A Corpse in Shining Armour. Caro Peacock

they were born. Only the most pressing necessity could persuade me to engage a person to spy on a gracious lady who has been my hostess several times in the past.’

      The distress in his voice sounded genuine. He’d picked up a penholder and his fingers were clenched round it as tightly as if he wanted to break it.

      ‘But there are some situations, Miss Lane, in which we have to accept one evil to avoid a worse one. The consequences if Lady Brinkburn persists in her allegation would be unimaginable.’

      I decided to swallow his implication that I was an evil, for the time being at least.

      ‘If I’ve been informed correctly, these rumours that Stephen Brinkburn is not his father’s son have begun quite recently,’ I said.

      He nodded.

      ‘And their source is Lady Brinkburn?’

      A pause.

      ‘Apparently, yes.’

      ‘How recently?’

      ‘This spring, only a couple of months ago.’

      ‘Before that, had she suggested the possibility to anybody?’

      ‘As far as I’m aware, no.’

      ‘You’d known her socially since they were married?’

      ‘Even before that. To be honest, Lord Brinkburn asked my opinion before proposing to the lady.’

      ‘And your opinion was…?’

      ‘There was a difference of some twenty years in their ages, but when the gentleman is the elder party, that’s no great objection. Apart from that, nothing could be more suitable. Her family owned estates adjoining his family’s in the north-east. She brought a very considerable settlement with her and was an accomplished and good-natured young woman.’

      ‘That’s hardly the language of a passionate love match.’

      ‘Why should it be? It was an arrangement beneficial to both parties. In many respects, it has been a good marriage.’

      ‘Except that they’ve spent a lot of it living apart.’

      ‘It suited them both. Lady Brinkburn preferred a more secluded life and Lord Brinkburn found the Italian climate beneficial to his health.’

      ‘And in more than twenty years, she’d never mentioned the matter of the stranger on her honeymoon until a few months ago. Can you account for that?’

      He’d abandoned his attempt to break the penholder. It was in front of him on his blotter, and he was sitting back in his chair. Now that the decision had been made–to employ me, though not to trust me completely–some of the tension seemed to have gone out of him.

      ‘Yes, I think I can account for it. Lord Brinkburn returned from Naples last January. Before he left Italy he wrote me what I regard as a very courageous and honourable letter. He said he’d been conscious for some time of a decline in his physical and mental faculties. He had consulted several distinguished physicians who had told him that his malady could only become worse. What had up to then been occasional alarming episodes were becoming more frequent. He was facing the prospect of a permanent derangement of the mind, probably in the quite near future, and increasing physical incapacity. While he still had his reason left, he was determined on making his own arrangements. He selected an establishment in Surrey where he knew he would be permitted to live out his days with all possible comfort and dignity, returned to England accompanied only by his valet, and took up residence there much as a gentleman might settle into a hotel.’

      ‘The valet being Simon Handy?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Did Lady Brinkburn know about this?’

      ‘It was my sad duty to tell her. I visited Lord Brinkburn at the establishment. It was all too clear that the doctors’ prognostications had been borne out by events and his mind was irretrievably affected.’

      I decided not to mention what Disraeli had told me about the Emperor Hadrian. In spite of the lawyer’s dry manner, he was clearly distressed.

      ‘I went down to Buckinghamshire to see Lady Brinkburn,’ he went on. ‘She was naturally affected by what I had to tell her, but seemed at first to take it quite calmly. I broached with her, as tactfully as possible, the question of who was to take on the considerable task of managing the estates now that Lord Brinkburn was incapable of doing so. I suggested that, since Stephen was of age and would inherit, probably within months rather than years, I should set about arrangements for giving him power of attorney. Lady Brinkburn made no objection to the proposal at the time, but in retrospect I believe it may have started her on this potentially disastrous course.’

      ‘How did the story of the honeymoon get into circulation?’ I said.

      ‘I’m afraid there is no doubt at all that it came from Lady Brinkburn herself. Two weeks after I visited her at Brinkburn Hall, she came up to London unexpectedly and asked to see me.’

      ‘Was this an unusual event?’

      ‘Yes. I shouldn’t want to give the impression that Lady Brinkburn is a recluse, but she prefers country life to the city. Although she lives a little over twenty miles from London, she usually comes to town no more than two or three times a year at most, to visit relatives or old friends. I assumed she wanted to discuss some business matters. It would have been quite reasonable, for instance, for her to want assurance that her tenancy of Brinkburn Hall would continue after her husband’s death. I looked forward to being able to reassure her on that point.’

      ‘But that wasn’t what she wanted?’

      ‘No. The moment she came in and sat down, she launched into the story that you have heard. Needless to say, I was horrified.’

      ‘Did you believe it?’

      ‘Not a word, neither then nor now.’

      ‘Did you tell her you didn’t believe it?’

      ‘Not in so many words. One doesn’t accuse a lady of lying. I assumed that she was distraught owing to the illness of her husband and needless uncertainty about her future. I hinted, as gently as I could, that this fancy was the result of being overwrought and she should return home and rest.’

      ‘How did she react to that?’

      ‘Calmly enough, but she didn’t budge from her story. She asked me what I thought she should do about it. In the circumstances, I thought it would be best to pretend to take what she said seriously. I told her that, before any other steps could be considered, I should have to ask her to swear an affidavit that every detail of what she’d told me was true. I offered to prepare the affidavit for her then and there.’

      ‘And did she swear it?’

      ‘No. My offer had exactly the effect I’d intended. She refused to consider an affidavit and brought our interview pretty rapidly to an end. I was seriously concerned for her and decided that I must visit her at home as soon as I had the opportunity, to see if she needed any form of help.’

      ‘Did you tell her sons what had happened?’

      ‘At that point, no. I decided that it would distress them needlessly. I believed I’d dealt with the immediate crisis and we’d hear no more of the matter.’

      ‘But you were wrong.’

      ‘Yes, I was wrong. Within a few days, alarming rumours came to my ears. Lady Brinkburn must have used her circle of acquaintances in London to spread the story. As you can imagine, you could more easily stop a forest fire than a rumour of that kind, once it takes hold.’

      ‘And of course Stephen and Miles must have heard the rumour.’

      ‘Inevitably. Both came to consult me.’

      ‘Separately?’

      ‘Separately.’

      ‘How