The Keeper of Secrets (6 page)

‘What could have possessed them to come a-walking on such a cold and dank day as this?’ Everything was now being soaked by a thin mizzle.

‘Silence, man! Your pardon, Tobias, but I must needs concentrate.’

‘Of course.’ Much as I would have liked to argue my point, I accepted the snub. He, after all, was the justice, I merely a clergyman. Eager to learn, I followed his eyes, trying to perceive whatever he might be noting.

A rustic bridge about ten yards away; one of the handrails hung loose. He must have fallen from there. There were footprints aplenty in the sticky mud, and the branches of many of the bushes leaning over the stream had been smashed down. From this evidence, even I could imagine the frantic activity that would have followed Elham’s plunge into the stream.

I moved towards it, doing my best to avoid the area Hansard was studying. But as I did so, his head jerked up. When he saw what I was doing, he smiled broadly.

‘You make an apt pupil,’ he said. ‘Let us look at that woodwork a little more closely, shall we? See? It is quite old, and the nail quite rusty. Let us see what the rail the other side is like. Hmm, equally old, but pretty sound.’ He pointed, as Davies scuttled up.

For all that, Davies scribbled a note. I felt for him. If her ladyship so much as suspected he might have been negligent, his future would be bleak indeed. Several times, Hansard pushed the sound joint with all his might, but it would not stir.

‘So why did its counterpart give way?’ he wondered aloud, moving back to investigate. ‘Perhaps it would repay a further look in better light. In fact, I think we should all adjourn to the Priory again. By now her ladyship may have decided she needs the services of one or both of us, Tobias, and we would not wish to fail her. Mr Davies here will find every waking moment occupied for the next week, I should imagine.’

‘A well-attended funeral?’

‘All the gentry from miles around, family, acquaintances.’

‘Poor Mrs Beckles,’ I ventured.

‘I can’t imagine that there is any task to which she would be unequal,’ he said. ‘Were I Prinny, I would seek her out when the time comes to organise the poor king’s funeral and subsequently his own coronation. But before any burial can take place – and you will need to discover her ladyship’s preference for the family vault at St Jude’s or the mausoleum in the grounds – the coroner has to determine the cause of death.’

I stopped short. ‘Are you implying that—?’

‘I am implying nothing. But he will need all the evidence that you and I can provide. As a matter of fact,’ he continued, ‘I shall have to speak to her ladyship in my capacity as a justice; it might be – useful – if you were there.’

She was my kinswoman! ‘What purpose would that serve?’

He patted me kindly on the shoulder. ‘You are ever a calming influence, Tobias. Equally, you might find it beneficial, when you discuss his interment, to have me at hand. However calm she may be now, such reminders of our last end may cause spasms, palpitations and worse.’

He need not have feared. When Lady Elham admitted us to her boudoir, she had, according to a whispered aside from Lizzie, also already in mourning, been persuaded to take a mouthful of soup. Now a glass of wine was at her right hand as she reclined on her daybed.

‘And how is my patient?’ Dr Hansard enquired politely.

‘Pray do not treat me as an invalid,’ she snapped. ‘You forget that my family can trace its roots to the days of the Conqueror. People of our class do not give way!’

As a student of history, I could have pointed out that William the Conqueror tended to bestow largesse on the most vicious of his henchmen; as a student of human nature, I knew better than to bite the hand that regularly provided me with my after-supper cup of tea in an exquisite china cup. Shocked by my levity at such a moment, I flushed and lowered my eyes.

‘You cannot persuade me that you underwent such an ordeal with no evil consequences,’ Hansard insisted gently.

She swung her legs from the daybed until she sat upright; as she did so she pressed a hand to her back and gave a quickly suppressed yelp. ‘One consequence is a terrible pain in my back, Dr Hansard. I tried to drag him out, you see, and he was so very heavy.’ She choked back a sob, swallowing hard and meeting our glance firmly.

