It was time I told someone, however lowly, the simple truth. ‘I am too lily-livered. I would have disgraced any army unfortunate enough to have me in its ranks.’
‘Well, you’ve missed out on some good times, Padre. And some bad,’ he added, as if he were meeting my frankness with some of his own. He patted his hip. ‘But I was lucky enough to find a clean billet, even if it wasn’t how I meant to end up. Luckier than most in my position, even if my girl did take it into her head to marry one of them navvies.’
I pressed his shoulder. We both had sorrows to endure, and preferably in silence.
In a hoarse undervoice he added, looking each way to see that we were not overheard, ‘It’s the drink what does for young Mr Bossingham. Keep him off his port and his blue ruin, make him stick to proper gentlemen’s liquor, and he’ll be as fine as fivepence before the year is out. God knows what they pours down his gullet here, but it leaves them more than a bit foxed the next day, I can tell you. They comes in wanting a drink, and ends up needing something stronger, if you take my meaning.’
I slipped him a couple of coins, and he backed away, knuckling his forehead.
Hansard and Sir Hellman had drifted away from me, and were engaged in a desultory inspection of the borders. But as they neared one of the inmates, we heard a shout from the terrace, and a flustered-looking Dr Brighouse, with more haste than dignity, was summoning us to the house.
Assuming that Lord Elham was ready for interview, we returned briskly, but we were kept waiting in a small saloon for nearly a quarter of an hour. With two servants at hand to pass round yet more unwanted refreshments, we could not have any serious conversation; our ire could not altogether be hidden, however, when at last Dr Brighouse deigned to return, with a miserable-looking Lord Elham in tow. Two male orderlies brought up the rear, and as before there was a click as – presumably – the door was locked behind us.
Elham was dressed in the same shapeless blue shirts and breeches as his gardening colleagues. He had recently been shaved, by none too gentle a hand, and his hair was so dishevelled one hesitated to call it even a Brutus cut. He bowed, but the movement was as rigid as if a rocking horse were mimicking a flesh and blood beast.
We bowed in return; he was, after all, a scion of a noble family.
‘How do you do, my lord?’ Hansard asked, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. ‘I am sorry to find you here. How long have you been unwell?’
The young man – today he looked scarcely more than a boy – shook his head as if to clear it. Slack-mouthed, he turned to Dr Brighouse for guidance.
‘Nay, Mr Bossingham, try to answer the gentleman for yourself.’
His eyes rolled with terror.
Hansard took his hand and his elbow to guide him to a sofa on which they sat side by side. ‘Surely you remember me, my lord? Your mother’s physician, Dr Hansard.’
I swear that if Elham could have shown more signs of terror, he did now. He gripped the arm of the sofa convulsively, and tried to stand. The hands of the two attendants forced him back.
Hansard looked up at them. They quailed before his glance. ‘Do you know, Dr Brighouse, I think we might be able to manage without our friends here. And, if I might be so bold, without your good self too.’ His smile was steely.
Brighouse stood his ground. ‘If you are going to try to question him, I must be present – as his medical adviser.’
‘But I am also his medical adviser; Sir Hellman here is a justice; and Mr Campion a divine of repute. I think he will be safe with us, do not you? We will tell you when you may return.’
Elham regarded all this as a child might watch a disagreement between his parents, eyes flying anxiously from one face to another.
At last, Sir Hellman walking compellingly to the door, Dr Brighouse retreated, taking his servants with him. But he did not omit to relock the door behind him.
Reaching gently for Elham’s wrist, Hansard checked his pulse. ‘There, that didn’t hurt, did it, my lord? Will you stick out your tongue for me now? Good. And let me look at your eyes. Very good.’ Whatever he observed there tightened his face in a frown. ‘We’re getting on very well now, are we not? Do you remember my doing all these things when you took a toss one day down by Birchanger Wood? You had a new hunter, a showy bay, and he never did like hedges, did he, though he’d fly over fences and gates with the best of them.’
‘Too short in the back,’ Elham said, speaking as if from the bottom of the sea.
