THE CONSERVATORY, an imposing mound of wood and gla.s.s, rose before Joshua. He lifted his eyes to the sparkling cupola, then lowered them to the figure of Lizzie Manning, who paced sentinel-like outside the door. She twirled her parasol in her gloved hand, biting her upper lip with evident impatience at having to wait in the heat for a drawing lesson that should have begun half an hour ago. In her high-necked gown of pale gray she looked, he reflected, like a moth fluttering before an ice sculpture. "Mr. Pope," she exclaimed crossly, "are you in the habit of keeping your pupils waiting?"

"My dear Miss Manning," replied Joshua, the faintest glimmer of a smile playing about his lips, "being unused to instructing pupils, I have never formed any habits, either good or bad." His thoughts raced swiftly on to the pinery, which he was eager to examine. "But tell me," he said, "why did you choose to wait here and not inside this remarkable edifice?"

"I found the atmosphere within unbearably oppressive. Moreover, Granger is engaged in tending to his pots in the pinery. I thought it better we seek a more private spot."

Joshua concurred. They walked a short distance, to a place where a stone garden seat was set into a niche of yew. Then with no further delay (they were each as hungry as the other to discover what was contained in the letter Joshua had retrieved from the desk) they set to reading.

20th May 1766Mr. CobbAfter the encounter in the gardens today I must reiterate what I have already told you. Our a.s.sociation is at an end. It is fruitless to believe that by pursuit of me you might change my mind. Quite the contrary-you succeed only in strengthening my resolve and souring any sympathy I once may have had. How dare you come to Richmond and threaten me in one breath and declare your affection in another? The necklace will remain in my mother's possession. Your threats to tell her of our a.s.sociation will not alter my determination. I would rather she knew all-indeed, I have half a mind to tell her myself. My only wish is that you would return to Bridgetown and leave me in peace.

Violet

Joshua had begun to doubt that the dead man was Cobb; he a.s.sumed that the corpse must be that of h.o.a.re, the attorney who had called upon him and subsequently disappeared. But why would h.o.a.re have a letter from Violet? On further reflection, he realized the letter did nothing to prove or disprove the ident.i.ty of the corpse.

For the time being, Joshua kept most of his conclusions to himself. He told Lizzie that a man calling himself Cobb had accosted him last night and demanded Cobb's bag, which Dunstable had given him; and that a letter written by Crackman revealed Cobb was an attorney working on the same disputed claim for the necklace as Mr. h.o.a.re.

"Do you believe Cobb is alive?" said Lizzie, thunderstruck.

"I don't know. I was hoping this might help us decide," he said, holding up the letter. "But it only confirms what we already know: that the necklace and the death are linked and that there was a relationship between Violet and Cobb that soured." He stated the obvious to see what response it might elicit from Lizzie. "Cobb, in his capacity as attorney acting for an unknown claimant, came searching for the necklace. But he had more than one reason for coming: he was still fond of Violet."

"Perhaps in the beginning Violet agreed to a.s.sist Cobb in his attempts to recover the jewel and then changed her mind," suggested Lizzie.

Joshua recalled that according to the maid, Marie, Sabine had put a halt to the relationship between Cobb and Violet. Clearly the fondness, from Cobb's side at least, lasted longer than Sabine (and Marie) thought.

"At any rate, whatever was between them appears over now," he said. Inwardly he cursed Herbert for destroying the second letter Granger had given him; the very fact he had destroyed it surely revealed its significance. Did it follow, then, that the keeping of this communication was intended to mislead?

"Suppose Cobb didn't take the necklace," he said. "Suppose someone else did."

She looked a little crossly at him, as if he were taunting her by his cryptic postulations. "Who?"

"I don't know yet. But there is another letter that may have a bearing on it. I discovered it in Herbert's desk. Tell me what you make of it." Here he took out his pocket book and showed her the other letter.

Mr. Bentnick,I have done my utmost to exercise my self-control, but you have tested me to the limit. I see now that after all this time you have merely feigned sympathy with my cause, yet never truly listened to a word I said to you. My patience is now at an end, and none but you have driven me to make this ultimatum. Since you have not extracted what is mine, I will come immediately and retrieve it in person.

