mr Hewit might have played some part in that little mystery. In short I wonder whether…
But I had better not go on, or I fear I shall be in danger of telling a tale as rich in fancy and as poor in fact as Flora’s. I shall instead wait and watch a little more – and hope that my book is soon delivered from the bookseller. And I think I shall also try to discover exactly where in the north-country Mr Hewit’s new parish may be situated…
And, in the meantime, I shall tell you about our dinner last night at Knaresborough House.
I was, for a while, afraid that we should not be able to dine out. Unfortunately, while she was at the shops yesterday morning, the news of Mr Vane going to the magistrate was forced upon Flora’s attention and she suffered afterwards with the headache. But she bore with the news much better than I had expected. She seems to rely entirely upon Mr Lomax’s judgement and continues to believe that there is no great danger of a trial.
And so, since she was most anxious to prove to Mr Lansdale that he was not deserted by his friends, we kept our engagement. And very grateful I am that we did!
I wish most particularly to give you an account of this dinner, Eliza. You see it has produced what is perhaps the strangest mystery of all this unaccountable business.
First of all you must know that, although we had only been invited to a family dinner, when we arrived, we found that there was one other guest: a young man Mr Lansdale introduced as ‘My great friend Jem Morgan.’ And a great friend he was – both tall and broad!
I do not mean to suggest, however, that there was anything strange or mysterious about Mr Morgan himself. Indeed, he seemed a remarkably ordinary young man with a lot of unruly black hair which would not lie flat, and a rather ill-shaven chin with a cut upon it. He is one of those young men who, even when they are freshly dressed for dinner, have not quite the knack of looking tidy. He has chambers in the Temple, is studying law and suffers under the common delusion that a woman may be pleasantly entertained by the relating of endless anecdotes about his friends, his horses and his dogs. As you have no doubt understood from this complaint, I had all his attention throughout dinner. For Mr Lansdale, as usual, devoted himself to Flora – and by the by I rather wonder at our cousin. Does she allow the young man to engross her so when her husband is present? – well, I suppose that is no business of mine. All I meant to say was that I was Mr Morgan’s sole object. And a heavy misfortune it was, because, besides his conversation, I had spilt wine and dropped knives to contend with, for he really is the clumsiest man I ever met.
And it is to his clumsiness that we are indebted for the great discovery of the evening.
Flora and I were not long alone with Miss Neville after dinner before the gentlemen joined us. Though I would not have you think that I wasted my time, for while Flora amused herself at the pianoforte, I talked again with Clara Neville about the evening on which Mrs Lansdale died. And I discovered two things which may be of interest.
Firstly, she said that Mr Vane visited the lady not long before she retired to her dressing room and administered to her ‘her usual dose’. It seems that she complained then of disordered nerves and wished the apothecary to remain in the house with her. But Mr Vane was not overly worried and said only that he would be at home all evening and she must send for him if her symptoms became worse.
And second, I found that she was served with chocolate in her dressing room before going to her bed. Now the chocolate I believe to be of some significance, for it seems to me that its strong, rather bitter taste would effectively disguise any physic put into it. If I was going to poison anyone, Eliza, I would certainly make use of a jug of chocolate if I could. With this in mind, I took some trouble to find out more about the chocolate and discovered that it had been prepared in the kitchen and that Miss Neville had carried it up to the dressing room. However when she arrived at the dressing room Mr Lansdale was there and, since his aunt particularly requested that they be left alone, Miss Neville handed the tray to him.
In short, both Miss Neville and Henry Lansdale had opportunity enough to introduce the opium mixture to the jug…if they wished to do so.
And another thing to consider is that we have only Mr Vane’s word that it was no more than the ‘usual dose’ which he administered that evening.
By the by, I rather fancy Mr Vane for a murderer, though I confess that, try as I might, I have not yet been able to think of any reason why he should wish for the lady’s demise. Nor why, having brought it about, he
