"Nevertheless, sir, you would do me a great favor if you would tell Miss Manning I wish to tender my apologies, and that I have a message concerning her brother."

Francis seemed irked that Joshua wasn't more forthcoming. He nodded curtly and returned to the terrace. Joshua strolled the gardens, wondering what, if anything, Francis would tell Lizzie, and what his next move should be. Half an hour later he had resolved that his best course was to a.s.sume Francis had said nothing. He would apologize profusely to her, while hinting that he knew where her brother was. This, with any luck, would win her round and they could arrange a rendezvous in private to discuss Arthur.

Joshua returned to the house and found Francis, Violet and Sabine Mercier, and Caroline Bentnick on the terrace, seated beneath their parasols. Granger had brought a basket of strawberries and was currently engaged in conversation with Sabine. There was no sign of Lizzie.

It was most strange to find Francis and Caroline conversing together with the Merciers as if they were old friends, when Caroline believed Sabine was responsible for the death of her mother, and possibly the death of h.o.a.re as well. Thus, when Caroline Bentnick began to question him on the whereabouts of Bridget Quick, and how his wounds progressed, he was unable to resist the opportunity to probe.

"Miss Quick returned to London this morning, after we spent a most enjoyable time touring the region. My wrists are not troubling me, though I am impatient to remove the bandages. I daresay you are all busy with final preparations for the ball?"

A shadow darkened Caroline's face. Her eyes flitted in the direction of Sabine and Violet. Then she lowered her gaze to her teacup and stirred it so roughly the whirling liquid spilled into the saucer. "There's something I have remembered that I wanted to tell you," said Caroline. "It concerns Mr. h.o.a.re. I will come to you at ten tomorrow morning and examine your bandages. Wait until then before removing them," she said.

Joshua turned then to Violet, who looked as enchanting as a bird of paradise, in a robe of azure blue that matched her eyes. "Miss Mercier, how well you look in that particular shade. You are a treat for any artist to behold."

Violet immediately looked toward her mother, blushed, and said, "Thank you," in a small voice that suggested she would prefer it if he didn't compliment her in future.

Sabine dropped her teacup into its saucer and shot a pointed look in Joshua's direction. "I wonder you have time for frivolous compliments, Mr. Pope, when there are so many pressing matters to concern you. Need I remind you that you still have a portrait to paint and, more importantly, my necklace to recover? As far as I am concerned, until you accomplish the latter you remain under a cloud of suspicion. I had hoped to have the jewel for Caroline to wear." She cast a brisk sideways glance in the direction of Caroline Bentnick, who flushed and regarded her hands. "Apropos of that, I would like a word with you, in private, if you please."

Sabine rose and led the way to the drawing room. After the warmth of the sunny terrace the interior seemed dark and forbidding. She walked to the chimneypiece, above which hung the Gainsborough portrait of Jane Bentnick, and turned to face him. Joshua looked bleakly from the canvas face of the late Mrs. Bentnick to the flesh-and-blood visage of the future one. He couldn't help thinking there was some deficiency in Sabine's beauty-was it a lack of warmth, an absence of animation or indeed any expression? He wasn't sure, but neither was he able to contemplate how Herbert could share his bed with this woman. He would prefer to sleep with a statue.

"You are no closer to finding my necklace?" said Sabine.

"I have not forgotten it. But you know, I believe, the matter is wrapped up with the claimant, and until I trace her I can do little more." Mindful of the letter Marie had shown him from the claimant to Sabine agreeing to a meeting, he hoped this might elicit some useful response. A name perhaps.

He was disappointed.

"I told you before that is naught to do with it," said Sabine crossly. "The answer to the disappearance lies here, in this house. Yet you have been gadding about all morning and drawn no conclusions. If you cannot tell me something, or at least where you have been, I will a.s.sume you are wasting time and not doing all you might. In which case, I will summon Justice Manning, with or without Herbert's say-so. He is due to return late tomorrow. I want my necklace returned in time for the ball."

