"Forgive me," Joshua said. "The suddenness of seeing those two scattered my senses. Unless I am very much mistaken that is Elizabeth Manning out walking with Francis Bentnick."

"Am I to infer that you are offended because you entertained hopes in that direction yourself ?" said Bridget curtly.

"Certainly not," Joshua said emphatically. "If I seem annoyed it is only because she must know I have things to say to her, and she certainly has matters to discuss with me, yet for the past three days she has avoided me-deliberately, I believe. Would you excuse me for one moment?"

Before she could remonstrate, Joshua had run ahead until he caught up with Lizzie and Francis. "Good day to you, Miss Manning and Mr. Bentnick," he said, in mock gentility. "A thousand pardons for disturbing you. I trust you are enjoying your quiet promenade? What a delightful surprise to run into you."

"Mr. Pope!" said Lizzie Manning, withdrawing her arm from Francis's without a flicker of awkwardness. "The very man we wanted to find! I came to speak to you this morning on the subject of our drawing lessons. I was disappointed to find you absent. Caroline said you had gone out with Miss Bridget Quick, your landlady's daughter. We were heading in the direction of the Star and Garter to look for you. Where is your companion? Is that her coming now?"

Bridget was red-faced and puffing with exertion. Mud had splattered the hem of her dress. After making brisk introductions, Joshua turned to Lizzie. "I haven't time to talk now. Miss Quick has the stage to catch and I want to see her safely on it. However, I would be most grateful for a little of your precious time at the earliest convenience. Shall we say later this afternoon? I have something to tell you that concerns your brother."

Lizzie's sudden flush of astonishment, anger even, wasn't missed by Joshua's observant eye, and it brought him unmistakable satisfaction.

"My brother! What do you know of Arthur? Have you seen him?" she stammered.

He raised a quizzical brow and gave her an enigmatic half smile. "That, Miss Manning, is what I wish to discuss. But for now the subject must wait. Enjoy your promenade. Good day to you both."

He could sense her fury but he ignored it. He raised his hat, took Bridget by the arm, and they walked briskly away toward the London stage.

Chapter Thirty-three.

WILDERNESS HOUSE, the home of Lancelot Brown, was an inappropriately named yet pleasant-looking redbrick building, situated a few hundred yards west of the Lion Gate to Hampton Court. The house was of modest dimensions and unremarkable style, with little in its outward appearance to suggest it was the home of a legend of landscape design. Were the wisteria and ivy clambering about its facade more cleverly pruned than others in the street? Were the topiaries of yew and box better shaped? Joshua's untrained eye discerned nothing notable about them.

He had come here after a sudden burst of inspiration had struck him as soon as Bridget had stepped onto the London stage. Lizzie's reaction to his comment about her brother had been most revealing. Joshua knew Arthur Manning was somehow embroiled in this business. The sound of his laughter at the mention of Cobb's name still reverberated in his memory. He had a niggling feeling that one person alone could not have been responsible for recent events. Even if Cobb had killed h.o.a.re, his feeble condition made it unlikely that he was responsible for the attack on Joshua at the barn. Nor did it seem probable he had stolen into Astley un.o.bserved and removed the necklace. He was not familiar with the layout of the house. How would he have known where Sabine's room was, let alone where she secreted her jewels? Arthur Manning, on the other hand, though he had no reason to wish h.o.a.re dead, was strong, violent of temper, knew the house well, and had admitted he had entered Joshua's room while he was asleep. And having ruined his family, Arthur was desperate for money. Since Joshua's reputation rested on the necklace, finding Arthur was his first priority.

According to the housekeeper at Barlow Court, Arthur was not living at home. Was he hiding somewhere in the grounds of Barlow Court? Or was he lurking in the grounds at Astley? Joshua was in no mood to contemplate a search, which might take hours and expose him to another vicious attack. He had no wish to involve Granger, for that might cause gossip that would reach Sabine and Herbert. And in any case Granger had no knowledge of Barlow Court. But after pondering the matter for a few minutes more, a way to avoid all these obstacles came to him.

He recalled Granger telling him the gardens at Barlow Court and Astley had both been designed by Lancelot Brown and that the great man lived nearby at Kew. Who better than Brown to suggest plausible hiding places? Quite apart from helping him locate Arthur Manning, there was a chance Brown might remember some other relevant facts. And since Brown no longer had anything to do with either household, there was no danger that word of his visit would reach any of the other involved parties.

