‘Was said to be that of our son.’ He stared at her. ‘However, this is not to the point. I am here to help Mr Frank Oldershaw.’ He glanced around the room. ‘And to look at books.’
‘But it is to the point, sir. Ghosts, whether real or alleged, usually have an identity, and that is, in itself, of significance.’
‘I do not catch your drift.’
‘I hope it will not wound you if I speak plainly. Just as your ghost was important to you, so this one is to me. I do not wish Mrs Whichcote’s reputation to be dragged even further in the mire.’
‘The sentiment does you honour, madam. I assure you I will pursue my researches as discreetly as possible.’
‘The death of an obscure woman in an obscure accident does not in itself arouse the world’s curiosity. Unless -’ She broke off, and a sigh escaped her. ‘You understand me, I think. We have been fortunate that this rumour of suicide has not reached the public press in Cambridge, let alone London. Dr Carbury has exercised all his influence, and so has the Vice-Chancellor. This foolish ghost story has not had much currency, either. But if it gets abroad…’
‘Suicide and a ghost? A lady abroad in a Cambridge college at the dead of night? And of course Mr Frank Oldershaw.’ As he spoke, he held out his right hand, counting off the elements of the matter with his fingers, one by one. ‘Yes, you’re right. The combination would send tongues wagging all over the country. Within a week, they would be selling penny ballads in every alehouse.’
‘Mrs Whichcote has suffered enough. Pray oblige me in this. I ask your goodwill, sir, nothing more – your assistance in preserving a lady’s reputation.’
‘Madam,’ Holdsworth said, his voice suddenly harsh. ‘Her ladyship has retained my services. A man may not work for two masters.’
She waved her hand to dismiss the notion. She would have liked to use the same hand to slap his face. ‘I do not ask you to betray the trust of an employer. I do not wish you to work for me.’
‘May I ask why this lady’s reputation is so near to your heart?’
‘Because Mrs Whichcote was my friend.’ She hardened her voice because otherwise it would have trembled. ‘I do not lightly ignore the ties of friendship. Why should we permit death to sever them?’
A little after one o’clock, the footman entered the library with a tray holding a light nuncheon of bread, cheese and small beer. He also brought the compliments of Mr Cross, who hoped that Mr Holdsworth would do him the honour of dining with him later that afternoon. At four o’clock, the servant reappeared and conducted Holdsworth to a small, dark room furnished as an office.
Mr Cross was standing at his desk, casting up columns of figures. His neck was still swathed in a scarf but he looked happier than before. He removed his spectacles and greeted Holdsworth briskly, saying they would not delay dinner. While they ate, Mr Cross worked his way methodically through the arrangements for Holdsworth’s journey and for his stay in Cambridge.
‘It is a pity you could not have gone down to Cambridge with Mrs Carbury today,’ he observed. ‘Or that she could not have waited for you. But she was in a hurry to return, I understand.’
An inside seat had been booked for Holdsworth on the stagecoach that ran from the Green Dragon in Bishopsgate Street. Once at Cambridge, he was to make his way to Jerusalem College, where he would stay with the Carburys at the Master’s Lodge.
‘You will be there as Lady Anne’s emissary, remember,’ Cross said in his low, husky voice. ‘You are there to examine the college library, but no one will be surprised if you call on poor Mr Frank in Barnwell to see how he does on behalf of his mother. I have a letter here for you to give to Mr Richardson – he is the senior fellow, and he is not only the college librarian but also Mr Frank’s tutor. Her ladyship has asked him to give you every assistance in his power.’
‘Does he know the full extent of my commission?’
‘Apart from the Carburys, no one knows that you have been entrusted with the task of examining the alleged sighting of Mrs Whichcote’s ghost.’
‘This ghost,’ Holdsworth said. ‘What exactly occurred?’
‘I am afraid I do not know the details. You must apply to Dr Carbury for those. And perhaps even Mrs Carbury.’
Mr Cross hurried on, emphasizing that Lady Anne expected regular reports from him. Unless circumstances warranted it, Holdsworth was to spend no more than a fortnight in Cambridge. When he returned, he was to bring back Mr Frank with him.
‘Her ladyship has a mother’s desire to have her son with her under her own roof,’ Cross murmured. ‘And by that time, of course, she hopes his health will be much improved.’
‘And if it isn’t?’
Mr Cross gave a little shake of the head. ‘I’m sure it will be. Lady Anne has every confidence…’
He changed the subject swiftly, and became almost cheerful when dealing with the matter of money. He advanced Holdsworth fifteen pounds for his expenses, and gave him a letter of credit addressed to an attorney in St John’s Lane, whom Holdsworth might approach if he needed more funds. At this point, Mr Cross looked very serious and said that her ladyship would expect to see detailed accounts for all his expenditure, down to the last farthing.
As the meal drew to its close, Mr Cross mellowed and became almost confidential. ‘I must confess I am glad not to be going back to Cambridge myself. Mr Frank’s behaviour came as a terrible shock. I am not as young as I was.’
‘There was no reason for it?’
‘None that I could see. All I said was that I was come to take him back to her ladyship, and she would soon make all well again. And then he gave a great cry and lashed out at me. I have seen the young gentleman fly into a passion before – most young gentlemen do – but nothing like this. I took it very hard, sir, very hard indeed. When he was in short-coats I used to dandle that boy on my knee.’
‘You must not refine too much upon it, sir. He is clearly not himself.’
Mr Cross shook his head. ‘I know not what he is now. It is Cambridge that has done this to him. Ever since he went there, he has been a different person. Tell me, do you know the place?’
‘I was never there in my life.’
‘Then have a care, sir,’ Mr Cross whispered. ‘It is meant to educate our young men but to my mind it blights them. And you must be constantly on your guard at Jerusalem. Lady Anne has a good deal of influence there but she is not universally beloved.’ He broke off suddenly, as if aware he was straying into dangerous territory. ‘To put it in another way, the college has its own interests to protect, which is quite natural.’ He pulled out his watch. ‘But I run on. I am sure you have much to do before tomorrow morning.’
‘What is the college’s interest in this? How does it differ from hers?’
‘Oh – that.’ Mr Cross stuffed the watch back in one waistcoat pocket and took out his snuffbox from the other. ‘Well, you see, this business – it is not good for them at all.’
‘Because her ladyship may turn against them?’
‘Not exactly. Though that is a consideration. But these scandals attached to Mrs Whichcote and Mr Frank have the power materially to affect them in more ways than one. A college does not attract young men of rank and fortune overnight. It has taken Jerusalem years to develop its reputation as a desirable establishment for them. I understand there are fashions in these things as in all else. What has been built up over years may be blown away in a matter of days. No, sir, when you are at Jerusalem, you must never forget that for many of the gentlemen there this is more than a little matter of a ghost, a suicide and an unfortunate boy: it is also a matter of money.’
7
On Friday, 26 May, after dining as usual by herself, Elinor Carbury sat in her parlour at a table by the window,
