Joshua lowered himself wretchedly into a library chair to face him. "Mr. Bentnick, let me a.s.sure you I know nothing of the disappearance of Mrs. Mercier's necklace. I am completely innocent of any misdemeanor, save the one I admitted-of failing to pa.s.s the necklace to the maid in person before I departed. It was only a momentary lapse-you said so yourself."

A look of watchful distrust flickered in Herbert's eye. "I took you at your word when you said you had left the necklace in your rooms. I hardly expected this."

"The necklace was there when I left. I am quite certain of it."

"Did you see it when you returned to your rooms to pack?"

"Not exactly, no, but the drawer was still locked, there was no sign of disturbance."

Herbert said nothing. Joshua sensed he was weighing his responses, as though he was uncertain how to proceed and was waiting to be convinced of Joshua's innocence or guilt. Joshua had no choice but to plead for justice.

"In truth, sir, this is the first I have heard of the loss. I cannot be expected to defend myself until I know all the details. Perhaps there is some logical explanation for the jewel's disappearance. It might be a case of misplacement."

"I d.a.m.n well hope so, Pope. Unless we find it, I shall have to call Manning, the justice. When he hears what has happened, he will no doubt have you thrown into jail and branded, or quite possibly transported."

The varnish of rationality had now all but disappeared. Joshua's knees began to quiver, not with fear so much as with disbelief and outrage. He clamped his hands on his thighs and pressed down hard to hold them still. If Herbert detected his agitation it would only confirm his suspicions.

"Yes sir, I understand the concerns. I see now why things seem black against me," Joshua replied, though he very much wanted to say: "No sir, this is the grossest injustice. How can you even consider for one second I might be a thief ?"

Joshua's apparent acceptance of his probable fate appeared to please Herbert. "I confess, Mr. Pope, that even though you were the last person to have had the necklace in your possession, I have my doubts about your guilt and I have said as much to Mrs. Mercier, though, I must say, she regards you more doubtfully. It is fortunate for you that Justice Manning is away-according to his daughter, Lizzie, he is unlikely to return for a fortnight. At any rate, I am giving you the chance to redeem yourself. I task you with retrieving it."

Joshua was at a loss to know how he should react. Clearly Herbert believed he had just demonstrated great forbearance and clemency and expected some sign of grat.i.tude, but Joshua knew he wasn't guilty of taking the wretched jewel, so why should he be grateful at being ordered to find it? He was an eminent artist, not a contemptible purloiner. Nevertheless he quietly shielded his indignation with politeness.

"Ask yourself, Mr. Bentnick: if I had stolen the jewel, what reason would I have to return here? You must see that this action alone proves my innocence."

"Your reason for returning may well be that you do not wish to sully your reputation as an artist. Besides, you have twenty guineas resting on the finished canvas. And if those are your motives, then I declare you are the most brazen criminal I ever encountered."

Joshua could no longer contain himself. "May I point out, sir, that I have more commissions than I know what to do with? The sum of twenty guineas is neither here nor there to me. You speak of threatening my reputation. I trust it is so well established that it would not be damaged by a spurious accusation such as this. If you desire it, I can call upon numerous eminent acquaintances to testify to my good character."

"For the time being that will not be necessary, Mr. Pope. I am quite well aware of the high esteem in which you are held. I would not have commissioned you otherwise. But be that as it may, I must ask what have you to say regarding the disappearance."

"What can I say when I have not the first notion what has happened here? Before I proffer any solutions, you must tell me what took place."

Herbert seemed willing enough to comply with this request. He told Joshua then that after they had left for London, Violet, accompanied by Caroline, had gone to his room. They had found the box pushed to the farthest corner of the drawer in the writing table and Violet had taken it to her mother's room. The maid, Marie, had just returned from her expedition, and so she handed the box to her without opening it and watched her put it away.

Sabine Mercier returned from London early the next afternoon. She immediately went to her bedchamber to change out of her traveling garb and took out the box containing her beloved jewel. On opening it she had discovered the necklace gone.

