I arrived at the Augustus at ten o’clock in the morning, but the Surrey family were there before me. Susanna’s clear voice came from their dressing room:
Your crown’s awry; I’ll mend it and then play.
Then her mother’s quieter voice murmuring and Susanna repeating the line. I knocked and was invited to come in. Mrs Surrey was sitting at the table in her everyday clothes with a brush and a tiny pot of gold paint, re-gilding Cleopatra’s head-dress, which looked as if it had survived several desert sandstorms. Susanna was sitting on the costume basket in a yellowish-white taffeta tunic, feet bare.
‘Miss Lane, is there something wrong?’
Being an actor, Honoria Surrey was alert to expressions or perhaps to tension in the way I was standing.
‘I need to ask Susanna something,’ I said.
There was no point in pretending casualness. Mrs Surrey wiped the paintbrush on a piece of rag and put it down, without taking her eyes from my face.
‘Susanna now? David told us he’d been talking to you about stealing the syllabub for the cat. It was wrong of him, of course, but does it matter?’
‘It may matter very much, but it wasn’t his fault. Neither of them has done anything except what all children do, especially older sisters with younger brothers.’
From the corner of my eye I could see that Susanna was giving me a hard stare.
‘Neither of them?’ Mrs Surrey said.
‘I have a younger brother too,’ I said. ‘When we were children, we were always giving each other dares. It got us into the most terrible trouble. I remember once Tom got stuck on a church roof and another time I went up to a very grand lady at a party and asked her if it was true she wore a wig.’
A nervous snort of laughter came from Susanna.
‘We usually had to bring something back to show we’d done the dare,’ I went on. ‘A sprig of mistletoe from the top of the apple tree, say, or a piece of slate from the haunted house.’
‘You could have cheated,’ Susanna said. ‘It could have been a sprig of mistletoe that had fallen down, or any old piece of slate.’
‘Yes, but you don’t, do you?’ I said. ‘There’s no point in a dare, if you cheat.’
Susanna and I stared at each other; her eyes were clear and challenging.
‘David went in to Columbine’s room because you dared him,’ I said.
‘The first time, yes.’
From her voice and her look, she might have been Cordelia refusing to lie to King Lear. Love of drama was overcoming any reticence she might have.
‘So when he dared you to go into Columbine’s dressing room after she was dead, you had to bring something back to show you’d done it.’
‘Yes.’
‘Is that true, Susanna? Is that why you went in there?’ Mrs Surrey said.
‘Yes.’
‘And did you bring something back to show him?’ I said.
Susanna held my look for a long moment, then stood up and opened the lid of the costume hamper. She burrowed in the corner of it, came up with two objects and walked slowly towards me, holding one in the palm of each outstretched hand. I picked up the first one — a small china pot. It had once contained rouge, but when I unscrewed the top it turned out to be almost empty, just a dried-up circle of red round the bottom.
‘It was like that when I took it,’ she said. ‘I haven’t used any.’
‘Didn’t you drop it when the screen fell on you?’
‘No. I had both of them in my pocket.’
I put it back in her outstretched palm and picked up the other object: a glass jar, larger than the rouge pot, containing a white ointment and less than half full. I took the lid off and sniffed. Hog’s lard, mainly, going rancid, with a musky vegetable smell under it.
‘I don’t know what that is,’ Susanna said. ‘I thought it might be some kind of special make-up.’
‘Where did you find it, exactly?’
‘They were both of them on the floor, that’s why I took them.’
‘May I keep this one?’ I said.
‘If you want to.’
‘But why does it matter so much?’ Mrs Surrey said.
She sounded scared.
‘I promise you, David and Susanna are in no trouble. In fact, they may have done something that helps somebody very much, but I can’t tell you any more than that for the moment.’
She didn’t look reassured, and I could hardly blame her.
I said goodbye to them, walked along the corridor and tapped on Barnaby Blake’s door.
‘Come in.’
He had a pile of papers on the table in front of him, pen in hand and a distracted air.
‘Good morning, Miss Lane.’ I could tell from the weariness in his voice that he wanted to be left to his accounts. I shut the door behind me and walked up to his desk. He sighed but put the pen down. ‘How’s Suter?’
‘Recovering. You heard he was attacked?’
