The Serpent In The Garden_ A Novel Part 17

"I don't remember precisely, but it would have been the last time we had rain. Last week, I believe that was. Why? Is it important to your study?"

Joshua shrugged his shoulders, adopting an air of mysterious authority. "And you noticed nothing untoward?"

"Not that I recall. Should I have done?"

Joshua ignored the question. "And the grotto? Do you recall your last inspection there?"

"I don't rightly remember. I have little call to go there now the work's been stopped. A month or two ago perhaps."

Joshua met Lizzie's gaze. "We should proceed at once, Miss Manning."

She nodded. "I said the very same five minutes ago, Mr. Pope," she said tartly.

Granger was still holding two keys in his hand. He seemed reluctant to pa.s.s them over. "Would you like me to accompany you, Mr. Pope? It would be a wise precaution, bearing in mind that neither one of you is familiar with the grotto. There was an accident there some months ago in which several lives were lost. An excess of water entered one of the natural pa.s.sages and drowned three men."

Lizzie intervened. "As I recall, after that tragedy a metal gate was installed to prevent the water entering the pa.s.sages, was it not?"

Joshua noted that her tone toward Granger was cordial.

Granger nodded. "Even so, miss, if you wandered into one of the tunnels it would be all too easy to lose yourselves for days in the darkness-perhaps, though I shudder to say so, with the direst of consequences."

Lizzie's face grew pale. Her eyes looked larger and more bruised than ever. Joshua wondered whether, if she were faced with real peril, her testiness might ebb. He waited, but she showed no sign of accepting Granger's offer. Nevertheless he wasn't foolish enough to court danger deliberately. Speaking in a composed tone that concealed his own trepidation he said, "Very well, Granger, please escort us."

And so the three of them trooped off together, Granger leading the way. Lizzie and Joshua walked in brisk, but slightly less hostile, silence. They skirted the lake, then branched off on a trail that led up a steep incline parallel to the cascade. On their right a torrent of water gushed down a series of stone steps and splashed noisily into the lake. The water created a fine mist that seemed to hang low over the ground like a layer of gossamer. Through this delicate veil Joshua discerned mossy boulders, between which sprouted clumps of reeds, tall gra.s.ses, and purple flags. Elsewhere the garden was planted as an artful wilderness. Vast granite boulders reared up here and there, interspersed with ferns and willow trees and flowering shrubs, all of which flourished in the damp atmosphere.

A hundred yards further on, a large rock set upright in the ground like a gigantic black tooth guarded the entrance to the cavern.

"This way," directed Granger, stepping behind the ma.s.sive pillar.

They were in front of a yawning black maw, barricaded by metal railings. Through the railings they could see a pa.s.sage and main chamber beyond. The cavern was roughly oval in form, extending to some thirty feet at the widest point, with a ceiling that soared up perhaps twenty feet. What struck Joshua most, however, was not the cavern's scale but its decoration. Every inch of the walls and ceiling was studded with sh.e.l.ls of various form and hue, arranged in mosaiclike concentric circles, spirals, and flowers, creating a richness akin to a gentleman's embroidered waistcoat. On one wall a small fountain gushed from the wall into a basin hewn from rock. The surface of the floor and walls around it was encrusted with moss and lichens, and here and there filigree ferns had found crevices in which to grow, giving this corner the appearance of a subterranean garden.

A gate was set in the center of the railing. At present it was fastened by a large padlock, which didn't appear to have been tampered with, but Joshua reckoned Arthur Manning might easily have entered here. The railings were only about eight feet high and there was a gap of several feet between the top and the roof of the tunnel. It would be simple enough for an agile young man to scale this barrier and clamber over if he wanted to.

Judging by Granger's lengthy efforts to open it, the lock had not been used for some time. Eventually, after much jiggling and maneuvering, the mechanism yielded and the hasp came free. The door creaked loudly as Granger pulled it open. Before stepping aside to allow them to pa.s.s, he turned and gave Joshua a quizzical look. "I don't pretend to know your purpose in coming here, Mr. Pope, though I surmise it has naught to do with painting. In any event, that's none of my business. But I would remind you, most emphatically, that since we have brought no torches with us, and we have a young lady present, it would be the gravest folly indeed to venture into the tunnels."