‘That’s right. Good lad.’ He turned briefly to me. ‘He’s so full of laudanum he’ll take a month to dry out. I would not be surprised if he acquires an addiction to it, just like any Bath tabby. At his age, too. Well, I shall recommend to her ladyship that we remove him from here and place him in the care of Dr Baillie or Sir Henry Halford. I have half a mind to take him with us—’
‘But how could we care for him?’ I objected, and then wished I could swallow my words. Was I not a follower of Christ, some of whose greatest miracles involved healing the sick?
‘Exactly so. Weaning him from his opium will not be pleasant, either for the patient or for the physician. But it must be done.’ He patted Elham’s hand again. ‘I will come and visit you again very soon, I promise you.’
‘But you have asked him no questions!’ Sir Hellman exclaimed.
Hansard shrugged. ‘I will try, but cannot imagine that anything he says will be of any use to us.’
‘Please try,’ I begged. The living face, piteous as it was, was replaced in my mind’s eye by the tragic face of my dead Lizzie.
‘Very well.’ His glance told me that I was being foolish. ‘Tell me, my lord, do you know how long you have been here?’
He shook his head.
‘But you remember your home in Moreton Priory?’
A glimmer of the old arrogance showed itself. ‘I have many homes now I am a lord.’
‘Any one of which would surely provide him with better shelter than this,’ Sir Hellman muttered.
‘And which one do you like best?’
‘Grosvenor Square. I like London best. Better than the country.’
‘Do you like Moreton Priory? Do you like the people there?’
‘I didn’t like him. He was rude to my friend.’ Elham pointed an accusing digit at me. ‘But I got my revenge! Set some twine to make him take a tumble. Hope he bloodied his nose when he parted company.’
‘Do you recall why I was rude to him?’ I asked.
‘I want to go now. Tell them I want to sup early in my room. Call my valet now!’
Hansard’s glance at me spoke volumes. ‘Was there anyone you did like at the Priory? Any young lady?’
The response was a decided negative.
‘Did you like any of the servants?’
‘Didn’t like Corby. Too nosy by half. Mama got rid of him.’
The kind old butler! And whence had he been removed?
‘Didn’t like Davies,’ Elham continued. ‘Didn’t like Mrs Beckles. Sour-faced old bitch.’
At least Hansard now had a taste of his own medicine.
‘Liked Lizzie.’
I did not need Hansard’s finger on his lips to make me silent.
‘You liked Lizzie. Did you kiss Lizzie?’
He smirked, and then made a suggestive movement with his hips. I gripped the arms of my chair. The man was an invalid, or I should hardly have been able to contain my ire.
‘Are you saying you were intimate with her?’ Hansard asked, with a minatory but sympathetic glance at me.
Elham pointed at me. ‘You wanted her, but it was I who—’ He framed a vulgarism matching his gesture.
Hansard put up a hand to restrain him. ‘Enough!’
He fell silent. But his smirk became a vile, licentious leer, which spoke louder than a thousand obscenities.
Perhaps sensing that neither Hansard nor I could have spoken, Sir Hellman got to his feet. ‘My young friend, I understand that you enjoyed marital relations with the young woman.
Were you indeed married to her?’
All too clearly, Elham did not comprehend – but it was the concept, not the words that defeated him. ‘Marry a skivvy? As soon marry Haymarket ware.’
‘But you begat a child upon her,’ Sir Hellman reminded him sternly.
‘What if I did?’
‘Were you proud of that? Or were you afraid of what people might say? Tell me, Lord Elham, because she had become an inconvenience, did you kill Elizabeth Woodman?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‘Lizzie dead? Lizzie dead? No, no, no!’
Although I confess to wishing otherwise, Lord Elham’s shock sounded as genuine as Jem’s or mine, and no less grief-stricken.
‘Alas, Lord Elham, she is,’ Sir Hellman insisted sternly. ‘Lizzie Woodman has been foully murdered.’
‘Who by? Pray, sir, pray, what are you saying? Dr Hansard, what is he saying?’ He clutched frantically at the doctor’s hand.