"I tell you, Pope," said Herbert with great feeling, "you can well imagine her dismay, her disbelief, her distress. She gave a most pitiful cry, then a wail of desolation, then immediately fell into a faint to the floor. So deep was her state of unconsciousness that I feared, when I was called to attend her, she might have died from shock. However, after some time I detected the faintest of pulses and summoned my physician. After several hours of his ministrations, she opened her eyes and sat up. Her first words on regaining consciousness and seeing me at her bedside were, 'Dear G.o.d! Sweet Herbert, tell me I have been dreaming that my jewel was taken. It was a dream, was it not?'

"I suppose my face must have shown what had happened. Before I could say a word in response she hastened to her dressing table, where she found the empty box. She swooned again, and would have fallen to the ground, only this time I caught her, and wafted salts under her nose to revive her. You can imagine, Mr. Pope, how witnessing the distress of one so dear to me has gravely troubled and, indeed, enraged me. I am not by nature a distrustful man, yet you must comprehend why the shadow of suspicion falls upon you. Mrs. Mercier entrusted you with the necklace. As far as we know, you were the last person to see it. Neither Violet nor Caroline opened the box, and nor did the maid."

"But the necklace is a sizeable jewel. Could they not tell from the weight and feel of the box whether there was something inside?"

"Violet says she cannot recall thinking anything about the weight. Caroline never held the box. The maid says she thought she felt the necklace move inside it. But can we trust the maid? She is such a muddleheaded simpleton-how reliable is her testimony?"

"If the maid remarked nothing wrong when she put the jewel away, that surely indicates all was in order. On your own testimony, the box has been in Mrs. Mercier's dressing table since then. Anyone in the household-nay, even an intruder-might have taken the necklace. Of course, I comprehend the reason you summoned me and I will comply with your request to look into the matter until Justice Manning's return. But you must confess the case against me is purely circ.u.mstantial."

Herbert thumped his fist on the desk. "Are you bargaining with me, Mr. Pope?"

"No sir. I am merely putting the matter to you as I see it, in a rational manner."

"Then as proof of your probity and honest reputation, I trust you will have no objections if I pay a visit to your lodgings and conduct a thorough search of them."

"You are welcome to look wherever you choose," he said, eyeing Herbert steadily. His tone was quiet and respectful, but the set of his jaw revealed his refusal to succ.u.mb. "For I have absolutely nothing to hide, either there or anywhere else."

Chapter Seventeen.

CLEARING HIS NAME became a matter of the utmost urgency to Joshua Pope. Unless he proved his innocence, his reputation could be irredeemably sullied. He might even lose his livelihood or his life. Herbert might claim to believe in his innocence, but Joshua sensed that he still viewed him with suspicion, and that at any moment Herbert might turn against him. Knowing all this, Joshua had no desire to accompany him to London. Astley was where the necklace had disappeared, where his reputation had been cast into doubt. It was also where Cobb had died. His work was here.

Joshua handed Herbert a letter addressed to Mrs. Quick, telling her to allow Herbert into his rooms and to leave him undisturbed for as long as he wished. He shuddered to think what she would make of such instructions.

Back in his room, he sat down by the window overlooking the garden. It was a fine afternoon, and the sun slipping low had stained the plants and trees and even the pinery with a soft, rosy light. There were no gardeners about, only a few sparrows hopping on the gravel path, and an occasional swallow swooping low for a drink from the fishpond. He recognized the tranquillity of this scene, yet it brought him not one iota of peace. With Herbert gone, he felt exposed to the unpredictable whim of Mrs. Mercier.

On first hearing of the necklace's disappearance, Joshua had hoped that it was no more than a matter of simple misplacement. But given his suspicion that the necklace was the property at the center of the dispute between Sabine and Cobb, the disappearance so soon after Cobb's death could hardly be a coincidence. Yet the two events did not fit neatly together. If Cobb had been killed to preserve the necklace, why had the necklace disappeared after he died? Was there more than one person interested in possessing it?

