A Corpse in Shining Armour. Caro Peacock
don’t use it as a dairy any more, now we get our milk and butter from the farm, so it was just convenient, sir.’
‘Was it locked overnight while the armour was in it?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Wasn’t that somewhat lax? I assume ancient armour has some considerable value?’
Whiteley glanced across at the grey-haired man again and hesitated.
‘I suppose we didn’t see the need for it, sir.’
‘So anybody could have gained access to the crates during Saturday night and all through Sunday?’
‘I suppose so, sir.’
‘When did you last see those crates?’
‘Just after eight o’clock on the Sunday evening.’
Whiteley seemed sure of his ground again. The coroner looked at him over his glasses.
‘Had you gone to check that they were safe?’
‘Not exactly, sir.’
‘What do you mean? Either you did or you didn’t.’
‘The fact is, sir, I looked out of my window and saw Handy leaning against the outside wall of the old dairy. Knowing him, I thought he might be thinking of getting up to some mischief with the armour, so I went out and asked him what he was doing. He said he’d only come out to smoke his pipe and wasn’t doing anybody any harm. In my opinion, he’d been drinking. I said he could go and smoke his pipe elsewhere, so he took himself off.’
‘Did you see where he went?’
‘Towards the vegetable garden. To be honest, I didn’t take a lot of interest. I looked through the window at the crates. Everything seemed to be in order, so I didn’t think much more about it.’
‘You said you feared he might be thinking of getting up to some mischief with the armour. Why was that?’
‘He was a bit of a one for practical jokes, sir. I wouldn’t have put it past him to get it out and dress up in it.’
‘But as far as you could tell, he didn’t?’
‘No, sir. It was still in there, all nailed up.’
‘Did you see him again?’
‘No, sir.’
‘As far as you know, did anybody else in the household see him again?’
‘No, sir.’
‘So to the best of your knowledge, Sunday evening just after eight o’clock was the last time anybody in the household saw Handy alive?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And you’re sure of the time?’
‘To within five or ten minutes, sir. It was just before the servants sit down to their supper. We have it at quarter past eight, on account of her ladyship dining early.’
The coroner seemed to go on writing for a long time, occasionally glancing across at Whiteley, who stood staring ahead, face flushed. When the coroner had finished writing, he asked Whiteley a few more questions. Had he been aware of any disturbance on Sunday night or early Monday morning? Had anybody in the household reported anything out of the way to him? The answer was no to both questions. The coroner wanted to know if the deceased had any enemies.
‘Not enemies as such, sir. But the other servants were none too friendly.’
‘Why was that?’
‘They thought he gave himself airs on account of working for his lordship so long.’
‘Did anybody ever make threats against him?’
‘Oh no, sir.’
Finally Whiteley was allowed to stand down and he took a seat in the front row. There was a long silence. The coroner nodded to his clerk to come forward and the two of them conferred for some time. The clerk sat down and the coroner addressed the jurors.
‘As you may have gathered, it is an unsatisfactory situation with regard to the evidence. There would seem to be several possible verdicts open to you: death as a result of accident or misadventure, or by manslaughter, unlawful killing or murder by person or persons unknown. As things stand, there is not enough information available to you to reach a conclusion. The chief officer of the Metropolitan Police, in whose area the body was discovered, may well wish to order further investigations. These may take some time, so I am adjourning this inquest sine die. In the meantime, I direct that the body of the deceased should be released to his next of kin for burial. Thank you for your patience, gentlemen.’
The coroner and his clerk walked out. The jurors, taken aback by the sudden ending of the case, started asking each other if that meant they were free to go. They decided they were and filed out with a disappointed air. Jimmy Cuffs had already gone. The adjournment was good news for him and the rest of the press, for it would mean two stories instead of one. After a word with the grey-haired man, Miles Brinkburn left the courtroom, still looking dazed. There were only three of us left now: Mr Whiteley, the grey-haired man and myself. I sat quietly unnoticed in my corner as Mr Whiteley walked over to the grey-haired man.
‘Did it go as you expected, Mr Lomax?’
Whiteley’s voice was low and respectful. So, as I’d guessed, the grey-haired man was the lawyer that Miles had summoned from his chambers in Lincoln’s Inn: the man who would know what to do. I was certain, too, that I was looking at the man Disraeli had described as the Brinkburns’ family friend as well as their legal adviser. Mr Whiteley wanted his good opinion. That was clear from the way he stood looking up with his round brown eyes, like a spaniel waiting for a biscuit. He was rewarded with a curt nod and a few words.
‘Probably as well as could be expected.’
‘Do you think my evidence was satisfactory, Mr Lomax?’
‘You did the best you could, Mr Whiteley.’
When the steward saw that this morsel of biscuit was all he could expect, he wished the other man farewell and walked slowly to the door.
Before Mr Lomax could follow him, I stood up and called his name. He turned. I don’t think he’d been aware of me. I pushed back my bonnet to give myself a less funereal look.
‘Will you allow me to introduce myself, Mr Lomax. My name’s Liberty Lane. I think Mr Disraeli may have mentioned me.’
There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He took his time in replying, weighing me up.
‘I had expected you to be older,’ he said.
‘A fault which the years will correct. I believe we might have things to discuss.’
Another pause as his eyes locked on mine. The intentness of his look would have been offensive in a normal social situation, but this wasn’t one, and neither of us was pretending otherwise.
‘Can you come to my chambers at four o’clock this afternoon, Miss Lane?’
It stopped just short of being a command.
‘Very well.’
I turned and walked out. Had Miles Brinkburn told him that I’d been present when Handy’s body was discovered? From the way Mr Lomax looked at me, I suspected that he had. He’d been asking himself whether I was the solution to one of the Brinkburn family’s problems or a part of another.
That put us on an equal footing, because I didn’t know either.
I went home and changed into my blue cotton print dress and straw bonnet with ribbon trim, both more appropriate to the season.