A gentleman of fortune

should wish to draw attention to his crime by starting the idea of an unnatural death.

But I do not quite despair of his being guilty. I must give the matter more thought.

For now I shall return to Mr Morgan and his clumsiness.

Well, he and Mr Lansdale soon followed us into the drawing room, and once we were all gathered in that room it was only natural that conversation should turn to the burglars who had entered it. The subject, as you may imagine, had been discussed already in the dining room, but now the local interest of the window through which the ruffians had come and the drawers they had disturbed, soon led Mr Lansdale into a more detailed account of the events. We were all deeply interested and, when he stepped to a window saying, ‘This was the one that had the broken catch,’ we all naturally followed him and looked at it.

There was nothing to see – except that the window opens outward, just as I suspected. So, after a moment or two, we all turned back into the room. But, as we did so, Mr Morgan had the ill-luck to catch his foot in the long window curtain and fall headlong into a sofa.

And, as he fell, something bright caught my eye: something which had been lying hidden in the trailing hem of the curtain. I cried out ‘Oh look!’ or something foolish like that as one does on such occasions – and picked it up.

Eliza, it was an emerald necklace!

Well, you may imagine how we all gathered around and exclaimed over it. It was an extremely pretty thing: a slender gold chain with one stone hanging in the centre flanked by two pairs of smaller ones. Naturally Flora and I thought that it had been taken from elsewhere in the house and accidentally dropped by the thieves as they made their escape.

But – and this is the unaccountable part of the business – both Miss Neville and Henry Lansdale were sure that it had not. They both declared that they had never set eyes on the necklace before. And Mr Lansdale was quite certain that it had not belonged to his aunt. He said that he had carefully  examined her jewel case when the intruders had first been discovered and he was certain that the case had not been broken into, nor was anything missing from it. Furthermore, he was sure that the emerald necklace could not have been his aunt’s.

‘For,’ he said, ‘I know she did not like emeralds at all. She fancied that they did not suit her complexion. Everything in her jewel case is diamonds or rubies and very different from this. This is very new,’ he said. ‘Fresh from the jewellers I should say. Everything that my aunt had was old-fashioned, heavy stuff. Believe me,’ he said, ‘she never wore anything like this.’

My next suggestion was that it might have been dropped by the last tenants of the house and remained unobserved until now; but Mr Lansdale negatived that immediately. It seems that every inch of the house was cleaned before he and his aunt took possession. Every curtain had been removed, thoroughly cleansed and rehung. His aunt had insisted upon it.

So, Eliza, this is our mystery: thieves break into a house and take nothing from it – this might be explained by their being disturbed before they can find anything of value – however, they not only fail to remove any goods, but they leave behind them a valuable item which was not there before.

What kind of thieves are they who bring goods into a house and leave the householder a little wealthier than he was before they came?!!

Chapter Fifteen

Tuesday – the day of the party to Brooke Manor – dawned fair and still, and so very hot that even Flora – who did not like the countryside – thought that a drive out of town might be refreshing. But the air was heavy and Dido was inclined to agree with the coachman when he threatened them with thunder before the day was over.

She was very glad though that the storm was not yet come for she would not have liked their visit to be put off. She had high hopes of it – and not just in the enjoyment of strawberries either. For here was surely an opportunity of solving some at least of the many mysteries which surrounded her. Today there were to be, gathered around Sir Joshua’s strawberry beds, all the people who interested her most. Mrs Midgely was to be there, with Miss Prentice and Miss Bevan. Mr Hewit, she had learnt from Flora, was invited, and Mr Lansdale was also expected, together with his friend Jem Morgan and Miss Neville.

‘I confess,’ she said to Flora, when they and their strawberry baskets were comfortably settled in the barouche-landau and they were rattling out of Richmond’s streets, ‘I am a little surprised that Mr Lansdale should consent to be of the party. To be in company with Mrs Midgely cannot be pleasant for him. He is very well aware of the unkind things she is saying about him.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Flora quietly. ‘And he certainly knows she is to be of the party today, because her ladyship sent me a note asking me most particularly to acquaint him of the fact. Sir Joshua would invite him you see – for men are the last creatures in the world to notice gossip – but poor Lady Carrisbrook was most anxious that there should be no unpleasant scenes.’

‘And you did as she requested and informed him?’

‘Oh yes! But he was not to be put off, you know. He said… He said that while there was such pleasant company to be met with…’ She blushed and lowered her eyes with a consciousness that was quite out of place in a married woman. ‘Since there were such dear friends to be there, he would not, he said, be put off by the likes of Mrs Midgely.’

‘Did he indeed!’ said Dido and, while Flora endeavoured to regain her composure, she turned away disapprovingly and gave herself up to thought – for she had a great deal to consider this morning. As the carriage continued through bright hayfields and shady coppiced woodland, she drew a slim volume from her basket, turned over its pages and wondered…

‘Is that your Treatise upon Citizens?’ asked Flora when she had at last got the better of her blushes.

‘Yes, it came from Mr Lister this morning.’

‘Well then, I congratulate you upon its being so very short – for I think it will make remarkably dull reading.’

‘Fortunately,’ said Dido, ‘I do not think I shall need to read beyond this title page. All the information I need is here.’ And she held out the book to show Flora the name of its author – John Hewit Esquire.

‘Oh!’ cried Flora. ‘A revolutionary! Mr Hewit is a revolutionary!’

‘I think it would be more accurate to say that he was a revolutionary thirty years ago,’ corrected Dido. ‘From the things he said on Sunday I rather think that experience – and the late horrors enacted in France – have changed his views.’

‘Well,’ said Flora eagerly. ‘Now, of course, we know why Miss Prentice had to give him up when she was young!’

‘Yes,’ said Dido rather doubtingly. ‘Perhaps we do. But, unfortunately, we also know that Mr Hewit has a secret which he must hide. He is, I understand, shortly to take up a very good living in the north of England. I am quite certain that he does not wish anyone to know that he once held such very radical views.’

And she lapsed once more into very thoughtful silence.

Brooke Manor was a pleasant, respectable, old-fashioned country house, with the date of 1565 written up above its dark front door. Black beams and pale plasterwork comprised the greater part of its building and an arm of ancient forest curved around to embrace it at the back. In front, sunken lawns, moss-grown paths and old, old yew hedges led down to meadows and a stream shaded by willows.

The kitchen garden, very properly enclosed with warm, ivy-covered bricks, was, at present, so full of ripening strawberries that their scent reached Dido and Flora as they stepped down from the carriage.

Sir Joshua was on the front step to greet them as they arrived and very well did he suit his setting: a slight, grey-haired, healthy looking man of over fifty, dressed in the fashion of his youth. The young wife on his arm presented a very pretty contrast and, despite having been prepared by everything the Richmond gossips could say