A gentleman of fortune

Elizabeth. He had been extremely disconcerted when Dido informed him that they were but cousins. And Dido had been even more disconcerted to find that producing a history book and proving her point had not settled the matter at all – or at least had not settled it in the way that she and her grandmother had hoped. For the end of it had been that little Caroline Corner got the comfortable vicarage… And Dido had been left to rejoice in nothing but an accurate understanding of history.

Sitting now in the tranquillity of Flora’s garden, watching yellow and red butterflies busy about the pansies and listening to the bubbling song of a pair of white doves that had perched on the wall behind her, she could smile easily at the memory of Mr Fawcett. But she had to acknowledge that Mr Lomax had much stronger claims, not only upon her affections but also upon the truth.

She was by no means sure that she was entirely in the right this time.

For she had blundered badly over Mrs Neville. And, though she could not believe the things she had uncovered about Mrs Lansdale’s death to be of no value, she could not help but admit that she knew not what to make of them. Perhaps Mr Lomax was right and such matters were better left to the authorities appointed to deal with them.

It was, of course, intolerable that he should so doubt her powers of understanding, when, last autumn, she had proved herself to be greatly his superior in resolving mysteries… And yet it was so very kind of him to worry that she was putting herself in danger. And, since the late discovery about Mrs Neville left her at a loss to know where to turn next in the matter, perhaps she might just as well leave off…

Flora returned from her morning calls to find her cousin walking about the garden in an unusually quiet, desponding mood and she might perhaps have enquired what had happened in her absence – if only she had been able to spare time for it. But Flora was too much occupied with the information which she had to give to do more than remark upon Dido’s paleness, before saying, ‘I have heard such news! I declare, you will never guess it.’

‘I daresay I shall,’ said Dido with no great interest. ‘Everyone is talking about Mr Lansdale’s engagement, I make no doubt.’

‘Oh yes!’ said Flora. ‘As to that, of course, the whole place is alive with it. And, by the by, he has behaved extremely well. He has been to Mrs Midgely, you know, and made everything open.’

‘Well, I am glad to hear it,’ said Dido. ‘It was much to be desired for the sake of Miss Bevan’s reputation. It would not do to have it only a matter of gossip. And what will the poor girl do now? She is not going to Yorkshire?’

‘No. Nothing is decided upon; but she is to go to Windsor tomorrow to stay with some friends.’

‘I am sure that is wise. It cannot be pleasant for her to remain here.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Flora impatiently. ‘But this is not my news. My news is about how the gossip was started!’

‘Oh?’ Flora was pleased to see that she had roused Dido from her strange lethargy. ‘And how was it started?’

‘By Mrs Midgely herself!’ cried Flora.

‘It cannot have been,’ protested Dido.

‘But it was! For Miss Prentice told me all about it. And very distressed she is by it, for she cannot understand why the woman should do such a thing. And no more can I!’

‘Mrs Midgely let out the news of Miss Bevan’s engagement?’

Flora nodded eagerly and took Dido’s arm. As they walked on along the path she explained. ‘Well, you see, Miss Prentice says that it happened in Mrs Clark’s shop yesterday. She says that she and Mrs Midgely were gone into the village upon an errand – to the inn I believe for Miss Bevan, poor thing! was unwell with the headache, and so she had asked them to call at the inn to bespeak her a place in the coach for Yorkshire. And then, Miss Prentice says that after they had accomplished that, Mrs Midgely suddenly took it into her head to visit Mrs Clark’s. So in they went – and no sooner were they in the shop than she – I mean Mrs Midgely of course – fell to talking with Mrs Clark. Of course, Miss Prentice was not supposed to hear what was being said. But she did – for, you know, her hearing is better than you would think. She does not see so clear, but I am sure she hears as well as any creature alive. And so she heard Mrs Midgely telling the shopkeeper of the engagement. “I have long suspected them to be engaged,” she heard her saying. “But now I am quite sure of it”.’

Dido had been changing during this speech: looking more lively and altogether more like herself every moment. ‘Is she quite sure that that is what was said?’ she asked now.

‘Oh yes, she is quite sure.’

‘But, Mrs Midgely must have known that to let the engagement out would endanger Mr Lansdale.’

‘I am sure she must.’

‘But she must also…’ Dido struggled to comprehend all the new ideas which were crowding into her brain. ‘If she knew of the engagement… She must also have known that Miss Bevan’s happiness was concerned in the matter.’

‘Exactly so!’ cried Flora. ‘And that is what poor Miss Prentice cannot understand – or forgive.’

‘But…’ Dido sat down abruptly on a bench and stared ahead in a way which Flora found rather alarming. ‘But if she has “long suspected” the engagement, then she has known – she has known all along – that Mary’s well- being – her whole future and happiness – depend upon Mr Lansdale. And yet here has she been maligning him! Accusing him of murder. Practically consigning him to the gallows! She has knowingly been ruining not only his prospects but Mary’s too. How could she be so unfeeling to a girl who is almost a daughter to her?’ She pressed both hands to her mouth: her eyes widened as the full meaning of the news bore in upon her.

‘Dido, what is it? Please do not look so strange! What are you thinking of?’

She lowered her hands. ‘I am thinking,’ she said inexplicably, ‘of a violin: a violin hanging behind a door.’

Chapter Twenty-Five

…Do you remember the violin behind the door, Eliza? We saw it on our tour into Derbyshire with Charles – at Chatsworth. I am sure you must remember it for we were all agreed that it was one of the most remarkable things that we saw in all that county of wonders. It is no more than a painting, but so very cleverly done that at first, knowing no better, you take it for a real instrument and then afterwards you walk around it and see it plainly for what it is. It is all a matter of perspective.

It is a Trump Loy – or so the housekeeper who showed it to us said – though I think her knowledge of French was a little deficient!

But I am convinced now that this hatred of Mr Lansdale which I thought I saw in Mrs Midgely was nothing but a Trump Loy. A mere deception of the eye. And all this time I have been taken in by it!

Eliza, Mrs Midgely does not hate Mr Lansdale at all. She has never borne him any particular ill- will. It is Miss Bevan: it is her own ward, the girl she has raised, whom she dislikes: and dislikes her so much that she will do anything to destroy her happiness!

It is as if I have walked around the picture and at last seen it plainly.

Everything Mrs Midgely has done – all this spreading of rumours and persuading the apothecary into action – has been aimed at injuring not Henry Lansdale but Miss Bevan.

As soon as it is considered from this perspective, everything becomes comprehensible.

Instead of providing for the poor girl – instead of putting her in the way of a good marriage – Mrs Midgely wished to mortify her by sending her away to earn her bread. But, at some point, she began to suspect the engagement. Marriage to such a wealthy man would ensure the girl’s comfort and put her beyond Mrs Midgely’s reach. So, she has turned her efforts to destroying Mr Lansdale – because that is the only sure way of preventing his marrying Miss Bevan.

First I think she tried to rob him of his inheritance by warning Mrs Lansdale of the attachment; but she was denied admittance at Knaresborough House and, of course, the lady died before she could make a