‘From the musicians, yes. Is he angry with me for giving evidence at Jenny’s trial? I promise you, I’d have avoided it if I could. I tried not to make things any worse for her than I could help.’
‘He thinks you did all you could – then.’
‘Meaning?’
‘There’s something else you could do for her now.’
‘A petition for mercy? I’ll sign it, by all means, but …’
‘More than that. We can prove now that Jenny’s innocent, but we need your help.’
He stared at me for a long time.
‘You’d better sit down. Tell me.’
I took the chair across the desk from him.
‘We know who killed her and how. This person has made some mistakes so serious that it practically amounts to a confession. We’ve given her lawyer evidence that should be enough to overturn the verdict – but we need to be certain.’
‘And what is it you want me to do?’
‘I want you to invite a certain person here for a business discussion.’
‘Who?’
‘Rodney Hardcastle.’
‘Ah.’ From the tone, he’d guessed what I was going to say. ‘He’s made mistakes, you say?’
‘For one thing, we’ve witnessed him committing burglary to get his hands on a portfolio of Columbine’s papers.’
‘That’s not evidence of murder, though.’
‘And we know he married Columbine in secret just before she died.’
‘Married her!’
I took the marriage licence out of my reticule and put it down in front of him. He looked at it, then up at me.
‘Why in the world would he go and do that?’
‘For her money. She was a woman of property, and she’d been buying up debts, including some important people’s.’
He picked his pen up again and turned it over and over in his fingers.
‘So I’m to invite him to a business discussion and confront him with this?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then what happens? Do you jump out from a cupboard and accuse him of murdering her?’
‘Not far off that. Our idea is that you should show him the marriage licence and hint that you know about the other things. He’s not a clever man, as you know. We think he might try to bargain with you, or perhaps even lose his nerve and threaten you. Then we’ll have him off balance.’
‘Is this Suter’s idea, or yours?’
‘Mine.’
‘Perhaps I should employ you as a dramatist. I’m not sure I care for the part of hero, though. You’re asking me to confront a murderer and as good as accuse him. Suppose he produces a knife or a pistol?’
‘She was poisoned. That’s a different sort of crime. Besides, if Hardcastle tried to shoot somebody, he’d probably miss.’
‘At this range?’
‘I hope it won’t come to that.’
‘And if you’re wrong?’
‘I’ll be hiding in the room. If it sounds as if he’s becoming violent, I can rush out and help you restrain him.’
Blake shook his head.
‘I’m sure you’re a very active young woman, Miss Lane, but I don’t want to stake my life on it.’
‘What about Robert Surrey, then?’ I tried to say it as if it had just come into my head. ‘He’s very quick and reliable, being an actor.’
He thought about it.
‘Do I tell him all this?’
‘No. I think all you need to say is that you’re meeting a client who might be difficult and you’d like to have him on hand.’
He looked around the room.
‘Where would we put you both? The cupboard’s not very big.’
‘Suppose you meet him in Columbine’s dressing room? There’s that big screen.’
He thought about it.
‘The conjuror’s using the room at present, but I suppose …’
‘Tomorrow’s Sunday, so he won’t be needing it.’
‘You want to do this tomorrow?’
‘Why not? The sooner the better.’
He heaved a long sigh.
‘I suppose the invitation has to come from me.’
‘Yes. You could send Hardcastle a message asking him to meet you here at midday.’
‘And if he refuses?’
‘He won’t refuse. But I’ll be here early tomorrow to make sure.’
He nodded, stood up and walked to the door with me as if the weight of the world had landed on his shoulders.
‘You can tell Suter that he’ll owe me for this forever.’
‘I’ll tell him.’
I walked home slowly and spent most of the day helping Mrs Martley with Daniel. He insisted on getting up and walking downstairs to the yard and back to try his legs. Kennedy came to visit before going to keep an engagement at the opera house. I waited until Mrs Martley was out of the room and told them all I knew, what I’d guessed, and how I intended to prove it. As I’d anticipated, they set up a clamour about it.
‘If anybody’s behind that screen, it will be me,’ Daniel said.
Kennedy echoed the sentiment, even more forcibly.
I pointed out, none too tactfully, that if physical strength were needed, I’d have chosen Amos Legge in preference to either of them.
‘We need a witness who has no personal stake in this. Apart from that, it’s a matter of observation and timing, and I’m as good at that as either of you,’ I said. ‘Besides, I have a promise to keep.’
