The Shadowcutter (10 page)

“This may be considered by some to be great art,” Syme said after a moment. “But surely, in this day, we must consider the effect of such work on public morals? This is, in effect, after all, a celebration of sin.” His tone was mild and reasonable. Such people always were, Giles thought, that was the danger of them. In that fashion they were able to say things that were outrageous. “Very degrading. I am sure you agree with me, Major Vernon.”

“I am not sure I do,” Giles said. “It is a beautiful piece, and nothing so beautiful can be really dangerous.”

Syme frowned.

“That painting was painted not to instruct, but to arouse. It is not a suitable object for young people to look at. I fear for the morals of the servants who polish these floors.”

“But they don’t know the subject of it,” Lady Charlotte said. “They only see a pair of sweethearts, asleep in each others arms. An old married couple, perhaps?” She shot Giles a mischievous glance.

“I think they see a great deal more than that,” said Mr Syme.

“Look how well that dog is painted,” Giles said. “That is a celebration of God’s creation, surely?”

“That scarcely excuses the rest of it,” said Mr Syme. “I would prefer that it were not so prominently on display.”

“Perhaps you would like to rearrange the furniture in my mother’s drawing room as well, Mr Syme?” said Lady Charlotte, and walked off down the gallery. “Now you must look at Master Rembrandt – a self portrait, Major Vernon. And you too, Mr Syme. Not even you could object to it! It will do us all good.”

The Rembrandt was indeed powerful: a sobering, honest portrait of a man in early old age, who knew his sins and had learnt to live with the burden of them.

Giles tore his gaze from it (for it had a sober, compulsive quality to it) and observed his companions as they studied the painting: Lady Charlotte, in all the glow and lustre of her youth, and Syme who was not much older; their faces, smooth, well-made and quite untouched by time. Giles wondered what Rembrandt’s brush would have made of them, or for that matter of his own face. What would it feel to be the subject of that merciless gaze?

Syme broke the silence.

“This terrible business with Lady Warde’s maid – how are your enquiries progressing?”

“Slow but steady,” said Giles. “As is usually the case with these things.”

“I understand from Lord Rothborough that you are making quite a career of this sort of work.

“Unfortunately, yes. I would prefer if people did not break the fifth commandment, of course.”

“My father says you have a genius for it,” said Lady Charlotte.

“That is too extravagant,” said Giles.

“And that you ought to think about using your talents on a wider stage,” she went on.

“I think not,” said Giles.

“I think so,” said Lady Charlotte. “What a deterrent to murderers you would be, Major Vernon, if they knew of your existence and your powers? Why, they would stay their hands!”

“There are plenty of far better reasons for murderers to stay their hands,” said Giles. “The noose for one, but that does not seem to stop them, does it?”

“The only real deterrent,” Syme said, “is a vision of the Lord’s redeeming power, and the absolute fear of Hell itself.”

“A man will murder because he must murder, I think,” Giles said. “It is a sort of compulsion. That is what is so interesting about it.”

“Interesting?” Syme said. “Sir, I cannot believe you find it interesting. Deplorable yes, but –”

“Yes, it is. Very interesting,” Giles said. “It is like any problem in human affairs – our curiosity must be aroused to get the problem solved. Medical men seek out the cause of disease in order to prevent it and they are moved not just by a wish to put an end to that particular branch of human suffering but because the problem is there. It exists to be cracked, like a nut.”

“One might say crime is a disease of sorts, then?” said Lady Charlotte.

“Yes, certainly,” Giles said. “And murder a particular disease, with symptoms and causes to be investigated, in order to get at the truth of it. Why one man will murder and another not.”

“And what of their souls?” said Syme.

“That is your business, Mr Syme,” said Giles. Syme nodded sagely in a manner that did not suit his youth.

“I have read of several cases,” he said, “of men – hardened, wicked, violent men – who have realised, on the eve of their hanging, at the last moment, that with utter submission to the love of God, they can be saved from the torments of Hell. As a result they have opened their hearts entirely to God and they have faced death with equanimity and peace. A sort of cure, you might say, Major Vernon? A miracle, indeed, that He shows himself to them with such clarity!”

Giles hoped that Syme would soon learn not to sermonise at every opportunity. He could quite understand how he had managed to irritate Lord Rothborough.