JOSHUA KNOCKED on the door to Wilderness House and was shown into a small hallway with four doors leading off and a wide flight of stairs rising to the floor above. A servant ushered him to a small library at the rear. The room was simple but comfortably furnished with a large desk, a folio chest filled with papers, and a pair of leather-upholstered armchairs. One wall was lined from floor to ceiling with books; the others were paneled in oak. Prints of sublime landscapes-parsley trees, craggy rocks, and mountains, with the occasional lake or coastal view for relief-were scattered about the wall. A portrait of the great man himself hung over the chimneypiece, and showed a bright-eyed, florid face with a nose of disproportionate grandeur and a smallish receding chin.

Having surveyed his surroundings, Joshua moved to the window, which gave onto a small walled garden consisting of a lawn, an apple tree, and a couple of rosebushes. In a niche at the end stood a life-size marble statue of a nymph holding a sheaf of flowers, with more flowers emerging from her lips.

Joshua knew Brown's reputation was every bit as elevated as his own. Like him, Brown sat down at the table of every lord in the land. He had the ear of kings and queens and princesses. And how had he accomplished this feat? Not by painting with sublime inspiration, not by sculpting or architecture, or any form of artistic genius Joshua recognized. He had designed the gardens of palaces at Kew and Kensington and Windsor. He had gone farther than London-to Stowe, Petworth, Burghley, Warwick, Blenheim, and Alnwick. In each of these estates-and countless others, great and small, besides-his brilliant contribution came down to this: softening straight lines and formality with arbors and Elysian Fields and lakes and gentle green vistas, which resembled nothing so much as what was there before the formality was introduced. Thus as Joshua peered from the window the question that he asked himself was: can this be art?

"Behold the nymph Chloris transformed to G.o.ddess Flora!" said a booming voice that interrupted Joshua's unresolved contemplation.

Joshua spun round to see a man, aged about fifty, jowly-faced, with bright boot-b.u.t.ton eyes set at a soulful slant, offering him his hand.

Brown gripped Joshua with a firmness that made him wince. "Good morning, Mr. Pope. I have heard of you by reputation. I am honored to make your acquaintance."

"The honor is all mine," said Joshua decorously. "And to return to your charming statue, I take it that Zephyr, who transformed the nymph into the G.o.ddess of flowers, is you!"

Brown laughed at Joshua's wit and clapped him on the back. "What a delightful notion! The figure was given to me by one of my patrons. No one else has interpreted it thus. If only I could transform all my patrons to Flora I would indeed be the happiest man alive. As it is, I content myself with their gardens. Now, tell me, Mr. Pope, what brings you here?"

Joshua recited the story he had prepared. He was staying at Astley, to paint Herbert Bentnick's marriage portrait, and had grown friendly with Lizzie Manning, who had recently done him a great favor. Since he had learned of her interest in horticulture, and pineapples in particular, he had thought to buy her two dozen pineapple plants. Would Mr. Brown object to advising Joshua where he thought it best to position the frames for this purpose?

"Pineapples, that most redoubtable of fruits!" Brown exclaimed. "The holy grail of every gardener in the civilized world. What would you say, Pope, if I indiscreetly let slip that in addition to my handsome salary as His Majesty's master gardener, I am paid a fee of a hundred pounds for raising those luscious plants?"

"I should say it reflects the fact that you are held in the highest regard by His Majesty. And I should repeat what I have learned from Mrs. Mercier and Mr. Granger, the head gardener at Astley. Pineapples are the most fragrant and delicious of fruits. In form they are pleasing to artists and craftsmen of every medium. To grow the fruit in this climate challenges any gardener's skill. Can we wonder that they are so coveted, or that anyone able to produce one for the table is held in the highest regard?"

Brown snorted. "That is hok.u.m and we both know it. Fashion, Pope-frivolous fashion-that is what has put a hundred pounds into my purse this year and last year, and the one before that, and will do so in the future, I daresay. Please don't imagine I believe it worth this elevated price. And what is the impetus behind this fashion, when there are cherries and apricots and peaches and grapes and apples and plums and pears galore that will grow with the minimum of fuss and taste equally delicious?"

"Man's desire for novelty? Human curiosity?" answered Joshua. He was drawn by Brown's jovial candor.

"No sir. It is the desire for the unattainable. Consider this, Mr. Pope. I give them lakes and copses as beautiful as any that existed in the kingdom of Flora. They applaud me for my achievements. Yet give them the choice and before we know it they'll be demanding palm trees and bananas in place of oaks and elms and ash." Brown burst into a gale of laughter, partly occasioned, Joshua suspected, by the astonishment on his own face.

"I never thought you would disapprove of the fashion for pineapples. Forgive me, I had no intention of giving offence. If that is how you feel I can't expect you to a.s.sist me."

