a selfish fellow, you know, and I’m hoping to snatch a moment to talk to you myself. I have something to tell you about.’ He laid the parasol down upon the final resting place of Mr Barnabas Finch, and drew a letter from his coat pocket. ‘The pot boy from the inn at New Charcombe delivered this to me before the service.’
‘Oh,’ cried Dido deeply interested. ‘Is it from Mr Tom Lomax? Has he changed his account?’
‘No, it ain’t from young Tom at all. It’s from some fellow I never heard of in my life before.’ He gave the letter a puzzled look. ‘Fellow by the name of Brodie,’ he said. ‘Do you know him?’
‘No, not at all.’
He looked down thoughtfully at the page again, then handed it to Dido.
She took it eagerly and read:
Sir,
Although no acquaintance subsists between us, I hope you will forgive my intruding myself upon your notice. I am reluctant to take such a liberty, but flatter myself that I have two claims upon your indulgence: first, an acquaintance with a guest currently residing in your house, and second, the possession of some very important information concerning Miss Letitia Verney, the ward of Reginald Bailey. The young lady is in very grave danger.
The business upon which I wish to consult you is delicate and complicated, concerning, as it does, the danger of elopement and secret marriage. So I shall say no more of it here – except to observe that I have in my possession papers of the utmost importance to you. I shall wait upon you tomorrow morning and hope that you will be at liberty to receive me. It will certainly be to your advantage to do so – and to attend very closely to everything which I have to say.
Your humble servant
James Brodie.
‘What an extraordinary letter!’ cried Dido. ‘Whatever can be the danger threatening poor Miss Verney? And who is this Mr Brodie?’
‘Well,’ said Mr Lancelot taking the letter back into his own hands. ‘That last is a question which someone in my house will be able to answer. Someone is acquainted with him.’ He stopped and looked at her with concern. ‘What is it, Miss Kent? You look quite queer.’
‘Oh, it is nothing.’ She turned away from him and began to hurry towards the little gate of the churchyard and the carriage from which she could see the angry features of her aunt peering.
But it had occurred to her that if someone in the house was indeed complicit in Miss Verney’s disappearance, then it might be from that person that Mr Brodie had gained his information. In short, the man or woman at Charcombe Manor who acknowledged Mr Brodie’s acquaintance must be suspected of playing a part in the young lady’s disappearance.
Chapter Eight
… But Eliza, this business becomes odder and odder. For when Mr Lancelot read Mr Brodie’s letter to the whole company at tea, nobody would admit to knowing the man at all!
Which raises the very interesting possibility that somebody is lying.
* * *
Dido paused and recalled the scene in the drawing room.
* * *
Mr George Fenstanton became quite indignant over the business and it was all: ‘Now then, Lance, my boy, I make no doubt he was just a common little fellow wanting to claim acquaintance in good society. No need for you to bother us all with it, no need at all…’ Until my aunt – who never loses an opportunity of contradicting her brother – interposed with, ‘But we aren’t any of us bothered, George. It is only you who is making yourself ridiculous about a trifle.’
In point of fact, the only member of the company to express any doubt about knowing the man was Mrs Bailey.
She does not think that she knows any James Brodie; but it would seem that the unfortunate Mrs Bailey is frequently finding her acquaintance claimed by people she has no memory of! And she is often obliged to draw back from introductions, for she has quite a horror of forming ‘second-rate’ connections … In short, we were given to understand that it is
‘Oh,’ cried Dido deeply interested. ‘Is it from Mr Tom Lomax? Has he changed his account?’
‘No, it ain’t from young Tom at all. It’s from some fellow I never heard of in my life before.’ He gave the letter a puzzled look. ‘Fellow by the name of Brodie,’ he said. ‘Do you know him?’
‘No, not at all.’
He looked down thoughtfully at the page again, then handed it to Dido.
She took it eagerly and read:
Sir,
Although no acquaintance subsists between us, I hope you will forgive my intruding myself upon your notice. I am reluctant to take such a liberty, but flatter myself that I have two claims upon your indulgence: first, an acquaintance with a guest currently residing in your house, and second, the possession of some very important information concerning Miss Letitia Verney, the ward of Reginald Bailey. The young lady is in very grave danger.
The business upon which I wish to consult you is delicate and complicated, concerning, as it does, the danger of elopement and secret marriage. So I shall say no more of it here – except to observe that I have in my possession papers of the utmost importance to you. I shall wait upon you tomorrow morning and hope that you will be at liberty to receive me. It will certainly be to your advantage to do so – and to attend very closely to everything which I have to say.
Your humble servant
James Brodie.
‘What an extraordinary letter!’ cried Dido. ‘Whatever can be the danger threatening poor Miss Verney? And who is this Mr Brodie?’
‘Well,’ said Mr Lancelot taking the letter back into his own hands. ‘That last is a question which someone in my house will be able to answer. Someone is acquainted with him.’ He stopped and looked at her with concern. ‘What is it, Miss Kent? You look quite queer.’
‘Oh, it is nothing.’ She turned away from him and began to hurry towards the little gate of the churchyard and the carriage from which she could see the angry features of her aunt peering.
But it had occurred to her that if someone in the house was indeed complicit in Miss Verney’s disappearance, then it might be from that person that Mr Brodie had gained his information. In short, the man or woman at Charcombe Manor who acknowledged Mr Brodie’s acquaintance must be suspected of playing a part in the young lady’s disappearance.
Chapter Eight
… But Eliza, this business becomes odder and odder. For when Mr Lancelot read Mr Brodie’s letter to the whole company at tea, nobody would admit to knowing the man at all!
Which raises the very interesting possibility that somebody is lying.
* * *
Dido paused and recalled the scene in the drawing room.
* * *
Mr George Fenstanton became quite indignant over the business and it was all: ‘Now then, Lance, my boy, I make no doubt he was just a common little fellow wanting to claim acquaintance in good society. No need for you to bother us all with it, no need at all…’ Until my aunt – who never loses an opportunity of contradicting her brother – interposed with, ‘But we aren’t any of us bothered, George. It is only you who is making yourself ridiculous about a trifle.’
In point of fact, the only member of the company to express any doubt about knowing the man was Mrs Bailey.
She does not think that she knows any James Brodie; but it would seem that the unfortunate Mrs Bailey is frequently finding her acquaintance claimed by people she has no memory of! And she is often obliged to draw back from introductions, for she has quite a horror of forming ‘second-rate’ connections … In short, we were given to understand that it is
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