‘In God’s name, I wish – for the honour of my own sex – that I could repudiate it. But I cannot.’
‘Very well then,’ she said solemnly, ‘the young lady’s face reveals Lord Congreve’s nature – the behaviour he is capable of towards women.’ For a moment there was no sound within the room except the soft flap and stutter of flames on the hearth. But from below came the shouts of coachmen and the ringing of plates and tankards upon tables – reminding Dido that they must soon be disturbed. Hastily she picked up the third – and final – thread of her reasoning. ‘Yesterday,’ she said, ‘when we were all discussing His Lordship, Mr Crockford remarked that the captain’s connection with him would be disapproved at Madderstone. He seemed to hint at a particular reason for that disapproval.’
Mr Lomax was watching her intently, his fingers just tapping slightly against one another.
‘I meant,’ she said, ‘to ask Mr Crockford to explain his remark. For you know, masculine disputes are generally better known to gentlemen. But perhaps
‘Ah!’ he cried, ‘I am not sure that is a question …’
‘… that a lady should concern herself with. But,’ she ran on hastily, ‘I find that I
He nodded.
‘And the cause of their fight was?’
‘My dear Miss Kent, gentlemen do not discuss the cause of a duel!’
‘Then gentlemen are very foolish indeed,’ she cried impatiently. ‘I am sure no woman would put an embargo upon a subject which might uncover the guilt of a murderer! Upon my word, I begin to suspect that between considerations of what women must not think about and men may not talk of, a great many crimes go undetected!’
‘But, it is a matter of honour not to disclose the name of a lady …’
‘Ah!’ she cried, well satisfied. ‘So, there was a lady involved in the dispute between Mr Harman-Foote and Lord Congreve!’
He groaned and passed his hand across his face. She seemed to defeat him at every turn.
‘Very well, then,’ she continued. ‘And, to spare you the dishonour of speaking her name, I shall supply it myself. It was Lady Congreve, was it not? It was His Lordship’s ill-treatment of his own wife which Mr Harman- Foote sought to punish in that meeting?’
‘It was. However,’ he said, finding suddenly a new angle of attack, ‘I am sure that your hitting upon the name is no more than a lucky guess. For I defy even you to produce any proof of your surmise.’
‘No,’ she said with dignity. ‘It is not a guess; it is an hypothesis.’
‘An hypothesis?’
‘Yes, for once we assume that she was the cause of the fight, the events at Madderstone become a great deal more comprehensible. Consider the matter carefully: more than twenty years ago, Lady Congreve suffered such ill-usage at the hands of her husband that she removed herself from his house. And Mr Harman-Foote fought His Lordship over the matter. And …’ Her face was glowing with something of the fervour that can be seen in those high-spirited women who follow the fox-hunt. ‘And, at about the same time as Lady Congreve disappeared, a governess appeared at Madderstone Abbey – upon the recommendation of the Foote family: a friendless woman who, apparently, had no relations, no connections.’
‘But,’ objected Lomax, ‘the governess was Elinor Fenn.’
‘No,’ insisted Dido quietly. ‘The governess was
She had certainly won her companion’s attention. He was leaning towards her, his brow gathered into a frown of concentration, his fingers tapping together as he considered.
‘I believe,’ she continued, very eager to strengthen and elaborate her case, before he could begin to doubt, ‘I believe that the key to the name – Elinor Fenn – might lie in the matter-of-fact character of old Mrs Foote. Called upon to introduce Her Ladyship under a new identity, the poor woman found that invention was beyond her, and she fell back upon a name fresh in her mind from her maid’s recent departure. But the one point which convinces me that I am right is the bedchamber.’
‘You think a great deal about this bedchamber.’
‘I do indeed. You see, I can conceive of a country gentleman like Mr Harman taking in – out of compassion – a viscountess, and hiding her under the guise of a governess. But I am sure he would be quite incapable of consigning her to an attic!’
Lomax shook his head. ‘It is a fantastic – an impossible tale! That a lady of such standing should take on the post of country governess …’
‘It may be fantastic to a man,’ said Dido with quiet feeling, ‘but I believe it would fall within the comprehension of many women: we have so little power over our own destiny, Mr Lomax, we slip so easily from comfort – even luxury – into poverty. We have so little that we can truly call our own …’ She sat for a moment looking down at her own hands folded in her lap.
And he watched her in silence, the telltale muscle in his cheek moving slightly in the way it always did when he was forcing himself to hold back words.
‘Consider the situation of a woman such as Lady Congreve,’ said Dido at last. ‘A woman who finds herself living in fear of her husband’s violent temper. She has no power, no right even to remove herself, much less take any wealth with her. Even a viscountess might be compelled to seek employment in such an extremity.’
‘Well,’ he conceded with a heavy sigh, ‘Congreve’s vicious nature would certainly have made concealment necessary for his poor wife.’
‘You believe then that I am right?’
‘Ah! I did not quite say that,’ he cried hastily. ‘I admit that there are evidences in support of your theory; however there are also arguments against it.’
‘Indeed? And what are they?’
‘Principally the character of Lady Congreve. She was, by all accounts, a very religious woman …’
‘And so was Elinor Fenn,’ countered Dido quickly. ‘I am by no means suggesting that the lady changed her character with her name. Indeed, I rather consider Her Ladyship’s piety to be a point in my favour. For I believe there is evidence of scruples. Consider the verse in the Bible which had been underlined. It was the second part of the commandment which was so very important to her. St Paul begins by demanding obedience from women; but he then insists upon a man’s kindly treatment of his wife. And I believe Lady Congreve found comfort in considering that, by his abominable behaviour, His Lordship had been the first to break the sacred pact of matrimony.’
But still he insisted upon disbelief. ‘It would all have involved such a degree of calculation,’ he objected, ‘not only upon the part of Lady Congreve, but of others too. Compassion, I believe, is rarely carried to such extremes.’
‘But,’ she said, ‘there is one circumstance which might have made Lady Congreve’s friends particularly willing to assist her. You see, she was with child when she left her husband; and I believe this provides whatever explanation is still wanting for her desperate scheme – and her friends’ compliance in it. If it was feared that her husband’s vicious conduct not only threatened her own safety, but also put at risk the life of the child she carried, might not very religious, moral people feel that the highest duty was to protect that young life?’
He considered her words in silence. Meanwhile the noises about them were becoming louder. The old staircase of the inn was in such constant and heavy use now that the panelled walls of their parlour were shaking a little. Harriet, Lucy and Silas must soon make their appearance.
‘Have I convinced you, Mr Lomax?’ she ventured to ask.
But he avoided admitting the force of her arguments. ‘And do you believe that Congreve discovered his wife – and exacted a terrible revenge for her desertion?’ he asked.
She would have dearly loved to make him acknowledge defeat. It would have been delightful to have him admit the superiority of her reasoning – but, unfortunately, it was an indulgence for which she had no time.
‘No,’ she said in a great hurry, ‘I do not think that His Lordship was the murderer. For I am quite sure that Laurence carried out his investigations in order to please his influential friend. I believe the two men met about two
