is coarse or makes ill-judged remarks, Miss Bevan is sure to attempt to turn the conversation. And when she herself speaks with too much violence or emotion, she apologises for her warmth. Yes, she is a very correct young woman indeed.’
‘But I cannot at all see why you should make such a point of this?’
Dido could sit it out no longer. She simply had to be in motion. She jumped up from her seat and walked restlessly to the window. ‘Flora,’ she said, with her hand upon the latch of the french door, ‘why should such a very correct young woman ignore all the rules of polite behaviour and form an acquaintance with strangers she had met in a park – without any introduction?’
She opened the door and walked out onto the veranda. Out here it was still warm, but the evening scents of honeysuckle and damp grass were beginning to fill the air and, beyond the garden, the street was busy with footsteps and carriage wheels as people hurried to dinner engagements. Dido leant upon the rail of the veranda, gazing out across the lengthening shadows on the lawn. She wished – yes, a part of her could not help but wish – that she had never set out to solve this mystery. It really was quite one of the evils of mystery solving to begin to doubt acquaintances one had been used to esteem.
Flora came and stood beside her, peering anxiously into her face. ‘Dido, you cannot truly believe that Miss Bevan has done anything wrong?’
‘I am not sure… Except…’ Her fingers began to beat a rhythm on the rail. ‘There is something of which I am certain,’ she said, avoiding Flora’s eyes and looking determinedly at the roses and the lawn. ‘Since I spoke to her in Mrs Midgely’s garden yesterday, I have been quite certain that it was Miss Bevan who sent that unsigned letter to me – that it was she who wished to warn me about some people being unfriended by the world.’
‘No!’ protested Flora. ‘I cannot believe it! She is the last person in the world who would… Why should she do any such thing?’
‘I wish with all my heart that I knew! I cannot make it out at all. But it is certain that she sent it. For she spoke to me yesterday about the quotation in my “mysterious letter” – and asked if I had succeeded in discovering its source.’
‘Well, what of it? You had told her about the letter at Brooke. I heard you ask her if she knew the lines.’
‘No,’ said Dido, turning to her cousin and leaning her back against the rail, ‘no, I did not tell her about the letter. I only said that the lines had been “brought to my attention”. So how did she know that I had received them in a letter? Unless she wrote that letter herself.’
Flora was silent. Dido took a turn along the veranda to relieve her feelings a little – and also to prevent herself from saying more. The truth was that she had taken an early opportunity of looking at the essay Miss Bevan had mentioned in Dr Johnson’s works – but she certainly had no wish to discuss with Flora what she had discovered there.
Oh, this mystery was the most contrary and awkward business imaginable! She had never supposed that the quiet death of a respectable old lady could lead her into such dark and distressing matters – or uncover so many shocking secrets…
At present everything was uncertainty, apprehension and suspicion. If only she could be sure of something then, perhaps, she would know how she ought to proceed.
Flora sighed loudly and turned to walk inside. ‘Well,’ she said, discontentedly, ‘I had hoped that all would be settled today. I hoped that if you took the carriage and spent all day upon the business you would understand everything. I said as much in my note to Lady Carrisbrook.’
‘Lady Carrisbrook?’ said Dido sharply. ‘Why did you write to her about this?’
‘Oh do not worry. I did not tell her everything. I only said that you had very important business to attend to and must have the use of the carriage – I had no choice but to tell her something, you know, for I had to explain why we should not be at her musical party this evening.’
‘Her party?’ Dido looked thoughtful. ‘Is this the evening of the Carrisbrooks’ music party?’
‘Yes,’ said Flora, and then she could not help but add, a little resentfully as she walked into the house, ‘and very sorry I am not to be there, for she was most pressing in her invitation: so very anxious to know my opinion of all her arrangements.’
Dido remained a moment or two upon the veranda, frowning severely at the shadows on the lawn. Then she followed her cousin into the drawing room. ‘Flora,’ she began cautiously, ‘it seems to me that Maria Carrisbrook relies a great deal upon your taste. She seems to have no confidence at all in her own opinion. That seems – odd, does it not? After all, she is a very elegant young woman.’
‘Oh yes, but she has had little experience of housekeeping, you know, and I fancy Sir Joshua is hard to please. She has been particularly anxious that he should not disapprove of anything tonight.’
‘Has she? Has she indeed?’ Dido hesitated just inside the room, her hand still upon the french door. ‘Flora do you know what it is, exactly, that she is worried about?’
‘Oh, she is worried about everything! She is worried about the professional harpist she has engaged – whether he will play well enough. And she cannot determine which amateur performers should be asked to play upon the pianoforte. And then, you know, there is the supper and which room it should be set out in. And she is very worried about what she will wear herself; she thinks Sir Joshua will not approve her appearance…’
‘She is worried about her own appearance?’ cried Dido. ‘Flora, are you quite sure of that? I think this may be very important. Can you remember what she said about it?’
‘I hardly remember… She said something about a white and green silk gown – that she ought to wear it, but that Sir Joshua would think her appearance odd if she did… Dido what is it? What have I said?’
Dido had changed. Her hand was upon her mouth; she was thinking rapidly. ‘Did Lady Carrisbrook reply to your note?’ she said at last.
‘Yes, she did. She said…’
‘May I see her reply?’
Flora looked puzzled, but went to her writing desk and returned with a little sheet of hot-pressed paper. Dido seized it and looked it over so rapidly that it seemed impossible she could have understood its contents. But all at once she had become quite certain of what she should do next. Her face was alight and she moved purposefully across the room. ‘Flora,’ she said with great determination, ‘we must go to the party at Brooke after all.’
‘But, we will be late! – and it will be the rudest thing imaginable to go there now when I have said we cannot come.’
‘Do not worry. I am quite sure Lady Carrisbrook will forgive us – when I return her property to her.’ And she picked up Mr Lansdale’s parcel and slipped it into her reticule before hurrying away to dress.
They were not so very late arriving at Brooke after all, for, such was Flora’s horror of incivility that she insisted upon sending to the inn for fresh horses before they started and was most urgent in her instructions to the coachman.
It was not quite nine o’clock as they approached the house and the first, faltering strains of a harp were but just beginning. Candles in paper lanterns were hung along the terrace showing up the dark yew trees and the fine black and white front of the old house. The door and all the windows were thrown open so that the guests strolling about outside might enjoy the music coming from the drawing room.
‘It looks very pretty, does it not?’ said Flora as they hurried up the steps. ‘Maria has been at a great deal of trouble, I am sure.’
‘Yes.’ Dido paused, looking up at the handsome Tudor house brought to life with light and music, and judging it no bad representation of the marriage which had lately taken place here: of the bright, pretty young wife come to adorn the life of a solid, ageing widower. ‘I hope,’ she said, ‘that her cares will not be thrown away.’ Then another thought seized her. ‘Flora,’ she said, taking hold of her cousin’s arm. ‘Do you know if Mr Lansdale is to be here this evening?’
‘No,’ said Flora. ‘I do not believe he was invited. Maria did not seem to want…’
‘That is well,’ cried Dido. ‘I am glad he is not here. That at least is one thing she need not worry over.’
