Serpent in the Garden (33 page)

“And what did this Mr. Cobb say when you apprehended him?” asked Bridget.

“He denied he was responsible for attacking me and declared he did not know who my attacker was. He said that he dared not return to the Star and Garter, for fear of being attacked himself. And that since I had taken his bag and possessions, he had been forced to use the barn as a shelter. He suggested that my attacker had mistaken me for him. No doubt seeing the state I was in made him even more fearful for his safety, and that was why he ran off at the earliest opportunity when you arrived.”

Joshua remembered with a twinge of anxiety that he had sent Cobb to his lodgings—her mother’s home. He knew he would have to choose an opportune moment to break this news, but he wasn’t ready just yet. He moved to a subject that he knew would interest her: Lizzie Manning. Explaining that she was the daughter of the local justice and a close friend of Caroline and Francis Bentnick, he said, “There is more to her than I first realized. She is unofficially engaged to Francis Bentnick, for whom Violet has also formed an attachment. Lizzie concealed her interest in gardens and the existence of her brother. She went to visit a nursery yesterday when I had told her I would call on her, and I am determined to discover why. She is undeniably flighty and capricious; and I cannot decide whether the inconsistencies in her behavior are part of the usual female psyche or something to do with her distrust of Violet, or whether they have deeper significance.”

“You have a great deal to say on the subject of Miss Manning. She sounds a most fascinating character,” observed Bridget dryly.

“I assure you she is nothing of the kind. Far from fascination, I feel annoyance when I think of her. She disappears whenever I want to see her.”

“Have you heard anything from her since your escapade with Cobb?”

“She sent me a letter with details of what she had learned from Violet.”

“And that did not satisfy you?”

Joshua reflected for a moment. “Most of what she told me I had learned from Cobb already. There was much she could have said that she did not. She was decidedly vague on the reason for her departure and said nothing at all of why she wanted to visit a nursery.”

“What do you think her reasons were?”

“Lizzie Manning has a scoundrel for a brother. I met him the other night. If it wasn’t Cobb who attacked me yesterday, it was most likely Arthur Manning. He has ruined his family as a result of gambling losses and has apparently taken it upon himself to leave the family house for shame. As I said before, Lizzie has never mentioned him to me, which shows, I suppose, she is ashamed of him. It would not surprise me to learn a misadventure of some sort had befallen him and that was why she left.”

“And the visit to the nursery?”

“The reason for that is easier to divine. Her friend Caroline Bentnick has a theory that Hoare was murdered by being poisoned by unripe pineapple. I think Lizzie went to consult an expert in the subject to see if such a thing might be possible.”

At this point they arrived at Richmond Gate and entered the park. The road passed through plantations of ancient oak and beech and ranked saplings of various size and form. Herds of deer grazed on long tussocks of sun-bleached grass. Bridget had never imagined there were so many tints of green, and enthralled by all she saw, she fell temporarily silent.

Joshua could not pretend any great knowledge of or interest in horticulture. Nature was all very fine when viewed through the frame of a window, or on a promenade through a park, but he had never comprehended the urge to meddle with it. Nevertheless, the view was prettier than he thought it would be, and the ancient oaks particularly impressed him. But he was soon musing on Caroline’s theory.

How likely was it that pineapples had anything to do with Hoare’s death? From Caroline’s account, pineapples brought about miscarriage and were used as a purgative, but they weren’t fatal. And yet scores of plants that grew readily in the garden certainly were fatal; Joshua was no expert, yet even he knew certain narcissus, nightshade, yew, reeds, and aconites were all capable of killing Hoare very effectively. Why, then, would anyone bent on murder bother to use a plant that might or might not kill his or her victim? Why not use something that was definitely lethal? Or was the answer perfectly obvious? Pineapple had been used precisely because it was not lethal.

Assuming the fruit had been used to poison Hoare, who might have done such a thing? Granger had said he believed Cobb had cut an unripe pineapple, although he did not see him do so. Having just sent Cobb to his lodgings, and feeling far from happy about the decision, Joshua was anxious to convince himself of Cobb’s innocence. Both Sabine and Violet knew pineapples were poisonous, though it was Sabine who was constantly coming and going in the pinery.

Just as he came to this conclusion the carriage turned a sharp bend. Joshua found himself jolted against Bridget, and he caught the scent of rose water behind her ears. Bridget was no longer an encumbrance; even her questions did not irk him as Lizzie Manning’s did. On the contrary, she aroused feelings of warmth. Perhaps he would put her on the second stage to London, not the first.

It was then that he remembered the piece of news he had still to tell her concerning Cobb. But before he had time to broach the subject, a further bout of questions from Bridget tumbled forth.

“What attempts have you made to discover the claimant to the necklace?”

His guilty feelings regarding Cobb being at the forefront of his mind, Joshua answered with as much candor as he could muster. “Hoare must have known, but since he is dead I cannot ask him. Cobb could not tell me. Mr. Hoare’s senior partner, Enoch Crackman, knows but so far refuses to say until he has permission of the person concerned. When I return to London I will call on him again.”