This strenuous exercising of his faculties wore Joshua down. He yearned for a familiar face. He wanted Rachel, his poor dead wife, or if not her, some other friendly companion with whom he might confess frankly and openly his suspicions and fears. He wished he had Meg nearby to console him. And yet he had no one. He tried to shrug off this self-pitying thought. He told himself firmly that despite the shadow into which he had been cast, he should thank G.o.d that thus far Herbert seemed willing enough to give him a chance to redeem himself. No sooner had this thought occurred than it was followed by a more sobering one: Herbert's faith would rapidly dwindle without some tangible progress.

What should he do? His instinct was to press the maidservant, Marie, about what she remembered of the day Violet had returned the necklace to her. Who, strangers or otherwise, had been in Mrs. Mercier's rooms since then? Had Marie remarked any disturbance? But if he went to find her, there was every chance he would run into Sabine, something he wished to avoid for the time being.

Just then Lizzie Manning fluttered into his mind-he had barely thought of her at all until now-and a desire for her company overcame him. This was not from any romantic inclination. Lizzie held no physical allure for him and her tendency to bossiness was irksome, yet her merits were also clear. She was quick-witted (if somewhat naive in the ways of men) and a doyenne in the art of conversation. More important, she knew better than did Joshua the characters involved in this mysterious affair. She had even struck up an acquaintance with the maid, Marie.

He wrote a brief note to her, describing the necklace's disappearance and Herbert's account and declaring his innocence. He requested her aid in speaking to the maid and asked her to come immediately to Astley on whatever pretext she could muster, and gave the note to Peters, the first footman, to dispatch. He then hung his sword about his belt-only a fool ventured out on foot after dark without his weapon of defense-b.u.t.toned his coat over it, and set off for the short walk to Richmond, to spend an hour or two at the Star and Garter.

THE LANDLORD, Dunstable, remembered Joshua the minute he set foot through his door. Joshua ordered a jar of stout for himself and another for Dunstable.

"The artist returns, I see," he said with a deep guffaw. "Have you discovered the whereabouts of your friend Cobb? He still has not been for his belongings."

Joshua winced. He had forgotten that he had never disclosed that Cobb was dead. "I still follow the trail. But yes, I do believe I draw closer."

"What do you say, sir? Don't beat about the bush. Have you found him, yes or no? I see from your face you hold something back. Let me a.s.sure you, Mr. Pope, the reason I ask his whereabouts is not to hound him. He has paid his dues right enough. No, all I want is simply to return his belongings. They are naught but a hindrance to me now."

Joshua reddened. "In truth, Mr. Dunstable, I must tell you-indeed, I should have done before-the reason for my interest in Mr. Cobb. Sir, he is dead. He was found lying in the pinery at Astley not five days ago. His death is most suspicious and my enquiries are prompted by my belief that any man, even a scoundrel, deserves better than to be murdered in a strange place and buried with no more regard than a dead dog."

The landlord's eyes opened round as a pair of billiard b.a.l.l.s. "Murdered? Are you quite sure of it?"

"There is naught but the smallest of doubts in my mind, and it grows more minuscule with each day."

Dunstable swallowed a gulp of ale uncomfortably, then licked his lips. "In that case," said he, "tell me, what should I do with his bag? I have no wish to be held responsible for a murder on account of having his belongings under my roof."

"Do not trouble yourself about that. Give the bag to me. When I return to London I will hand it to his attorney-the same Mr. h.o.a.re who you told me was here to see him. h.o.a.re was acting for Cobb in a family matter and will surely know the next of kin, to whom these possessions should rightfully be pa.s.sed."

Dunstable seemed happy enough to comply with this suggestion. He excused himself to go and retrieve the valise. While Joshua waited he drank another tankard of ale, settling himself by a small window overlooking the back of the inn. It was growing dark. The gardens were all but invisible; the stables quiet, horses bolted inside; vacant stalls had been left with doors ajar and there were no grooms to be seen. He gazed at the deserted yard, wondering vaguely what Cobb's bag might contain. Curiosity rather than philanthropy had prompted his offer to take Cobb's bag to h.o.a.re. The bag might yield a clue as to Cobb's fate. A letter from h.o.a.re perhaps.

