Serpent in the Garden (24 page)

“Granger tells me you gave Miss Manning some instruction in drawing in the pinery this morning. Tell me, do you believe that tutoring her might aid the recovery of my jewel?”

Joshua felt the blood rush to his cheeks but he refused to capitulate. “Miss Manning requested it. I thought an hour in her company might be useful in other ways. She is intimately acquainted with the workings of the Astley household. Moreover, the drawings I made while instructing her will serve for the portrait.”

“To my mind, spending the morning in the company of a young woman implies you are shirking your duty to find my necklace. And to me that only points to your guilt. Tell me, what did the morning’s endeavors yield?”

“It enabled me to learn something from Granger, which may be most significant.”

“What?”

“A detail of which you are doubtless aware—something concerning the temperature needed for pineapples to grow.”

She looked slightly surprised, but not for long.

“I presume you refer to the night the boy fell asleep and several plants perished? I don’t see what that has to do with my jewel. What intrigues me more is something Granger mentioned just now apropos his conversation with you: Miss Manning’s interest in gardening, and pineapples in particular. She has never said a word to me on the subject. And Granger says he instructed her about how to grow pineapples at Barlow Court some years ago, and she even gave fruit to Mr. Bentnick for his table. Her reticence is most peculiar, is it not? Do you think it points to a darker purpose? You know her family is lately impoverished. Perhaps she stole my jewel.”

Joshua’s instinct was to deflect Sabine’s attention from Lizzie—heaven forbid he should lead her into danger. He shrugged his shoulders as if Lizzie and pineapples were matters of equal unimportance. “God may know the workings of Miss Manning’s mind, but I am not privy to them. You are right. I consider her a possible suspect, but then I view everyone in the same manner.”

“Answer me this, then, Mr. Pope. Do you truly believe that the dead man was not Cobb?”

“What makes you ask?”

“Mr. Bentnick told me you believed as much. He said you were accosted last night by a man claiming to be Cobb. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“What did the man want?”

“Money, I presume.” He held her gaze, revealing not a flicker of guilt.

“Did he take it?”

“No. I kept hold of my purse.”

“Then if it wasn’t Cobb’s, whose was the body I found?”

“I believe it may have belonged to an attorney called Hoare, who was pursuing the dispute over the ownership of your necklace and chanced to be visiting Cobb the day before you found the corpse. And on that subject, may I ask you, madam, have you ever met John Cobb?”

“No, or I would have known it wasn’t him when I found him, would I not?”

He nodded, acknowledging to himself that even if she were lying, she would not readily ensnare herself. Nevertheless, she was answering his questions more candidly than he had dared hope. Now was the moment for his most crucial question. “Madam, I must ask, who is the other claimant for your necklace?”

Joshua had the impression that she was weighing whether to answer him or tell him to go to the devil. She raised her chin and caught his eye. “I could ask you how you know anything about this private matter, but Mr. Bentnick has already told me. I understand that you traveled to London to make enquiries on my behalf and that you visited the premises of the attorney who is pressing the claim against me. I presume that is why you ask me this?”

He nodded wordlessly. He felt the icy blast of her disapproval but braved it, knowing that she offered him an opportunity to learn something he needed desperately to discover. “It is for this reason I would like to ask who—”

“It isn’t true that I asked you to enquire into any of this.”

“Not in so many words. But you revealed your noble sentiments when you asked me to look into the death and question Granger on your behalf. I forbore to mention it then, but I too felt outrage at the way his death was glossed over without further inquiry—and so I felt assured of your concurrence, and took it upon myself to explore the matter further when the opportunity presented itself.”

She looked mollified by his manipulation of the truth. “Perhaps you are right, it is this business that lies behind the jewel’s loss. But I would not have you waste more time than necessary on Hoare now that my necklace is gone. Moreover, I must emphasize, the claim he pursued for his client was an utterly spurious one.”

“That may well be. But unless I learn the details, how can I be expected to judge? And how can I find the necklace? Cobb was pursuing the same claim. Moreover, he was interested in your daughter. It is lunacy to pretend that this may not have some bearing—”

“Very well, since you insist, I will tell you briefly all I know. The jewel was left to me by my second husband, Charles Mercier. He had a child out of wedlock before we were married. It is she who is behind this ridiculous claim.”

“And her name?”

Sabine laughed as if the question were one only an imbecile would ask. “If I knew that, the difficulty would be solved. She is intent upon retaining her respectability and wishes no one to know of her sordid birth; thus she wishes to remain incognito.”

Joshua recalled that Crackman’s letter made reference to the claimant’s desire for privacy. He judged she was telling the truth and was as frustrated as he by her lack of knowledge. He considered raising the matter of the letter in Herbert’s desk, which he was sure had been sent by the claimant, but suspected it would only incur her wrath. Having reached this impasse, he took a different track. “Then may I ask, ma’am, the purpose of your recent trip to London?”

