A Moment Of Silence Part 15

'And you think that it was this Miss Wallis who met her death here?' she asked.

He nodded. 'She left her place of employment on the day of the murder saying that she was travelling to Dorchester to visit her family, and she has not been heard of since. I have made enquiries and I have discovered that she never arrived at her mother's house, nor has any message been received from her. I think that it is all too likely that it was she who...No, it is saying too much to say it is likely. But it is, at least, possible.'

'And you wish to make this possibility public?'

'Sir Edgar is, naturally, very reluctant to agree. He believes that it will raise a great many unpleasant conjectures without materially advancing the cause of justice. But I think that maybe it is my duty to speak to Mr Fallows about it.'

She remembered their conversation as they left the chapel and comprehended how difficult such a step would be for him. It would be acting counter to a lifetime of promoting and safeguarding the Montague name and credit.

He gave a long sigh. 'But, since the whole business is so perplexing, Miss Kent, and bearing in mind that I have no definite proof of my suspicion, would I be justified in going against Sir Edgar's wishes in this?'

'I doubt,' said Dido carefully, 'that the perplexity of the business can be a sound argument for not throwing a little light upon it.'

'Except that it might not be light that was thrown a but only more darkness and confusion. The disappearance of this young woman might be nothing but a remarkable coincidence.' He sat in silence for some minutes and his eyes seemed to be drawn back to the spinney. 'It is impossible, Miss Kent. It cannot have been done by anyone connected with this family.'

'And yet,' she pointed out gently, 'by your own reasoning, Mr Lomax, it cannot have been done by an outsider either.'

'That is true.'

'But we know that it was done. We have the body of the woman as proof that it was done.'

'Your logic is without fault, Miss Kent. And,' he added with rather a sad smile, 'without mercy too. You will allow me no escape.'

'Because I do not believe that such an honourable man can find lasting peace in an escape which denies the truth.'

He gave her a very penetrating look. 'Thank you for your good opinion. And, of course, you are right to apply cool reason to the matter. If only we knew how it was done, then I might be able to decide...' He stopped and shook his head. 'I see no way to come at it.'

'Well, I am no great reasoner, Mr Lomax. My education had too much playing of scales and too little logic in it, you see. But my brother Edward a who once won a medal for debating at Cambridge a used to tell me that in an argument, all possibilities, however unlikely, must be weighed and either proved or disproved.'

'It is an excellent rule. But how do you mean to employ it in this case?'

'Let me see.' She considered a while. 'You say that you believe it is impossible that the woman was killed between ten and one as we have all been supposing, because the gentlemen did not leave the spinney and no strangers entered the shrubbery?'

He nodded.

'Well, if she was not killed then, she must have died either before that time or after it.'

'Yes,' he said rather doubtingly.

'And, since Mr Harris and your son visited the shrubbery and the hermitage at five and twenty past twelve, and saw nothing remarkable there, then we know that the murder cannot have taken place before the guns went out.'

'You argue remarkably well, Miss Kent, for...'

'For a woman?'

'No. I meant to say that you argue remarkably well for someone who spent her childhood playing scales.'

'Thank you, Mr Lomax, but I think you would be even more surprised if you were to hear my shocking performance upon the pianoforte.'

He smiled. 'But,' he said, 'this leaves us only with the possibility that she died after one o'clock.'

'Yes.' It was Dido's turn to be doubting now.

'And that, you must agree, presents us with the difficulty of how a shot so close to the house as the shrubbery could go unheard. You know the ways of Belsfield well enough by now, I am sure, to understand just how quiet our afternoons are. Would it go unremarked if our peace and our quiet conversations were shattered by so loud a noise?' He stopped. 'My dear Miss Kent! Are you unwell? Have I said something amiss?'

Dido was holding her hands to her mouth now and was looking exceedingly pale.

'I see,' she whispered. 'Oh, Mr Lomax, I see now how it was done.'

Chapter Twenty.

...My dear Eliza, it is a simple matter of putting Swisserland in the correct place.

And from that profound statement you should, of course, understand everything and I ought to have no need to wear out my genius with tiresome explanations. But, since I would wish to be celebrated as much for my compa.s.sion as my cleverness, I shall explain a little more.

Do you remember our schoolroom and the map of Europe which must be put together in our geography lessons? Do you recall how Swisserland was always the key and once that was in place, France and Saxony and the Austrian Monarchy and all the others fitted in around it?

Well, in the park today, when Mr Lomax spoke of a loud noise disturbing our conversations, it was as if he had put that one piece of the map in the right place for me. And all the other pieces began to fit in around it.

