A Corpse in Shining Armour. Caro Peacock
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only done so because I choose to regard her visit to me as social rather than professional.’
‘Have Stephen and Miles always hated each other?’ I said.
He considered, and must have decided that this was a social matter too, though he remained wary.
‘I wouldn’t say hated. But it’s fair to say that from boyhood there has been some friction between them.’
‘Well, they hate each other now,’ I said. ‘Three days ago they were fighting each other in public.’
‘I’m sure that incident has been much exaggerated.’
‘I was there.’
He sighed and said nothing.
‘I’m told Miles Brinkburn was always his mother’s favourite,’ I said.
‘That’s true. He was a charming, sunny-natured child, more inclined to show affection than his elder brother. Then, in his first term at public school, he caught diphtheria and nearly died. He had to spend the next year at home with his mother, convalescing. That naturally brought them closer.’
‘And Stephen was not so charming and sunny-natured?’
He frowned.
‘I’m implying no criticism of Stephen, none at all. He was a most satisfactory boy in every respect.’
That sounded like criticism to my ears. Any boy so described must be either very good at hiding things or insufferably boring. I said nothing, and Mr Lomax went on reciting his praises.
‘He was a steady worker at school, never top of the form but always above the average. He captained his house’s cricket team. By comparison, Miles was never good at applying himself to anything for long. Their schoolmasters used to hold Stephen up as a good example to him. I’m afraid that didn’t make for friendship between them.’
‘Did Lord Brinkburn have a preference?’
‘He didn’t spend much time with his sons, but on his visits to England he did encourage Stephen to take an interest in managing the family estates. He took him on tours of their property in the north-east on several occasions and Stephen visited him once in Italy.’
‘Without Miles?’
‘Yes. Lord Brinkburn told me that Stephen had a good head for business. He’s very competent.’
‘So Lord Brinkburn had no doubt that Stephen was his son?’
‘None whatsoever, I’m certain of that.’
‘And Lady Brinkburn didn’t begin to cast doubts on it until her husband was in no state to contradict her?’
‘That’s true.’
Silence for a while, apart from the sound of feet walking heavily down the staircase outside.
‘So what you want from me is evidence that can be produced in court showing Lady Brinkburn is mad?’ I said.
‘Let us say that her memory and judgement are less than reliable. It would be better than the alternative of suggesting that she’s trying to advance one son’s interests against those of his brother, and her own honour.’
‘There is a third possibility,’ I said. ‘Suppose she’s telling the truth?’
The slate eyes met mine and held them for what seemed like a long time.
‘Miss Lane, we may suppose many things. We may suppose that this table will grow wings and fly away, or that the River Thames will run uphill. On the whole, I’d suggest it’s a better policy to stick with what is likely.’
So my brief was narrower than Disraeli had suggested. It seemed that it wasn’t a question of testing one version against another, only of providing support for the line already decided. Plus, I was not to concern myself with the strange death of a servant. I felt like a horse between shafts and in blinkers. Still, horses have to eat.
‘How am I to set about introducing myself to Lady Brinkburn?’ I said.
He actually smiled. This was where he wanted to be.
‘I’ve been giving that some thought, Miss Lane. The Buckinghamshire estate is a small one, no more than two hundred acres or so, just across the Thames from Maidenhead. The views are less charming than they used to be, owing to the Great Western Railway’s insistence on building a monstrously large bridge over the river, just next door to the Brinkburn property, but it’s still a pleasant area. The estate includes a riverside cottage, about half a mile away from Brinkburn Hall. It was built as a residence for a water bailiff, but Lady Brinkburn doesn’t care for fishing so it has been standing empty for some time. Rather than let it go to ruin, the estate lets it out occasionally to suitable people. Provided you look away from the railway bridge, it’s a picturesque spot, and much favoured by artists. You paint or sketch, I suppose?’
‘A little.’
‘I’ve already written to Whiteley saying that an artistic acquaintance of mine is interested in taking it for some weeks. It’s unfortunate that you attended the inquest this morning, but I don’t suppose for a minute that Whiteley will recognise you. Lady Brinkburn is fond of painting and often walks in the woods or by the river. I’m sure you could arrange things so that the two of you meet.’
And go from there to proving her a weaver of fantasies? It was a tall order, but then tall orders were my business.
‘Very well,’ I said. ‘When am I expected to move in?’
‘Within the next few days, I told him. There really is no time to be lost. From the latest report I had, Lord Brinkburn is sinking fast.’
He picked up some papers from the desk.
‘There are instructions here on how to get to the cottage. You may find it best to take the stagecoach to Maidenhead and hire a chaise. There’s also a banker’s draft for forty pounds towards your expenses. I’d be grateful if you’d sign a receipt.’
I signed. He was almost cheerful by now.
‘It really is a very pleasant place,’ he said. ‘I’m sure Whiteley will find a woman from the village who will clean and cook for you, and of course there’s a bedroom for your maid.’
‘Of course.’
I folded the papers into my reticule, stood up and shook hands with him, which he didn’t seem to expect, and walked in the early evening sunshine back to Abel Yard.
Tabby was sitting on the mounting block by the carriage mender’s store-shed. As I approached, she looked up, half hopeful, half apprehensive.
‘If you’d hurt that hen, I’d have had nothing more to do with you,’ I said.
I could see a succession of possibilities passing over her face like cloud shadows: run away, brazen it out, pretend she didn’t know what I was talking about.
‘I didn’t do it no harm, I took care of that.’
‘It must have been awkward, tying all those knots.’
I must have let some softness into my expression, because her face lit up.
‘It was, too. I didn’t want you undoing them before…’
Then she realised what she was admitting and looked scared again.
‘Before you could take my purse out of my reticule. Then you kept me in sight all the way to Holborn and ran the last part. That wasn’t so clever, you know. You couldn’t have known where I was going, so you must have had to follow me quite closely. In that case, why would you have to come running up, hot and breathless?’
She worked out what I meant immediately and nodded at the justice of it, biting her lip. Her teeth were whiter and more regular than you’d have expected from her way of life.
‘Why did you do it?’