She blushed and her lips twitched with annoyance. “It was private—nothing to do with this matter.”

Though he sensed she was holding back, he let the matter drop. “One last favor I would ask of you, madam. May I question your maid about what happened during that interval?”

“I cannot for the life of me think what you would learn from a servant, but if you wish, you might call on Marie early this evening. We will resume our usual routine of sittings from tomorrow, Mr. Pope—that will give you the opportunity to apprise me of your advances. Remember, finding my necklace must take precedence over your enquiries into Hoare.”

Then, without waiting for his response, she left.

Joshua watched her sweep down the path and head back to the house, her pale blue skirts billowing out behind her like a windblown sail. All things considered, she had behaved far better than he had dared hope. He had, after all, survived the encounter.

A
FTER Sabine had gone, Joshua remained in the pavilion. The woods about him were motionless, tinged with golden evening light, as tranquil as a landscape by Claude Lorraine. Then suddenly a beam of light flashed out from the shadows—a blinding flare, as if for an instant someone had held a mirror and magnified the sun. Joshua peered at the spot where he thought the light had originated. It was now past five o’clock in the evening. The shadows were long and purple. Had he been distracted by the setting sun reflecting off the water? He thought not, but it was impossible to be sure. He remembered the shadow of movement he thought he had glimpsed. Was this Cobb?

Joshua began to make for the copse. He was determined to track Cobb down, to put to him the questions he should have posed the night before and settle the matter of the corpse’s identity.

At the edge of the wood he slowed his pace and scoured the dark undergrowth for any sign of the person he knew was concealed there. Nothing he saw or heard alarmed him until, just as he approached an open grassy glade surrounded by a clump of ancient beech trees, something stirred.

Was it a cracking twig, or the rustle of leaves, or a squirrel jumping from one tree to another? The sound brought shivers of disquiet. He half made up his mind to retreat to the house and call for a glass of Hollands gin, but some instinct drove him a little to the right.

Behind the beech trees were dense thickets of hazel. The only way forward was to cross the open expanse. His steps now were short and hesitant, like a reluctant child’s. His breath was heavy and he was conscious of blood pounding his veins and an uncomfortable tingling at the roots of his hair.

He had almost reached the heart of the glade when he saw him. A tall man, wearing a dark costume and a black hat, lay slumped in a pool of sun against one of the beeches. An empty bottle lay next to him. The man’s face was invisible beneath the brim of his hat. Was it Cobb? It was hard to tell; the previous night when they had met it had been dark. The stature seemed about right, though it was difficult to judge when the fellow was sitting down.

Before Joshua tried to wake the man his right hand jolted and began to claw for some invisible object. His head jerked up. Joshua could now see a narrow, pallid face, eyes as dark as mahogany, cavernous cheeks, an unshaven complexion. Not Cobb, Joshua was fairly certain. The man was now awake and aware that he was being watched. They eyed each other, like two foxes stopped in their tracks.

Suddenly the man sprang to his feet; his face was purple with fury. He grasped Joshua by the scruff of the neck. “Damn you!” he shouted out. “How dare you come creeping up on me? Where’s the bottle you snatched from my hand?”

“I took nothing,” Joshua replied flatly. He could smell the brandy on the man’s breath and guessed that he was scarcely conscious of what he was saying. “The bottle is lying there, and by the look of it and you, it’s empty.”

“You impertinent devil. I’ll teach you to steal from me. I saw you with my own eyes, sir. Felt you too. D’you take me for a fool?” With that, he shoved Joshua away, and unsheathed his sword and brandished it under Joshua’s nose.

“Sir,” Joshua said, raising his hands to show he was unarmed and intended no harm. “I beg you, listen to me a minute. When I came upon you, you were fast asleep. Your notion that I robbed you was simply a dream. Search me if you will. You will find nothing on me.”

The man appeared confused, but still no less dangerous. Joshua pressed confidently on. “In any case, if it’s merely brandy you are after, you have only to come with me and I will procure you some.” Joshua reasoned that if the man could be persuaded into the house, he could have him apprehended.

The man squinted through the trees at the distant silhouette of Astley House. “Who are you? For I know everyone in that place and you are a stranger to me.”

“Why, sir,” Joshua said, more intrigued now than ever, “I had no idea you were a family friend. Allow me to present myself. I am Joshua Pope. Perhaps you have heard of me? I am an artist by profession, commissioned by Mr. Bentnick to paint his marriage portrait. Whom do I have the honor of addressing?”

The man stepped forward. His eyes were bloodshot, his complexion as white as his shirt; when his mouth lolled open, the smell of alcohol was overpowering.

“Since you promise me brandy, I suppose you must be a decent fellow. I will tell you, then—my name is Arthur Manning.”

“I was with your sister this morning,” Joshua said coldly. “She asked me to teach her drawing. She never told me her brother was coming to call.”