The Suspicion at Sanditon (Or, the Disappearance of Lady Denham) Page 31

  “During which you intended to extort money from me, I suppose.”

  “No—merely to ask for answers to questions that have haunted my family for decades.” He placed his hands on the table and leaned toward her. “When you did not appear at dinner and everyone speculated about your fate, I realized that the opportunity to learn anything directly from you might be lost to me forever, so I resolved to learn what I could in the course of my night at Sanditon House. That is why I volunteered to come out here, to the hermitage, when the gentlemen searched the grounds for you. I wanted to see where Ivy had lived, and use the tunnel she passed through to sneak into the house with Archibald.”

  He stood upright again. The cuffs of the eighteenth-century coat he still wore had ridden up, and he adjusted them as he continued. “That is also why I changed attire afterward, along with all the other gentlemen. Though the tunnel had kept my clothes fairly dry from the storm, they were soiled by my passage through it. But equally as important, I wanted to enter Archibald’s apartment, to see his belongings and the rooms in which he lived, to see the things he valued.” He picked up the paper from the table and handed it to Elizabeth. “You might have been looking for this.”

  Darcy spied over her shoulder. It was the sketchbook page that had disappeared from the chamber-horse drawer.

  “My mother drew that as a child, during a conversation she overheard between Archibald and Ivy. She told me she had hidden it in the springs of that contraption in Archibald’s apartment, but I found it in the drawer.”

  “I now understand why she would have written ‘Ivy,’ ‘Rose,’ and ‘Woodcock’ on the page,” Elizabeth said. “What is the significance of ‘Tailor’?”

  “It is my mother’s maiden name—the one she bore when she created that drawing.”

  Lady Denham made a sound that could have been mistaken for a snort were she not a baronet’s widow. “You expect us to believe you are who you claim to be based on a child’s sketch you stole from my late husband’s apartment?”

  “Since the day I learned Sidney Parker grew up in Sanditon, I hoped one day to visit the village with him and somehow meet you. When he invited me to join him on this trip, I resolved to find a way to make your acquaintance—your dinner invitation was a lucky surprise. In the event that you did not believe my claim to be descended from Archibald Hollis, I also brought this.” He reached into his waistcoat pocket, withdrew a miniature portrait of a young man, and held it up for her to see. “This is—”

  “Archibald.” Lady Denham said the name matter-of-factly, but her expression softened as she took the image into her own hand and regarded it. “I know my own husband, even if this likeness was painted more than twoscore years before we wed. Where did you obtain this?”

  “He gave it to Ivy before he left for Oxford. It was one of the few possessions she took with her when his father drove her away.”

  Lady Denham handed back the tiny portrait. “Have you anything else to share, Mr. Granville?”

  “Yes—not an object, but a fact. I also, I am ashamed to admit, entered your apartment in search of information. I confess this in the hope that by freely disclosing incidents of less honorable conduct, you will believe I speak the truth about the remainder.”

  “How did you penetrate the locked door?” Darcy asked.

  “I did not—I accessed the apartment through the house’s hidden passages. Archibald had shown Ivy the state apartment during one of her visits—and she spoke of it when reminiscing about her life in Sanditon. Stories about its opulence and following the passages to find it were handed down in the family like fairy tales.”

  There was nothing magical or fairylike in Lady Denham’s countenance and manner upon hearing Mr. Granville had violated her privacy. And that Ivy had visited those rooms decades before Lady Denham occupied them. “What did you take from there?”

  “I looked through some papers in a letter case but heard someone approach in the corridor, so I had to quit the apartment rapidly.”

  “And then later implicated me for it,” Josiah said.

  “I am sorry for that,” Mr. Granville replied. “I needed to deflect attention from myself. Thinking, as many did, that you were behind the disappearances of Lady Denham and the others, I figured one more transgression would easily be believed.”

  He turned back to Lady Denham. “I did take one item from the apartment—the sedative on the dressing table. Miss Susan Parker had gone missing by that time, and I thought it could spare Diana Parker the trouble of preparing a new one when Susan was discovered. I put it in my pocket and, in the course of other events, forgot about it until later.”

