23 Dinner At Corland Castle

T he 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 did from 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, and has 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?"

"A few dotted here and there," Eustace said. "They are useful beasts on the moors, or on rocky coasts."

"I imagine they would be, in certain situations," the lawyer said with a smile. "At night, for instance, when there is a sizeable cargo to be transported swiftly and silently."

"Smugglers?" Ian said, in surprise. "Is there much of that going on here? We are a long way from the coast."

"It goes on everywhere within a day's ride of the coast," the earl said. "Perhaps further afield, once the goods are decanted into fresh barrels, less easy to trace. There will always be a demand for good quality brandy and wine. I dare say if my own cellars were examined closely— Not that I condone such lawbreaking, but I cannot check every barrel that comes in, can I?"

"That is not a situation where a lady of Miss Peach's age should be wandering about unprotected," Eustace said, alarmed. "The Excise men cannot be everywhere, and smugglers are wild men far outside the law, who would not hesitate to murder an elderly lady who got in their way. I confess, I am not happy to think of her blundering about amongst such people, no matter how capable she may be in ordinary situations."

Mr Willerton-Forbes eyed him thoughtfully. "Perhaps, then, I may take up your kind offer to look for her."

"It shall be done," Eustace said.

When the gentlemen began to leave the dining room, Ian rose too, but the earl touched his arm lightly.

"Stay a moment, Farramont, if you would be so good. Take another glass of port with me."

Ian's heart sank, but he dutifully refilled the glasses and resumed his seat. At first, while the others were still milling about, he talked on indifferent topics — of Izzy, and the Lakes, and the family at Lochmaben.

"Lady Rennington is there, is she not? Did you see anything of her while you were there?" he said wistfully.

"I was not at Lochmaben at all, sir, and saw nothing of her," Ian said. "Izzy can tell you of her, for she stayed some time at Lochmaben."

"Ah. Then I shall ask her about her mother." He sighed, his expression filled with sorrow. "What do you think of this Wightman woman, eh?"

"I have not exchanged more than a few words with her," Ian said. "She seems… inoffensive."

"Inoffensive. Yes." The earl sighed. "I am supposed to choose one of these women to marry, and yet… how does one choose? What made you choose Izzy, eh? A bit of a handful, that girl. Beautiful, of course — exquisitely beautiful, but difficult to live with, as I warned you when you first spoke to me. Yet you were determined to have her."

"And I have never regretted it for a moment," Ian said, smiling. "I cannot tell you precisely why… such things are ineffable, perhaps. I could talk about the brightness of her eye, or the graceful way she moves, yet always with a spring in her step. Or it could be the way she listens to a man, as if he is the only thing she cares about, and nothing else exists beyond that moment. Or her smile, her voice, the curve of her cheek, the softness of her lips. It is all of those things, and yet none of them at the same time. It is inexplicable, but a man just knows."

"Ah, yes," the earl said, brightening a little. "So it was with my dear Caroline — I just knew. And I think, in a way, she chose me, and perhaps that is a better way of doing things. Do you think we should join the others, Farramont? I hear music… perhaps Izzy will sing tonight. That would be a rare delight for us."

Ian followed him, a little bemused. He had expected some discussion of estate matters — money, perhaps, since Lord Rennington had such a high regard for Ian's abilities in that area, but he would have supposed that the question of the earl's marriage was a matter for the family and not an outsider like himself.

In the drawing room, the earl was quickly scooped up by Mrs Wightman, who was bending solicitously over his chair, waving cushions at him. The earl smiled wanly under her ministrations, allowed her to place the cushions behind his back and seemed resigned when she sat down beside him. Elsewhere, several of the ladies and a few gentlemen had gathered around the pianoforte, where Izzy was ensconced, her fingers flying lightly over the keys, a great deal of merriment surrounding her. As if she sensed his presence, she looked up and smiled at him, a curiously intimate moment when they were on opposite sides of the room. He watched her play for a little while, until some of the younger guests suggested an impromptu dance. Within moments the footmen were busy shifting furniture and rolling up carpets. To avoid the turmoil, Ian withdrew to the attached tower room, where he found Mr Willerton-Forbes gazing out of the window in silent contemplation.

"Are you also escaping from the awful risk of being called upon to dance?" Ian said to him.

"It is not necessary, for no one expects a lawyer to do anything so frivolous as dancing," he said, eyes twinkling. "No, it is quieter here, where I can enjoy my brandy and think, and yet still hear the gentle strains of the instrument. May I pour you a brandy, my lord?"

"Thank you, but I still have my port."

"Did Lord Rennington talk to you just now? About the money situation? I noticed he detained you at table when everyone else was leaving."

Ian laughed. "He talked to me, certainly, but there was no mention of money. His principal concern appears to be the choosing of a wife, about which I can offer him no advice."

"Ah, the poor man! He misses Lady Rennington greatly, but he is diligently putting himself forward to these several ladies. He will remember before too long the proposal he wished to put to you."

"Are you privy to his thoughts?" Ian said. "Perhaps you can enlighten me."

