A Corpse in Shining Armour (9 page)

‘And did she swear it?’

‘No. My offer had exactly the effect I’d intended. She refused to consider an affidavit and brought our interview pretty rapidly
to an end. I was seriously concerned for her and decided that I must visit her at home as soon as I had the opportunity, to
see if she needed any form of help.’

‘Did you tell her sons what had happened?’

‘At that point, no. I decided that it would distress them needlessly. I believed I’d dealt with the immediate crisis and we’d
hear no more of the matter.’

‘But you were wrong.’

‘Yes, I was wrong. Within a few days, alarming rumours came to my ears. Lady Brinkburn must have used her circle of acquaintances
in London to spread the story. As you can imagine, you could more easily stop a forest fire than a rumour of that kind, once
it takes hold.’

‘And of course Stephen and Miles must have heard the rumour.’

‘Inevitably. Both came to consult me.’

‘Separately?’

‘Separately.’

‘How did they react?’

‘As I’m sure you know very well, Miss Lane, there is confidentiality between a lawyer and his client. I’ve come very near
the line in describing my meeting with Lady Brinkburn. I’ve 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?’ I said. ‘Did you expect a reward?’

She shook her head, her knotted locks whipping round her face like Medusa’s snakes.

‘I just wanted to do you a good turn, that’s all.’

I looked at the eagerness in her expression and thought that beneath her cunning there was truthfulness of a kind. Amazing
though it seemed, the charade had been because she wanted me to like her, or notice her at least. Was that so wrong? Quite
recently, in my own life, I’d been without family, money or a roof over my head. Admittedly, my circumstances had never been
as poor as hers. The fates had been kind to me, so who was I to turn away from her?

‘Mrs Martley said you came into our rooms the other day,’ I said.

‘She thought I’d come to take something. I hadn’t. I only wanted to see where you lived, that’s all.’

‘Still, you shouldn’t…’

But she was launched on a sense of grievance and wouldn’t be interrupted.

‘She called me names and threatened to throw me downstairs. She said I was lousy and flea-ridden. That’s not my fault. The
queen and all her ladies in waiting would be lousy if they had to sleep where I sleep.’

I burst out laughing. The picture of Little Vicky and her retinue of ladies in their satin and diamonds, couching in a shining
heap in the shed next to Mr Colley’s midden, was too vivid to contemplate straight-faced. Tabby was startled at first, then
she started laughing too, so that we were more like two schoolgirls than wronged householder and vagrant.

When we stopped laughing we looked at each other, caught off-balance.

‘Tabby, would you like to work for me?’ I said.

It was a ludicrous idea. Anything less like a lady’s maid than the ragged girl standing in front of me would be hard to find
in the whole expanse of London. Still, I had a problem and needed a quick solution to it. Mr Lomax’s casual assumption that
I’d be bringing a servant with me reminded me that any kind of gentlewoman–and a person seeking acquaintance with Lady Brinkburn
would have to be some kind of gentlewoman–would not stay in a country cottage unattended. There was no question of removing
Mrs Martley from Jenny at this interesting stage, even if I had wanted her company, and I couldn’t afford or endure a conventional
lady’s maid. Tabby grinned as if I’d given her a present, nodded her head and kept nodding it. I wished she wouldn’t. It reminded
me about the state of her hair.

‘It will only be for a week or two,’ I said. ‘It means living outside London for a while.’

‘Further away than Hackney?’

‘Yes. More than twenty miles away. A day’s journey.’

She knelt down and started tightening one of the laces on her wrecked boots.

‘We’re not walking,’ I said. ‘And not at once. It will be the day after tomorrow, probably. And there’s something you must
do first.’

I opened my purse and gave her the seven and a half pence.

‘You know the bath house, round the corner from the workhouse?’ She nodded. ‘I want you to go in there tomorrow morning and
have a first-class bath. That will cost you threepence. The rest you can keep for yourself. Wait there.’

I ran upstairs and rummaged at the bottom of my clothes chest, turning up a grey cotton dress, much creased but quite respectable,
cotton stockings and garters, a plain chemise and petticoat, corsets that were too fancy and frivolous for the purpose but
the only ones I had to spare, and a woollen shawl. Down in the parlour, I stuffed them in a clean potato sack, took a bar
of carbolic soap from the cupboard and raided Mrs Martley’s box of herbs for the mixture of dried rosemary and fleabane that
she said was good against lice. Another raid on the food cupboard produced half a loaf of yesterday’s bread and a lump of
cheese. When I got back downstairs with my armful, Tabby was standing just where I’d left her.

‘You can put the clothes on tomorrow after you’ve had your bath,’ I said. ‘You’d better keep them in the sack till then. Rub
this into your hair in the bath and make sure you wash it really thoroughly.’

She accepted the sack and the instructions with the same calm she’d shown when she thought we were going to walk twenty miles.
I said I’d meet her in the yard after she’d had her bath and wished her good evening. When I looked back from the doorway
she was still standing there with the sack in her hand, looking after me. I thought I’d probably live to regret it. And the
same applied to the other commitment I’d made that day as well.

The next thirty-six hours were too busy to worry about whether I’d done the wrong thing: to a bank in the Strand to cash the
lawyer’s draft, to a little shop in Soho for sketchpads, charcoal, a set of watercolours and brushes, to Bloomsbury for a
quick visit to Daniel and Jenny to let them know I’d be away for a while, to a stage-coach office to take two inside seats
on the
Emerald
, from the Spread Eagle in Gracechurch Street to the Bear at Maidenhead on Saturday morning. Of course, it should have been
one seat inside the coach for me and one on the top outside for my maid. But I guessed that it would be the first time in
Tabby’s life that she’d been outside London and I could hardly condemn her to a lurching and uncomfortable journey among total
strangers. Besides, there was no telling what she might say to those strangers.

When I got back to Abel Yard, arms loaded with packages, she was waiting for me, face shining with cleanliness, hair damp
and–from a not too close look–free of animal life. My grey dress was too long for her so she’d gathered it up at the waist
with a piece of string. At least it was clean string. A strong smell of carbolic hung round her. She tried to give me back
the diminished bar of soap.