We both nodded sympathetically. ‘Did you see him fall?’ I asked in a low voice.

‘We were standing on the bridge together, for a while leaning on the rail to look for fish. At last I walked on – the weather was so very damp that I felt as if it were seeping into my bones. Elham stayed on. Then I heard a splash. I
ran back and pulled and shouted and…’

‘No more, if it upsets you, Lady Elham.’ Hansard produced smelling salts.

She waved them away. ‘I managed to get him out. I did. And I think I turned him – no, I left him lying face down, so that the water in his mouth would drain away. I have heard of sailors bringing those on the verge of death by drowning back to life, but I never thought – I had no idea how…’ Her hands moved helplessly. For the first time she was losing her composure. ‘I called for help, and sent a lad who came out of the woods to summon my servants. Then I tried again. Pray, forgive me—’ She turned so that we could not observe her tears.

‘It is quite possible that his lordship was dead before he hit the water,’ Hansard said, in the tone of one exploring theories.

The quiet observation produced an extraordinary response. She was on her feet, pointing a clearly accusing finger. ‘An explanation, if you please!’

‘Pray, calm yourself, my lady,’ I urged.

‘Not until Hansard explains what he meant by that strange remark!’

‘Madam, Lord Elham always ate and drank his fill. I warned him again and again that he should adopt a more abstemious habit. But he constantly disregarded my urgings. I fear that the exertion of his walk, the damp and cold of the day – perhaps, your ladyship, they brought about a seizure, a fatal seizure. If his dead weight fell on the bridge’s handrail it is not unlikely that it gave way and let him plunge into the icy water. Such a shock might in itself have killed a younger, fitter man than he. If this were indeed the case, you should not
repine that you were unable to revive him,’ he concluded, his voice at its kindest.

As she resumed her seat, he reached for her wrist. ‘I feared so. Your pulse is tumultuous, your ladyship. Pray, let me give a draught to help calm you. It should relieve the pain in your back, too.’

‘If you insist, I will take the medicine, doctor. Leave it with my maid. Cousin Tobias, you will do all that is needful for the funeral, will you not?’

‘Of course. I hate to ask, Lady Elham: do you want the interment to take place in the family vault in St Jude’s? Or—’

She interrupted with an impulsive gesture. ‘Did we not discuss, only a few weeks ago, the possibility of bringing the private chapel here at the Priory into use again? Would not that be a fitting place?’

‘It would be a wonderful tribute,’ I said. ‘But only your immediate circle would be able to attend; there would be no room for the servants and estate workers, let alone any villagers wishing to pay their respects. If the service were at St Jude’s, at least they would be able to line the route, perhaps even follow the bier.’

It was all too clear that the wishes of the villagers were far from her thoughts. She drew herself up as straight as she could. ‘Lord Elham will make all the arrangements, gentlemen. My son, the eleventh Lord Elham,’ she said, with the same proud emphasis as before.

Mrs Beckles was waiting for us as we left her ladyship’s room, a troubled expression on her face. She did no more than curtsy, leading us in silence inexplicably down not the main staircase but the backstairs.

At the foot, she paused and turned, as if having made a decision. ‘Late as it is, gentlemen, I have a favour to ask of you.’

Though he looked as weary as I’d ever seen him, Dr Hansard bowed graciously. I could do no less.

‘His lordship’s – his
late
lordship’s – old nurse lives in the cottages at the bottom of Prior’s Hill. Would you be kind enough to break the news to Nurse Abney in person? After all her years of service, she should not hear it at second hand. I would have gone myself, but as you can see, all is a-flutter here.’

She did not exaggerate. The servants’ hall was buzzing with muted conversation, as every young woman in the building appeared to have a black-threaded needle in her hand and an expanse of black cloth on her lap. Young men were running backwards and forwards from Mr Davies’ room and the butler’s pantry. How much frantic effort was being put into maintaining the calm order above stairs.