“Perhaps you could tell me, this, Mr Syme,” said Lady Charlotte. “Can a man who has lived a good life all his life, and done good to his neighbours and never broken a commandment, who has not been moved in the spirit in such a fashion, who cannot feel it in his heart, will he have a place in Heaven? A Jew, perhaps, or a Roman Catholic?”

“It is doubtful, Lady Charlotte,” said Syme.

Lady Charlotte looked as though she were to say something fierce in response to this, but she turned away, silently.

Syme was about to say something more, when to Giles’ relief the double doors at the end opened and Lord Rothborough, attended by a stranger and a pair of the livered footmen, came in.

“Set yourself up in here, Edgar,” Lord Rothborough was saying to the stranger. “If the light suits.”

“The light suits, perfectly my Lord,” said Edgar, looking around him. “And what a setting!”

“You will be working in our hall of the Great Masters. I hope that doesn’t put you off your stride!”

“Oh, I think not, my Lord!” said Edgar.

“Charlotte, my dear, this is Mr John Edgar, the shadowcutter. Edgar, my eldest daughter, Lady Charlotte, Major Vernon, and Mr Syme.”

Edgar, a slight, demure, dandy of a man in a wine-red velvet coat, made an elaborate bow. There was a distinct flavour of the stage about him. He had lace ruffles on his shirt cuffs, carefully curled and pomaded hair and on his fingers were rings set with stones of such size it was obvious that they were paste. But they glittered impressively, none the less, as he flourished his hand in his bow.

“You found him, Papa!” exclaimed Lady Charlotte, clapping her hands. “Maria will be so pleased.”

“It is a surprise for her,” said Lord Rothborough. “A late birthday present. Edgar here was meant to come earlier but he was too busy – on his wedding journey, no less!”

“That is an excuse we must forgive,” said Lady Charlotte. “All good wishes, Mr Edgar, and to Mrs Edgar!”

“She will be honoured my Lady, very honoured,” Edgar said with another bow.

Lady Rothborough now entered with Lady Maria and Lady Augusta. Lady Maria, on seeing the stranger in the velvet coat, squeaked with delight and kissed her father. It was the best surprise she had ever had, she declared. When Edgar offered to demonstrate his skills by first cutting pictures of her two little spaniels, her enthusiasm grew boundless.

All in all, it was an impressive performance. In less than a minute he had cut a lively outline on black paper of the first little dog, and he had done the second while the young lady was still exclaiming over the first.

“Who next?” said Lord Rothborough. “A human subject this time, I think?”

“What interesting faces, you all have, ladies and gentlemen!” said Edgar, looking them all over. “Oh I am going to enjoy myself, my Lord. Such beauty and distinction! What a great privilege.” He stalked up to Giles “The military gentleman – well, you sir, are a fine example of your type, if you will permit me to say. A more handsome profile I have not see in many a year.”

“I can see why you are successful, Mr Edgar,” Giles said. “You have realised the great truth that all officers cannot resist a compliment about their looks. We are all deluded peacocks.”

“I think Mr Syme, you should sit first,” said Lady Charlotte. “If you don’t consider if improper to have your likeness taken.”

“How could it be improper?” Lady Maria said. “Yes, Mr Syme, do sit.”

“Of course, Lady Maria, anything to oblige you.”

So Syme was led off and made to pose for Edgar.

“Lady Rothborough, I wonder, do you know where Lady Warde is?” Giles asked, sitting down beside the Marchioness.

“Poor creature – she really is not well,” said Lady Rothborough. “I think she feels the loss of her maid deeply.”

Mourning someone she seemed to know nothing about, Giles thought. Perhaps in the way one feels the loss of a beloved animal? After all, how well did any of them know their servants? Was he wrong to judge her for knowing so little, when in fact all of them seemed to know so little? That she felt the loss strongly meant that she had feelings for the girl, and Giles felt he had been rather unkind to Lady Warde. At the same time he wondered when it would be possible to question her properly again. He did not particularly want to be idling here, watching young ladies exclaim over silhouettes, when there was a murderer to be identified.

Edgar had finished his portrait of Syme and Lady Augusta was examining it.