At this point he remembered the letters Granger said he had handed to Herbert, the letters he had found in Cobb's pocket. Perhaps h.o.a.re had written one of them. What had become of them? Joshua remembered Herbert tearing up one letter and stowing the other in the writing desk in the drawing room soon after Cobb was found dead. He had given no explanation for his actions, yet Sabine had treated them as if they were nothing out of the ordinary. Joshua tried to recall Herbert's expression as he dealt with the letters. Had he seemed furtive? Disconcerted? Angry? He well remembered the dismal set of his face, the slump of his back-he had looked sad, despairing even-yet Joshua's recollection was that there had been no attempt at all to hide his actions, nor had he seemed enraged. Plainly the letter he had saved must be a communication of some significance. It was surely worth searching the bureau to discover what. And with Herbert now in London searching Joshua's rooms, what better opportunity could there be?

Dunstable soon returned with the leather travel bag, initialed with the letters JC JC, and gave Joshua strict instructions to pa.s.s it straight to the attorney h.o.a.re, and to mind nothing go astray. Joshua a.s.sured him that he would meddle with nothing; upon his honor, he would deliver the bag as soon as he was able. Then, as a joking afterthought, he added that the only thing that might stop him was if he met a highwayman or footpad along the way.

Dunstable's expression turned grave. "The road's no safer than any in these parts, and highwaymen are a common scourge. But since you are armed and a strapping fellow, G.o.d willing you should have little to fear."

And so, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with ale and courage, Joshua doffed his hat to Dunstable and set out for Astley. It was a fine, clear night with a half-moon to light his way. Cobb's stout bag was heavier than he had foreseen and very soon his arms felt as if they had been wrenched from their sockets. He longed for a carriage or a cart to pa.s.s so he could beg a ride, but he met no one save a solitary carter traveling in the opposite direction.

A quarter of a mile on, he reached Marshgate and the bottom of Richmond Hill. The town was now behind him and he strode past the gateposts to Sir Charles Littleton's mansion and very soon was out in open country. Now he was on a flat piece of ground and had only the ominous silver band of the Thames for company. He was relieved when the road turned away from the river's edge. Dense undergrowth now bordered either side of the verge.

Suddenly a man stepped out of the shadows. Joshua nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden apparition. The man stood no more than ten feet in front of him. His face was partially obscured by the darkness; nonetheless, Joshua could clearly discern his lanky build, his disheveled, unwashed appearance, and the wild look in his eye.

"Halt, if you please, sir," said the stranger, taking a pace toward Joshua, as if he wanted to see what would happen.

The man's voice was more genteel than Joshua expected, though there was no mistaking the menace it contained. As the man advanced, Joshua saw that his left foot dragged behind him. He wondered if the man had observed him at the Star and Garter. He could well have spied Dunstable handing over the valise. Perhaps he had followed him all the way, waiting to reach a suitably deserted spot before making his attack. Presumably he hadn't realized Joshua was armed.

"What do you want?" Joshua replied boldly. His heart fluttered in its rib cage, like a bird desperate for freedom. But his mind was icy calm as his hand reached stealthily for his sword.

"My due."

There wasn't a trace of nervousness in his voice. Joshua was incensed by his audacity. "And what might the due of a common footpad be other than to hang until you are dead?"

"I am no footpad. I want the bag in your hand. It belongs to me. Drop it if you please, sir, and continue on your way. I give you my honest word I will do you no harm if you do as I ask."

"I shall do no such thing. I warn you, man, if you approach me, I will defend myself."

The man came toward him until he was so close Joshua could smell gin on his breath and see the gleaming whites of his eyes. He swayed slightly but perceptibly. Clearly, Joshua thought, the fellow is drunk. Emboldened by this observation, with a single, swift movement Joshua extracted his sword and thrust it toward the man, holding it so that the tip rested on his scrawny neck.

"I fail to see that this bag is your due. I say again, who are you but a footpad?" Joshua said.

The man gave a barking laugh, which turned abruptly into a coughing fit that doubled him up. Joshua was forced to withdraw his weapon a little or risk slitting the man's throat. At length, the man brought his spasm under control. He raised himself up, spat a large globule of phlegm to the ground, then looked straight at Joshua.