Joshua couldn't help thinking how convenient his discovery of both letters was. Would Herbert have left such letters in his unlocked desk if he didn't intend them to be found? Both were most convenient pieces of evidence to incriminate someone else. There must have been some reason why he kept these and threw away the other. Perhaps the lost letter revealed his or Sabine's involvement in the intrigue.

"Can you fathom anything from it?" Joshua asked.

Lizzie thought for a short while before she spoke. "The letter is undated, which is irksome, for if we knew when it was written it might have helped us. The writer addresses Herbert as if he or she is quite well acquainted with him and has known him for a considerable time. The tone is definite, threatening, yet at the same time it attempts to draw sympathy."

"Very good," he said, impressed by her line of reasoning. "But can you hazard what it is about or, more importantly, who might have written it?"

She looked up. "It must relate to the necklace. But as to the author, the signature is indecipherable. Can you read it?" she asked.

He shook his head, then decided to give her a little a.s.sistance to see where it might lead. "If Cobb was acting on behalf of another in trying to retrieve the necklace, then this letter might have been written by that person. Perhaps that person grew tired of waiting for the legal process and has carried out their threat. If that is the case, then Herbert knows perfectly well who has taken it: the writer of this letter. But that poses a further question: why accuse me, and order me to look into the matter?"

"To keep the truth of the matter from Sabine," postulated Lizzie cautiously.

"But Sabine must know who the claimant is, since the necklace is hers. Or are you suggesting Herbert is involved in some form of conspiracy against Sabine, whom he is shortly to marry?"

Lizzie's face revealed her annoyance that Joshua could pick holes in her argument almost before she had strung it together. Seeing that her patience was wearing thin, he went on more gently.

"My next action will be to try to seek out the man who accosted me last night. I regret letting him slip away. Meanwhile, there is something you can do that would help me greatly. Ask the maid about what happened with the necklace the day I left. Perhaps she will say something to you she didn't tell Sabine or Herbert. Then question Violet to see if their accounts tally. Persuade her to confide in you over the matter of Cobb, and ask her how reliable she believes the maid's testimony to be. Do not under any circ.u.mstance divulge to her that Cobb might be alive."

"Why not?"

"Because to judge from the tone of her letter, she was tired of his pestering-perhaps she was tired enough to wish him dead. We believe she visited Cobb at the inn, perhaps soon after this letter was written. I am no medical man, yet I believe the symptoms of death are consistent with poisoning. If so, Violet might well be the person responsible."

"Her mother might have had more reason. Remember, Sabine's father was a physician and taught her a great deal about the medical properties of plants. If Cobb represented the claimant to her necklace, she may have killed him to save it. But in any case you have just said Cobb might not be dead."

"Someone is, though. Suppose Violet, or Sabine, or Herbert, or the man on the road, whoever he was, tried to kill Cobb and failed-the poison killed the wrong person. There is every possibility that on discovering the error, the guilty party might try again, is there not?"

"But whose was the corpse?"

Joshua hesitated, looking sadly into her gray eyes. He noticed their l.u.s.trous gleam and that her pupils were dilated with the excitement of the discussion. There was something attractive in her fervor, although he was aware that for her this was no more than an intriguing diversion, while for him and the poor dead man it was a matter of life, reputation, and death. Nevertheless, without her he would have no ally at all. He had to make her think he trusted her.

"I have yet to prove it categorically, but I suspect it was h.o.a.re's," he said quietly.

THEY PROCEEDED to the pinery with their sketchbooks and pens. Lizzie was adamant about drawing pineapples. And since Joshua was curious to survey the building, he was happy to comply.

Walking into the pinery for the first time overwhelmed him. He was staggered by the scale and height of the roof and the kaleidoscopic shafts of light radiating through the myriad panes. In front of him was the atrium, a circular arena with tables and chairs set out by the fountain, and orange and pomegranate trees positioned like sentinels around the edge. Vast double doors led off to the right and left. On one side was the vine he had seen Granger tending, beyond lemon trees heavy with fruit and melons twisting up trellises. Opposite was the door leading to the pinery.