The drizzle had cleared, leaving the night sky spangled with stars, a half-moon adding to their glimmering light. Dr Hansard let his horse follow its nose.

‘He knows where he will always find an apple or a carrot,’ he laughed. ‘Nurse Abney is a great friend of his. She will not see seventy again, but is as spry as a woman half her age, in the summer at least. At this time of year, she suffers dreadfully in her joints. Were she a great lady, I would recommend the waters of Bath or Cheltenham. As it is, I convey from Mrs Beckles a steady supply of goose fat and worsted stockings to keep the pain at bay. Would I were more successful. But she never repines, and never accepts my offer of laudanum drops. If she cannot sleep, she reads her Bible. See – a candle still burns. It is one of her bad nights.’

The old woman, face worn by laughter or tears into a thousand creases, greeted Dr Hansard as if he were her son; I was favoured with a curtsy so deep I could scarce forbear to take her elbows to help her upright again. Dr Hansard had no such inhibition. He eased her gently into the chair by the tiny table, which indeed supported a candle and an open Bible.

‘Such an honour, Mr Campion, to meet you, never having been acquainted before and you coming all the way here to my humble home, to which you are truly welcome. What a well set-up lad you are, to be sure, breaking young ladies’ hearts wherever you go, I dare swear. And do you have a sweetheart yet? A parson needs a wife, and to be setting up his nursery if he can afford it. And to be sure, Dr Hansard, you look after me so well, so I can’t complain about a little twinge, and goodness knows a woman of my age expects a bit of stiffness, only it stops my sewing when the days close in and
the sun forgets to rise all day. Do be seated, gentlemen, pray, and take a glass of my cowslip wine. That will keep the cold out.’ The words poured from her. On her feet again, not to be gainsaid, she bustled about.

Before I knew it, I was seated, though not in comfort. She insisted that Dr Hansard took her only spare chair and I sank on to the broad windowsill. Even on a night as calm as this, the window frame admitted vicious draughts, icily fingering my neck, and attempting to cancel out the heat of the bright but tiny fire. In the light of that and the extra candle she had lit in our honour, I could see that every surface was spotless, an achievement all the greater given that the floor was simply beaten earth.

The cowslip wine was excellent; I would have drunk it by the tumblerful had I not noticed the good doctor taking only the minutest of sips. He caught my eye as if to signal caution in the matter. Meanwhile, our hostess kept us amused with a steady stream of conversation.

‘Nurse Abney, Parson Campion and I bring bad news from the Priory,’ Hansard said at last. ‘I fear his lordship will not ride this way again.’

She looked puzzled. ‘But he comes every week.’

Elham had visited her here, and done nothing to ameliorate her situation! I stifled a cry of disbelief.

‘I fear he will ride nowhere ever again, my dear lady.’

Hansard might have slapped her face, so hard did she recoil. ‘Master Augustus! No! Not—?’

He took her hand. ‘It was very swift, Nurse. And, I believe, painless.’

‘But he was in his prime…’ In vain did she try to quell an
errant tear. Soon she was shaken with sobs.

‘You were his nurse, ma’am,’ I said at last, kneeling beside her and hoping to turn her mind to happier times.

She clasped my hand convulsively. ‘Such a lovely little boy, with his curls so fair they looked like white floss in the morning sun. So handsome a youth, set on winning that
red-haired
minx. Mind you, they soon proved the old saying,
Marry in haste, repent at leisure
, didn’t they? He’d hardly been wed to her ten minutes when he went galloping off on his grand tour, leaving her to cool her heels. They must have made up, of course, whatever their quarrel – and now we have the eleventh earl, young Arthur, a pretty a boy as you’d wish to see he was too, with his pretty hair just like his father’s, though inclined to be gingerish. Not as sunny as his father, I dare swear, and no time for his old nurse, of course, but his mother is all goodness, all goodness. Not as kind as that dear Mrs Beckles, and were this daytime, I dare swear I would see you blush, my old friend.’ She paused for breath, relinquishing my hand to pat Dr Hansard familiarly on his wrist.

