And it was just as she had thought: the startled white little face was extremely youthful: almost a child’s face – but so thickly coated in grease and powder that tiny cracks were evident about the mouth and eyes.
But, seen as close as this, the face had another secret to reveal …
Dido woke next morning from a light, restless sleep, to the clattering of milk-pails and pattens on the inn doorstep. She lay for a minute or two staring up at the dusty red wool of the bed’s canopy as she once more ran over the ideas which had occupied her long into the night: the face of Lord Congreve’s companion; His Lordship’s ill-bred interest in very young women; the scar upon his cheek; Mrs Nolan’s information that Congreve and Laurence had watched Penelope several days before Laurence made his move with the handkerchief; Silas’s suggestion of some particular vice which would make the peer’s acquaintance unacceptable at Madderstone …
And, once it was all recalled, she found that she could lie still no longer.
She jumped up and stood beside the room’s small window, gazing down upon the early-morning street and the milkmaids who were now hurrying away from the inn, the empty pails swinging lightly on their yokes, and at a cart which was drawn up to bring fowls and vegetables from the country.
There was in her head such a picture of guilt and deception! And yet she was still like a little girl in the schoolroom endeavouring to fit together her map of Europe. Some pieces fell into place very neatly indeed – but there were gaps and missing pieces which left the continent woefully incomplete. She could not finish her lesson – she could not even be sure that the pattern she had formed was correct …
There were still details to discover. She must ascertain from Silas exactly what it was that he had hinted at last night. But the most pressing business was to speak to Mrs Nolan. It was absolutely essential to know for certain who it was that had placed Penelope in her care: who it was that maintained the girl. When that was established, then perhaps she would know how to proceed.
However, they were to leave Bath this very morning and she had only an hour or two in which to persuade the schoolmistress into confiding. Within five and twenty minutes she was dressed and making her way out of the inn’s door.
The light was strengthening now as the sun rose. Two men were throwing down water on the steps and sweeping dirt away into the gutters. The farmer’s cart was just finishing unloading its goods and, as Dido passed it, she detected a sweet, slightly rotten smell which reminded her sharply of the inn-yard at Great Farleigh …
She turned quickly and saw a boy swinging the last basket from the cart onto his shoulder. Through the wickerwork there protruded several brown and green feathers of game birds.
A smile of satisfaction spread across her face and, as she began to walk slowly across the Pump Yard towards the upper town, she was fitting another small piece of her map into place.
* * *
Dido could not help but feel hopeful about her errand. There had, she reasoned, been marked signs of gratitude in Mrs Nolan’s address since the scene in Sydney Gardens – a disposition to regard Dido as a special friend for the service she had rendered in separating Penelope from Captain Laurence. There had even been moments when she had detected an inclination to confide – but caution had always intervened.
Somehow the confidence must be won this morning. A great deal depended upon it – for she was sure that, once she had it, she could find the countries which were still missing from Europe …
She brightened at this thought – and hurried on with such determination that she almost ran against a gentleman just then descending the steps of his house. He drew back immediately with a bow, a well-mannered apology – and a look of earnest admiration …
A look to which Dido was not insensible, despite the preoccupation of her mind. He walked off – but paused twice to look again before turning away into George Street – and she continued on her way amused and delighted to find that the animation of mystery-solving could add such charm to her person. But, as she approached Mrs Nolan’s house, her mood became more sombre – her manner businesslike.
She was admitted by a housemaid and shown into a parlour which could never be mistaken for belonging to anyone but the keeper of a school, it was crammed so full with fancy work. Everything, from the six or seven worked footstools, to the pictures in coloured silks hanging upon the walls and the imitations of china crowding the mantelpiece, attested to the accomplishments of Mrs Nolan’s ‘lasses’.
‘Well, I am right glad to see you Miss Kent,’ cried the schoolmistress, standing up to receive her, and seeming not to mind the earliness of the hour at all. ‘I’d have been sorry not to have wished you goodbye before you start out on your journey and I particularly wished to see you alone so that I might thank you for dealing so neatly with that little business over the letters. It was very cleverly done indeed. For neither Miss Lambe nor Miss Lucy Crockford had to admit that they had been mistaken – and you know that counts for a great deal with young people.’
‘I believe it counts for a great deal with people of any age,’ said Dido smiling. ‘But I hope Miss Lambe has not been too much hurt.’
‘Eeh well, there were a few tears when she was on her own in her bed, I daresay. But it’ll be got over. She’s not the sort to mind it long. And,’ she leant forward and tapped Dido’s arm, ‘I reckon what’s needed is another fellow for her to fall in love with – someone a bit more suitable, eh?’
Dido agreed to it wholeheartedly, and congratulated herself upon her work of the previous afternoon – when Silas’s poem had been shown to Penelope – and had been
‘And, in the meantime,’ pursued Dido, intent upon making the most of the present opening, ‘there is another little matter concerning Miss Lambe about which I hoped to talk to you.’
‘Eeh well,’ said Mrs Nolan, turning away and smoothing the threads of an indifferently worked cushion. ‘I think I know what that is. It concerns her going to Badleigh does it not?’
Dido studied the schoolteacher’s averted face, very sensible under the extravagant coquelicot ribbons of her cap. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it does concern her visit there …’
‘Aye, I guessed from the way you looked at me so sharp upon Pulteney Bridge yesterday that you suspected I knew more about that than I was telling.’
‘And do you know more than you were telling?’
‘Eeh yes, to be perfectly candid with you, Miss Kent, I do. And I’m still right uneasy about it …’ She hesitated again. Dido waited in silence. ‘I’ve been awake half this night wondering whether I ought to speak to you about it. For, if there’s trouble brewing, maybe you can put things right.’
‘I shall certainly do everything within my power to … put things right. And, of course, you may rely upon my discretion.’
‘Well,’ said Mrs Nolan raising her eyes. ‘The fact of the matter is, I never was happy about her going off to be with the Crockfords.’
‘Because you knew Captain Laurence would be close at hand?’
‘Aye, there was that. But there was something else too …’ She stopped and turned her eyes once more upon the cushion as if appraising its pattern. She did not seem to know how to go on.
‘Did you,’ Dido prompted, ‘know that Miss Lambe had … connections in that neighbourhood?’
‘Yes, I did.’ Mrs Nolan seemed to make up her mind to disclosure. She looked up, her gaze straight, honest and sensible. ‘The lass herself knows nothing about it of course. She knows nought of her own history. I was told to tell her nothing. But her mother … or rather I should say, the lady who sent her here, she lived very near the Crockfords – at Madderstone Abbey.’
‘Oh!’ cried Dido. She could scarcely draw breath for fear of saying something which might prevent the schoolteacher from continuing. ‘And … this lady was …?’
‘Miss Fenn. Miss Elinor Fenn.’
‘Oh!’ It was quite impossible for Dido to sit still a moment longer. She absolutely must walk about. She could not think while remaining stationary. Excusing herself, she went to the window and found some relief in gazing out