Hansard said, with surprising gentleness, ‘Sir Hellman tells the truth, my lord, and sorry I am that he does. That is why we are here today. We came to tell you.’
‘But who should want to kill her? Pretty Lizzie?’ And then, as the horrid truth penetrated deeper into his fuddled brain, he burst into tears. Sir Hellman, revolted, took a step back. I, mindful of my own distress when I had found the sad remains, forced myself to kneel before him, praying that God would give me strength to love him as I ought.
‘Lord Elham, I know we have never been friends, but may I offer you any consolation within my power? Is there a chapel here, where we may pray together?’ I reached for his hand.
He leant towards me. Heavens be praised! He was going to accept my offer! There was hope yet for his sanity.
He spat, full in my face. And for good measure kicked me between the legs, so that I rolled backwards, crying out as much for the indignity as the pain, which was, in truth, considerable.
Sir Hellman rapped on the door. ‘Attendants!’
Clearly Edmund was exasperated by this high-handed behaviour, but, as he saw my continuing acute discomfort, accepted that this must be the end of our conversation, at least for the time being. He helped me to my feet.
Dr Brighouse entered as Elham was dragged away. ‘I will thank you, gentlemen, to leave immediately. I cannot have my patient distressed in this way.’
Hansard looked at him coolly. ‘Dr Brighouse, I cannot have my patient distressed in this way. You will prepare him improved accommodation forthwith. When I have seen him installed there, and when you have furnished me with a complete list of the medicines you prescribe and the diet he follows, then we will depart. And not until then. Meanwhile you will not lock us in this room or any other. Do I make myself clear?’
Brighouse blustered.
I stepped forward, suddenly every inch my father’s son. ‘I do not perceive any reason for argument. Do as you are bidden.’ Later Edmund would tease me about this sudden hauteur. For the time being I dare swear he was glad of it.
Brighouse turned on his heel.
* * *
Within fifteen minutes a truculent but mercifully silent Mrs Brighouse presented herself at the door. Indicating with a jerk of her head that we were to follow her, she set off along the corridor where we had first encountered her. Arms akimbo, she stood outside a door but made no effort to unlock it. Nothing loath, Hansard lifted the inspection flap and peered in. He nodded with some satisfaction, but did not suggest that we looked too.
‘Good. All that remains is to see what regime he is subject to and we can depart.’
Still in silence, she led us back to the book room where we had started our visit. Her husband was seated at his desk. Taking a sheaf of paper from a drawer, he flung it on the desk. One or two leaves fluttered to the carpet. Turning, I caught Mrs Brighouse’s eye and looked downwards. She bent and scrabbled them together, placing them in my outstretched hand with a bob of a curtsy. My father would hardly have acknowledged that sort of service from a menial, simply because he was unconscious that it was a service. However I might differ in attitude these days, quite deliberately I did mimicked my father again.
There was silence as Dr Hansard scanned the notes. At last he announced, ‘You will start reducing the laudanum tomorrow. Not by much – he is already far too habituated – but by a tenth. And by a further tenth in three days’ time, and so on. As for food, you may continue with this lowering diet, with the addition of a little soup for supper, but he will take no alcohol whatsoever. I shall return shortly to see that my instructions are being carried out. And,’ he smiled, ‘any attempt to exclude me or either of my colleagues will be met with the full force of the law. And now you may have our carriage brought round.’
We were all too full of diverse emotions to wish for much conversation. Travelling with my back to the horses, I contrived to look out of the window, praying, as the countryside unfolded, that the Almighty have mercy upon all the participants in the tragedy of Lizzie’s death. It was borne in upon me that others too were in need of his succour, such as the haggard-looking men we saw trudging along the roadside, hoping, no doubt, for employment in the city.
Reluctant to sit down in our dirt with Sir Hellman, we pleaded a previous dinner engagement. Had he known it was with a groom and a valet, he might not have accepted our apologies quite so graciously, but he engaged us to dine the following evening, so that we could apprise him of any further developments.