Joshua looked past Granger into the grotto. The interior was shadowy and mysterious; toward the back of the chamber he could see the shadow of a pa.s.sage meandering into darkness. Joshua shuddered inadvertently. "Fear not, Mr. Granger, we have taken your warnings to heart." He paused, then added rather condescendingly, "By the by, Granger, I thank you for your discretion. We have come here on a delicate matter, one that we are not at liberty to discuss."

"In that case," said Granger, retreating so that they could pa.s.s through, "I will wait here until you have finished and then escort you to the octagon house."

"There's no need for that, Mr. Granger," interposed Lizzie sharply. "You have had Mr. Pope's a.s.surance. I know the way to the other building very well. Give us the key, and we will return it to you the instant we have finished with it."

Granger furrowed his brow. "There are dangers there too, miss. Suppose one of you should fall in the water?"

"Mr. Pope is perfectly capable of seeing where the water is and avoiding it. I am equally familiar with its dangers. You have our a.s.surance we will leave the place secure as we found it."

Granger smoothed his ruffled brown hair with a hand. His countenance still seemed troubled. Did he honestly believe they wanted to kill themselves? "Very well. If that is your wish."

With that, he disappeared back up the trail. They heard the crunch of his boots as he descended the slope. Some minutes later Joshua wondered whether it was prudent to have sent him away, and half wished he could call him back. If the unpredictable Arthur Manning should suddenly choose this moment to make an appearance, and if he should take against Joshua, the presence of Granger could have proved mightily useful.

Without a further word to each other, Lizzie and Joshua entered the cavern. They stood in the center and looked up at the roof and its elaborate encrustations, then they circled the perimeter, and brushed their hands over the thousands of sh.e.l.ls that had been so meticulously collected and arranged on the walls. Joshua made no attempt to speak to her and instead searched for signs that another person had recently entered here.

The floor was covered in stone flags; there was no trace of any footprint. Joshua didn't know what else he expected to find-a piece of clothing, perhaps?-but the chamber was devoid of any evidence of human life. As he searched, he wondered if his protracted silence might provoke Lizzie to say something, to give some hint of her thoughts and feelings, but she remained mute, touring the chamber, staring at the elaborate patterns in brooding silence.

On reaching the fountain at the opposite side of the cave, Joshua lowered his head to drink from the stream of water that fell into the basin below. As he did so, he caught sight of something in the bottom of the bowl. He peered more closely. It was a small transparent object.

Joshua looked surrept.i.tiously round at Lizzie; she was still frozen in silent contemplation with her back toward him. Without a word, he reached into the basin. The water was not much more than a foot deep and he reached the object easily, though in the process he soaked the bandages that still bound his wrists. Grasping the object, he brought it to the surface.

He recognized it instantly. It was one of the crystal brandy gla.s.ses he had taken with him on the night when he had met Arthur Manning. He was so astonished to see it here that, without thinking, he dropped it and it sank back to the bottom.

Plainly Arthur Manning had been here. Should he pursue him? What should he say to Lizzie? What effect would knowing he was somewhere in the vicinity have upon her? Furthermore, Joshua couldn't help asking himself, would his discovery make her treat him a little more civilly? Minutes ticked by. Joshua paced about, while Lizzie continued to ignore him.

In the end he opted for caution. a.s.suming Manning had fled into the cavern at the sound of their approach, what chance would he have of apprehending him in the dark tunnels? At the very least, he needed another able-bodied man to support him, and some torches.

Just as he reached this decision, she spoke.

"We have seen all there is to see here, Mr. Pope. Nothing has presented itself. Let us leave now and hope the other place will be more fruitful."

"As you wish, Miss Manning," said Joshua, smiling as he ushered her out of the gate with a flutter of relief in his heart.