Kennedy left, saying he’d be at the Augustus next day whether I liked it or not. By the time the workhouse clock struck ten, Daniel had taken one of Mrs Martley’s draughts and was sleeping, while she dozed in the chair by the fire. As I put on my coat and bonnet, Daniel turned over and his eyes opened. They were very bright in the firelight and fixed on mine. I went over to him.
‘Whatever happens, thank you, Libby. I’d give the world to have you safely out of all this.’
I thought, but didn’t say, All the world but one person. It wasn’t his fault.
‘Sleep now. Don’t worry.’
I had to wait for some time on the doorstep of the Silverdales’ house before a sleepy maid responded to my knock. I gave my name and said Lady Silverdale had invited me to call on her at any time. She let me in and, as before, I followed her up the carpeted staircase between candles. There were even fewer of them alight this time. Lady Silverdale wasn’t expecting visitors. When we reached the top landing the maid tapped on the door.
‘Miss Lane to see you, ma’am.’
The door opened almost at once, on to the cave of a room and the giant telescope crouching on the edge of the night sky. As before, Lady Silverdale came to meet me wearing her own neat thatch of silver-grey hair, with the wig on the block by the door. Her daughter Anna carried on making notes in her island of candlelight.
‘How kind of you to call, Miss Lane.’
If Lady Silverdale was surprised to see me, she gave no sign of it.
‘So Rodney came home safely on Monday night,’ I said. ‘I hope he managed to get the smell out of his clothes.’
I made no effort to match her politeness. Her expression didn’t change, but I could almost hear that quick mind whirring.
‘Anna –’
Just that one word, and her daughter put the cap on the ink-well, gathered up her notes and left the room.
‘We’d better sit down, don’t you think?’ Lady Silverdale said.
She led the way to the table with the armchairs. We sat on either side of it.
‘Your son’s in worse trouble than you realise,’ I said. ‘Or perhaps you do realise. Do you know what happened to him on Monday night?’
She looked at me, making no attempt to answer the question.
‘We caught him breaking into a coach workshop where I live,’ I said. ‘He ripped open the seat of a phaeton that used to belong to him and ran away. He was looking for something.’
‘If he’s done damage, I shall naturally pay for it. But unless you now own the phaeton, I fail to see what your interest is.’
Her voice was as calm and low as ever, just the hint of a frown on her face.
‘The same as it’s always been — discovering who killed Columbine.’
‘I understood that poor girl had been sentenced.’
‘That’s going to be set aside any day now. Her barrister has new evidence.’
‘Oh?’
‘The evidence is what your son was trying to find in the phaeton – a portfolio of Columbine’s very considerable property interests … and other things.’
She said nothing for a long time. I waited, watching her face in the flickering of the candlelight.
‘Why should Rodney be interested in that, and why does it change the case against the girl?’
This time, I made her do the waiting. After what seemed like a long time, she blinked.
‘Did Rodney tell you he’d married her?’ I said.
‘Married? Married Columbine?’
The surprise sounded genuine, but then so had her claim about the earring.
‘I’ve seen the entry in the register and spoken to one of the witnesses,’ I said. ‘She kept her marriage lines in that portfolio.’
‘I can’t believe it.’
‘Ask him,’ I said. ‘Is he still with you?’
She nodded reluctantly.
‘You understand the situation?’ I said. ‘He marries her secretly, she’s killed, he’s desperate to get his hands on her property portfolio. As her husband, it’s all his. If Jenny Jarvis’s barrister had known all that at the trial, your son’s name would have come out in court – and there’d have been worse embarrassments to follow.’
‘Do you want money?’ she said.
‘No. I want something else. I want you to persuade your son to put right some of the harm he’s done. It will need more sense and courage than he’s shown so far, but, I promise you, this is the best way I can see for him.’
She looked across at her telescope and the night sky beyond it. I could sense that she was desperate to be back among her planets set on orbits that could not be shaken by anything a mere human being could do. When she looked back at me, her eyes had changed. There was such deep sadness in them that I wished I could take the decision away from her, but knew I couldn’t.
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘He’ll have received an invitation to a business discussion with the manager of the Augustus Theatre tomorrow. I want him to accept it.’
‘And what else?’
‘He should take a pistol,’ I said.