The evening having turned suddenly chill after the glorious daytime sunshine, Turner had lit a fire in our parlour, and was mixing a bowl of punch. Jem, resplendent in a new waistcoat, insisted on waiting on us once more, but until we had all partaken of a cup of punch we refused to summon the servants bearing the first course.
‘For there is news you must hear, Jem,’ Hansard declared. ‘First of all, however, a toast. To justice!’
We joined in the toast with a will, but without joy.
‘Lord Elham innocent! Never!’ Crushing his napkin, Jem threw it on the table and made to rise to his feet.
‘On the basis of what we saw this afternoon, Jem, it is true that no jury would find him guilty,’ Dr Hansard said gravely. ‘My only hope is that when he is less befuddled by laudanum and goodness knows what else is in the patent medicines with which Dr Brighouse has quacked him he will recall events he has all too obviously forgotten and be prepared to confess. But even if he does, it would be hard to prove – given that the Brighouse register affirms that he was on those premises at around the time we now believe Lizzie to have been done to death, that is, in late November or early December. He had no forewarning of our visit and thus no reason to change his records. And there was no sign of them having been changed, either.’
‘But what if Lizzie didn’t die before the snow?’ Jem pleaded. ‘What if she died only a week or so before…before Toby found her?’
‘Again, Brighouse’s records attest to Elham’s having been in his custody.’
‘They must be wrong! Must be!’
Hansard relented. ‘We shall certainly have to look at them again. But we must also speak to Lady Templemead and, if possible, to any of Lady Elham’s servants left in her employ – singularly few, I may say.’
‘And, according to Mr King, so many departed to places where questioning them would be well nigh impossible,’ I added. I sank my face into my hands, ready to despair.
‘Might one deduce, gentlemen,’ Turner began, awaiting only Dr Hansard’s nod before ringing for the servants to clear the first and bring in the second course, ‘that speaking to Lady Templemead herself might prove easier? Very good, sir.’ He pulled the bell.
‘First find her ladyship,’ I growled, with bad temper ill-becoming a man of the cloth.
‘As a matter of fact, we may have done,’ Turner said, prim as ever, but with something like a wink at Jem, who responded with a glimmer of a smile. ‘We did not like to be idle, while you two gentlemen were careering about the countryside.’
‘But—’ In vain to
point out that they had been given the day off; Jem would be at least as desirous of ending the mystery as I, and had every right to spend his time as he wished. I overrode my own objection. ‘What did you discover?’
We were interrupted, however, by the arrival of the servants, bringing in a brace of duck, a râgout à la Francaise, a plate of macaroni and some cauliflowers. Turner received the dishes, laying them conveniently about the table, before dismissing the servants with a nod.
Assured that we were all content, he answered my question. ‘We discovered where Lady Templemead is staying. It is, of course, servants’ hall gossip, that we obtained by carrying the basket of a kitchen maid sent to buy vegetables,’ he added, parenthetically. ‘Her ladyship’s husband owns an estate near Bristol. He is not one of the ton, by any means, sir. A self-made man. Lady Templemead’s father was more than happy with the marriage settlement, however, since it paid off his considerable debts. Sir Thomas is a great Bristol merchant, a veritable nabob, who has, according to our informant, made his fortune in the West Indies and retired home to enjoy it. Unfortunately he has the reputation for being a stickler, far higher in the instep than his birth warrants.’
‘So a simple morning call would hardly be eligible,’ I mused.
‘A letter of introduction would be required,’ Turner confirmed.
‘Which we do not have. I suppose that, failing all else, as a justice of the peace, Hansard, you could simply demand to speak to her,’ I said.
‘And how cooperative would that make the lady? No, we need a mutual acquaintance, Tobias.’
Jem, never at his most comfortable at our informal gatherings, though he would not have held back had we been having this discussion in a stable yard, coughed. ‘The gentleman you were with today, Toby, may well know Sir Thomas. After all, he was a merchant too – at least, his father was.’
Hansard nodded. ‘I would rather not have been indebted once again to Sir Hellman. Though his generosity in sparing his time and indeed his carriage were inestimable, there were times when I found his temper too hasty. If we are discussing delicate matters with ladies, then tact is vital.’
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