“Oh, Mr Syme that is a distinguished likeness. You must send it to your mother and sister, they will be pleased with that,” Lady Augusta said. “How clever you are, Mr Edgar!”

“I wondered if I might instead present it to you, my Lady, as a keepsake, and as a token of my great gratitude for all your kindness?” Syme said.

Was that a blush on the part of Lady Augusta? Was there something going on there, Giles wondered.

“Oh, thank you,” Lady Augusta said. “Thank you. I shall put it in my keepsake book.”

“I understand you will be with us for a few more days, Major Vernon,” Lady Rothborough said to Giles, “because of this business.”

“It is very good of you and Lord Rothborough to entertain me in these circumstances.”

“You have left your wife behind at Stanegate?”

“Yes, she is taking the waters.”

“Would she like to join us?” said Lady Rothborough. “You would prefer her to be here, I am sure.”

Giles did not have a chance to answer as Lady Maria now interrupted to beg her mother come and sit for the miracle-worker. Mr Syme was insistent too, and Lady Rothborough agreed.

Giles was glad not to be obliged to give his answer at once. For a start, he did not know what Laura would make of such an invitation. She was not, in his opinion, entirely ready for general society. Although there was only a family party at Holbroke, with the addition of Mr Syme and Lady Warde, the grandeur and formality of it all might prove difficult for her to negotiate safely. She was like a nervous horse, not quite ready for the road. It would probably be better if she did not come.

However, he sensed she might resent it terribly to discover he had declined such an invitation without consulting her. They were now beyond the stage when he, necessarily, made all the decisions about such things. She had her own mind and opinions that needed expression. But whether she was as yet capable of making the right decisions was another matter entirely. He had managed it badly at the Bower Well that morning in saying she must come home with him. She had lashed out at him for being high-handed. It was too much to expect she would always concur and obey. She would be more likely to insist on being allowed to go and then, if thwarted, throw herself into one of those dreadful passages of melancholy withdrawal, which had in the beginning presaged the whole terrible decline of her spirits.

Could such a visit be managed as an experiment? Perhaps Lady Charlotte would make a friend of her? But that would be unfair on Lady Charlotte, who was burdened enough with the business of being a useful young woman. Laura might not like her and she might not like Laura. In her present state, Laura was often difficult to like. When she chose to let the sun of her nature shine on her companions it was dazzling and delightful, but the weather was often bad, despite the huge progress she had made. Mr Carswell was the recipient of the best of it, and there lay another problem.

“I hate to interrupt,” said Lady Charlotte, “when you are so lost in thought.”

She was smiling at him in such a way that he knew he should send for Laura at once, to remind her he was married. Lady Charlotte was too bewitching a thing, too dangerous. Why had her mother not filled the house with marriageable young bucks to distract her and her sisters? What on earth was she doing playing at piety with the odious Syme instead of looking to the future happiness of her daughters?

“I’m afraid I must go and write some letters,” he said.

“Can I not persuade you to sit – or perhaps that should be stand – for Edgar?” she said. He shook his head.

“I must go, forgive me.”

She assented with a gracious nod

His leaving the room did not pass unnoticed. As he was making his way down the great gallery, he heard Lord Rothborough calling out to him.

“Vernon, if I might have a word?”

“Of course, my Lord.”

“Forgive me – I meant to speak to you earlier, but the silhouette man got in my path. He is a pleasant amusement, don’t you think? I am going to have him stay and take all the servants’ likenesses. A clever fellow, indeed! But I digress. Might I ask how your enquiry is going?”

“Steadily enough. We did, however, have an interesting meeting with Sir Arthur and Mr Haines this morning – it seems I am not welcome here, and as for Mr Carswell, Mr Haines was quite vehement.”

“I am not surprised. He’s a presumptuous bumpkin. He tried to buy Ardenthwaite, tried to outbid me for it in fact! My apologies, I should have warned you he is difficult. So, the inquest?”

“Is liable to be a farce. The body has already been removed. There is scant hope that Mr Carswell will be allowed to perform a post-mortem. The evidence is pointing at manslaughter, at the very least, but it may fall on deaf ears. I will attempt to present my case, of course, but I wonder if it might be better if they were left to investigate after their own fashion and I went back to –”