Serpent in the Garden (35 page)

“I never thought you would disapprove of the fashion for pineapples. Forgive me, I had no intention of giving offence. If that is how you feel I can’t expect you to assist me.”

“Stay awhile,” said Brown. “My private views don’t mean I won’t help you. I have yet to fall out with a single one of my employers, Pope, but that doesn’t mean I agree with them. I will confess to you, while I grow pineapples for His Majesty, I see them as an embodiment of much that is foolish in society today. Simplicity in nature, as in most aspects of life, is infinitely preferable to conspicuous display. I am most successful where I am invisible.”

“Is not civilization built upon advance, whether artistic, scientific, or in the landscape? Can you say that foreign plants and trees have not enlivened our gardens?”

“They are all very well in their place, Mr. Pope. But I prefer to improve the natural beauties, rather than import foreign ones. To continue your allusion, I believe, since my work is set in England, it is best read in English too. Phrases in other languages, whether from the Indies or Africa, are unnecessary and incomprehensible. But as I said before, I always keep my patrons happy. Why shouldn’t Miss Manning have a pineapple pit at Barlow Court if she so desires one? I believe I have copies of the drawings for her gardens somewhere here. Let us consult them.”

Brown stood up and went to a mahogany folio chest and began to rummage about in the drawers. Soon he extracted a large clothbound folio and brought it to a library table that stood in the center of the room. Inside was a large drawing folded into three, and several smaller sheets on which were details such as a planting of trees around the shore of a lake.

One smaller page showed the Manning’s kitchen garden placed at the rear boundary of the house, on the eastern corner. “I confess, Pope, this situation for a pine pit is not ideal. It would be best set to the south, so it gains maximum benefit from the sun. But here the only wall facing south is taken with a vine, upon which Miss Manning insisted, having heard of the plan to plant one at Hampton Court.”

“I gather Miss Manning is something of an enthusiast in horticulture?”

“Miss Manning? I agree, she was remarkable—someone of enthusiasm, imagination, intellect, and ambition.” He replied with the same goodwill in his voice as earlier in their conversation.

Emboldened, Joshua pressed further. “Was?”

“Her circumstances changed, and inevitably, that altered her.”

“Do I gather, then, you know about her brother, Arthur?”

A wistful expression came to Brown’s eyes as he looked at the ceiling and considered before replying. “Not all my employers are the owners of great estates. I have worked most satisfactorily for some who possessed less than half an acre. Anyone may have the misfortune to find themselves in financial difficulties. I tell you in confidence that at present the earl of Northampton finds himself in an awkward predicament. Work under way at his estate Castle Ashby has recently been suspended. To return to Miss Manning—I designed this scheme for Barlow Court several years ago and told the dear girl she could execute as much of it as she chose each year. We were proceeding quite happily, until some months ago I received a most poignant note from her.”

He stopped and looked at Joshua for a moment. “I still have the note in my possession. Perhaps it would not be indiscreet of me to tell you what it said.”

“As God is my witness, it will go no further,” Joshua said, raising his palm as if taking the oath at the King’s Bench.

Brown shifted papers on his desk, and at length removed a small folded letter from a bundle tied with a green ribbon. He took up an eyeglass, perused the paper, then looked up at Joshua.

“Very well, then, I won’t read it to you, it’s too personal for that, but I’ll tell you broadly what it says. The letter is dated in April this year. It declares she is much obliged for the favor I did her in coming and making such inspired suggestions for improvements to the gardens at Barlow Court. But owing to an unfortunate encounter between her dear brother and a stranger of dubious integrity, regrettably she can no longer continue; our schemes must wait. She does not blame her dear brother—she remains fond of him as ever—she only rues the dreadful fate that led him to take the actions he did. Touching, is it not?” said Brown, looking up, having reached the end of the page.

“Very affecting. I had no idea she was so devoted to her brother. She has barely mentioned him to me. Indeed, he seems to have entirely disappeared from the scene.”

Brown shook his head. “Her loyalty and devotion to Arthur cannot be called into question.”

“Did you ever meet him?”

“Once or twice, but only to pass the time of day. We never engaged in conversation. His interests lay some distance from the parterre and potting shed, I hazard.”

Joshua’s eyes gleamed brightly. His brain was now cantering ahead. Lizzie’s letter surprised him. Her relationship with her brother surprised him. He wanted to speak candidly to Brown. But could he trust him? What had he to lose, apart from possibly riling this amiable man and leaving his house with a flea in his ear?

“Mr. Brown, I am going to speak to you with the same openness you have shown to me. If what I have to say offends you, forgive me. I speak from the highest of motives, I assure you.”

Brown sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. He indicated that Joshua should proceed.

