A gentleman of fortune

taken a step nearer and was frowning darkly at her mistress.

Poor Mrs Neville sighed, seemed to shrink a little, and pretended to be engrossed in her knitting again. ‘It is so very dull, to never go out at all,’ she said a little more loudly.

‘Why, I am sure it is,’ said Flora with gentle sympathy. ‘I am sure it is very dull indeed.’

‘You must look forward to your daughter’s visits very much,’ said Dido.

‘I do,’ she said with another sigh. ‘For you know, my eyesight is not good enough to even allow me much pleasure in books – except when Clara is here to read to me.’

‘And you say that she always comes on Tuesdays. She came to you on that Tuesday on which Mrs Lansdale died?’

Flora’s casting up her eyes told Dido that her questions were becoming too particular. But Mrs Neville did not seem to be at all offended. ‘Oh yes,’ she said, more loudly, ‘Clara certainly came here the night Mrs Lansdale died.’

…And you see, Eliza, I have been wondering ever since just what she meant us to understand by that. Did she mean in fact to assure us that her daughter had come. Or by speaking so loudly, did she mean to remind us that we were being overheard – and so quite deliberately make us doubt the truth of her words?

I have been puzzling over Mrs Neville ever since we returned. And, though I fear my account may be insufficient to convince you of the strangeness of the encounter, I assure you that, if you had been present, even your trusting heart would have been suspicious. If you had seen the way that woman stood in the room all the while the poor lady was talking: the look upon her face – and her manner entirely!

Flora has suggested that there may be fears for Mrs Neville’s safety: that she might be subject to sudden attacks of some kind – which would explain her being constantly attended. But there was nothing about the lady to hint at such a danger – any more than there were signs of the confusion her daughter talked of. She seemed to be not only as healthy but also as sensible as you or me, Eliza.

And there is this too to consider: why should Miss Neville employ such a woman as Jenny White – with such a reputation – to care for an invalid? It is highly unsuitable and I still do not know what to make of this confederacy between Miss Neville and a woman of bad character. I have seen her myself making payment far beyond what ought to be expected in a servant waiting upon a sick old woman. And it cannot be a coincidence that Knaresborough House was robbed after Jenny White had visited it!

Is it possible that Clara Neville has employed thieves to search the house for something that is hidden there – something she very particularly wishes to obtain…something such as a will…?

Oh Eliza! I see now how you will shake your head over this letter and smile that particular smile – all affection, disbelief and exasperation. But I am not ashamed of my suspicions, nor can I consider them to be so very unreasonable. After all, we know that the window of the drawing room was broken open from the inside.

And, if Mrs Lansdale had upon that last evening carried out her threat to her nephew and drawn up some rough and ready will – might that document not have bestowed upon Miss Neville some of the wealth which was lost to him?

Miss Neville would have as powerful a motive for wishing to find such a will as Mr Lansdale would have for ‘keeping it safe’.

And such an account would also explain the extraordinary situation of Mrs Neville – who seems to be imprisoned in her own home. Why is she never to be left on her own when she is as rational as you or me? Why can she not talk freely to her visitors without fearing that that woman will overhear? I can think of only one reason. There is something she knows which she must not tell.

Well, I doubt I have convinced you, Eliza, but I am quite determined to find out more about the burglary and, to that end, I would particularly like to speak with the butler Fraser who discovered the villains in the drawing room. However, Flora tells me that that will not be possible, as the fellow has been dismissed for stealing Mr Lansdale’s cigars. Which is very vexing indeed, for I would have been very interested in hearing his account.

So instead I shall go to town with Flora tomorrow when she makes her call in Harley Street. I shall go to Bond Street to see what I may discover about the emerald necklace.

Chapter Twenty-One

It had rained again in the night and Bond Street was wet and crowded: the gutters awash with water and dirt, the paving stones shining and steaming in the sun. The noise of carriage wheels and horses’ hooves, and of voices raised so as to be heard above the din, was almost unbearable to Dido’s country-bred ears and she was very near regretting that she had asked Flora to set her down there.

In the cool and quiet of the breakfast room it had seemed rather a good idea. Since the carriage was coming into this part of town to convey Flora to Harley Street, why should she not take the opportunity of pursuing some enquiries relative to the burglary at Knaresborough House – and the necklace which had been dropped? She would, she had decided, visit as many fashionable jewellers as she had time for and attempt to discover the one which had supplied the necklace. If she was very fortunate she might even learn who had purchased it.

So now Flora was gone on to pay her visit and Dido was in Bond Street – but not quite alone because Flora had insisted upon leaving her servant to protect her cousin from the indignity of solitude.

‘Will you wait here at the door, Robert,’ she said as she turned into the first shop. ‘I shall not be long.’

She was not long – not in that shop individually. But there were a great many jewellers’ establishments in Bond Street and the streets surrounding it. By the time she approached Gray’s in Sackville Street her ankles were weary and her head was aching – and Robert had begun the look-out for the carriage.

She climbed the stairs slowly, thinking that perhaps Mr Lansdale had been mistaken in believing the necklace newly made, or perhaps it had not been bought in London at all…

The room she entered was as bright and colourful as a jewellery case and as noisy as the room at the Exeter Exchange where the wild beasts are kept. The place was full of finely dressed people and they were all talking loudly, for when gems and gold and expense are under discussion, the talkers are seldom unwilling to have their conversations overhead.

Behind the counter there was only one person disengaged: a tall, ageing man. Smiling, Dido approached him with the tale which she seemed to have told a hundred times that morning.

She had had the misfortune to lose a jewel – an emerald – from a necklace, and was hoping to find a matching stone, and she had been advised that it would be best matched by the jeweller who had originally supplied the piece. But, you see, it had been a gift from her brother so she did not know where it had been bought. And, of course, she could not ask her brother, for she did not wish to confess that the jewel was lost. So she wondered – had the necklace been purchased at Gray’s?

She described the piece of jewellery which Mr Morgan had stumbled upon in the folds of the curtain, but received in return what must surely be the morning’s hundredth shake of the head.

No, he was almost sure that Gray’s had not supplied the piece. But, if she would have the goodness to wait a moment, he would consult the ledgers to see if there was any record of it.

She thanked him a little absently for, while he was talking, she had noticed that the young shop-man who was next at the counter – a thin, loosely built fellow with a shock of reddish hair, who was waiting patiently while two young ladies dawdled and exclaimed over a tray of earrings – was stealing sidelong glances, as if he was attending to what she was saying. He now began to cast anxious looks at his customers. He could not address himself to someone else before their business was complete; but Dido was sure he was wanting to say something to her.

The older man returned from his ledger. ‘No madam, I am afraid your necklace was certainly not bought in this shop.’

Dido thanked him and turned away. The young ladies were still consulting and laughing over the earrings.