“My thoughts precisely, Lord Farramont. And if all that gold exists, it is very well hidden. My friend Captain Edgerton searched Corland Castle with great diligence, and was unable to find a trace of it.”
“The house at Pickering?” Ian said.
“Mr Nicholson was never inside it. The widow who rents it has never met him, and deals only with the attorney. The same with the businesses he owns there. All discussions were conducted in the attorney’s office.”
“Hmm. Perhaps he left it elsewhere — a disused barn, perhaps, or a cellar in an abandoned house?” Ian mused. “Or could he have buried it in the garden? But that would be risky. If anyone found it, he would lose the lot.”
“Precisely,” the lawyer said, beaming at him. “It is a nice puzzle, is it not?”
23: Dinner At Corland Castle
The advantage of sharing a bedroom, Ian found, was that he could wander about while Izzy was dressing for dinner, pretending not to notice, of course, but secretly watching and admiring and delighting in being near her. His presence unsettled Brandon, who set her lips in a thin line of displeasure, but was powerless to prevent him from doing as he pleased. Since Izzy smiled every time he caught her eye, he guessed he was safe from being banished to the dressing room, where Wycliffe lurked. Once he was ready to go down, he perched on the end of the bed and openly watched as Izzy sat on a stool at her dressing table while the final touches were put to her toilette.
“There are guests tonight,” Izzy said, looking at Ian in the mirror as Brandon attended to her hair. “Uncle George and Aunt Jane are to be here, with my cousins.”
“They are always agreeable company,” Ian said.
“There is a friend of Aunt Jane’s, a Mrs Wightman. A candidate to be the next Lady Rennington.” She pulled a face. “I hate her already.”
“Such foolishness!” he said sharply. “This obsession with sons causes so much trouble. Thirty years the earl and countess have been married, and they are still fond of each other, so why should they not settle into old age together? It is monstrous to start again, and all for the sake of having a son. Rennington has a perfectly good heir in his brother.”
“On that point we are in agreement,” Izzy said, “but Mama has decided, and Papa seems set upon it.”
They sat down sixteen to dinner, the earl at one end of the table, and, in the absence of Lady Rennington, the earl’s sister, Lady Alice Nicholson at the other, acting as hostess. Ian found himself in the place of honour to Lady Alice’s right, while Mr George Atherton sat on her left. Lady Alice had been blind since a childhood illness, but she had learnt to cope well, finding her way around the castle by touch and at table ensuring that her plate, cutlery and glasses were precisely positioned, so that she could reach for them confidently. Food was more troublesome, however, and needed to be prepared for her to eat easily. It was a task which her husband, Mr Nicholson, had undertaken for her, but since his demise, a footman had been trained to do the job. Ian was always amazed at how well she managed under this regime, and unless one knew, one would not even guess that her lovely eyes saw nothing.
Izzy was almost at the other end of the table from Ian, although at least she was on the opposite side so he could see her throughout the meal. That was a blessing if he could not sit beside her, for at least he could draw comfort from her presence. There was nothing more frustrating than having her placed on the same side of the table, so that he could not even see her, but had to strain to catch drifts of her conversation from time to time. Tonight, he noticed that her eyes were often on him, as though she drew the same comfort from his presence as he didfrom hers. Had she always done that? Perhaps she had, and he was only just now noticing it.
While the ladies were present the conversation was light-hearted, especially at Izzy’s end of the table. Despite all her talking, Ian was pleased to see that Izzy ate from several dishes, making a good meal, for her. She was careless about food generally, being usually too absorbed in talking to those around her, but when she was increasing she was conscientious about eating wholesome food.‘It helps the babe grow big and strong,’she had told him once, making him shiver with fear for her. She was such a slight, delicate creature that a big child could be disastrous. But there was no point in worrying about that. Such matters were in God’s hands.
Once the ladies had withdrawn, the gentlemen rearranged themselves around Lord Rennington. George Atherton took Mrs Wightman’s place beside his brother, Eustace took Izzy’s seat by Mr Willerton-Forbes, and Ian moved up the table to place himself beside the earl. At first he had little to say, for the conversation was of local matters, of little interest to him. It was only when the subject of the murder arose amongst the others that Ian grew interested again.
It was Eustace who raised the issue, asking Mr Willerton-Forbes why he was still at Corland, now that the murderer had confessed.
“I am engaged in some legal and other matters for his lordship,” the lawyer said. “Nothing to do with the murder.”
Eustace nodded. “Your friends have gone home, I assume. Back to London? Or is it Hartlepool?”
“Neither, yet, sadly. They have only gone as far as Pickering.”
“Pickering!” Eustace cried. “Then they are still investigating Nicholson.”
“No, no, not at all,” the lawyer said. “His lordship is satisfied that the matter is closed now that Shapman has confessed, andhas instructed Captain Edgerton not to conduct any further enquiries. The captain has gone to Pickering to collect Miss Peach. Lord Farramont, you will not know of her, but she was Mrs Edgerton’s governess for many years, before retiring to Harrogate. She came here as a companion to Mrs Edgerton, but she found the investigation fascinating. As a spinster of a certain age, having lived a rather quiet life, nothing so exciting had ever come her way before. She went off to Birchall to befriend the Dewars at the rectory, and when Mrs Edgerton spent a few days in Pickering, she went there too, and enjoyed herself so much that she stayed there. She took a room above a chandlery.”
“It is hard to imagine what she found that was so exciting,” Eustace said, shaking his head in bemusement. “What is there for a spinster of a certain age to do in a sleepy little place like Pickering?”
“We have no idea,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “She believed she was investigating the murder, but she became very secretive, so her letters to Mrs Edgerton were very cryptic, in case they were intercepted. However, her landlady at the chandlery heard her muttering excitedly about laudanum and mule droppings, if you please.”
“Mule droppings!” Eustace said, with a laugh. “And laudanum… is that some kind of medicinal mixture? And would one drink it in a tisane or apply it as an ointment to an affected limb?”
There was general laughter around the table, but Mr Willerton-Forbes did not laugh. “She would not explain, and now she has gone off somewhere, and no one knows where. The captain is looking for her, however, and he is usually successful in his endeavours.”
“He did not manage to identify Nicholson’s murderer,” the earl said darkly.
Mr Willerton-Forbes acknowledged the point with a rueful smile. “We were fortunate that Tom Shapman had a conscience.”
“Should you like me to look for Miss Peach?” Eustace said. “I have friends all over the North Riding, and I can easily put out the word for everyone to keep an eye open for her, if you will furnish me with a description of her.”
“You are very good,” the lawyer said, “but I think we will not raise the alarm just yet. Miss Peach is a very capable person, very well able to take care of herself, and I do not imagine she can come to any harm looking for mule droppings. Are there any mules around these parts?”