Anger at his predicament began to smolder within him. Should he confront her over the letter? It was on the tip of his tongue, but at the last minute something restrained him. How could he mention the letter without revealing how he had found it? He had no desire to lose Marie her position. Yet he must say something. "I have been to call on Lancelot Brown."

"Lancelot Brown, the landscape gardener? Whatever for?"

"I have only one suspect: Arthur Manning, Miss Manning's brother ... I believe he may be concealed somewhere in the vicinity. Brown knows every nook and cranny of the grounds."

"What makes you think it was Manning and not Cobb?"

"I was attacked yesterday. That is how I sustained these injuries."

"Cobb attacked you before."

"Yes," said Joshua, "but this man was powerful. Cobb is in poor health. I don't believe it was him."

She didn't appear in the least surprised, although her gaze seemed to flash over his shoulder when he said the name. "And what do you propose to do next?"

"I intend to go in search of Manning."

Again she glanced over his shoulder. "What delays you?"

"Nothing. I intend to leave at the first opportunity. Tomorrow morning at first light I think would be best."

Sabine thought for a while before she nodded curtly, signaling that their interview was over. Her onslaught had begun so swiftly after they entered the drawing room that Joshua had a.s.sumed they were alone, but as she turned to leave, he heard a faint rustle of papers behind him and spun round.

At the far end of the room, Lizzie Manning was seated at Herbert's writing desk. She was scribbling a note. Sabine must have seen her, but had done nothing to warn him; but then, Sabine cared little for the feelings of others. Lizzie finished her note, put down her pen, sanded her paper, then stood up and came toward them. She was dressed in her customary gray, though Joshua noticed that the shade was paler and more becoming than usual, and it seemed to bring out the warmth in her hair and the l.u.s.trous depths of her eyes.

"Mr. Pope, how fortuitous you should find me here," she said, with the slightest of tremors in her bell-like voice. "I have this note to give you."

He looked down at his name inscribed upon the thick paper in Lizzie's elegant hand and felt uncharacteristically fl.u.s.tered. Lizzie was probably the only one who could help him find Arthur, yet knowing how deeply she cared for him, he recognized his gaffe. He had wanted to keep his suspicions concerning Arthur Manning silent for the time being. It was cruel coincidence that Sabine had forced him to speak out just when she was in the room. Every endeavor seemed doomed, foiled by Sabine.

Chapter Thirty-five.

Astley House

Sir,I understand from Francis that you wish to tender your apologies and that your message from Mr. Brown concerns my brother. I, too, am anxious that we discuss these matters in private. In order that we may be sure we will not be overheard or interrupted, I will come to your rooms this evening at ten o'clock.

Until then I am, sir, yr obedient servant,Elizabeth Manning

Joshua had opened the note with trepidation. But on reading these words, his spirits soared.

Throughout the evening, anxious to avoid giving further offence, he concentrated on what he would say, and thus immersed, joined in little of the conversation. As soon as was decent after supper Joshua left the a.s.sembled party and went to his rooms to compose himself. To pa.s.s the time until the appointed hour he began to write a letter explaining his actions as honestly as he thought wise. This was no easy matter due to the bandages, and after a short time he gave up and poured himself a gla.s.s of claret.

He sipped the wine and watched the hands of his father's timepiece move close to ten. His heart began to race. When ten chimes rang, he listened for every creak of the floorboard. But the corridor was silent. There was no sound of approaching footsteps, no rustle of skirts or petticoats. Another half hour came and went; the clock sounded eleven; a further half hour pa.s.sed. Still there was nothing: no knock, no m.u.f.fled footsteps, no sound at all apart from the thunderous roar of blood in his ears.

By now, feelings of despair overwhelmed those of hope. A cloud descended. The heat in the room seemed stifling. He threw open the window and gulped the air, but this didn't satisfy him-the air outside was too warm. Instead it brought a great thirst upon him. He poured himself a second gla.s.s of claret and gulped it down, then another and another.