She barely waited for him to secure the padlock before she quickly walked off on a path that meandered through stands of birch trees and led up the incline toward the cascade. Joshua sprinted to catch up with her and was vexed when this exertion, coupled with the steepness of the slope, had him panting like an old man, while she showed no evidence at all of strain.

Some two hundred yards further they clambered down a steep slope and came to the octagon house, a two-storey building nestled between two large willow trees where the cascade tumbled into the lake. The windows were set high up under the eaves, but there was a wide arched aperture on the side nearest the lake. The door, a heavy Gothic structure studded with iron nails, stood on the opposite side. It crossed Joshua's mind that if someone had forced entry here, he would have had to do so by this entrance. But there were no signs of an intrusion. It seemed more probable than ever that Arthur Manning was not here but hiding in the grotto.

"The key, if you please, Mr. Pope," said Lizzie.

Inside was an eight-sided galleried chamber with a hole in the middle of the floor through which the bas.e.m.e.nt was visible. A metal ladder fixed to the side wall appeared to be the only means of descending to this lower s.p.a.ce.

Lizzie briefly explained the workings of the system as they had been related to her by Herbert. "The water of the lake is held back behind the arch by a brick parapet. When the level rises, during sudden storms, the water gushes over the parapet into the lower chamber, where it is carried off to the river by a system of underground pipes. At present the water level is below the parapet, but when it's above it, the chamber fills with water."

Joshua s.h.i.+vered, imagining what it would be like to be here with a torrent of water gus.h.i.+ng over the parapet. Thank G.o.d for dry weather, he thought. He noticed a small metal door several feet above the bas.e.m.e.nt floor. "What is that opening?"

"The door that was installed after the men were killed last year. During a storm the water penetrated through the bas.e.m.e.nt wall in that spot, and found its way into the tunnels leading to the grotto. Until then no one knew the lake and grotto were linked. It was thought that Brown's excavations might have weakened the rock and caused the tragedy."

"I should descend to search for signs of your brother," said Joshua reluctantly. Even though there was no water in the lower chamber, it was the last thing he wanted to do. He straddled the metal parapet and clambered down the narrow ladder. The floor tiles were slimy with algae and every now and again his boot slipped and he skidded forward. Tension made his head pound dreadfully. Nothing on earth could persuade him to pa.s.s an hour here, let alone a night.

To disguise these awful fancies he pretended to scrutinize the ground, as if he might find some sign of Arthur Manning. As he expected, he found nothing, and after several minutes, he climbed back up the ladder.

Outside, he felt his pulse subside. They stood for a moment on the gra.s.sy slope. "Lancelot Brown was certainly correct when he said that this would be a perilous place to hide. It doesn't in the least surprise me we found no sign of your brother there."

"Why not?"

"Because that door would be impenetrable without a key. If he had forced entry there, we would certainly have seen signs of it. I strongly suspect he is hiding in the grotto."

"What makes you say so? We found no signs of him there either."

Joshua nodded sagely, without a glimmer of guilt. "But having seen both places, instinct tells me it would be a far more likely place for him to hide. He might easily have climbed over the bars. The tunnels would be a convenient hiding place where he would run little risk of detection."

For the first time she looked at him with something approaching interest. "In that case, why did we leave there without searching them?"

"We needed to come here in order to be certain. Moreover, I take seriously Granger's point that it is dangerous to venture there, and so should you."

She tossed her head and held her chin high, but some of the earlier hostility was gone. "What do you suggest we do?" she said.

"Prepare ourselves properly and formulate a careful plan to find him. The early evening, I hazard, would be the best time, when he is least likely to be prowling about the grounds or attempting to enter the house. If we return to look for him tonight, we could ask Granger to accompany us."

"Then you believe we should confide the details of this matter to Granger?"

"Not necessarily. The less we divulge to anyone, the better. We will inform him merely that we need to search the cavern and request that in the interests of safety, he accompany us. Let him draw his own conclusion as to the whys and wherefores of our action."