Deep raised beds, some six feet wide and filled with decaying tan bark, stretched the length of the building. In the center was a tiled path bordered by a pit containing steaming manure-which added to the heat supplied by the tan bark and the stoves and sun. The beds were filled with ranks of silvery leaves and k.n.o.bbly green fruits rearing up from the centers of the largest specimens like Venus appearing from a sh.e.l.l.

They perched themselves sideways on the low wall of one of the beds with their sketchbooks. Lizzie appeared unperturbed by the discomfort of the mud to her hem and set to with alacrity.

She was an awkward student, quick to put down on paper what she believed lay in front of her, unwilling to examine the way each leaf curled slightly differently or the way the light altered the hue of each plant before she drew it. They chose the largest plants with fruits that, though green, appeared almost fully formed. Joshua drew the same plant as Lizzie and tried to teach her by example. An hour later, his first study of the pineapple was not quite complete and Lizzie had made several execrable attempts; there were blots and smudges all over her page.

"Miss Manning," he said, antic.i.p.ating an imminent outburst of ill temper, "I think we have done enough for one day. You have made great progress, but I feel your style would be better suited to the broader sweeps of landscape painting than to the meticulousness of botany. Tomorrow, if you wish, we will try our hand at depicting some scenes in the park. I have no doubt Sabine would welcome such a subject as a gift. Until then I believe we should cease our lesson."

She agreed willingly and went off in search of Violet and her maid, Marie, leaving him to put the finishing touches to his drawing. He made notes as to the hues of foliage and fruit, which would serve him as an aide-memoire when he transferred this image to his canvas. All the while he was dimly aware of Granger coming and going. When finally he gathered up his crayons and papers and turned to leave, he nearly fell over Granger halfway along the path.

"Yet again at your labors, Mr. Granger," Joshua said cordially.

"Forgive me," said Granger, moving aside.

"Are these new plants you have reared?"

"Why, no sir," he replied. "They are the latest arrivals from the nursery, to fill up the places in the beds of those that died."

"Are these any different from the other plants you have growing here?"

If Granger was surprised by Joshua's sudden interest in horticulture, his face betrayed none of it. He answered solemnly. "Several varieties grow in this country. In the beds there are already Black Antigua, Cayenne, Enville, and Jamaica Queen. These are Providence; they make fruits that weigh fourteen pounds or more. Mrs. Mercier has requested they be the centerpiece at her wedding breakfast."

"Then it will indeed be an occasion of providence. This is my first visit, and the whole place strikes me as a remarkable achievement. I congratulate you on it."

Granger looked uncomfortably at the plants in his hand. "In truth, sir, I've done what I was asked to do. Nor more or less. The building was all here before my arrival. When all's said and done, the pineapple is not so difficult a fruit to grow. Once you balance the water with the correct light and heat, it flourishes. Modulating the heat is the only aspect that can be difficult." He paused, looking at his mud-logged boots. "But you have no need to be asking me about pineapples. You could ask your drawing pupil, Miss Manning. She is another enthusiast."

"Does Miss Manning know about the cultivation of pineapple plants?"

"She's as knowledgeable as Mr. Bentnick on most aspects of horticulture-that's why he's so fond of her. They used to spend hours discussing their prized plants. The gardens at Barlow Court are said to rival Astley's, or they used to, at any rate. Sir Lancelot Brown, who had much to do here, was also, I believe, employed at Barlow Court and at my previous estate after I left it. He lives in Kew, just a mile from here-I hazard that's why he is so popular in this vicinity."

"His preeminent reputation may also have something to do with it," said Joshua, not unkindly.

"Of course, his reputation is unrivaled. In any event, under his direction Miss Manning took charge of much of the planting. I know she tried to grow pineapples there. She asked me for advice, though whether Mr. Brown had anything to do with it, and whether she succeeded, I couldn't say."

How peculiar, thought Joshua, that when he had marveled aloud about the pinery, Lizzie had not uttered a single remark-had said nothing to imply she had any interest in horticulture whatsoever.

"You say the garden at Barlow Court used used to outshine Astley's. Has something happened there?" to outshine Astley's. Has something happened there?"

Granger surveyed him closely. "Ask her about her brother, Arthur. What I know's only gossip."

Joshua dimly recalled Herbert mentioning Lizzie's brother, though she had never spoken of him. "What do they say?"