You see, I remembered how, when I was walking along the drive with Mrs Harris, our conversation was indeed broken in upon by a very loud noise. But one which the household is so accustomed to hearing that it pa.s.ses without comment.

The servants' dinner bell!

And then I saw how a and when a the murder must have been done. At three o'clock on any day at Belsfield there is such a noise for a full half-minute that a gunshot would certainly pa.s.s unheard.

So you see, Eliza, Miss Wallis was not, as we supposed, killed while the gentlemen were shooting in the spinney, but at precisely three o'clock a a full two hours after they returned.

I have said nothing, as yet, to Mr Lomax about all this. I needed some time to collect my thoughts. But, no sooner was I sure of the time of the shot, than other things began to suggest themselves. For to have been so exact about the timing the killer must surely have planned the terrible deed with great care a and must have known, too, where to find the victim.

So then I fell to thinking of the difficulty which Mr Lomax has suggested and which I have not properly considered before. How and why did Miss Wallis come to be in the shrubbery?

Oh dear! How stupid of me not to think of this before! You see she cannot have walked through the gardens because the gardeners were there. I have spoken to them again, and two of them were on the lawns raking leaves from midday until their dinner bell sounded. (And when the bell sounded the poor woman was, of course, already in the shrubbery being murdered.) So, she must have walked across the park from the side gate. Which she might have done with ease after one o'clock, when Mr Lomax was no longer watching from the knoll. But, Eliza, she would not have crossed the ha-ha with ease!

This is a difficulty which Mr Lomax has not reckoned with because I suppose that he has never worn a gown. But it would require a great deal of determination to negotiate that obstacle in a skirt and petticoat and I cannot but think that Miss Wallis was resolved on being unseen. Why else would she go to such trouble instead of walking along the drive and across the lawn? And that means that she never planned to go farther than the shrubbery, for she would certainly have been seen as soon as she stepped out of it into the rose garden.

Now, Eliza, I must ask you this: why did Miss Wallis travel nine miles from Tudor House and scramble through a ditch and over a fence in order to visit Sir Edgar Montague's shrubbery?

I am quite certain that it was not to admire the beauty of his laurels.

In short, I can think of no other reason than that she went there to meet someone. Secretly. At about three o'clock.

Well now, that is France and Spain securely in their places a and now for that awkward little Bavarian Republic.

There is only one person who is regularly to be found in the shrubbery at three o'clock. Lady Montague. Everyone knows that she takes her walk there at that hour. And I doubt very much that anyone else in the house would have arranged to meet Miss Wallis by the hermitage at a time when her ladyship might be expected to be there.

Of course, we are told that my lady did not walk out that day. But is this correct? Jack a.s.sured me that she was in her dressing room until the men returned. But maybe afterwards she contrived to go out.

Oh, Eliza! What nonsense this is! Is it likely that Lady Montague should somehow procure a shotgun and boldly stride out across the gardens to commit a murder a and do it, furthermore, quite un.o.bserved?

And yet...

Well, I shall talk to Jack about it again and I am sure he will give me all the help that he can a he really does seem to be so very delighted to be relieved of the colonel's demands! Though he has not been able to answer many of my questions about Mr Montague and his father on account of only having been in the employ of Belsfield for a matter of weeks. But I make no doubt that he will, if I ask him, tell me all that he can about the day of the murder.

And then there is something else which I would dearly love to know. I must ask Catherine just when it was that my lady became so unfashionable as to put long sleeves to her evening dress.

I must look about me and make my enquiries quickly, for I have promised to meet Mr Lomax in the morning room within this hour. The dear man has such a very high opinion of my abilities that I would not wish to spoil it by presenting him with an incomplete proof.

'I am sorry, Miss Kent, I am afraid I have not quite the pleasure of understanding you. If you could perhaps speak a little more slowly.'

Dido drew a long breath and endeavoured to calm herself. But the agitation into which the last hour had thrown her was so great, it almost took from her the power of rational speech.

It was late in the evening and the rest of the company were occupied at the card tables. In the half-light of the morning room, the clock ticked solemnly upon the mantelshelf and flames fluttered round a log in the hearth. The little spaniel had found her way in from the hall and was resting her head trustingly against Mr Lomax's leg. He ran one of her long silky ears gently through his fingers as he watched Dido with grave concern.

'I understand all that you say about the dinner bell and about the young woman's arrival in the shrubbery,' he said. 'And it is all admirably reasoned. But this matter of her ladyship's sleeves: I am afraid I cannot comprehend why you should consider such a trifle so important.'

'I am sorry. I was forgetting you are a man.'

