As they walked, passing from shadows to pools of light along the terrace, she tried to study his profile which, though it was as handsome as ever, was inscrutable. The only change that she detected as she spoke was a little more jutting of the jaw – which certainly did not bode well. And the arm, upon which her hand rested, was held stiffly away from his body.
They walked slowly and reached the end of the terrace and the end of her narrative at about the same time.
‘And so you see,’ she finished, ‘I find I must now ask for your help.’
He stopped and stared down wonderingly at her. ‘You would ask me to help you?’ he said. ‘When you are aware of what my opinion has always been. You know that I consider you…mistaken in pursuing this matter.’
She withdrew her hand from his arm. ‘But, Mr Lomax,’ she said, ‘I cannot believe you to still hold that opinion. When you have heard all that I have discovered! Things which would still remain hidden if I had followed your advice. Come, admit it, you must have changed your mind.’
He drew himself up stiffly. ‘I do indeed still hold that opinion Miss Kent and I will repeat it. You should not have meddled in this business.’
She was annoyed. She had not expected him to be so very unbending. ‘Forgive me for saying so,’ she replied, her cheeks blazing, ‘but I cannot believe your position to be reasonable. When I have proved to you how very much there was to discover, it is not reasonable to say that I should have been content with ignorance!’
‘Your appeal to reason in this case is faulty on two counts,’ he replied, coldly. ‘Firstly, you are, I believe, basing the defence of your actions upon the good which you think they have achieved. But can you be sure that any real benefit will result from them? You have certainly discovered a great deal; but you admit yourself that the enormity of uncovering Lady Carrisbrook’s deceptions is beyond your powers. And if she is not to be exposed, then how can Mr Lansdale benefit from all your busyness?’
‘But if…’
He held up his hand. ‘And secondly. Even if your investigations were to have the most beneficial results imaginable, I should still maintain that you had erred in undertaking them. For when you embarked upon your course of action the outcome was unknown and it would be very poor morality indeed if our actions were to be deemed good or bad only by hindsight. I will not – I cannot in all conscience – change my opinion of your behaviour simply because it has proved more beneficial – and less dangerous – than either of us could have predicted.’
‘And so you believe that it would have been more virtuous in me to wring my hands and do nothing while poor Mr Lansdale was taken away to the hangman? Upon my word, Mr Lomax, this is much worse morality – to permit our friends to be endangered for the sake of preserving ourselves from a little exertion and danger! I am very glad that your creed is not more general in this kingdom. For what would become of our commonwealth if our brave soldiers and sailors were to imbibe a little of your morality?’
‘Miss Kent!’ he cried, ‘you are, I believe, taking pleasure in misunderstanding me. You are neither a soldier nor a sailor: you are an unprotected woman. Morality must, of course, depend upon situation. What is right for one, may not be right for another.’
‘Then you will not help me?’
‘I cannot. It would be wrong – it would be entirely inconsistent of me to assist you in an undertaking I cannot condone.’
She fought to overcome her anger. He really was insufferable! But, perhaps she should not have argued so strongly, or contradicted him so forcefully. Perhaps then he might have consented to help her. She might apologise and plead her cause more meekly… But she could not bring herself to form the words.
She walked to the stone balustrade which marked the end of the terrace, leant against it and peered over into the little wilderness below. The light of the lanterns showed thick foliage and a patch of ghostly white elder blossom. Above the dark shapes of the trees a crescent moon was rising and an owl hooted long and low. All was beauty and tranquillity in nature – but within her mind there was turmoil such as she had scarcely ever known before.
She looked back at him. He was standing beside the last lantern on the terrace, his hands clasped behind his back and his expression everything that was stubborn and unyielding. What was she to do? She must have his consent – he must be made to help her or everything would have been in vain: all her reasoning, all her discovering of secrets, and above all, the loss of his esteem, would all have been for nothing and poor Mr Lansdale would be condemned.
But try as she might, the soft, conciliatory words would not form in her mouth.
And suddenly it flashed into her mind that maybe there was another way. If his disapproval could not be overcome, then maybe that same disapproval could be made to operate in quite a different direction.
‘Very well, then,’ she said quietly. ‘If you will not help me, I suppose I must act on my own.’
‘Miss Kent,’ he said anxiously and came to stand beside her. ‘What is it, precisely, that you believe should be done?’
She turned her face from him and stared out into the trees. ‘There was a fourth dose of opium,’ she said calmly.
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘Mr Vane has said that Mrs Lansdale was given four times the usual dose of sleeping draught. I have so far accounted for only three. So, who gave her the other one?’
There was a silence. Clearly he was hoping that she would continue without prompting from him. But at last he was forced to speak. ‘There is that in your voice,’ he said, ‘which convinces me that you know – or suppose that you know – the answer to your own question.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I believe I do.’ She turned and smiled at him. ‘Poor Mrs Lansdale,’ she said, ‘she really was a very great encumbrance to everyone around her that evening. Her nephew wished to go to town; her companion had to attend to her mother – and even her physician would not do as she wished and remain in the house with her.’ She could see that she had his complete attention. ‘That is what she wished him to do, you know. She considered herself to be very unwelclass="underline" she wished Mr Vane to stay with her. But he declined. He said that he would be at home all evening and that she must send for him if she felt herself at all worse.’
Mr Lomax frowned – a great deal more interested than he would have liked to confess. ‘And this you believe to have been of some consequence?’
‘Oh yes, for you see, Mr Vane was not at home all that evening. He went to play cards at Mrs Midgely’s house.’
His chin was once more upon his fingertips – which must be considered a very good sign. ‘Are you suggesting that Vane himself drugged Mrs Lansdale?’
‘I think it is…possible. By doing so, you see, he could ingratiate himself with two wealthy widows at once – he could attend upon Mrs Midgely without Mrs Lansdale suspecting that he was neglecting her. Indeed I cannot help but think his behaviour otherwise was very strange indeed. Mrs Lansdale was his wealthiest, most important patient: was he likely to risk her waking and sending for him – and discovering that he had not done what he had promised to do. And of course, we cannot know that the dose he administered that evening was no more than her usual cordial.’
‘But it is he who has started the story of an unnatural death.’
‘Yes, because, like everyone else who wished the poor lady to sleep that night, he cannot conceive that he is guilty of doing anything wrong.’
Lomax stood for several moments, watching her closely as he thought. ‘And you believe that the magistrates should be informed of these suspicions?’
‘Oh! No. Not quite. For then, you know, the whole story would have to come out, and there is no telling what the upshot of it all might be. No, Mr Lomax, what I am proposing is that Mr Vane should be informed of these suspicions.’