He sighed. “Such a gentle lady… she would suit me perfectly. Mater thinks so too, and that must be my guide in all things. So you do not think…? Still, one must be positive. I am determined to speak and if she rejects me, perhaps I shall follow her to Yorkshire and try again. Her father, I am sure, will not refuse to countenance the match. After all, a lady who is still unwed at twenty-four cannot reject a perfectly good offer without careful thought. Yes, that is what I shall do. It is better so, in fact, for although I have the sanction of her uncle, it would be better to talk to her father. If he approves, then Miss Strong cannot refuse, surely.”
“Her uncle has given you permission to pay your addresses?”
“Indeed he has. I saw him privately yesterday, and he was most encouraging. He could not vouch for Miss Strong’s answer, he told me, for ladies can be unaccountably capricious — his word, not mine — but for himself, he was satisfied that I am well qualified to make Miss Strong an excellent husband. Again, these are his words, not mine. On my part, he told me everything that remained unknown about Miss Strong, in particular, her moral character. That was my principal concern, naturally. Her modest dowry is not of the least importance to me, for I am in the fortunate position of not needing to augment my wealth. Her manners and pleasing style of dress I can see for myself. Her mind is tolerably well-formed, and although her education has been deficient in some areas, she shows a pleasing willingness to take instruction.”
That made Walter smile. How often had he heard Lomax pontificate on some subject or other of which he professed great knowledge, and Winnie, not wanting to argue with him, had saidpeaceably, “I am sure you are right, sir.” If he ascribed that to a willingness to take instruction, then so be it.
“On one point in particular, Strong was able to set my mind at rest,” Lomax went on. “I was concerned, you see, that a young lady of four and twenty years, as yet unmarried, might have some… sometaintin her background such as to render her ineligible as the wife of a respectable man. One must consider very carefully, after all, to whom one entrusts one’s children. A mother must have an entirely unblemished reputation, with not a single stain upon it. So it has always been in the Lomax family, and I hold to the same standard in my choice of wife. I was delighted, therefore, when Strong assured me that his niece is entirely pure, as innocent as the day she was born.”
Walter was speechless. The shock must have registered in his expression, for Lomax said nervously, “Atherton? You know something to the contrary?”
It was hard to believe. Surely Alfred Strong must know the truth, and to lie about such a matter was disgraceful. It was one thing to say nothing at all and hope Winnie could be safely wed before her husband discovered her history, but when asked directly and then lie openly about it was utterly dishonourable. And it could only mean that Strong was determined that Winnie should marry Lomax. Whatever her feelings on the matter, she would be hounded and harried until she gave in, and she, sweet girl that she was, would not be able to withstand the pressure.
But Walter could save her, and he did not hesitate. “I am afraid Mr Strong has misled you, sir. I tell you this in the strictest confidence and only because of the exceptional circumstances, for it is not common knowledge, but it came directly from the gentleman concerned to his father and thence to mine. His name was Seymour, and he met Winnie at York, in her second season there. She has an aunt living in the town, a rather ramshackle lady, to speak truth, who perhaps did not guide Winniecorrectly, and certainly did not chaperon her properly. Seymour became enamoured of Winnie and was proceeding towards making her an offer, until… well, let us say merely that Winnie behaved in a way that no well brought up young lady should behave. Seymour withdrew at once, naturally, and Winnie left York and never returned. That, sir, is why she has never married. It brings me no pleasure to say this, and I should not have raised the matter for the world, except for Strong’s deception. That is no way to deal with an honest man.”
“And I thank you, sir, from the bottom of my heart!” Lomax cried. “It is, then, as I suspected all along, but she seems so meek, so dutiful… yet I always suspected something amiss. You have spared me from a grave error, sir, and I am deeply grateful.”
“You will not, I trust, mention this to anyone?”
“Indeed not. Such tattling is of all things repugnant to me.”
They parted in mutual satisfaction, Lomax removed from the danger of an injudicious match, and Winnie removed from the irritation of Lomax’s company. Walter walked back to Park Street very pleased with himself.