AFTER A HEARTY breakfast of fried sweetbreads, bacon, eggs, and parsley crisps, Joshua felt greatly restored. As soon as he was finished, he went outdoors again. He intended to go in search of Granger, to return his keys and to ask him to join them that evening on their return to the grotto. He was thankful to be alone, free from Lizzie Manning's unsettling sulks and silences.

They had spent several hours together and he had not troubled himself to ask her about her visit to the nursery, or to take her to task about the way she had questioned Violet and told her Cobb was alive. He now recognized that her concerns for her brother and Francis influenced everything she said and did. That was why she had offered to help in the first place. How she answered his questions would be prompted by her own interests.

Joshua thought longingly of his morning with Bridget. Her straightforwardness and lack of guile seemed suddenly greatly desirable. Even her questions about Rachel had been unexpectedly consoling. He wondered, with a sudden pounding concern, how she was faring with Cobb and Crackman and when he could escape Astley to see her. Not before he found Granger and persuaded him to accompany him for this evening's adventure.

Granger stood by a stone bench next to the fishpond. Seated on the bench was a woman Joshua didn't recognize. She was plainly dressed in a dark blue gown and white linen bonnet from which tendrils of copper hair were visible. Was this his wife or betrothed? She seemed too finely dressed. Curiosity began to smolder. "Mr. Granger," said Joshua, "forgive me for intruding in your'tete-a-tete, but I have come to return your keys and to make a request."

"And what might that be?" Granger replied. The tightening of his jaw and a faintly perceptible tic in his cheek suggested he was put out to be disturbed.

Joshua shot a meaningful glance at his companion. "Perhaps I should return later when you are not so busy. I do not wish to inconvenience you or this lady by interrupting your conversation."

"It's no matter, I a.s.sure you," said the woman, turning toward him. "I was just quizzing Mr. Granger on his duties. In any case I have to resume my work."

"Are you a member of the household staff ? Forgive me, but I do not think I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance," said Joshua niftily.

"This is Mrs. Bowles. She's a seamstress from London, come to deliver some work and a.s.sist with other preparations for the ball," said Granger. "And this, madam, is another visitor come to Astley, on a special commission. Mr. Joshua Pope, the portrait painter."

Joshua bowed, thinking that Mrs. Bowles was a striking woman. Then he remembered instantly who she was. Violet had said she saw Herbert calling on her and he had a.s.sumed she was Herbert's mistress. Lizzie had made some mention of her coming to deliver Violet's dress. Presumably that explained her presence. Perhaps, since she was here, he should verify the precise nature of her arrangement with Herbert.

"Mrs. Bowles-why, yes. I have heard a little about you. Indeed, there's a matter in which you might be able to help me. I met with a mishap two days ago and a good jacket of mine was torn. Might I call on you later this morning to see if you are able to repair it?"

Mrs. Bowles seemed a little taken aback, though whether this was from natural shyness or some other cause Joshua couldn't discern. At any rate, her now crimson complexion only added to her allure. "I will be at my work all day, and it's my habit to take my meals in my room, rather than in the servants' hall. You may come whenever it pleases you, though I don't promise I will be able to help you."

"You may expect me within the hour," responded Joshua with a small bow.

She stood, curtsied, and took her leave.

Joshua then secured Granger's cooperation for an evening excursion by hinting that he believed Arthur Manning might be somewhere in the vicinity of the grotto. He explained that Lizzie was anxious to trace her brother and he wanted to a.s.sist. He refrained from mentioning that he thought Arthur might have taken the necklace. They agreed to rendezvous at nine o'clock.

Chapter Thirty-seven.

MRS. BOWLES worried Joshua. He knew why she had come; he knew she was expected (Violet had told Lizzie, who had reported it in her letter); it was her looks that rattled him. Her russet hair, her creamy complexion, the arch of her brow, those deep blue eyes-these were features not easily overlooked by any man, and an artist of Joshua's imagination and sensitivity was affected by them more forcefully than most.