"That he always loses when he plays. He has played unceasingly for the past four years, and lost a veritable fortune at quadrille. His father, William Manning, is the local justice in these parts and has all but ruined himself to pay off his son's debts. He only keeps Barlow Court by the skin of his teeth and the goodwill of moneylenders. The place is falling down; there is not the wherewithal to maintain the house, let alone the gardens that were once one of the wonders of these parts."

"I had no idea."

"Aye, well, you might have noted Arthur Manning doesn't show his face around here-there is talk of him being in Italy and suchlike. That's all hok.u.m."

"How do you know?"

"I have seen him skulking about the grounds and in the vicinity."

"Then why do they say he's abroad?"

"To save face. He recently borrowed a large sum from Miss Caroline; money left to her by her mother, I believe."

"Was she not foolish to hand it to him if she knew his reputation?"

"She was fond of him and his family, and was taken in. You can't blame the girl. He told her he wanted the money to pay back his father for part of the debt; he took the money and never repaid a penny to his father."

"Is Mr. Bentnick aware of this?"

"How should I know? If he is, he wouldn't bring it up with William Manning or his daughter. To do so would bankrupt the one and shame the other to no purpose."

"And what of the contemptible Arthur?"

"Still at Barlow, I presume. He has no money to go elsewhere." Granger knelt down and began to embed the two pots in his hand in the steaming soil.

As Joshua took his leave, something struck him. "I thought you had saved the other damaged plants by your repotting," he said.

"Some of the others overheated."

"How did that come about?"

Granger frowned. Joshua sensed his reluctance to answer and thus paid careful attention to his reply. "As I told you before, it's controlling the heat that's the most essential part of rearing pineapples. This house is so large the temperature must be watched both day and night. There's a boy by the name of Joe Carlton whose duty is to guard the place at night and make sure the heat's neither too great nor too low. I doubt you know, but new bark can get so hot it bursts into flames."

"What of this boy?" said Joshua.

"He fell asleep at his post. The pinery overheated. Some of the plants near the door survived; the rest perished."

"When did this happen?"

"Five nights ago, or thereabouts."

"The night before the man was found dead?"

Granger scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, now you mention it, it was that night. Funny thing, if he hadn't fallen asleep he might have seen what happened, mightn't he?"

"Mr. Granger," said Joshua, speaking quickly, "what might happen if a man lay comatose in this greenhouse while it overheated?"

Granger looked over his shoulder at Joshua. "I hazard the heat might be sufficient to kill a man. Ask anyone who knows and they'll tell you the same. I have heard greenhouses with similar methods of heating can burst into flames."

"In other words, Granger, you are saying the corpse might have cooked to death?"

"Yes sir, that's about it."

Chapter Twenty-two.

IN HIS ROOMS, Joshua turned his attentions to the portrait. If Herbert turned against him, and he couldn't recover the necklace, he might never be paid for the Bentnick portrait, yet he could not restrain himself from tinkering with it, adding highlights and details and refining the background.

As he worked he considered Granger's suspicions. All the descriptions he had heard of the corpse's condition mentioned the stench, and until now he had a.s.sumed this was due to the man having vomited prior to death, which pointed to death from poisoning. But had the sweet smell also been caused by the effect of the heat on the flesh? He had reached no conclusion, nor had he fathomed a way to prove or disprove the theory, when a knocking on his door interrupted his musing.

"Come," Joshua said at last.

A maidservant brought in a letter on a silver tray.

28th May 1766 Mr. Pope,Perceiving you to be a man of reticence, I will take matters in hand in order to make headway. Before you left for Richmond you invited me to where you are staying, though in your embarra.s.sment you never told me when or where to come. Today Mr. Bentnick came to look through your rooms and tells he sees no reason we cannot meet for an excursion on the river, or what about a stroll on the hill? Indeed, he could hardly believe me when I said I had heard of Richmond but never visited. He described the place most pleasantly and said I would enjoy a promenade in the gardens at Astley. So, Mr. Pope, I'll be arriving on the midday stage at the Star and Garter, next Sunday. Will you meet me there, or will I walk to the house? Mr. Bentnick says it is only a short distance. If you're not there I will ask directions and come for you.

Yours in expectation,Bridget Quick