"Stay awhile," said Brown. "My private views don't mean I won't help you. I have yet to fall out with a single one of my employers, Pope, but that doesn't mean I agree with them. I will confess to you, while I grow pineapples for His Majesty, I see them as an embodiment of much that is foolish in society today. Simplicity in nature, as in most aspects of life, is infinitely preferable to conspicuous display. I am most successful where I am invisible."

"Is not civilization built upon advance, whether artistic, scientific, or in the landscape? Can you say that foreign plants and trees have not enlivened our gardens?"

"They are all very well in their place, Mr. Pope. But I prefer to improve the natural beauties, rather than import foreign ones. To continue your allusion, I believe, since my work is set in England, it is best read in English too. Phrases in other languages, whether from the Indies or Africa, are unnecessary and incomprehensible. But as I said before, I always keep my patrons happy. Why shouldn't Miss Manning have a pineapple pit at Barlow Court if she so desires one? I believe I have copies of the drawings for her gardens somewhere here. Let us consult them."

Brown stood up and went to a mahogany folio chest and began to rummage about in the drawers. Soon he extracted a large clothbound folio and brought it to a library table that stood in the center of the room. Inside was a large drawing folded into three, and several smaller sheets on which were details such as a planting of trees around the sh.o.r.e of a lake.

One smaller page showed the Manning's kitchen garden placed at the rear boundary of the house, on the eastern corner. "I confess, Pope, this situation for a pine pit is not ideal. It would be best set to the south, so it gains maximum benefit from the sun. But here the only wall facing south is taken with a vine, upon which Miss Manning insisted, having heard of the plan to plant one at Hampton Court."

"I gather Miss Manning is something of an enthusiast in horticulture?"

"Miss Manning? I agree, she was remarkable-someone of enthusiasm, imagination, intellect, and ambition." He replied with the same goodwill in his voice as earlier in their conversation.

Emboldened, Joshua pressed further. "Was?"

"Her circ.u.mstances changed, and inevitably, that altered her."

"Do I gather, then, you know about her brother, Arthur?"

A wistful expression came to Brown's eyes as he looked at the ceiling and considered before replying. "Not all my employers are the owners of great estates. I have worked most satisfactorily for some who possessed less than half an acre. Anyone may have the misfortune to find themselves in financial difficulties. I tell you in confidence that at present the earl of Northampton finds himself in an awkward predicament. Work under way at his estate Castle Ashby has recently been suspended. To return to Miss Manning-I designed this scheme for Barlow Court several years ago and told the dear girl she could execute as much of it as she chose each year. We were proceeding quite happily, until some months ago I received a most poignant note from her."

He stopped and looked at Joshua for a moment. "I still have the note in my possession. Perhaps it would not be indiscreet of me to tell you what it said."

"As G.o.d is my witness, it will go no further," Joshua said, raising his palm as if taking the oath at the King's Bench.

Brown shifted papers on his desk, and at length removed a small folded letter from a bundle tied with a green ribbon. He took up an eyegla.s.s, perused the paper, then looked up at Joshua.

"Very well, then, I won't read it to you, it's too personal for that, but I'll tell you broadly what it says. The letter is dated in April this year. It declares she is much obliged for the favor I did her in coming and making such inspired suggestions for improvements to the gardens at Barlow Court. But owing to an unfortunate encounter between her dear brother and a stranger of dubious integrity, regrettably she can no longer continue; our schemes must wait. She does not blame her dear brother-she remains fond of him as ever-she only rues the dreadful fate that led him to take the actions he did. Touching, is it not?" said Brown, looking up, having reached the end of the page.

"Very affecting. I had no idea she was so devoted to her brother. She has barely mentioned him to me. Indeed, he seems to have entirely disappeared from the scene."

Brown shook his head. "Her loyalty and devotion to Arthur cannot be called into question."

"Did you ever meet him?"

"Once or twice, but only to pa.s.s the time of day. We never engaged in conversation. His interests lay some distance from the parterre and potting shed, I hazard."

Joshua's eyes gleamed brightly. His brain was now cantering ahead. Lizzie's letter surprised him. Her relationship with her brother surprised him. He wanted to speak candidly to Brown. But could he trust him? What had he to lose, apart from possibly riling this amiable man and leaving his house with a flea in his ear?

"Mr. Brown, I am going to speak to you with the same openness you have shown to me. If what I have to say offends you, forgive me. I speak from the highest of motives, I a.s.sure you."

Brown sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. He indicated that Joshua should proceed.