"My name is John Cobb."

Chapter Eighteen.

NO SOONER HAD this astonishing announcement left his lips than the stranger made a grab for the bag at Joshua's feet. Joshua was stunned by the man's claim but managed to grasp his a.s.sailant's wrist and raised his sword. Writhing and jostling, the man bellowed, "Now you give me no choice." With that, he gave a violent contorted tug and pulled out a pistol from his pocket with his free hand. He c.o.c.ked the weapon, pointing its muzzle directly at Joshua's eye. "Leave me be, sir. Have I not told you the bag is mine? I came to fetch it from the inn, only to see you leave with it before I had a chance to speak to the landlord there."

Joshua dropped his weapon and handed over the bag. "You are a bare-faced ruffian and an impostor," he said, furious to have been outdone when so clearly he had the advantage. "I do not know how you came to settle upon the name John Cobb. Perhaps you overheard my conversation with the landlord. In any case I will tell you, since you are bold enough to try it, that John Cobb is dead and has been so the past five days."

The man fixed his gaze on Joshua. In the dark his expression was invisible, though from the gleam on the barrel Joshua could see that he had dropped his pistol a fraction. "Dead, is he? Can you be sure?" he said.

"As certain as if I had seen the corpse with my own eyes." Using the man's momentary lapse of concentration, Joshua retrieved his sword and sliced at his arm.

The man gave a shriek. The pistol exploded loudly as he dropped it. "You dare call me a scoundrel! It is you who are the thief!" he cried out, before loping off into the shadows.

For some minutes later, Joshua heard the man rustling in the darkness, stifling a coughing fit. He was wounded. Joshua might now be able to apprehend him. Yet the shock of the encounter combined with his ale with Dunstable made Joshua unusually muddleheaded. It seemed to him there was no purpose in pursuing the man and risking further a.s.sault. All he wanted was to return unscathed to the relative safety of Astley with Cobb's bag and to discover what it might contain.

With no more than a parting glance and prayer that neither his a.s.sailant nor any other malefactor would confront him again, Joshua let the bleeding, limping man disappear into the night and hurried on his way to Astley.

It was nearly midnight by the time Joshua arrived. Finding the house securely locked and all the servants abed, he was forced to wake the housekeeper by knocking on her window. He murmured an apology when she came, bleary-eyed, to the door to let him in. Taking the lighted stub she begrudgingly proffered, he thanked her and then hurried upstairs to his chamber.

The clasp on Cobb's valise was unlocked. Inside Joshua discovered a small leather case containing brushes, combs, pomades, a razor. Beneath lay a dark blue woollen coat, clean but plain and of middling quality; a double-breasted wool waistcoat, vertically striped in blue and brown; two pairs of breeches, one black, one buff; two linen shirts, both worn, though of reasonable quality; a pair of stockings; a muslin cravat; three pairs of linen drawers; a nightshirt. At the very bottom, in another leather case, was a traveling walking stick, divided into three sections and fashionably capped with a carved pineapple finial. How appropriate, thought Joshua.

He could see that nothing here was in the least remarkable. All in all it was a perfectly ordinary traveling case of an ordinary middle-ranking gentleman; not quite as fine as his own luggage, but not so different either.

Joshua next searched the pockets of the coat thoroughly for any letter or paper that might offer some clue as to Cobb's untimely death. The only thing of any interest was one of h.o.a.re's visiting cards inscribed with the following message: "Arrive afternoon of 20th inst. Will call on you directly." h.o.a.re had evidently arrived in Richmond the same day as he had, and later that same evening Cobb had died. Was this significant? Could h.o.a.re's absence since the meeting with Cobb point to his guilt? But what reason could there be for an attorney to murder a client?

Joshua put h.o.a.re's card back where he had found it and began to return the clothes to the case. He was halfway through this task when the candle stub gave a final flicker and expired. There was nothing to do but to remove his boots and outer clothes and crawl into bed, whence he fell almost immediately into welcome oblivion.