20: Return To Yorkshire
Every Saturday afternoon at Corland Castle, Michael summoned all his fellow investigators to discuss progress. For the first month or so, there had been little to report, but now that the earl had allowed him to widen his search for information, he began to feel more optimistic.
“Sandy, summarise our interviews if you will,” he said, as Luce handed round glasses of Canary.
“Aye, Captain. We’ve talked to everyone, above stairs and below, at Birchall House, Westwick Heights, Highwood Place and Welwood-on-the-Hill, without finding any suspicious behaviour or obvious lies or any cause which might drive someone to murder the chaplain.”
“Are you satisfied that Mr Eustace had nothing to do with it?” Pettigrew said. “You said the girl was rehearsed.”
“So she was,” Michael said, “but that means nothing. She would say whatever Eustace told her. It was the servants who were the key to it. Our plan was to interview them individually, but then get them all together and talking informally, and seeif we could spot any discrepancies or signs of nervousness.Oneservant might be loyal enough to lie for his master, but there are eight of them there, two of them young enough to get flustered if asked to lie, several who were very indignant at even the suggestion that they might cover up a murder, and one old fellow who used to work for Sir Hubert, who vouches for his impeccable character. They all swear on the Bible that Eustace was there until mid-morning and that no horses left the stables in the night, so unless he grew wings and flew to Corland, I think we must scratch him from the list, especially since we cannot find a reason why he would have wanted Nicholson dead.”
“The list is getting rather short,” Luce said with a wry smile. “The Lady Alice is still on it, I notice.”
“If I ever get to talk to her again, I may be able to cross her off,” Michael said. “Tess Nicholson, too, but she is still away. And our only other suspect, the illegitimate son of the chaplain, is also not here. He is a groom at Westwick Heights, but he has gone off with Mr Bertram to Lincolnshire, which is annoying, to put it mildly.”
“Ye didnae put it mildly when ye found out,” Sandy said, grinning. “Ye never heard such language. I was shocked, I tell ye.”
“I confess I expressed my opinion robustly,” Michael said. “We only missed him by a day. But perhaps it is as well he is not here. I am not sure that a boy of sixteen is our likeliest suspect. We have plenty of other trails to follow for the moment, so Mr John Whyte can wait a little longer. So next week, we start on the lower gentry at Birchall village.”
Sandy grunted. “Where we’ll undoubtedly find they’re all upstanding Christians who wouldn’t hurt a flea, never mind attack a chaplain with an axe, but I suppose it has to be done.”
“Indeed it does,” Michael said. “If they can look me in the eye and tell me without hesitation that they would not hurt a flea, Imight just possibly believe them. Until then, we should remain suspicious of everyone. My own feeling is that the murderer is from quite outside this area. Perhaps around Pickering, where the sainted Mr Nicholson was so frequent a visitor. Luce, tell us the results of your jaunt to Pickering, apart from no fewer than three new hats, I notice.”
“The milliner was excessively fond of gossip,” Luce said. “Unfortunately, she was more interested in what I could tell her about the Atherton family than in revealing anything, so perhaps it was a waste of ten guineas. However, I saw the house that Mr Nicholson owned, and I have to say, it is as nondescript a house as ever I saw. Run down, with peeling paintwork, although the gardens are tidy. Why would the late earl ever buy a place like that, and why would he leave it to his chaplain, of all people?”
“A dower house, perhaps?” Michael said.
“Not grand enough for a dower house,” Luce said, with a decisive shake of the head. “A grace and favour house for a relation would have a certain style, I should have thought.”
“It is let to a charitable case, supposedly,” Michael said. “Did you find out anything about that, Luce?”
“Nothing at all, for my own part, although I walked past the house two or three times every day. However, Peachy is more enterprising. She spotted a lady at work in the garden and they fell into conversation over the ten week stocks. She is a Mrs Mayberry, a widow, who has lived there for fifteen years, and has never seen her landlord — that is Mr Nicholson now, I presume. Peachy reported that she seemed a very respectable sort of woman.”
“Where is Miss Peach, by the way?”