“In the past week, while I have been staying at Astley, there has been a suspicious death in the pinery. I met Arthur Manning in the grounds of Astley a few nights ago. He struck me as something of a scoundrel. I don’t believe he was involved in the death, but he may have taken a valuable necklace. I have been implicated in its disappearance, and the only way to prove my innocence is by recovering it. In truth, the purpose of my visit is not to discuss pineapples, but to see if I might persuade you to help me clear my name and discover the truth. What I want to know is this: is there a place on the grounds of Barlow Court or Astley where Arthur Manning could conceal himself and quite possibly the necklace as well?”

Brown scratched his head. A bemused smile slowly stretched over his face, though behind it Joshua detected his astonishment at what he had just heard. “I can scarce credit a member of the Manning family would comport himself in such a way. But who am I to judge a man after two cursory meetings with him? If all you want is to reach the truth, and save your skin, I see no reason why I should not help you. A hiding place you’re after, is it? Well, then, let me see.”

He turned back to the large plan and unfolded it. “Here is the river; there’s a summerhouse, but that’s of no consequence since it floods every high tide. Over here is a small folly—but again, it would make a poor hiding place: there are no windows or doors. No, in short, there is nowhere I can think of in the grounds of Barlow Court where a man might conceal himself. If it was Astley, on the other hand, I might suggest a few.”

“But why do you think it more likely?”

“For one thing, the park is ten times the size. Let me show you, my friend.” He went back to his folio chest and withdrew a folder with ASTLEY PARK emblazoned upon it. He unfolded the plan; the sheet was far larger than that for Barlow Court, measuring perhaps eight feet across. It flopped over the sides of the desk and fell to the floor. The lake formed a long, gently meandering strand across a half of the surface; in places where it widened there was a sliver of green to denote an island. Carefully marked around its borders were clumps of trees and shrubs. Elsewhere were marked paths, fishponds, enclosures for fowl, bridges, gateways, temples, fountains, the cascade, and further splashes of green of varied form and size denoting plantings. In one of these, Joshua reflected, he had met Arthur Manning.

Brown took up a ruler and pointed it to the eastern corner of the lake, where a series of blue steps was marked. “Now, over here is the temple of Neptune, but it is a local beauty spot where ramblers often walk. I doubt he would hide there, for fear of being noticed.”

“And this?” Joshua said, indicating a craggy outline halfway along the cascade and separated from it by a faint line.

“The grotto. It is a series of tunnels and underground chambers, some natural, some enlarged under my direction. Herbert lost interest in it halfway through and it was never finished. I daresay since then it has scarcely been used. The entrance resembles the mouth of a cave, concealed behind rocks. There are iron gates, which I assume are kept locked to prevent anyone inadvertently wandering in there and becoming lost. The light inside is poor: it would be a gloomy place to hide, and dangerous, too, if he got lost. But if he had been able to gain access to it, a man might live there unnoticed.”

“What are the dangers?”

“Apart from losing himself in the maze of tunnels, there is a risk of drowning. The grotto is indirectly linked to the cascade through this building here, which is also a possible hiding place.” He pointed to an outline at the lake end of the cascade labeled “Octagon.”

“It was built to disguise the overflow for the lake. It is conceivable, I suppose, for a man to hide in the basement, though that too would be precarious.”

“Why so?”

“Because of the constant changes in the water level of the lake. Assuming the level remains low, as at present—you will recall there has been no significant rain for several weeks—the basement would be dry. But when the level in the lake rises, that changes very swiftly. The overflow system is designed to reroute the water to the river to prevent the ground around the lake becoming flooded. In winter or in prolonged spells of wet weather, the basement is flooded more often than not. Even now, if the weather breaks, only the most foolhardy of men would pass the night there. And if the water rose, it could seep into the grotto. So in either event he would put himself in peril.”

“Do you think Arthur Manning recognizes the dangers of these places?”

Brown looked dubious. “I don’t know, Mr. Pope. As I said before, to my knowledge he took little interest in such matters. In any case all this is no more than speculation. Who knows, Arthur Manning may be hiding somewhere else entirely. But if he is in one or other spot and he isn’t warned, I fear that before long there may be another death at Astley.”

A
S JOSHUA rounded the corner to leave his carriage at the stables, he saw that Francis Bentnick and Lizzie Manning were on the rose terrace outside the drawing room. He felt a flicker of interest seeing the pair seated in companionable silence, reading. This was the second time in recent days he had found them alone engrossed together. Surely this was a sign that so far Lizzie’s fears regarding Violet were unfounded; Francis remained true.

Having learned of Arthur’s likely hiding places, Joshua reasoned that the way to avoid further attack (assuming Arthur was his attacker) was to persuade Lizzie Manning to accompany him. Arthur could hardly attempt an assault with his devoted sister present. But Joshua knew it was crucial to put the proposal to Lizzie alone. If Francis discovered the scheme he might grow protective, insist he come too, which would only make it harder to lure Arthur out of hiding. “Good afternoon, Miss Manning, Mr. Bentnick.”