He remembered that Herbert had been seen paying a visit to her house. Was it, as Joshua first supposed, because she-a more radiant version of his own sweet and probably duplicitous Meg-warmed his bed, or was there something else?

Suppose Herbert had become involved with the claim for Sabine's necklace. Suppose he had decided, as any besotted bridegroom might, to protect the interests of his future bride by calling on Cobb and trying to persuade him to drop the claim. Dunstable had confirmed Herbert had been seen arguing with Cobb.

If he had failed to deter Cobb, what might Herbert have done? Would he search out Charles Mercier's illegitimate daughter directly and try to persuade her to drop the claim? Herbert said he didn't know who she was, but he might be lying. There was the letter in his desk with its indecipherable signature. There was the letter to Sabine that her maid had shown Joshua-the letter arranging a meeting. And soon after his visit to Cobb, Herbert had been seen by Violet calling on the dressmaker.

Was it fanciful to think that Mrs. Bowles was Charles Mercier's daughter? Was she the one Sabine had visited on her recent trip to London? She who had written the letters? Was that why Herbert had called on her? Three people might shed light upon the matter. Mrs. Bowles he intended to call upon within the hour. The others were Herbert and Sabine.

Joshua put his head round the door and scanned the morning room, but he found the place deserted. He walked through to the breakfast room, but apart from Peters, who was sampling a slice of sweetbread, and a couple of housemaids clearing the table of toast crusts, bacon rinds, and crockery, there was no one there either. He shook his head in disappointment.

Neither Herbert nor Sabine was anywhere to be found. Perhaps, Joshua reflected stoically, it was as well. If he did ask them outright about Mrs. Bowles, the question was likely to provoke them to drastic action. It would be better to speak first to the dressmaker herself: she at least had no hold over him.

It was now a little after half past nine-not enough time to call on Mrs. Bowles. Caroline had agreed to come to his rooms at ten to examine his wounds.

Joshua returned to his rooms and sat down on a large Windsor chair by the window. His eyes narrowed until they were no more than flinty slivers in his face. What had Mrs. Bowles and Granger been discussing? And Mrs. Bowles and Herbert? What was there between these two?

He unconsciously began to fiddle with his tattered bandages. They were still uncomfortably damp from the soaking he had given them in the grotto, and stained with rust and slime. He looked across at his easel, his palette, pencils, hog's bristle brushes, the bladders of pigments ranked in their box, and felt a sudden craving to use them. Unless he could paint he was worthless.

The wait for Caroline Bentnick had become insupportable. Taking matters into his own hands, he whipped off the dressing from his head and examined his face in the looking gla.s.s. The wound was healing; air would dry it faster, and at least now he would be able to wear a wig if he desired. Then he turned his attention to his hands. Using a dexterous combination of teeth and the fingers of his left hand, he untied the knot on the right. He twirled his arm in a corkscrew gesture, watching the sodden bandage spiral to the floor like a dirty white worm. As the last layers peeled away they tugged the skin, but discomfort was outweighed by great relief when he saw that new skin had begun to form. He removed the bandages on his left wrist and found that similarly improved.

He picked up a bladder of lead white, unstoppered it with a tack, and squeezed a little on the palette. He did the same with red lake, vermilion, and yellow ocher. Then he turned the easel toward him. It was some days since he had looked at the composition, and as always after such an interlude he saw it with a useful objectivity. His first reaction was entirely unexpected.

Sabine reclined indolently upon her seat, her head thrown back to gaze up at Herbert. The arm with which she held out the pineapple to Herbert was bare below the elbow. One foot was thrown forward as if she were on the point of reclining; the underside of her chin and neck were cast in deep shadow. The serpent necklace coiled about her neck glittered with green lights. Her eyes, heavy-lidded, large, and dark, were redolent of mystery, pa.s.sion, promise. Herbert, standing behind, hand on hip, looked down. His eyes did not meet hers. They rested instead upon her pale bosom, and on the jewel at her throat. There was warmth in them and something more besides: an expression of possession and adoration.