"In the past week, while I have been staying at Astley, there has been a suspicious death in the pinery. I met Arthur Manning in the grounds of Astley a few nights ago. He struck me as something of a scoundrel. I don't believe he was involved in the death, but he may have taken a valuable necklace. I have been implicated in its disappearance, and the only way to prove my innocence is by recovering it. In truth, the purpose of my visit is not to discuss pineapples, but to see if I might persuade you to help me clear my name and discover the truth. What I want to know is this: is there a place on the grounds of Barlow Court or Astley where Arthur Manning could conceal himself and quite possibly the necklace as well?"

Brown scratched his head. A bemused smile slowly stretched over his face, though behind it Joshua detected his astonishment at what he had just heard. "I can scarce credit a member of the Manning family would comport himself in such a way. But who am I to judge a man after two cursory meetings with him? If all you want is to reach the truth, and save your skin, I see no reason why I should not help you. A hiding place you're after, is it? Well, then, let me see."

He turned back to the large plan and unfolded it. "Here is the river; there's a summerhouse, but that's of no consequence since it floods every high tide. Over here is a small folly-but again, it would make a poor hiding place: there are no windows or doors. No, in short, there is nowhere I can think of in the grounds of Barlow Court where a man might conceal himself. If it was Astley, on the other hand, I might suggest a few."

"But why do you think it more likely?"

"For one thing, the park is ten times the size. Let me show you, my friend." He went back to his folio chest and withdrew a folder with ASTLEY PARK emblazoned upon it. He unfolded the plan; the sheet was far larger than that for Barlow Court, measuring perhaps eight feet across. It flopped over the sides of the desk and fell to the floor. The lake formed a long, gently meandering strand across a half of the surface; in places where it widened there was a sliver of green to denote an island. Carefully marked around its borders were clumps of trees and shrubs. Elsewhere were marked paths, fishponds, enclosures for fowl, bridges, gateways, temples, fountains, the cascade, and further splashes of green of varied form and size denoting plantings. In one of these, Joshua reflected, he had met Arthur Manning.

Brown took up a ruler and pointed it to the eastern corner of the lake, where a series of blue steps was marked. "Now, over here is the temple of Neptune, but it is a local beauty spot where ramblers often walk. I doubt he would hide there, for fear of being noticed."

"And this?" Joshua said, indicating a craggy outline halfway along the cascade and separated from it by a faint line.

"The grotto. It is a series of tunnels and underground chambers, some natural, some enlarged under my direction. Herbert lost interest in it halfway through and it was never finished. I daresay since then it has scarcely been used. The entrance resembles the mouth of a cave, concealed behind rocks. There are iron gates, which I a.s.sume are kept locked to prevent anyone inadvertently wandering in there and becoming lost. The light inside is poor: it would be a gloomy place to hide, and dangerous, too, if he got lost. But if he had been able to gain access to it, a man might live there unnoticed."

"What are the dangers?"

"Apart from losing himself in the maze of tunnels, there is a risk of drowning. The grotto is indirectly linked to the cascade through this building here, which is also a possible hiding place." He pointed to an outline at the lake end of the cascade labeled "Octagon."

"It was built to disguise the overflow for the lake. It is conceivable, I suppose, for a man to hide in the bas.e.m.e.nt, though that too would be precarious."

"Why so?"

"Because of the constant changes in the water level of the lake. a.s.suming the level remains low, as at present-you will recall there has been no significant rain for several weeks-the bas.e.m.e.nt would be dry. But when the level in the lake rises, that changes very swiftly. The overflow system is designed to reroute the water to the river to prevent the ground around the lake becoming flooded. In winter or in prolonged spells of wet weather, the bas.e.m.e.nt is flooded more often than not. Even now, if the weather breaks, only the most foolhardy of men would pa.s.s the night there. And if the water rose, it could seep into the grotto. So in either event he would put himself in peril."

"Do you think Arthur Manning recognizes the dangers of these places?"

Brown looked dubious. "I don't know, Mr. Pope. As I said before, to my knowledge he took little interest in such matters. In any case all this is no more than speculation. Who knows, Arthur Manning may be hiding somewhere else entirely. But if he is in one or other spot and he isn't warned, I fear that before long there may be another death at Astley."

Chapter Thirty-four.

AS JOSHUA rounded the corner to leave his carriage at the stables, he saw that Francis Bentnick and Lizzie Manning were on the rose terrace outside the drawing room. He felt a flicker of interest seeing the pair seated in companionable silence, reading. This was the second time in recent days he had found them alone engrossed together. Surely this was a sign that so far Lizzie's fears regarding Violet were unfounded; Francis remained true.

