I nodded, trying to stop my teeth chattering. ‘The social placing of the governess was ever problematic, of course.’
Mrs Hansard nodded. ‘She is neither flesh nor fowl, and often ends up as being less than a good red herring. Yet in some households valuing education she may be treated even better than the housekeeper, with a servant of her own.’
‘Alas, it does not need this afternoon’s evidence to show that the Bramhalls do not value poor Miss Southey.’
‘And, Tobias, that Lady Chase herself did not value her own governess, if she kept her up here. And yet now she is the most generous and considerate of people.’
‘Clearly I will have to speak to Lady Chase.’
The little maid tapped at the schoolroom door – at least Miss Southey was allowed that much dignity. She knocked again, more loudly. At last, she turned back to us, puzzlement writ large over her face. ‘Mrs Hansard, ma’am, Mr Campion, sir – there is no reply.’
‘We will go in anyway,’ Mrs Hansard declared, with as much authority as if her chatelaine held keys not for Langley Park but for this very house.
‘But—’
Mrs Hansard ignored the poor child’s protest and almost strode into the room, which was deserted. Miss Southey’s bedchamber lay the far side. The door was open and we could see that the room was empty.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘Do you think,’ I ventured quietly to Mrs Hansard, ‘that Miss Southey might have sought comfort of one I have encouraged to befriend her? Lady Dorothea?’
I did not quite believe that my friend was hopeful, but she told the servant to ask Lady Dorothea to spare a few moments of her time. We were ushered back into the warmer world the other side of the green baize door.
We waited many minutes in the library.
‘Young ladies of quality lead very busy lives,’ Mrs Hansard observed at last, with a satirical smile unsurprising in one who had worked – hard – for her living. But her face softened as she saw me biting my lip. ‘Forgive me, Tobias. It may be she has already started to dress for dinner and it would not be fitting for her to receive us en déshabille.’
‘Of course not,’ I agreed, my voice falsely bright. I did not dare voice my hope that at this very moment Lady Dorothea might be offering comfortable words and warm clothes to the poor governess. I had a suspicion that Mrs Hansard would not oblige me with credence.
The ormolu clock ticked another three minutes, then the door was flung open and Lady Dorothea veritably flew into the room.
‘I have just this minute returned from Leamington,’ she declared, casting aside her pelisse and unfastening her bonnet. Seeing that the ribbon was becoming unaccountably tangled, Mrs Hansard stepped forward to assist her. ‘Thank you – you are very kind. But what is this I hear? Pray, Mrs Hansard, Mr Campion – explain.’ She sank to a seat, and indicated that we might sit.
My narrative was brief, omitting the most horrible details. It was interrupted with quick gasps, and stifled protestations. To my chagrin, I must have emerged as somewhat of a hero, and Lady Dorothea’s eyes anxiously darted from Mrs Hansard’s face to mine.
‘You are safe and sound, Mr Campion?’ she asked at last.
Did my heart beat more strongly at her interest? This was not the moment for such a thought. ‘Thank you, yes. Your nieces I cannot speak for,’ I said, with forbearance, ‘but undoubtedly Miss Southey was profoundly shaken. I dared to hope that, since she was not in her room, she had turned to you or Lady Chase for succour. Or Lady Bramhall, of course,’ I added though the tone of my voice might have indicated that that was an unlikely option.
‘If I had known – if I had been here – of course I would have sought her out. But as you can see, my mother and I were delayed on the road – a trifling problem with one of the wheels – and now I am late for dinner. Pray believe that when Miss Southey returns I will do all in my power to comfort her. But for now…you know my brother’s views on punctuality.’ With an agitated glance at the clock, she rose.
We did the same. Our farewells were necessarily brief. But I had never before known that her brother was worried by time.
Mrs Sandys, standing stolidly on the threshold of her parlour, denied any knowledge of Miss Southey’s whereabouts.
‘If she’s left, that’s the family’s business, not mine,’ she said in chilly tones, stepping back and trying to close the door on us.
I placed a foot between it and the frame. ‘Did I not ask you to show particular kindness to her? Come, Mrs Sandys, you must care what has befallen a fellow human being.’