By the time his timepiece sounded twelve, the decanter was drained and Joshua was numb with drink and disappointment. He staggered to his feet and discarded his shoes, his velvet breeches, his silk coat, his stockings, cursing the bandages and dropping each article carelessly on the floor before he unb.u.t.toned or untied the next. Dressed only in his shirt, he kicked the heap of clothes out of his way, extinguished the candle, and fell in a stupor on his bed.

Joshua thought that he would never sleep, and yet he must have quickly lost consciousness. Some hours later he became dimly aware of the sound of footsteps, the door catch opening, the floorboards creaking, the soft sounds of someone walking about his room disturbing things in it. He rose slowly to consciousness, opened his eyes, and thought he was still dreaming. By the paltry flame of a night-light he saw that Lizzie Manning had at last arrived. She was walking about his room, holding the candlestick, dressed only in her nightgown.

"Miss Manning," he murmured, "is it you? You kept me waiting half the night."

She seemed to start at the sound of his voice. "I didn't mean to anger you. Violet kept me talking for hours, and then, when I went upstairs and saw the hour, I did not dare call for fear you were already abed. I went to bed myself but then the thought of the message you had concerning my brother kept me from sleeping. So here I am. You may save yourself the trouble of expressing your apology, for I have already read what you wrote and left on the table. I took the liberty of looking at it in case it was sent for me from Mr. Brown."

The night-light illuminated the underside of her chin and face, leaving much in shadow. Feeling profoundly uncomfortable at her proximity and state of undress, he lowered his eyes. It crossed his mind that the contours of her body would have been visible were it not for the dimness of the night-light. He could scarcely believe she was there, but he did his best to muster his reasoning faculties and conceal his surprise with a yawn.

She came toward him, placed her hand on top of his, and shook him. "Mr. Pope, did you hear what I said? Rouse yourself. I want you to tell me what you know about my brother."

"I heard you," said Joshua. The oddity of her visit struck him with the force of a fist in the belly. He knew enough of Lizzie Manning to comprehend this nocturnal visit had been carefully orchestrated. Even her flimsy gown was calculated to distract him. The question was: what precisely was her motive?

"I will tell you what I know if you tell me why you have come here at such an uncommonly late hour."

"Why does that matter?" she said softly. Now that she saw he was fully awake she straightened and began walking about the room. "Is it not enough that I am here and read what you wrote?"

"But you could have waited till tomorrow morning. That would have been a more proper hour to come calling, surely?"

"I have not seen my brother for two weeks. He said he was going abroad and would send word of where he was, but no letter has come. He is younger than I, and all I have, Mr. Pope, apart from my father, who is often called away on business. I know he has his faults, but I feel responsible for him. Moreover, I cannot believe him guilty of theft or murder, which is what you have suggested."

As Joshua regained proper command of his faculties he observed that as she continued her perambulations, she appeared to be scanning the walls and furniture, albeit surrept.i.tiously. Was she looking for something? Why did she not say what she wanted? It wasn't hard to guess what it was.

"It seems to me," said Joshua sternly, "that quite apart from your anxieties for Arthur, you are here for another reason. Why else would you come to my bedchamber in the dead of night? I hazard you are searching for something."

"What?" said Lizzie, looking at him as if he were suggesting something quite preposterous. "I have not the faintest notion what you mean."

"I presume the object of your interest is the bag belonging to Cobb?"

She shrugged, half smiling. "Very well. If you want to know why, I will tell you. It occurs to me there may be more contained in Cobb's bag than we realized. If the necklace is inside, it would prove my brother's innocence."

"Do you think I haven't looked? What a fool you must consider me, Miss Manning."

She stood over him and met his gaze. Joshua caught a gleam of something in her eye before she turned her head away. What was it? Shame? Concealment? Whatever it was, it seemed she too had her doubts about Arthur.

