Janet Gleeson - The Serpent in the Garden

THE CLOCK HAD YET to chime seven. Joshua went to the window, pulled back the curtain and let his melancholic eye survey the scene. The garden was heavy with dew and a morning mist clung to the ground, but the sky was clear. He looked down over the roof of the vast conservatory gleaming in the early morning sun. The only sign of life was on the far side of the conservatory from the pinery, where Granger was working. Accompanied by a couple of men, he was training a vine into a regular serpentine form, and trimming its side shoots.

In Joshuas mind, Cobbs death and the disappearance of the necklace were as confused as the stems of the vine. He could see a connection between the two, though what it was precisely remained unclear. The necklace might very well be the disputed property that had drawn Cobb to England from Barbados and had brought about his death. The fact that the necklace had disappeared after Cobbs death might point to a coconspirator, but might also be proof of his assailants declaration that he was Cobb.

If the man had spoken the truth, who was the man in the pinery? Granger was the only person apart from Sabine who had seen the corpse. Joshua finished dressing, choosing a workmanlike blue woollen jacket, a plain blue cravat, and a dark curled wig, and made his way to the conservatory.

By the time Joshua caught up with him, Granger was heading toward the kitchen garden.

Good day, Granger. What are your men doing?

Granger stopped walking and turned. I have instructed them to water the vine to help the fruit swell and to deter insects. You can only do it before the sun reaches the plant, hence it must be done early.

Joshua was impressed by the subtlety of this operation. Perhaps there was more to gardening than he knew. How did you learn such matters?

I was taught about vines while I was still an apprentice at Beechwood, but I am certain it is not vines you come to discuss.

You are right, I have come because I wish to put your memory to the test. How well did you scrutinize Cobbs body?

Granger seemed taken aback. Cobbs corpse? he repeated.

Yes. When Mrs. Mercier asked you to deal with it, did you take time to look closely?

Grangers leathery complexion darkened. He shrugged his shoulders. Not especially, sir.

Could you describe him for me?

Describe him? There was naught remarkable in him, apart from the fact he was dead.

How tall would you say he was? My height? Taller than you?

Granger looked at Joshua. About your size maybe. He was lying down, mind, so I cant be exact.

I have Cobbs bag. His clothes are those of a tall mansomeone, I would hazard, who is considerably taller than I am. An inch or two taller than you even.

Granger walked a little further down the path and squatted to crumble some earth, as if testing the soil for moistness or some other quality. I told you, sir, I cant be precise. He was lying down.

But you saw Cobb on the previous occasion, when he came to the garden. You said so yourself. How tall was he then?

Yes. He was a tall man; I remember now.

Grangers obstruction was exasperating. Are you quite certain, Mr. Granger, that the man you accosted in the gardens and the man lying dead in the pinery were one and the same?

Granger shrugged his shoulders and fell silent. Though Joshua could not be certainGrangers back was turned to himhe thought he seemed a little stiffer than usual. He waited for Granger to speak.

I assumed it was him on account of the letter, Granger mumbled at last, conceding defeat by standing up and facing Joshua. But maybe, now you come to mention it, it wasnt.

What precisely do you mean, Granger? A man is dead, possibly murdered. Was he the same man you met in the garden?

Granger lowered his voice and furrowed his brow. There was a new urgency in his tone. In truth, sir, I cant be certain of anything. I hadnt seen a dead man before. It disturbed me to see the corpse like that, and the smellon account of him vomitingand the heat made it worse. In short, sir, I confess I didnt look straight at him. Mrs. Mercier had put her handkerchief over his face. I saw no need to remove it. I looked in his pockets, like she asked. Then I called two undergardeners to put him on the cart and take him to the undertaker.

Then you never properly inspected the corpse?

No sir. I didnt.

FRUSTRATED, Joshua returned to the house. He felt hungry and wondered if it was too early for breakfast. As he opened the door to the hall he remembered the letter Herbert had secreted in his writing desk on the morning the corpse was discovered. It now seemed more imperative than ever to find this communication.

To search Herberts bureau seemed a most perilous undertaking. The drawing room was at the hub of the house, at the foot of the stairs. During the morning the family passed through it on their way to the morning room. Late afternoons and evenings were always spent there. At other times servants came and went to perform their duties.

Joshua would need to remain there for some time without being observed. Herbert was presumably still in London, sifting through Joshuas possessions for incriminating evidence. The rest of the household remained at Astley. He was unfamiliar with the servants routines. He had missed his opportunity to search the drawing room last night, after everyone went to bed. If he waited until later, the family would be about; this evening Herbert might return and the task would grow even riskier. Thus, he concluded, steeling his wavering resolve, the present hourit was barely eight oclock and no one was yet risenwas his best chance.

He paused in the hallway. To his left was the open door to the breakfast room, where he could see the table set for six. Silverdomed dishes had been set out on burners to keep the food warm on the serving table. The bell to summon the servants was in the center of the table. The room was deserted.

The drawing room door on the right was closed. His heart palpitated, but he urged himself to proceed. He went in, closing the door behind him. The curtains were drawn back and the room had already been tidied, with the chairs and tables pushed back to the wall. He hoped that meant there would be little threat of interruption by a zealous housemaid with a duster. He tried to calm himself. He was not yet in any danger. He would be able to hear the family descend the stairs and enter the breakfast room.

The desk had a front flap that opened out by means of a key, and as fortune would have it, the key was in the lock. Joshua drew up a chair and opened the desk. Inside were two rows of small drawers and pigeonholes crammed with all manner of letters and papers. He sighed. No wonder Herbert felt little need to keep his desk locked. Amid such a quantity of papers, how would any prying outsider discover what he wanted?

He took a bundle of papers from the first pigeonhole. They were letters from Sabine to Herbert prior to her arrival in England. The missives were full of affection and excitement, coupled with detailed instructions regarding the preparations for her pineapple house. Joshua felt a disconcerting twang of envy and put them back. In the next compartment were various household bills and accounts and a booklet charting the servants wages and other household expenses. He flicked these morosely to one side, thinking he would never find anything of note. Some minutes later he came across something more interesting: a letter sent from London, addressed to Herbert, and dated six days agothe day the body was found. It was written in large and rather fanciful script, with many twirls and curlicues; by contrast, its message was short and simple.

Mr. Bentnick,

I have done my utmost to exercise my self-control, but you have tested me to the limit. I see now that after all this time you have merely feigned sympathy with my cause, yet never truly listened to a word I said to you. My patience is now at an end, and none but you have driven me to make this ultimatum. Since you have not extracted what is mine, I will come immediately and retrieve it in person.