  “When you used it to kidnap me,” Lady Denham said.

  “That was never my plan. How could it have been, when everyone thought from the start that you had already been kidnapped?” Mr. Granville faced the others. “During the search for Susan, I returned to the portrait room before everyone else—and was astonished to discover Lady Denham within, leaving her own ransom note. She was as startled as I by the encounter, and I tried to use that to my advantage by initiating the conversation I had hoped to have about Archibald and Ivy. I poured her a glass of wine and, recalling the sedative I had in my pocket, added it, hoping it would make her more yielding about discussing the subject. Instead, it quickly rendered her unconscious.

  “I panicked. I could not just leave her in the portrait room for everyone to find, and we were all due to reconvene very soon. There is a hidden observation chamber adjacent to the portrait room, so I deposited her in there, then took a circuitous route back to the portrait room so I would not be the first to have arrived. Though I outwardly maintained my composure with all of you—at least, I believe I did—inside I was convinced that every noise I heard was Lady Denham waking up and trying to emerge from the observation room.”

  “I believe I heard such a noise, when we were gathered,” Charlotte said. “I thought it was the sound of something falling.”

  “It was indeed—I later discovered that Lady Denham knocked an unlit candle to the floor in her sleep. I heard the sound myself while we were in the portrait room, and wished more than ever that all of you would depart. When you and Parker left Miss Brereton in my care”—he looked at Clara earnestly—“a charge that in any other circumstances I would have welcomed—I did not know how I would ever be able to disengage myself to deal with Lady Denham. So I poured you wine—untainted, I assure you—hoping you would become drowsy and retire. I hope, Miss Brereton, you can forgive me.”

  “Perhaps in time,” Miss Brereton said. “But the wine was indeed adulterated with a sedative—by someone else.”

  His brows rose in surprise. “No wonder it affected you faster than I anticipated. Fortunately, Sir Edward returned, and I consigned you to his protection. With the room at last clear, I returned to Lady Denham. She still slept soundly. I could not simply leave her in place until she woke, or move her anywhere within the house—we might be overheard while having the conversation I yet hoped for. But where to take her?”

  “So of all the places available to you, all the outbuildings and garden structures, you chose to bring me here?” Lady Denham said. “Why not the summerhouse, or the temple—someplace comfortable, or dignified, or at least…” She turned her hand to look at her fingertips, which she had absently allowed to rest on the table; they were smudged with dust and dirt. “Clean?”

  “I brought you here because when you would not hear me out in the finest sitting room at Sanditon House—with its stately hearth and elegant furniture and portrait of your second husband bearing witness—I wanted you to see the hermitage. When I first stepped inside here, I was stunned by its primitive condition. This ‘hovel,’ as you called it, is where my great-grandmother lived while her lover enjoyed a life of ease at Sanditon House—the life that you inherited. Look around you—is this not picturesque? The epitome of simple, spiritual living? The perfect commune of man and nature—and all that other rubbish the well-off spout about herm
itages while they entertain themselves by watching the hermits who live in them perform like bears in a circus.”

  “That all happened long before my time—before I was even born, let alone married to Archibald. It has nothing to do with me.”

  “While it did not then, it does now. I want to know whether Archibald Hollis ever made any provision for Ivy or her descendants—formally or informally. My mother says Ivy always spoke well of him—always described him as an honorable man—never blamed him for the cruelty she suffered when his father forced her to flee. Yet when she came back in her final years, told him she had borne him a child, and asked for his support, he refused to give her money.”

  “On what do you base that claim?” Josiah asked.

  “My mother accompanied Ivy when she asked him. She was a child at the time, but remembers quite clearly waking up to hear Ivy pleading with Archibald that they not part quarreling about money, and his response that he would give her anything but.”

  “I witnessed that conversation, too,” Josiah said, “and I was older than your mother. She misunderstood what she heard. It was Ivy who refused Archibald’s offer of money, and my uncle conceded to her wishes.”

  “Just like that?” Mr. Granville said. “He never made another attempt?”