"Certainly. Shall we sit? We can be quite private here with so much noise in the room next door. It is about the earl's financial position. You may not be aware that the late earl was very dependent on the late Mr Nicholson to conduct his financial affairs. He had a steward at one time, but Mr Nicholson gradually assumed control of his lordship's money — receiving the rents, settling bills, obtaining cash when it was needed, matters of that nature. When the late earl died, there seemed to be less money than there should have been, and there were some suspicions, even then, that Mr Nicholson had been… less than entirely accurate in his record keeping, shall we say. But his lordship wished not to make a fuss about it, Mr Nicholson being his lordship's brother-in-law, and so nothing was done at the time, although the lawyers insisted on bringing in a steward to manage the estate."

"Who is himself less than accurate in his record keeping," Ian said.

"Indeed, although I would ascribe that to carelessness, rather than any malign intent. Whereas with Mr Nicholson…"

"You think he was feathering his own nest?"

"I am quite certain of it, Lord Farramont. About ten years ago, shortly after the death of the late earl, Mr Nicholson began two schemes on that basis. One was to make paste copies of his wife's jewellery, and sell the jewels. The other was a charitable organisation to which many people contributed sums over the years. Perhaps that would include yourself, my lord?"

"Indeed. I gave him ten or twenty pounds whenever I was here, which was not often. One does not refuse a request from a clergyman to support a worthy cause. Was there in fact a worthy cause?"

"Not that we can discover, no. The house at Pickering is supposed to be a charitable case, the house let to a widow at a peppercorn rent, but according to the attorney, the rent was the usual one for a property of that size. Did Mr Nicholson give you any indication of the nature of the charity to which you contributed?"

"Fallen women, I believe it was."

"Hmm. He told Mr Franklyn it was coal miners injured in the course of their work, and to Sir Hubert Strong, it was soldiers."

"How he must have laughed at us all," Ian said thoughtfully, "and all the time he was accumulating wealth for himself."

"Indeed, and if ever we can find where he kept that wealth, we could begin to return some of it to those who unwittingly contributed to it."

"Ah, is that the idea?"

"It is, and for the more recent transgressions, we can perhaps do something. For the jewels we know the precise amount that was raised, and that can go back to the Lady Alice. For the charitable contributions, we can trace most of that. But to ensure justice is truly done, we should need to look back at the time of the late earl, and discover how much of the estate profits went into Nicholson's pockets."

"And give it back to Lord Rennington, you mean?"

"Precisely so. Then he could increase the dowry for Miss Olivia, as he wishes to do since she is now illegitimate and less eligible to a prospective suitor, and he could help Mr Kent to a career. But I do not see how it is to be done, for Nicholson had the management of the whole. If a tenant farmer owes twenty-five pounds in rent, and Nicholson records twenty and keeps five for himself, how can we ever trace that?"

Ian laughed. "That is the simplest thing in the world — ask the farmer. He will know how much he paid."

"But to go back thirty years?"

"He will know to the penny how much his father paid for the same land, and his grandfather too, and can probably tell you to the nearest bushel how much grain that land produced over the last fifty years, at least. A tenant farmer may be illiterate, but he knows his land intimately. That is my experience, anyway. Ask the farmers, Mr Willerton-Forbes, compare their memories with the written records of the rent receipts, and you may recover a great deal of the earl's money, although that would be a sad day for Miss Nicholson."

"Indeed. If the fortune her father left her in his will turns out to be entirely stolen, there will be nothing left for her. But perhaps that is as it should be," he added thoughtfully.

Ian looked at him enquiringly.

"I am thinking, Lord Farramont, of this confession by Tom Shapman. You are aware of the circumstances? That he wished to marry Miss Nicholson, but Mr Nicholson refused him. So he murdered Nicholson in revenge."

"And thereby he will hang, instead of waiting a few months and marrying his sweetheart when she is of age?" Ian said.

"Precisely so! It is a ludicrous suggestion, but… we are obliged to accept it as it stands, because the alternative is worse."

"Because…? Oh, because if Shapman did not murder Nicholson, then he must have confessed to protect the person who did— Miss Nicholson! You think she murdered her father?"

"A man would surely only choose to hang for a crime he did not commit to protect someone he loves," Willerton-Forbes said sombrely. "Miss Nicholson seems an unlikely murderer, I agree, but Tom Shapman is even more unlikely, and what other explanation could there be? His story is consistent with all the facts of the case, and he even accounted for the missing axe. Do you know about that? The murder weapon was part of a display on the stairs, put there by Mr Eustace Atherton, but no one could remember seeing the axe there, even the maid who dusted the display every day. Shapman said he had put it in one of the Chinese urns which stand to either side of the armoury display, ready to use. It is a detail that only the murderer could have known. So either Shapman himself is the murderer, or—"

"Or the real murderer told him of it."

"Precisely. So you see why we have had to let this go. The earl has forbidden any further investigation into the murder. You may imagine how he feels to think that perhaps his own niece killed her father! It is appalling. So we do not mention the murder in his presence if we can avoid it, and if he remembers to talk to you about his financial affairs, I should be obliged to you if you will say nothing about Shapman or Miss Nicholson."

"Of course," Ian said.

"And will you help us to recover this missing money for the earl?"

"I will do what I can while I am here," Ian said firmly, "but my wife's wishes are my principal concern now, and I should like to get her home as soon as I can. However, the earl is not incapable of riding about his own land and talking to his own tenant farmers, and he has three sons who are equally capable. The steward can furnish them with a list of all those who pay them rent. Perhaps it is time the earl took responsibility for his own land, as every landowner should do."