“Doesn’t Herbert know?”

“He claims not. But I believe that despite her claim to the contrary, Sabine knows, and that she recently visited her in London to reach some sort of compromise.”

Bridget leaned toward him and put her hand on his arm. The gesture felt curiously natural. “Can you be sure Cobb was telling the truth?”

“He had every appearance of doing so.”

“But Cobb has been engaged in this case for some time—months, if not years. The client must have paid him during that time. He must know who she is.”

“Not necessarily. I wager it was Crackman who engaged Cobb, and who paid him too. Such arrangements are far from uncommon,” said Joshua, in a voice of authority. “Cobb probably never knew who was behind the claim. He told me Charles Mercier’s mistress, Emma Baynes, married on her return to this country. Her child probably took the stepfather’s name. Their identity has doubtless been closely guarded to avoid embarrassment to the daughter, who after all must now be of marriageable age.”

Bridget looked pensive. “Cobb said he came to pursue the case, but Hoare had been employed here to take care of the London side of things. Cobb did not have much of a reason to come to England, did he?”

Joshua swallowed uneasily. He had to admit that on the surface things looked black against Cobb. “He implied it was his affection for Violet that brought him. That aside, Cobb’s true motive may have been pecuniary gain. As well as being beautiful, Violet is an eligible young woman. Once her mother marries Herbert Bentnick, she will be well provided for, with or without the necklace.”

He fell silent as he drew the threads of his argument to its inevitable, unwelcome conclusion. Cobb had several motives to want Hoare dead. Hoare knew but refused to name the claimant of the necklace, and furthermore, he stood between Violet and Cobb. With another lawyer watching him, Cobb hadn’t the earlier freedom he had enjoyed in Barbados to persuade Violet to respond to his attentions. Or perhaps he did not need to persuade Violet. Perhaps she was a willing conspirator. She might have told Cobb that unripe pineapple was harmful but that it wouldn’t kill; they could use it as a means of making Hoare ill so that he would be forced to retire back to London. Hoare arrived at the inn and Cobb persuaded him to eat the fruit. When Hoare was taken ill, Cobb transported him to the pinery to disguise his involvement. Hoare was sick enough to lose consciousness. He might not have died but for a further misfortune. Joshua recalled Granger’s confession. The boy in charge of regulating the temperature in the pinery had fallen asleep that night. The ground grew hotter than it should have, and the heat had been sufficient to kill Hoare.

No sooner had he reached this unpalatable conclusion than Joshua dismissed it. His hypothesis was obviously flawed. Why would Cobb need to take Hoare to the pinery if he didn’t expect him to die? Some other person must have been involved whom Hoare expected to meet at the pinery. Joshua recalled Cobb’s assertion that Hoare had gone to a rendezvous in his place. Assuming that much was true, who was the rendezvous with? Violet might have arranged a nocturnal rendezvous with Cobb, perhaps intending to kill him to prevent him pestering her. But she would not have confused Cobb with Hoare.

Joshua shook his head.

“What is it?” Bridget asked.

He released the reins a little. He had to tell her sooner or later. “I have a confession to make that you may not take kindly. When I met Cobb by the side of the road yesterday, I was not myself. I believed at first that he had attacked me, but he persuaded me otherwise, saying he lived in fear for his life and that everything he possessed was in his bag, which I had taken. I was muddleheaded and gave him the benefit of the doubt. On reflection I am now less certain of his innocence. Although it still seems unlikely that he killed Hoare, he nevertheless had plenty of reasons to wish him out of the way and I cannot be sure he didn’t have a hand in it. But my confession is this: I gave Cobb a key to my rooms and insisted he make himself at home there until I returned with his bag. I have several more matters to ask of him. I wanted to have him where I could interrogate him whenever I needed to. Furthermore, his health is fast deteriorating. I confess I felt sorry for him.”

Joshua naturally expected to see Bridget grow hysterical at this information. In letting Cobb, a possible murderer, have entry to his rooms, he had permitted him entry to her home too.

But Bridget did not cry or reprimand him. Any terrors she felt were carefully controlled. Her voice was quietly determined. “In that case,” she said, “should you not return to London to question him?”

“I cannot, Bridget. If I run away back to London now, Sabine and Herbert will read it as a sure signal of my guilt.”

“But assuming you are correct in thinking Cobb is innocent, you may be in grave danger here. You have been attacked once. Next time you may not escape so lightly. Tell Herbert you believe the answers lie in London and he will let you go.”

“I will come directly. But first I have matters to attend here.”

She furrowed her brow. “Then, for my mother’s sake, I must return straightaway.”

As he turned the chaise to head for the Star and Garter, Bridget sat erect, looking off into the distance. She looked unusually pale and serious, and although Joshua guessed the nature of her preoccupation was her concern for her mother, she said not a word.