  “I did not say that.”

  Josiah crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Lady Denham. She made a great business of smoothing her skirts as she avoided his gaze. Eventually, he said, “Are you going to tell him, or shall I?”

  That captured her attention. Lady Denham stared at Josiah a long time, but he did not back down.

  “I shall tell him,” she finally said. “But not here.”

  Thirty-nine

  “Do not let us quarrel about the past.”

  —Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice

  The scene in the portrait room back at Sanditon House was much the same as it had been the night before, with the noticeable addition of Lady Denham. All five Parker siblings were in attendance, the health of Thomas Parker’s son having improved following an early-morning house call by his aunt Diana while Sidney and the others were confronting Percy Granville. Both Denham siblings were also present, the Sir having received a summons from her ladyship, and the Miss still hoping to engage Mr. Granville’s interest before he left the village. Josiah Hollis, Miss Brereton, Charlotte, Elizabeth, and Darcy completed the party, and the guests had grouped themselves in twos and threes about the room. All of the gentlemen, to their unanimous relief, were wearing their own clothing once more.

  Josiah glowered at Sir Harry Denham, who observed the proceedings from his usual vantage point above the fireplace. “It galls me beyond anything to see that portrait occupy a place of honor, while my uncle Archibald’s is banished upstairs,” he said to Darcy. “It is disrespectful. None but a Hollis, or someone of Hollis descent”—he looked at Mr. Granville, beside him—“should preside over this room.”

  In the corner opposite, Lady Denham regarded the image of her second husband with an expression of pride and wistfulness. “That portrait is one of the few objects I took with me from Denham Park when I moved back here after Sir Harry’s death,” she said to Elizabeth. “All the rest, as part of the late baronet’s estate, went to Sir Edward. There are some who disapprove of my having moved Archibald’s portrait to the gallery of his ancestors, and hanging this one in here. But I was married to Sir Harry longer, and with him I did not live in Ivy Woodcock’s shadow. Everywhere in this house I am surrounded by memories of Archibald; I wanted one memory of Sir Harry here with me.”

  She looked across the room to where Sir Edward stood with Miss Denham. “Unfortunately, my nephew is not quite the man his uncle was. I am still astonished and appalled by his recent behavior. Plotting to abduct Miss Clara! A young lady under my protection! His conduct is an outrage against us both. Clara tells me he had been trying to woo her for some time. I witnessed one of his attempts—the morning you came to call, I saw the two of them just on the other side of the paling in Denham Park. I thought she had met him for a prearranged tryst, but she told me just now that he surprised her there and made an unwelcome effort to persuade her to elope to Scotland. The audacity! And then for him to enact his ill-conceived abduction scheme and draw the Parker sisters and Miss Heywood into it as well—have you ever heard of such idiocy?”

  Elizabeth replied that she had not. “You told all of us that you will administer Sir Edward’s punishment,” she said. “Have you yet determined what it will be?”

  “More than our magistrate would bother to do,” Lady Denham replied. “Because Sir Edward is a baronet, the magistrate will look the other way so as not to injure the Denham name. Indeed—I, too, will ensure the name is preserved—along with Miss Clara’s reputation and that of Sanditon as a whole. We cannot let word of these abductions get abroad, or that will be the end of Sanditon’s prospects as a genteel watering-place for families of good character.”

  “You also must ensure that Sir Edward never takes it into his head to abduct Clara or anyone else in the future.”

  “I have a plan for that. After giving him a dressing-down he will never forget and exacting a promise to never repeat his actions, I am sending him and Miss Denham on an extended trip to a place very far from here, in hopes that they both find rich spouses.”

  “A tour of the Continent?”

  “No—the West Indies. I hear there are plenty of heiresses and wealthy plantation owners there. By the time Sir Edward returns with a bride, perhaps Miss Clara will be settled in an establishment of her own.”

  Overhearing his name, Sir Edward wandered into their conversation. After he had voiced repeated enquiries as to the dowager’s health and offered expressions of relief at her having weathered both the storm and her kidnapping without ill effect, Lady Denham looked pointedly at Sir Harry’s portrait.

