Paulina was on the point of dozing off when she shook herself awake again.
‘What about poor Clive?’ she asked. ‘Have you told him?’
‘I sent a letter by courier.’
‘He’ll be desolate.’
‘Clive will do what I have done, my dear,’ said Sir Marcus, pompously. ‘He’ll substitute action for anguish. Instead of wallowing in despair, he’ll want to join the search for Imogen. Clive Tunnadine is a splendid fellow — that’s why I chose him as our prospective son-in-law.’
She heaved a sigh. ‘We’ve lost a daughter and he’s lost a wife.’ As her eyelids began to flutter, a thought made her fight off sleep. ‘You mentioned a detective to me. Has he arrived yet?’
‘Inspector Colbeck has come and gone,’ he said, shielding from her his disappointment with the visit. ‘He and his sergeant gathered information here before taking the train back to Oxford. For some reason, Colbeck felt that it would be valuable to speak to your sister and her husband.’ He gritted his teeth. ‘We can only pray that the so-called Railway Detective knows what he’s doing.’
When they reached the railway station in Worcester, the detectives were met by a happy coincidence. Not only could they catch an express train to Oxford, the locomotive that pulled it was Will Shakspere. According to the porter who’d put their luggage on the train, it was the self-same one that had taken Imogen and her maid off on their travels. Colbeck and Leeming were thus able to recreate their journey, very confident that they wouldn’t disappear into a void as the women had apparently done. The hectic dash to Shrub Hill in the cab had left little opportunity for reflection on what they’d so far discovered. In the privacy of a railway compartment, they were able to compare notes properly.
‘What did you make of Sir Marcus?’ asked Colbeck.
‘People like that always frighten me, sir.’
‘I don’t see why they should. You’re never frightened when you take on a ruffian armed with a cudgel or arrest an obstreperous drunk. When it comes to a brawl, you’re the most fearless person I’ve ever met.’
‘Sir Marcus is rich, he’s titled, he’s important. I’m none of those things.’
‘You’re rich in the things that matter, Victor. As for a title, “detective sergeant” is something of which to be proud when attached to your name. Then we come to importance,’ said Colbeck. ‘Answer me this. When someone’s daughter vanishes from the face of the earth, which is more important — her father or the man who helps to find her?’
‘I never thought of it that way,’ admitted Leeming with a chuckle. ‘Sir Marcus needs us. He may look down on us but we are the ones leading the chase.’
‘What did you learn at Burnhope Manor?’
‘I learnt that I don’t belong there, sir. I felt like an intruder. I was also in awe of that portrait of him over the fireplace. It made him look so … majestic.’
‘It flattered his vanity,’ said Colbeck, ‘which is why he paid the artist a large amount of money to give prominence to his better features while, at the same time, concealing the less appealing ones — and there were several of those. What struck me,’ he continued, ‘was how little he knew of his daughter’s life and movements. Evidently, she’s led an isolated existence under the aegis of Lady Burnhope.’
‘Why did you ask to see her bedchamber?’
‘I wanted some idea of what she’d taken on the trip.’
‘Your request really upset Sir Marcus.’
‘I was prepared for such a reaction. It’s a great pity. We could have learnt a lot from seeing what apparel she’d taken, but my principal interest was in her jewellery. Had she simply been going to stay at an Oxford college for a relatively short time, she wouldn’t have needed to take it. Academic institutions give a young lady little scope for display. If,’ Colbeck went on, ‘she nevertheless did take her most precious possessions, then a whole new line of enquiry opens up.’
‘Does it?’ Leeming was bewildered. ‘I fail to see it, sir.’
‘Remember what the coachman told us. He and the porter were each given a handsome tip. What does that tell you?’
‘The young lady was uncommonly kind-hearted.’
‘I prefer to think that she was excessively grateful.’
‘Yet all that they did was to put her on a train.’
‘Without realising it,’ said Colbeck, thinking it through, ‘they might have been doing a lot more than that. This was the first time that Lady Burnside’s daughter was travelling unsupervised. Imagine the sense of independence she must have felt.’ He looked across at the sergeant. ‘What else did the coachman tell us?’
‘He told us that he was sweet on Rhoda Wills. Not that he said it in so many words,’ Leeming recalled, ‘but I could read that fond smile of his. He was far less upset about the disappearance of Sir Marcus’s daughter than he was of her maid.’
‘He gave us a vital clue, Victor.’
‘Did he?’
‘Think hard.’
Face puckered in concentration, Leeming went through the meeting with Vernon Tolley in his mind. A smile slowly spread across his face and he snapped his fingers.
‘It was that valise,’ he said. ‘It went inside the carriage instead of on top of it.’
‘And why do you think that was?’
‘It contained something needed on the journey.’
‘Well done!’
Leeming’s smile froze. ‘But that still doesn’t explain how they disappeared.’
‘Perhaps they didn’t,’ said Colbeck.
‘Then where did they go?’
‘They stayed exactly where they were, Victor.’ He laughed at the sergeant’s expression of complete bafflement. ‘They got on the train at Worcester and left it at its terminus in Oxford.’
‘Then why didn’t Mrs Vaughan and her daughter see them?’
‘It’s because — and this is merely guesswork on my part — they didn’t recognise Sir Marcus’s daughter and her maid.’
‘That’s impossible. They knew both of them well.’
‘Mrs Vaughan and her daughter were expecting two women to get off the train. It was a crowded platform, remember. They wouldn’t have looked twice if a man and a woman had alighted together — or if two men stepped out of a carriage.’
Leeming snapped his fingers. ‘It’s that valise again!’
‘Suppose that it contained a means of disguise.’
‘They’d have plenty of time to change on their way to Oxford and they could easily have lost themselves in the crowd when they got there. I think you’ve hit on the solution, sir.’ The excitement drained out of Leeming’s voice. ‘There’s just one thing,’ he said, dully. ‘I can’t think of a single reason why Sir Marcus’s daughter should want to sneak past her aunt and her cousin. She enjoyed her visits to Oxford. The coachman confirmed that. Why deceive her relatives in that way?’
‘Imogen Burnhope was seizing her one chance of escape.’
‘Why should she want to escape from a life of such privilege?’
‘I’m not certain, Victor, but it may be related to that book of Shakespeare sonnets in the library. She was the person who’d been reading them, not her parents. Poetry would seem to be signally absent from the Burnhope marriage.’
‘I’ve never read any sonnets,’ confessed Leeming. ‘In fact, I don’t even know what a sonnet is. What’s so special about them?’
‘The overriding theme of Shakespeare’s sonnets is love.’
‘Then someone about to get married would be likely to read them.’
‘Only if she was pleased with the wedding plans,’ said Colbeck, ‘and I fancy that she may have had reservations.’
‘Yet her father insisted that she’d never been happier.’
‘That only means that the marriage had his blessing. His daughter would have had no freedom of choice in the matter. I doubt very much if her happiness was even considered. It was just assumed by her father. We heard how beautiful Imogen Burnhope was. She must have had many admirers. Being trapped on the estate for most of the time, she’d have been unable to enjoy their admiration unless …’ Colbeck hunched his shoulders. ‘… unless she found a way to circumvent her mother’s control of her life. If that were the case, she’d be in a position to make her own choice.’