'Such a pretty stone,' Miss Carswall said. 'One could always have it re-cut and re-set. By the by, Mr Shield, I find that you have fallen out of favour with my father.'
I bowed. 'I regret to say that I have unintentionally offended him.'
'Oh.' She waited for me to continue, though she must have known how I had offended him and how delicate the matter was. When I remained silent, she glanced from me to Sophie and then back again. 'Should you like me to speak to him?'
'You are very good, Miss Carswall, but I do not think it would answer. Besides, perhaps Mr Carswall is in the right of it: it is better that I leave.'
Sophie looked up. 'When are you going?'
'I was to leave this morning but the death of Mrs Johnson has made it necessary to postpone my departure.'
'I wish-' she began; but I was never to know what she wished because at that moment the door opened and there was Mr Carswall himself.
'Shield,' he said. 'A word with you.' He beckoned me into the hall and then into the library. 'Close the door. Harmwell tells me it was he who actually put his hand on the ring, but it was you who saw the hiding place beforehand?'
'Yes, sir.'
'He said you chanced to meet in the ice-house, and that he is interested in the construction of such buildings, and that was why he was there: is that correct?'
'That is what he told me. I cannot express an opinion as to the truth of what he said.'
Carswall grunted. 'Sir George may need to see you: you must stay within-doors for the rest of the day. You will not dine with us, by the by. You may go.'
I opened the door to pass out of the room. But he called me back.
He lowered his head and glared at me through tangled eyebrows. 'I hold you directly responsible for the boys' imprudent escapade last night. It might have led to serious injury, if not worse. I shall inform Mr Bransby so.'
What he said was clearly audible to everyone in the hall, to Harmwell and both the footmen. I did not attempt to rebut so unfair a charge because I knew it would serve no purpose. Instead, I bowed again and closed the door on that cruel, fleshy face.
I avoided meeting Harmwell's eyes. I went up to the schoolroom. On the way I caught the boys kneeling beside the door of the Blue Room, with Charlie peering through the keyhole while Edgar kept up a running commentary.
'No, you great booby, look to the left and you can see the corner of the bed, and there's a bit of black cloth, which I think might be her-'
He broke off, turned his head and saw me. Both boys leapt to their feet.
'Are we – are we to have lessons today?' Charlie inquired.
'No, I believe not.' I realised that no one had thought to tell them that they would never have lessons in this house from me again. 'In fact, I shall soon be leaving you.'
'You return to Mr Bransby's, sir?' asked Edgar.
'Probably.' Though for how long, I dared not guess. 'You are to remain here, Edgar, at least for the time being – Mr Carswall will write Mr Allan. So, unless Mr Carswall finds you another tutor, you will have to run wild for the next fortnight.'
Boys are strange creatures. They stared up at me in silence for a moment, their faces curiously similar, in expression as well as feature. Then, without a word, they turned and ran along the landing.
Dusk came earlier than usual that afternoon, the colours and shapes fading steadily as though a shadowy mist were creeping through the house in search of someone or something. More than once I found myself wondering whether they had lit a lamp in the room where Mrs Johnson lay.
I spent the rest of the day beside a small fire in the schoolroom. By now, news of my disgrace had spread far and wide. I had half expected the servants to rejoice in my downfall but to my surprise they seemed almost sorry at the prospect of losing me. The housekeeper arranged for my spare shirt to be washed and ironed. The little maid who saw to the schoolroom offered to brush and sponge my outdoor clothes, which had suffered from the adventures of the morning and the previous night.
During the afternoon I heard the bustle of arrivals below. Sir George and Captain Ruispidge had returned. The girl who took my clothes told me that the brothers were to dine at Monkshill and spend the night. She also had a message for me from Pratt the footman, now grown too grand to run errands to a mere tutor himself: a groom would take me into Gloucester in the morning; the gig used by the servants was ordered for eight o'clock. From this I deduced that Sir George, in his capacity as a magistrate, saw no legal reason why I should be detained any longer.
I dined early with Mr Harmwell. He was reluctant to talk about recent events and spent most of the meal sunk in thought. Afterwards he shook hands with me and said that he and his master would soon be leaving Monkshill themselves.
'Do you go to South Wales?' I asked.
'I believe Mr Noak has changed his plans. We shall probably travel back to London.' He gave me an unexpected smile. 'How I long to return to America.'
We bade each other Godspeed. I returned to the schoolroom and tried to read. In a short while, the maid brought up my clean shirt.
'Please, sir,' she said, stumbling over her words and blushing, 'but Mr Pratt says he saw your penknife in the parlour.'
The girl was not allowed to enter the parlour herself, but I wished Pratt had had the kindness to give her the knife so that she could return it to me. I had left it on the table after sharpening Miss Carswall's pencil.
I waited until the family had gone into dinner and went downstairs again. I slipped into the familiar room feeling almost like a thief. Though it was empty, a fire burned brightly in the grate, and candles were alight in the wall sconces.
I found my knife and was about to go when I noticed on the table beside it, lying in a little enamelled dish, the mourning ring we had discovered earlier in the day. I was surprised at Carswall's carelessness. I picked it up for a moment and held it to the flame of the nearest candle. The lock of Amelia Parker's hair was a black smudge behind the diamond. I had no taste for the preservation of mementoes of the dead. But I could not help wondering about Henry Frant's grandmother who had lived at Monkshill sixty years before.
I returned the ring to the dish. As I crossed the hall to the stairs, I heard the bray of Carswall's laughter from the dining room. The boys, jigging from foot to foot in their excitement, were waiting for me in the schoolroom. They burst into speech as soon as they saw me.
'We regret that you are leaving us, sir-' Charlie began.
'-and we would be grateful if you would do us the honour-' Edgar interrupted.
'-of accepting this small keepsake, as a token of our esteem-'
'-and gratitude.'
Charlie held out a large red handkerchief with white spots. It had been washed, ironed and folded into a neat square.
'I hope you do not mind our giving you something, sir,' he said. 'We were concerned in case it was not quite the thing. But Mama said it would be perfectly proper.'
I bowed. 'Then I am quite sure it is.'
The gift unexpectedly stirred my emotions. The boys explained that such a handkerchief had many purposes. Worn round the neck, Edgar told me, it would give me the appearance of being a bang-up sporting cove, even a coachman. Alternatively, Charlie pointed out, I might wrap my bread and cheese in it, or use it as a napkin at table, or perhaps blow my nose on it. Suddenly embarrassed, they made the implausible excuse that it was bedtime, and left me in an undignified hurry.
I sat on. My belongings were already packed. I passed the time by drawing up a memorandum of the events that had taken place during my stay at Monkshill-park, and in particular those of the last few days. I wrote in my pocketbook for nearly an hour, interrupted only by the maid bringing back my brushed clothes. I was thus engaged, sitting at a small table drawn almost on top of the fire and writing by the light of a single candle, when there came a tap on the door.