  “Sir Edward, I understand that in my absence you had difficulty producing Sir Harry’s watch.”

  “I—” The baronet seemed about to offer either a desperate excuse or an inflated apology, but stopped himself and answered, simply, “Yes.”

  “That is because I have it.” Lady Denham withdrew the watch from the folds of her skirts and allowed it to swing from its chain. “You and I both know where I discovered it.”

  Having just regained his color hours before, Sir Edward appeared a bit peaked again. “Yes … yes, we do, and—”

  “Let us withdraw to discuss the matter. And several others.”

  * * *

  Sir Edward returned from the tête-à-tête humiliated and humbled. From each of his abductees, he begged pardon in express terms, supplemented by enough poetic quotations and polysyllabic words beyond his understanding to render his apology as unintelligible as it was heartfelt. Miss Brereton received particular assurances of no further attempts at courtship, which she graciously accepted.

  As the baronet slunk away, Lady Denham’s gaze followed him, then next fell upon Mr. Granville. “I think I am going to forgive him,” she declared. “Not immediately, but in time.”

  “Sir Edward, or Mr. Granville?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Both, I suppose. Sir Edward is my nephew, and despite his folly I can never stay angry with him for long. Mr. Granville is Mr. Hollis’s great-grandson, and I have been haunted by the ghost of Ivy Woodcock for far too long. Mr. Hollis would not have wanted that—for me, or for Mr. Granville.”

  They crossed the room to where Percy stood with Darcy and Josiah. “Mr. Granville,” Lady Denham said, “it is time for that private conversation you have been seeking.”

  Josiah’s gaze followed the pair as they left the portrait room and turned down the corridor. He appeared pensive, but not at all curious.

  “You know what Lady Denham is going to tell him, do you not?” Elizabeth asked.

  Josiah turned to her and Darcy. “Yes. I have read Archibald’s will. Back when he died and his widow gained control of everything, we—his Hollis relations—asked to see it. As his er
stwhile heir, I served as the family representative.”

  “Did Archibald leave anything to Ivy Rose?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Archibald left everything to Ivy Rose.”

  At first, Elizabeth thought she could not possibly have heard Josiah correctly.

  “Everything?” Darcy appeared equally incredulous. “Then how has Lady Denham retained control of the estate?”

  “Lady Denham was given a life interest in the property. For the remainder of her years, the income is hers. Upon Lady Denham’s death, the entire estate, minus a few modest bequests, goes to Ivy Rose or her issue.”

  “I imagine you and the rest of the Hollises are not pleased about Ivy Rose inheriting the estate,” Elizabeth said.

  “The rest of the Hollises do not know the terms of Lady Denham’s occupancy; they, like the rest of the village, believe Lady Denham owns the estate outright—and I ask that you keep your knowledge to yourselves. While Uncle Archibald was not ashamed of his union with Ivy—he would have married her, had his father allowed it—he did not want to embarrass his widow by exposing her to gossip about Ivy Rose’s relationship to him.”

  “He sounds like a good man,” Elizabeth said.

  “He was. He did right by me, even after his new wife ousted me from Sanditon House. He paid for my education, looked after me from a distance in a godfatherly sort of way, and left me a bequest that I will receive upon Lady Denham’s passing, on the condition that I never expose her secret—which I never have until last night, when I thought her life depended on it. And even then, only after I tried to piece together myself what was transpiring.

  “As for my own opinion regarding the ultimate disposal of the estate, I have no quarrel with Ivy Rose inheriting it. A man’s property should go to his children. What has stuck in my craw all these years is that Lady Denham has a comfortable fortune of her own, and therefore no real need for Sanditon House—particularly during the years when Sir Harry was alive. While she resided at Denham Park, Sanditon House sat without any family in residence. Ivy Rose and her husband could have been living here—Percy Granville could have grown up here. Lady Denham has always had it within her power to give the house to those who have a moral claim to it even if their legal claim is dormant until her death. Instead, she lives practically by herself in a house so large that she does not use half of it.”