This was not quite true. In fact, she was rather keenly aware of him being a man. His rea.s.suring, manly solidity, gathered into the chair across the hearth, was a great comfort to her. She was at that moment very glad to have such a confidant and it was very important to her that he should understand everything that was in her mind.

'Lady Montague is a very fashionable, well-dressed woman,' she began.

'Yes, I suppose that she is. Though I am no great judge of these matters; my late wife frequently complained that I could not tell one of her gowns from another.'

'Then you have perhaps not noticed that lately there has been something very unfashionable about my lady's appearance?'

'No, I have not.'

'Her sleeves are long. She is the only lady in the house who dresses so.'

'Ah,' he said frowning. Then, after thinking for a moment, he added, 'But, Miss Kent, I believe that when I met you in the chapel, you had on long sleeves.'

'Oh dear, Mr Lomax! You must have been a sore trial to your poor wife! Do you not even notice the difference between day and evening fashions?'

He gave a helpless shrug of his shoulders.

'In the evening, none of the other ladies in the house wear long sleeves. Only Lady Montague.'

'I must believe you since you are clearly much better informed on these subjects than I am. But I still do not see why you should consider it so very important.'

Dido jumped to her feet and walked to the table where the candles stood. 'It is important,' she said, keeping her back turned to him, and staring into the candles' light until her eyes were dazzled, 'because Catherine informs me that it was on the very day of the murder that my lady changed her way of dressing. And because...' She hesitated, but it had to be said. 'And because I know why the change has been necessary. Mr Lomax, the other evening I was impertinent enough to turn back the lace of her ladyship's sleeve a and I saw how badly bruised her arm is.' There was a sound from the gentleman somewhere between a gasp and a word of protest. She closed her eyes and saw in her mind again a vivid picture of that wrist; the ugly old yellow and purple bruises showing clearly the imprint of strong, rough fingers.

She turned at last to look at him. He was sitting with his hand resting on the dog's head, watching her anxiously.

'You do believe me?' she said.

'Of course I do,' he said gently. 'Your distress is more than proof enough for me. Now, come and sit quietly by the fire and tell me everything else that is in your mind. There is something else, is there not?'

'Yes, there are the things that Jack told me.'

'Jack?'

'He is the youngest of Sir Edgar's footmen.'

'And what is it that Jack told you?'

He had told her a great deal more than she had expected.

Cheerful now, with the white smile fixed permanently on his face rather than flashing nervously, he had seemed to feel it inc.u.mbent upon him to show his grat.i.tude by answering every question she asked as fully as he possibly could.

'Well, now, let me see,' he said in response to her query about his visits to my lady's dressing room on the day of the murder. 'It was the logs first, miss. I took them up a well, I suppose that'd be just after the gentlemen went out.'

'About ten o'clock, then?'

'Yes, that'd be about right. She wasn't up from her bed then. I only saw Mrs Pugh a that's her maid.'

'And the next time you went up?'

'That was with fruits and cold meat. That's always about midday. She was there in the dressing room then. And then I went up with a gla.s.s of wine for her to take her medicine with. Then it was more logs. Then it was a screen from the drawing room because the fire'd got too hot for her. Then the next time, that was the chocolate. And then I'd only just got back down when Mr Carter gave me the letter to take up. That's how it always is, miss, days her ladyship spends in her dressing room, I'm up and down stairs all day.'

'So this last visit you made, it would have been about one o'clock?'

'No, miss, that was later a after two, I'd say. It was certainly after the gentlemen came back from their shooting. I know that, you see, because Sir Edgar was there in the dressing room when I took the letter up. He was sitting with her, talking the way he does sometimes about how she should look after herself and take her medicine and all that.'

'Sir Edgar was there? Are you sure of that?'

'Oh yes, miss, quite sure! Because I remember him making a fuss about the letter.'

Dido's interest sharpened. 'What kind of a fuss, Jack?'

'Well, I didn't mean to spy. I wouldn't want you to think that of me, miss. But I had to wait, you see, because that's what I'm supposed to do. Wait to see if there's an answer to be taken.'

'Yes, of course, I quite understand. Under those circ.u.mstances you would not be able to help seeing what happened, though I am sure you did not wish to intrude.'

'Yes, that's just how it was! Well, I was standing there by the door, waiting while the lady read her letter. And I couldn't help noticing a though I didn't mean to, of course a that she was a bit shocked by what she read.'

'I see.'

'Well then, miss, Sir Edgar asked her what it was and she sort of...well, she dropped the letter down into her lap as if she didn't want him to see it. But he reached over and pulled her hand up and took the letter from her.'

'Did he do that roughly?'