How he would have answered I cannot guess, for we heard the sound of swift footsteps and a fierce knock at the door, swiftly followed by the eruption of a furious young man into the cottage, though scarcely in response to his aunt’s invitation.

‘Is that you, Matthew, my boy? Come in, come in, the door’s never locked as you know, night or day, and here we have visitors, my love, the doctor and the parson.’

The new arrival seemed to fill the room. When I had seen him in church, I had dismissed him as a mutton-headed yokel, as he gazed like a mooncalf upon Lizzie at a time his thoughts
should have been fixed on the Almighty. Now I saw him as a strapping young man who would have displayed to advantage, his eyes blazing in sudden anger, fixed for some reason on me. He extended his arm, not to shake hands, but to poke at me, though never quite making contact with my chest as he jabbed with a furious finger.

‘You’re the one who’s spoilt my Lizzie, my pretty Lizzie! I’ve been walking out with her for nigh three years, Master Parson, and had hopes of her. Now she’s too good for me, isn’t she, Parson, with her reading and her writing and her figuring! It’s Mr Campion says this, and Parson says that, and next thing I know she’s her ladyship’s own abigail, and well above the touch of a plain man like me. And it’s all your doing!’

‘Are you in your cups, man? Now,’ Hansard continued, as Matthew dropped back, abashed, ‘you may make your apology to Mr Campion and take yourself off.’

‘Not until I know why you are here at this time of night. I had thought my aunt must be ill,’ he added, with real anxiety.

Hansard explained, without so much as a hint that the death might be unnatural.

Matthew did not even feign regret. ‘That penny-pinching old – I am sorry, Aunt, for I know you loved him always, as if he had been your own son, but he has left this estate in even worse heart than he found it. And as for that spendthrift son of his, and his vicious, evil ways – well, I am glad the old man is gone, but I fear his successor will be worse, far worse.’

‘Come, come – enough of this,’ Hansard broke in. ‘You will have Mr Campion here thinking that you are of a revolutionary turn. Be on your way, man.’

‘I care not this much what Mr Campion thinks,’ he averred, snapping his fingers. ‘The man who has stolen my intended.’ All the same, he picked up his hat.

I followed Matthew through the door. ‘I am sorry you think I have turned Lizzie from you, Matthew,’ I said, all the time feeling deeply guilty as once that had been my precise intention. ‘But she has certainly not turned to me,’ I added with complete truth. ‘Nay, nor to any other man, so far as I know.’ Unbidden, there flashed into my mind the memory of her first encounter with Jem, when they looked as if their eyes had been fastened together. But I would admit nothing, not even to myself. ‘As for your sentiments about bad landlords, you would be surprised how much I share them.’

‘Share sentiments, do we? Well, let me tell you this, Parson. I intend to win my Lizzie back – and she is something we shall never share.’

I nodded as emolliently as I knew how. ‘Go back inside and bid farewell to your aunt as she deserves, Matthew. If you are angry, it is not with her, and she needs the comfort of a beloved nephew tonight.’

‘I do it for her, not for you. Nor for him, neither. Why, it would have been a privilege to wring the man’s neck.’ With that, he went back inside, and was still there when Hansard left. We could see their heads framed in the window as we mounted our horses.

‘Her ladyship? Give evidence? In public?’ I demanded, my voice rising with every question. ‘Every feeling is offended. You cannot mean thus to expose my cousin.’

Hansard leant back in his favourite chair and took another
sip of some excellent brandy. ‘Alas, it will hardly be evidence, and it will certainly not be in public – at least, not in the taproom of a public inn. Her ladyship will simply have to give an account – on oath – of what happened to her husband the day he died. In view of the circumstances, I am sure the coroner – a fellow justice, Sir Willard Comfrey – will permit her to speak in any room in the Priory large enough to hold a jury. Don’t look like that, Tobias. The law should treat us all equally. It never will, of course, but we must make some effort to pretend it will.’