‘I can’t care if those who pay the lady tell me not to,’ she objected. ‘Such a shouting and argumentation those fires and that hot water caused. You’d have thought Sir Marcus was paying for it all himself.’
‘And did you not appeal to Lady Chase?’
‘Go over the head of one who may be owner of the Court any day now?’ Her expression told me I was a fool.
Mrs Hansard now stepped forward. ‘So when did Miss Southey leave, and how?’
‘As to that, you’ll have to ask Sir Marcus – and it’s more than my job’s worth to disturb him while he’s dining – as you should know of all people should know, Mrs Hansard, having been in service yourself,’ she added insultingly. ‘As for Lady Chase, tonight she dines with Sir Marcus, so that cock won’t fight either.’
‘In that case, when it is convenient,’ I said, with great irony, ‘you may inform them that they may expect questioning by a Justice of the Peace tomorrow morning.’ I was sure that Dr Hansard would take a similar view of the situation to mine – and even if he did not, he was such a loyal friend that to save my face he would pretend to. Meanwhile my anger was such that I said with as much hauteur as I could conjure, ‘Pray send for Mrs Hansard’s gig, Mrs Sandys.’
As soon as I had handed Mrs Hansard into her gig, I begged her pardon and begged for five minutes’ indulgence while I spoke to the stable-lads.
Apart from one, however, a lad with fewer than half his wits whom the Chases had employed out of kindness to his father, there were no outdoor servants around. Poor slack-mouthed Alfie could no more have told me his name than flown to the moon, so there was no point in asking him if he had seen Miss Southey depart. Mindful that Mrs Hansard was waiting, I merely slipped a penny into his hand and patted his shoulder before turning on my heel and returning to the gig.
‘Until Toone arrives there is no more that we can do,’ Dr Hansard said, sounding as much relieved as exhausted. He had changed for dinner, which his estimable cook had contrived to delay. The three of us were sipping sherry before a welcoming fire. ‘Not, I suspect, that there is more. Try as I might I can find no sign of injury. His bones appear to be intact. I can see no bruises or contusions – though they might be on flesh already consumed. My conclusion, Tobias, is that he died of natural causes. And you two – what success have you had? Mrs Hansard was too busy selecting a gown to respond to my questions.’ He cast a teasing smile in her direction: she had chosen a fashionable gown in pale blue, with a dark-blue overdress suited to her still-dark hair. Her lace cap, in accordance with Edmund’s preference, was minuscule.
So often did we tarry over supper, my good friends pressing me to stay the night, they had been kind enough to designate a bedchamber as mine. I kept not only a nightshirt there, but also spare clothes for both day and evening. Thus I too was respectably dressed. As for Jem, who also kept spare attire in his own particular room, he insisted that he was happier dining with George and Turner, Hansard’s admirable valet. Without doubt young Burns would have been horrified to learn that during Edmund’s bachelor days, both Turner and Jem had eaten with us as the equals we believed them to be.
‘We broke the news to Lady Chase without incident,’ I said, adding with a smile, ‘as I am perfectly sure Mrs Hansard will have told you.’
‘She heard it with a very distressing joy.’ Mrs Hansard shook her head sadly. ‘She does not see, alas, that the death of one man who is not her son me
ans that her son is any more alive. As for Mrs Sandys, however – nay, I will ask Tobias to recount that part of our adventure lest I am betrayed into very unladylike sentiments.’
‘The woman is a toadying fool,’ I said dismissively. ‘Unfortunately she has nailed her colours to the Bramhalls’ mast, not her ladyship’s. In doing so she has forgotten her manners and her duty to a suffering human being. In short, she neither knows nor cares what has happened to poor Miss Southey.’
‘Tobias, I do not think that you noticed the poor girl’s trunk was still in her bedchamber,’ Mrs Hansard said quietly. ‘In my experience, it could mean that she has been dismissed hugger-mugger, her things only being sent on when she has notified her old employers of an address to send them to.’
Edmund frowned. ‘Or that she has quit her post herself, my dear, with similar haste. It is very unfortunate. I would have liked to question her.’