She positioned herself on a chair not far from the bed. "Please tell me all you know concerning my brother, and what you have done with Cobb's bag."

Joshua sensed that unless he told her what she wanted to know she might leave, and then he would lose his best chance of finding Arthur and surviving the encounter. "I gave the bag back to Cobb," he lied, "but not before I searched it thoroughly. And so, I believe, did your brother. I met him three days ago in the grounds by the lake. He told me he had come to my room one night. Neither of us found anything in it."

"You saw Arthur here?"

"Yes, as I said, in the grounds."

"And was he well? Where is he staying?" The relief in her voice was unmistakable.

"He seemed quite well, though perhaps a little inebriated. He didn't say where he was staying. That was why I called on Brown."

"I do not understand. What was the message you had from Brown?"

"It's not a message in a straightforward sense, it is something I learned from him. I went to visit him because I believed your brother might have stolen the necklace and be hiding with it at Barlow Court."

"Impossible. He may be misguided, but he is not a thief. And if he had the necklace, why did he search your room?"

"Perhaps he was looking for something else of value to him."

Joshua waited for some furious reaction or denial, but when there was none, he a.s.sumed he was correct and wondered what it might be. "Brown's conclusion was that it would be impossible for him to conceal himself for any length of time at Barlow Court. However, he also pointed out there were two suitable places a man might conceal himself at Astley. Considering my recent conversation with your brother took place in these grounds, I think it is a possibility worth investigating."

"What places did he suggest?"

"The grotto and the bas.e.m.e.nt beneath the octagon tower that houses the overflow chamber for the lake, according to Brown, in a storm. That is why I believe we should go together to find him and warn him."

Joshua heard her sharp intake of breath. "Of course I will come; you need have no fear of that. Shall we go now? Will you get dressed?"

"No," Joshua said firmly. "It is out of the question. We will see nothing in the dark and only endanger ourselves. And in any case the weather tonight is fine. Even if he is there he will come to no harm. We will wait till first light. I will knock at your bedchamber door."

Lizzie concurred with this arrangement, and so with no further discussion, she left his room. Joshua tossed and turned, pondering the motive for her nocturnal visit. Did she really believe the necklace was in Cobb's bag? Or was there something else it contained? He had thoroughly examined every object in it twice and there seemed nothing untoward. Nevertheless, the thought that he might have overlooked something bothered him. It was some time before he slept.

AS SOON AS the first light began to illuminate the room, Joshua opened his eyes and saw that several things were not as they had been the night before. The clothes that he recalled kicking under the bed now lay piled on a chair. The papers on his writing table were disarranged. Several of his possessions-his father's timepiece, his pocket book, and a brush and comb left on the dressing chest-had been moved. The bottom drawer was slightly open. The door to the linen press in which his clothes were stored stood ajar.

Lizzie had not been taken in by his lie that the bag wasn't here. She must have returned while he slept and searched the room. Neither of them trusted the other. He looked at the washstand that hid the closet wherein he had secreted Cobb's bag. With relief, and a surge of triumph too, he saw that the washstand remained exactly where he had left it.

He leapt from his bed, resolving to ignore the ache in his temples. What had possessed him to drink so much wine? After he poured cold water in the bowl in the washstand and performed his toilette, he felt somewhat revived. He dressed as speedily as his injuries allowed, choosing plain black breeches, a white linen shirt (leaving the cuffs unb.u.t.toned), and his blue everyday topcoat, then went to rouse Lizzie Manning and begin the search for her brother.

Chapter Thirty-six.

IT WAS AFTER SIX by the time Joshua and Lizzie stepped outside. The air remained still and heavy. A large orange sun hung low in the sky, and the western horizon was fringed with mounds of purple clouds. A few swallows darted about, dipping low over the fishpond to drink, or to catch the fragile insects that hovered there. Hedgerows and shrubs were alive with the shrill sound of birdsong, which seemed only to emphasize the strained silence between Lizzie and Joshua.