He had represented with great fineness and detail the costumes, the skin tones, the rich embroidery, and the folds and creases, the bravura landscape. The likenesses of Sabine and Herbert were so animated that they almost breathed with life. And yet, though he recognized his accomplishment, he didn't feel the sense of achievement he might have expected. Instead he felt distracted; his eyes were inexorably drawn to the necklace-as if that rather than the couple were the focus of the painting.

Joshua wondered whether he should alter Herbert's pose, so that the couple's eyes did meet, or adjust his expression so that it was riveted less on the necklace, or darken the necklace so that its highlights were less prominent. In the end, however, he decided against tampering. In all probability it was his own preoccupation with recovering the necklace that distorted his view of his work. No one else would interpret it in the same way.

Joshua took up his palette and delicately added further details to the background, which was all that remained to be finished. But despite his earlier urge to paint, his work failed to hold his attention. This morning's adventures-finding the winegla.s.s and meeting Mrs. Bowles with Granger-made him sense that he was on the brink of a great breakthrough. But he couldn't help wondering what Bridget was learning in Saint Peter's Court. Joshua still clung to his belief that Cobb was probably innocent of involvement in h.o.a.re's death, but until he knew who was to blame, there remained a doubt he could not entirely banish.

Bridget had promised to call on Crackman, to try to discover the ident.i.ty of the claimant. The fact he had heard nothing was a source of disappointment. Of course, if his hunch was correct and Mrs. Bowles was the claimant, he could resolve the matter here and now. And all being well, this evening he would find Arthur Manning and recover the necklace. There would then be nothing to prevent him returning to London tomorrow to rejoin Bridget.

He glanced at his timepiece. Ten o'clock had come and gone and still Caroline Bentnick had failed to appear. He dimly recalled that there was something she wished to tell him concerning the day of h.o.a.re's death. Whatever it was it would have to wait.

He took up the torn and soiled brown coat that he had worn on the day he was attacked and asked the third footman where he might find Mrs. Bowles. The footman escorted him to an attic staircase leading to the garret, where most of the servants' quarters were situated. He found her in a pleasant, though stiflingly hot, room. The sloping ceiling was punctuated with a shuttered window that gave a bird's-eye view of the kitchen garden, the pinery, and Richmond Hill beyond. Glancing through it, he saw it was practically the same view he had from his rooms below. The sky was burdened with lowering clouds, but at the moment he entered the sun broke out briefly and spears of sunlight radiated across the room in a dazzling fan, which disappeared almost instantly.

A gown of pale blue satin embroidered with seed pearls in a trailing vine pattern stood in one corner of the room on a tailor's dummy, which reminded him of the lay figure he used for his portrait. Mrs. Bowles sat on a stool nearby, busy at her craft, apparently st.i.tching a pair of crimson velvet gentleman's breeches. She had removed the bonnet she wore earlier and put on a small linen cap, with lappets hanging on each side of her face. He caught a glimpse of strands of russet hair beneath the cap.

As before, Joshua was struck by Mrs. Bowles's radiance. He recalled the story of the maid, Emma Baynes, who had delivered the jewel to Charles Mercier and so bewitched him that she subsequently bore his child. Was this the child Charles Mercier had fathered? Or was she no more than Herbert's mistress? She was certainly lovely enough to distract the most upright of men.

He cast about, looking for any sc.r.a.p of paper containing a sample of her handwriting. If it were the same hand as he had seen on the letters to Herbert and Sabine, her ident.i.ty would be confirmed. There was nothing visible, though he noticed a closed book on the table next to her. Was this an order book perhaps?

Joshua coughed. "Mrs. Bowles, forgive my intrusion. I have brought my coat. It was badly torn in a misadventure that befell me two days ago. I wondered if you could repair it."

She took the coat and began to finger the rips to the sleeve and lapel. "I hesitate to say I can mend it so well it will be as good as before. And certainly I am too occupied just at the moment ..."

"I would not expect it," said Joshua. "I see you are kept busy by the demands of the Bentnicks."

"It's the reason I have come here, sir."