‘As to that,’ I began, casting a conspiratorial glance at Mrs Hansard, ‘I think you will be able to speak to Sir Marcus tomorrow. We – er – I, that is – left a message to that effect with Mrs Sandys.’
To my amazement, he looked less than pleased. But at last his face softened. ‘Normally I prefer to make such visits without prior warning, Tobias. But what is done cannot be undone, and it will be interesting to see what effect your words have had. But I fear it would be better if I made my morning call alone. We do not want this to smack of conspiracy, my friend.’
I hung my head in shame all the deeper for the gentleness of his rebuke.
Mrs Hansard rose swiftly. ‘Poor Cook will be in agonies of distress if those fowl cook one minute longer. Gentlemen, shall we dine?’
While Dr Hansard, with all the weight of his office on his shoulders, set out for Moreton Hall, promising to report what transpired when we gathered for luncheon, I returned to the parsonage, with Jem riding beside me. He kept clearing his throat as if it pained him. I had irritated one friend, and now it seemed that I must irritate another.
‘Jem, you are ailing, are you not?’
‘’Tis nothing, Toby – just a tickle.’
‘A tickle – or a putrid throat? Be honest, man. You have been stifling coughs ever since we set out. I am persuaded that a mustard footbath is the only thing for you. That, and a hot infusion. No, do not attempt to stable the horses – you taught me how to rub down an animal to your satisfaction years ago, and I fancy I have not forgotten.’
‘You wouldn’t dare forget.’ He tried to laugh, but broke off, clutching his throat.
‘I want your word that, by the time I have finished with Titus and Ben here, you will be in your chamber, a blanket about your shoulders and your feet already soaking.’ I spoke with mock-seriousness, but for all that I was very worried. Jem was never ill, always a tower of strength when everyone else was succumbing to the influenza or even to the smallpox.
The horses thoroughly dealt with, I ran inside, to be greeted by Susan’s anxious face. She was carrying a kettle of hot water she was clearly reluctant to surrender to me.
‘He would not want you to take any infection,’ I said gently as I took it. Privately, I suspected that Jem was a man who would prefer not, as he would put it, to be fussed over. Besides, it was hardly proper for a handsome young man in his nightshirt to be closeted with a young maid who once fancied herself in love with him – even though his having his feet in a bowl of mustard and hot water might prove a deterrent to passion.
‘But you are the parson, and must keep well for all the villagers.’
‘I must indeed. Now, Susan, I cannot think that Jem will want to eat much today, but I know that for a fever Dr Hansard swears by lemon and barley water. Would you be kind enough to prepare some? And I will ensure that he drinks every last drop.’
It took every ounce of my persuasive power to convince Jem that he must not only remain indoors, but should take to his bed. Undoubtedly he was feverish; the pain in his throat, he admitted, was spreading down to his chest. He conceded that Susan’s potion might well be of assistance, and watched in grudging silence as I set and lit a brisk fire.
‘Do not deny you have the head-ache,’ I said, standing back to admire my handiwork. ‘I am persuaded that it would do you a great deal of good to lie down, and permit me to bathe your temples with vinegar or some of Mrs Hansard’s excellent lavender water.’
‘You are joking me,’ he growled.
‘I am indeed.’ I waved my coal-blackened hands at him. ‘But I have the most selfish reasons for wishing for your speedy return to health, Jem. Clearly Miss Southey must be found, and although Dr Hansard may invoke the force of the law, I would not be surprised if you and I were involved somehow.’
He grinned. ‘Then I’d best endure all the hot plasters and poultices Dr Hansard can wish on me.’
When I looked in on him a few minutes later, he was in an uneasy sleep, and fought off the coverlet I tried to pull over him.
Anxious not to alarm Susan, but concerned for my friend’s health, I wrote a note to Dr Hansard, explaining that I would be unable to join him and his wife at one, as we had arranged, and begging that he would send George down with whatever medicine he judged helpful in such a case. I sent the gardener’s lad off, with a sixpence for his pains, telling him to run all the way.