‘No suspicion can fall on her ladyship?’ In the village there were rumours enough that she had pushed Elham into the water and held him down. If pressed, even Mrs Beckles found it hard to deny she had her doubts about the complete accuracy of my cousin’s account, but she took every care not to impute blame she could not substantiate.

‘Do you think it should?’ Hansard asked quizzically. ‘I will inform the jury that I long apprehended that he would have a seizure – which he might well have done. I shall observe that the bridge was well looked after, but that Elham’s dead weight might well have been enough to dislodge a rusty nail, and commend such joints to Davies’ immediate attention. The jury will bring in their verdict of natural causes and the coroner will recommend that all bridges in the area should be inspected – a recommendation that everyone will promptly ignore. He will then condole with her ladyship and the new Lord Elham. You mark my words.’

‘But what if—? How can you predict what a jury will do?’

‘It will be a jury of her household, Tobias,’ he explained, exasperated. ‘You cannot imagine her being questioned by the
likes of Bulmer or Miller, can you? Well, then. For God’s sake, sit down and have another sip of brandy to compose you.’

For the sake of our friendship, I obeyed.

‘In any case, there are aspects of the accident that are deserving of explanation, do you not think? The nearest we have to a witness to the events is the young lad who assisted her ladyship and ran for further aid. Despite Lady Elham’s clear description, despite the considerable reward she has offered, he has never presented himself. I do not like to be thwarted, Tobias. I want to know that he does indeed exist – though I suppose he must have done once, for aid was indeed fetched.’

‘You mean—? Will you admit your doubts to Sir Willard?’

‘I can scarce tell him that I suspect her ladyship of lying and needing the lad to give credence to her tale.’

‘Indeed not!’

‘And then there are her ladyship’s fingernails.’

Choking on my brandy, I asked, ‘Did I hear you aright? Her ladyship’s fingernails? What do they have to do with anything?’

He smiled expansively. ‘At last I have your full attention. Tell me, Tobias, what happens when you grip something tightly to pull it along. Something covered in fabric and very heavy.’

‘Her ladyship complained of pain in her back.’

‘She did. And she would – in such circumstances – scarce complain that she had broken her fingernails. But I assure you that that is likely to happen – particularly if you have such long elegant nails as she, troubled by nothing more than a little delicate stitchery. Young Lizzie tells me she was not required to trim the nails in question on the day of the death.’

‘You have spoken to Lizzie about this?’ I asked too quickly. To cover my confusion and account for redness about my face, I placed another log on the fire.

‘Only to ask about her ladyship’s general health. I hope she did not notice the singularity of my question about fingernails. There were no nail parings in the waste bin, either.’

‘Surely her ladyship wore gloves!’ I leant back, pleased to have scored a point in such an important contest. My cousin’s reputation was paramount.

‘It would be easy enough to dispose of a pair of ruined gloves… No, Tobias, I will be silent. Now, let us not give this another thought.’

When the inquest finally took place, Hansard’s predictions were proved right. Held in the civilised surroundings of his late lordship’s library, it was the merest formality, hardly worth the effort of convening it. Even I could see that Sir Willard Comfrey was less interested in discovering the truth than in preserving the comfortable status quo. No one would have dared challenge anything, not even Hansard at his most bellicose, with her ladyship in deepest mourning standing as pale as Marie Antoinette must have looked on the tumbril. The members of the household selected as jury had no difficulty at all in agreeing that poor Lord Elham had a seizure, collapsed on to the bridge and thence into the water, and that her ladyship’s efforts to save her noble husband were much to be commended. They offered their profound condolences and their deepest respects to the new Lord Elham, who had scowled his way through the proceedings. Sir
Willard had no difficulty in recording the most natural of deaths and in recommending that all bridges be inspected for weak joints.