‘Helena, you must be... I mean... my dear man...’
His face is turning red, his words boiling over and spilling out of his mouth. I can feel a similar heat in my own cheeks. This line of questioning is poison to Dance.
‘Evelyn suggested the relationship was fractured,’ I say quickly, laying the words down like stones across a boggy field.
Hardcastle’s gone to the window, where he’s standing with his back to me. Civility clearly does not allow for confrontation, though I can see his body trembling, his hands clenched behind him.
‘I won’t deny Helena has no great fondness for Evelyn, but without her we’ll be bankrupt in a couple of years,’ he says, measuring every word as he struggles to keep his anger in check. ‘She wouldn’t put our future in jeopardy.’
He didn’t say she’s not capable of it.
‘But—’
‘Damn it, Dance, what’s your interest in this slander?’ he shouts, yelling at my reflection in the glass so he doesn’t have to yell at me.
This is it. Dance knows Peter Hardcastle well enough to know he’s at the end of his patience. My next answer will decide whether he opens up, or points me towards the door. I need to choose my words carefully, which means pressing the thing he most cares about. Either I tell him I’m trying to save his daughter’s life or...
‘I’m sorry, Peter,’ I say, my voice conciliatory. ‘If somebody’s trying to sabotage this deal with Ravencourt, I must put a stop to it, both as your friend and your legal counsel.’
He sags.
‘Of course, you must,’ he says, looking at me over his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, old friend, it’s just... all this talk of murder... well, it’s stirring some old memories... you understand. Naturally, if you think Evelyn’s in danger, I’ll do everything I can to help, but you’re mistaken if you believe Helena would ever harm Evelyn. The relationship is strained, but they do love one another. I’m certain of it.’
I allow myself a small sigh of relief. Battling Dance has been exhausting, but finally I’m on the verge of some answers.
‘Your daughter contacted somebody called Felicity Maddox, claiming she was worried by Helena’s behaviour,’ I continue, obliging my host’s need to place the facts in their proper order. ‘She’s not on the guest list, but I believe Felicity came to the house to help, and there’s a possibility she’s now being held as collateral should Evelyn fail to go through with the suicide. Michael told me she was a childhood friend of your daughter’s, but couldn’t recall anything more about her. Do you remember this girl? Have you seen her around the house perhaps? I have reason to believe she was at liberty this morning.’
Hardcastle looks bewildered.
‘I don’t, though I must confess Evelyn and I haven’t spoken much since her return. The circumstances of her arrival, the marriage... they’ve put a barrier between us. It’s peculiar Michael wasn’t able to tell you more, though. They’ve been inseparable since she came back, and I know he visited often and wrote frequently while Evelyn was in Paris. I would expect him to know this Felicity, if anybody does.’
‘I’ll talk to him again, but the letter was correct, was it not? Helena has been acting oddly?’
The record catches on the gramophone, the soaring violin solo yanked back to earth over and over again, like a kite in a child’s overeager hands.
Peter glances at it, frowning, hoping his dissatisfaction alone will right it. Defeated, he moves to the gramophone, lifting the needle, blowing dust from the record and holding it up to the light.
‘It’s scratched,’ he says, with a shake of the head.
He replaces the record, new music taking flight.
‘Tell me about Helena,’ I nudge. ‘It was her idea to announce the engagement on the anniversary of Thomas’s death and throw the party in Blackheath, wasn’t it?’
‘She’s never forgiven Evelyn for abandoning Thomas that morning,’ he says, watching the record spin. ‘I confess, I thought the years might dull her pain, but’ – he spreads his arms – ‘all this, it’s so...’ He breathes deeply, composing himself. ‘Helena means to embarrass Evelyn, I admit. She calls the marriage a punishment, but it’s a rather fine match, if you look at the details. Ravencourt won’t lay a finger on Evelyn, told me as much himself. “I’m too old for all that” is what he said. She’ll have the run of his homes, nice allowance, any life she chooses, so long as it doesn’t embarrass him. In return, he’ll get... well, you know the rumours about his valets. Good-looking chaps coming and going at all hours. Scandalmongering is all it is, but the marriage will put a stop to it.’ He pauses, his stare defiant. ‘You see, Dance? Why would Helena arrange all of this if she meant to kill Evelyn? She wouldn’t, she couldn’t. Beneath it all, she loves Evelyn. Not well, I admit, but well enough. She needs to feel as if Evelyn has been thoroughly punished, and then she’ll start making it up to her. You’ll see. Helena will come around, and Evelyn will realise this marriage is a blessing in disguise. Believe me, you’re barking up the wrong tree.’
‘I still need to speak with your wife, Peter.’
‘My organiser’s in the drawer; it has her appointments in it.’ He laughs grimly. ‘Our marriage is one of overlapping duties these days, but it should tell you where to find her.’
I rush to the drawer, unable to contain my excitement.
Somebody in the house, possibly Helena herself, tore these appointments from her day-planner to conceal her activities. Whoever did it either forgot, or didn’t know, that her husband kept his own copy, and now they’re in my hands. Here and now, we might finally discover what was worth all the trouble.
The drawer is stiff, swollen with damp. It comes open grudgingly, revealing a moleskin book held fast with string. Flipping through the pages, I quickly find Helena’s appointments, my ebullience draining out of me immediately. Most of them I already know about. Helena met with Cunningham at 7:30 a.m., though there’s no indication why. After that she arranged to see Evelyn at 8:15 a.m. and Millicent Derby at 9 a.m., both of which she missed. She has a meeting with the stablemaster at 11:30 a.m., which is in an hour’s time, and then she’s expected in Ravencourt’s parlour early this afternoon.
She won’t attend.
My finger roams the schedule, searching for something suspicious. Evelyn and Ravencourt I know about, and Millicent was an old friend, so that’s understandable, but what could be so urgent she’d need to see her husband’s bastard son first thing in the morning?
He refused to tell me when I asked, but he’s the only person who’s seen Helena Hardcastle today, which means I can no longer tolerate his evasions.
I must have the truth out of him.
Before that, I need to visit the stables.
For the first time, I know where the elusive lady of the house is going to be.
‘Do you know why Helena met Charles Cunningham this morning?’ I ask Peter, as I replace the organiser in the drawer.
‘Likely Helena wanted to say hello,’ he says, pouring himself another drink. ‘She was always close to the boy.’
‘Is Charles Cunningham the reason Stanwin’s blackmailing you?’ I ask. ‘Does Stanwin know he’s your son?’
‘Come now, Dance!’ he says, glaring at me.
I meet his gaze, my host’s too. Dance is slipping apologies onto my tongue, urging me to flee the room. It’s a bloody nuisance. Every time I open my mouth to speak, I have to force aside another man’s embarrassment first.
‘You know me, Peter, so you know what it takes for me to ask such a thing,’ I say. ‘I must have all the pieces of this nasty business to hand.’
He considers this, returning to the window with his drink. Not that there’s much to see. The trees have grown so close to the house the branches are pressed right up against the glass. Judging by Peter’s demeanour, he’d invite them inside now if he could.