I was so confident of Edmund’s response that I suggested to Mrs Trent that she might need to lay extra covers for luncheon, and I was not disappointed. Within the hour, Edmund’s gig bowled up, Mrs Hansard clutching a basket on her knees as Edmund himself handled the ribbons. While the former went to find Mrs Trent in her kingdom, Edmund set off apace for Jem’s room.
Edmund was so long with Jem that both his wife and I feared the very worst, though neither cared to admit it to the other. At last, however, he came into my sitting room, smiling broadly and smelling strongly of lavender water.
‘One of Dr Toone’s ideas,’ he said, not quite apologetically, wafting his hands before us. ‘As you know, I believe very strongly in ridding the hands of noxious smells after treating patients living or dead. Dr Toone goes further, not only scrubbing his hands and fingernails, as I do, but also dousing them in lavender water. Is it efficacious? I know not.’
‘It is very pleasing to our nostrils at least,’ Mrs Hansard said with a smile.
Before another word could be said, Mrs Trent summoned us to the dining room, where she had laid out an admirable repast, the greater part, I was sure, conjured from her own supplies: she had her pride to consider, after all, despite Mrs Hansard’s generous gifts.
Whether or not the girl was pleased with our decision, we dismissed Susan, saying that we would serve ourselves.
‘Firstly let me say that I have told Jem all I am going to tell you, Tobias – the man was restless enough at having to submit to my examination and I thought it would provide a diversion. Secondly, Maria has heard some of it—’
‘Chiefly in the form of smothered oaths and imprecations,’ she said, a twinkle in her eye.
‘If by my ill-chosen words I have harmed your enquiries—’
‘Let that pass, Tobias,’ he said kindly. He paused, while I helped him to beef and pickle, waving a hand to signal enough.
Mrs Hansard took one of the dainty sandwiches. ‘Edmund, why do you not explain exactly what transpired? You could not have a more attentive audience, I promise you.’
‘But how am I to eat this excellent repast if I am talking?’ he asked impishly.
‘Slowly,’ Mrs Hansard said with flat finality. ‘Poor Tobias deserves to hear it all, and I to hear the sections you omitted as we drove down.’
‘Very well.’ He laid down his knife and fork. ‘Sir Marcus – on his own – received me in the library. He was very much on his dignity when I was announced, saying that he did not need to justify his actions towards his employees to anyone. Without saying a single word, I let him bluster on until he had no more to say. At length, standing before the fireplace looking extremely foolish, he stopped. I told him that while he
did not necessarily need to justify his treatment of Miss Southey, however despicable that might be, I held him responsible for either permitting or indeed encouraging one who was certain to be called as a witness at the Coroner’s Inquest to leave the district. It was not only irresponsible but possibly constituted contempt of court.’
‘Does it?’ I asked, round-eyed.
‘I neither know nor care. At very least, I told him, he must provide me with details of her destination.’ He stopped to load his beef with mustard.
‘And could he – did he – oblige?’
Mouth full, he shook his head.
‘Apparently,’ Mrs Hansard responded in her husband’s stead, ‘he claimed to know nothing at all of her whereabouts. In other words, he now implied that Miss Southey had left of her own free will and gone he knew not whither.’
‘So why did he not say as much at the start of your conversation?’
‘Perhaps because he is a foolish man who likes to exercise what little power he imagines he has – or one day might have,’ Edmund replied, dabbing his mouth with one of the snowy napkins that were Mrs Trent’s pride and joy. ‘Who would not wish to leave the place where she made such a dreadful discovery?’
‘Not to mention the ill-treatment meted out to her by the young ladies who should have respected her?’ I put in. ‘You have seen their veiled insolence in public, my dear friends. As I told you yesterday, you would have been shocked by their all too open rudeness when they believed that they were unobserved. In fact, the more I think of it the more I am inclined to believe that they may actually have torn Miss Southey’s bonnet from her and thrown it into the water, forcing her to attempt its rescue.’
‘I wondered if that was the case,’ Maria sighed. ‘My sex is supposed to be a civilising influence, but I have seen young ladies, gently born and well brought up, behaving in a way that I believe boys of a similar age would find excessive.’
Shadow of the Past Page 6