Lizzie's eyes, appearing darker and more brooding than usual, had purplish circles beneath them. She looked innocent and fragile, which only went to show, he thought ruefully, how deceptive appearances could be. Even when they were side by side on the path, she walked as far from him as possible. Hostility emanated from her.

Joshua felt his headache worsen. "The air feels uncommonly oppressive," he said. "It is well we have come early: the weather might break soon."

She glanced at the heavens, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up her eyes slightly, as if to verify the truth of what he said. "In that case, we shouldn't waste any time in finding my brother," said she curtly. Then: "Not that way. It will be quicker by this path."

She turned at right angles from the track Joshua was following, taking another, which appeared to lead toward a dense copse of trees. Joshua's earlier feelings of confidence, brought on by the fact she had tried and failed to find Cobb's bag, were now interspersed with rumblings of irritation. His headache made him unusually short-tempered. He was tempted to ask what she meant by her uncivil tone. Yet, remembering how important her presence might be, and to what lengths she had gone to pursue her aim, he ordered himself to act benevolently and say nothing.

"Have you been to the grotto before?" he questioned her instead. "Are you certain this is the best path?"

"I have heard of it often enough, and since I know this garden almost as well as my own, I am sure I will be able to find it."

The serpentine path Lizzie had chosen now veered away from the lake, traversed a small woodland plantation, and then, to his chagrin, turned back toward the left side of the water, where the cascades and grotto were situated. Proximity to the water speedily distracted Joshua from all other considerations. He clenched his jaw and looked at his feet as a way of containing his fears, but he remained unsettled-so much so that when the path made a sharp bend, and he came face-to-face with the head gardener, he nearly walked straight into him.

Granger was carrying what appeared to be a small scythe in one hand and a bundle of rooted box cuttings in the other. The sight of him going about his everyday business brought Joshua to his senses. "Good morning, Mr. Granger. I wonder to see you in this part of the garden so early."

Granger bowed slightly and gave a wry smile, which seemed to stretch the scar on his cheek as taut as a violin string. He looked Joshua straight in the eye, but if he was surprised at seeing the two guests out so early, he betrayed not a jot of it. "My cottage is two hundred yards in that direction. I am on my way to my office in the kitchen garden."

There was an awkward silence while Joshua surveyed the shrubbery over his shoulder. Plainly he would have to offer some explanation for their early morning excursion.

"We were on our way to visit the cascade and grotto," said Lizzie. "Mr. Pope was curious to see them-he wonders about putting some such natural yet picturesque feature in the background of his painting. He tells me the light at early morning is advantageous for an artist's needs. And besides, I thought it might make a pleasant surprise for Mr. Bentnick and Mrs. Mercier. So if you will excuse us, Mr. Granger, we'll be on our way before the early light is gone."

Joshua was all too aware that this was a lame excuse. Granger might well have asked why, if art was his purpose, Joshua had apparently brought no drawing materials with him. And yet, perhaps he understood he had intruded in a matter of some delicacy, for he nodded as if a promenade at six in the morning were the most normal thing in the world.

"In that case, you will require a key to enter both places; the grotto has been kept locked for many months now. As you know, Miss Manning, it was devised by Mrs. Bentnick with the a.s.sistance of Mr. Brown. It was unfinished when she and Mr. Bentnick went on their voyage to Barbados; since her death all work has been curtailed. Mr. Bentnick told me he can't bear to visit the place, for it reminds him too much of her. As for the octagon house, that is kept similarly secure to discourage vagabonds from entering there in search of shelter and falling into the water."

"How often do you inspect the buildings, Mr. Granger?" said Joshua. He was surprised to hear the buildings were kept locked. This was something he hadn't considered.

"It varies according to circ.u.mstances. At present, I go to the octagon house once a fortnight; more, if there's a severe storm and the overflow is in use." With this, Granger took out from his pocket a large ring on which several keys were suspended. He began to inspect the bundle.

"When did you last visit?"