Having learned of Arthur's likely hiding places, Joshua reasoned that the way to avoid further attack (a.s.suming Arthur was his attacker) was to persuade Lizzie Manning to accompany him. Arthur could hardly attempt an a.s.sault with his devoted sister present. But Joshua knew it was crucial to put the proposal to Lizzie alone. If Francis discovered the scheme he might grow protective, insist he come too, which would only make it harder to lure Arthur out of hiding. "Good afternoon, Miss Manning, Mr. Bentnick."

Francis looked up and greeted him in a polite but distant manner. Lizzie said not a word. She remained frozen with her book in her hand, her chin set firm, her knuckles white. Joshua presumed that she felt he had offended her when they had met on Richmond Hill. At the time he had felt a sense of satisfaction at having ruffled her. After all, she had irked him by disappearing when he needed her. Now, having learned of her affection for her brother, and having formulated his plan, he felt differently. Without her cooperation, Arthur would be harder to find.

He set about thawing her frostiness, but bearing in mind Francis's presence, he took a circuitous route.

"I am just returned from a visit to Mr. Lancelot Brown."

"Is that so?" said Francis. "He once was employed here, you know."

"So I gather," responded Joshua. "And at Barlow Court too, I believe?"

"I believe so, yes," said Francis levelly.

Joshua ignored him and stepped toward Lizzie. He spoke softly, in a voice intended to convey sympathy. "Miss Manning, the reason I raise this subject is because Mr. Brown gave me a message for you. I wonder if I may ask you for a moment in private to deliver it?"

Silence again. She pointedly turned her page, making a show of reading, as though oblivious to Joshua's presence. Francis coughed and stood up. Holding out his right arm, he beckoned like a convivial host who wishes to welcome a late-coming guest. "I think, Pope, it might be best if you and I take a turn together."

And so Joshua followed Francis back down the steps to the path leading from the terrace to the flower gardens. They walked along a wide strip of lawn flanked on either side by trellised roses planted under with clumps of columbine and lavender.

As soon as they were a safe distance from Lizzie, Francis spoke without preamble. "Mr. Pope, you can see that Miss Manning has no desire to speak to you. If you want to know why, I will tell you. It is because you wounded her deeply this morning by your tactless reference to her brother. She is devoted to him, but as you know he has brought much shame on her family and she hardly ever speaks of him. Take my advice, Pope: leave the poor girl alone for the time being; and keep off the subject of Arthur. She has enough to endure without you adding to her burdens."

"It is for that very reason I came," Joshua said, regarding Francis's handsome, troubled face with measured caution. "I sensed I spoke out of turn and wanted to apologize. Moreover, as I said, I have a most urgent message to give her."

"What is the message? Give it to me if it is so important-and I will pa.s.s it on to her."

Joshua hesitated. He didn't think there was any side to Francis, but he had encountered treachery where he least expected it several times in recent days. Besides, he was determined Francis should not spoil his scheme. "I know, sir, you are as good as affianced to Miss Manning, but I gave Mr. Brown my word I would deliver the message to her and no one else. I will tell you in confidence my message concerns her brother; thus, despite your advice to avoid the subject, I think I am right that she would be eager to hear it."

The heat was suddenly bothersome to Francis. "Concerns her wretched brother, does it?" he said, mopping his shiny forehead with a lace-trimmed handkerchief and looking suddenly plum red with the heat.

It was no surprise to see evidence of ill feeling between Arthur and Francis. Arthur had, after all, relieved Caroline of part of her inheritance. While the opportunity presented itself he decided to press the subject further. "Has Miss Manning said anything about her brother to you?"

Francis frowned. "No, but that does not surprise me. You know, I suppose, what he did to my sister-borrowed a sizable sum with the aim of paying back some of his debts and then lost the lot."

"He said he was accosted on the road by a highwayman."

"A very convenient encounter, I would say."

"D'you have proof the story was a fabrication?"

"He reported nothing to the beadle or the constable, though both were on duty in the town when the a.s.sault was supposed to have taken place. Manning is notorious for his love of play. He's the mainstay of half a dozen gambling houses in Richmond. You have only to walk down Brewers Lane and ask anyone in the Magpie or Lilliput, or go to George Street and visit the Black Boy or the Flying Horse, to learn the truth of it."

"Do you believe him capable of theft?"

"Was not that what he did to my sister?"

"In a sense, I suppose-but might he have taken the necklace?"

Francis shook his head impatiently, as if the subject were a beggar who followed him wherever he went. "I tell you this, Pope-but not a word to Miss Manning. Arthur was fair enough when sober, but for as long as I have known him he has always been a man of dubious character when in drink. It was a bottle of Hollands gin that did for Barlow Court-that and a couple of aces in his opponent's hand, I daresay."