NEXT MORNING, Joshua turned back to Cobb's bag. He picked up the coat, put it on, and walked to the looking gla.s.s. Joshua's middling stature and swelling girth were a source of chagrin, a subject on which he tried not to dwell excessively. Now, however, he was forcibly reminded of them. The sleeves of Cobb's coat dangled three inches below his wrists, the tails swamped him, falling practically to his knees, the b.u.t.tons wouldn't meet about his middle. Evidently Cobb was a flagpole of a man.

Joshua was about to remove the jacket to put on his own when he recalled the card in the pocket. Perhaps there was something he had missed in last night's dwindling candlelight that would stand out in day. But when he groped in the pocket, he discovered to his confusion that the card was no longer there. He fumbled in the pocket on the other side. Still nothing. He looked around the room, then dropped to his knees to scour the floor. It was nowhere to be seen.

Joshua scratched his head and paced about the room, wondering if he had perhaps dreamt he had seen the card, but he was sure he hadn't, for everything else was exactly where it should have been. He had no alternative but to confront a disturbing possibility. Some nocturnal intruder had come into his room while he slept and taken the card away. What other explanation was there? But what possible interest could a card bearing such a mundane message hold for anyone? The encounter with the footpad returned to his consciousness-and in hindsight it now seemed a hundred times more frightening. The man had demanded Cobb's valise and had nearly stolen it from him. Had he followed Joshua here, gained entry to the house, and lain in wait for an opportunity to search Cobb's belongings? Who was his a.s.sailant? What had prompted his claim to be Cobb? Was he Cobb's murderer? Was this h.o.a.re? Furthermore, if the murderer had come to his room in search of Cobb's bag, and was still determined to recover it, how long would it be before he tried again?

This daunting realization did nothing to diminish Joshua's resolve. Rather, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction at having gained some advantage. a.s.suming the bag contained something incriminating, it might serve as bait. Joshua stowed all the clothes and other objects back inside the bag. He cast about for a suitable hiding place. He noticed that in a corner of the room a few feet from the washstand, there was a hinged door set into the wainscoting. On closer examination he discovered that there was a neatly concealed cupboard, probably intended as a linen closet, that contained no more than a few empty boxes and a plentiful supply of cobwebs. Joshua put Cobb's bag inside and pulled his washstand a few feet to the right. He stood back. The door was now hidden. Unless someone knew the cupboard was there and pulled the washstand away, they would never find it.

Chapter Nineteen.

THE CLOCK HAD YET to chime seven. Joshua went to the window, pulled back the curtain and let his melancholic eye survey the scene. The garden was heavy with dew and a morning mist clung to the ground, but the sky was clear. He looked down over the roof of the vast conservatory gleaming in the early morning sun. The only sign of life was on the far side of the conservatory from the pinery, where Granger was working. Accompanied by a couple of men, he was training a vine into a regular serpentine form, and tr.i.m.m.i.n.g its side shoots.

In Joshua's mind, Cobb's death and the disappearance of the necklace were as confused as the stems of the vine. He could see a connection between the two, though what it was precisely remained unclear. The necklace might very well be the disputed property that had drawn Cobb to England from Barbados and had brought about his death. The fact that the necklace had disappeared after Cobb's death might point to a coconspirator, but might also be proof of his a.s.sailant's declaration that he was Cobb.

If the man had spoken the truth, who was the man in the pinery? Granger was the only person apart from Sabine who had seen the corpse. Joshua finished dressing, choosing a workmanlike blue woollen jacket, a plain blue cravat, and a dark curled wig, and made his way to the conservatory.

By the time Joshua caught up with him, Granger was heading toward the kitchen garden.

"Good day, Granger. What are your men doing?"

Granger stopped walking and turned. "I have instructed them to water the vine to help the fruit swell and to deter insects. You can only do it before the sun reaches the plant, hence it must be done early."

Joshua was impressed by the subtlety of this operation. Perhaps there was more to gardening than he knew. "How did you learn such matters?"

"I was taught about vines while I was still an apprentice at Beechwood, but I am certain it is not vines you come to discuss."

"You are right, I have come because I wish to put your memory to the test. How well did you scrutinize Cobb's body?"