And with this last thought, a wave of revulsion overcame me. It was impossible that I should harbour any sort of tenderness towards a man so recognised as lost to all morality — a man whose every energy was given over to the pursuit of wealth and unrestrained passion, regardless of law, regardless of cost. But I did harbour such an emotion; and I detected within it the refusal to credit Mr. Sidmouth's guilt. Much had been laid at his door — but still I could not find it in me to abandon him entirely. Was Mr. Crawford likely to exhibit such affection for a man whose reputation was entirely ruthless? And what of Seraphine? That she regarded her cousin as the source of all goodness was decidedly evident, regardless of the calumnies that surrounded them both.

If I were to settle the contest within my soul, however — if doubt and disapprobation were to be banished — I must have the truth. And Roy Cavendish's plan was as good an one for procuring it as any. The proof of my own eyes should serve to silence the warring voices within my heart. A delicate balance must be achieved, however, if my own pursuit of knowledge were not to run afoul of the Crown's.

I raised my head and gazed at the Customs agent evenly. “I shall do as you wish, Mr. Cavendish, on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“That I direct my own efforts. Your scheme depends upon my discretion; and a too-public converse between ourselves should ignite the suspicions of those we least wish to rouse.”

He bowed his head.

And what if I discovered that Mr. Sidmouth was indeed capable of anything? Having gained the knowledge, how was I to act? I thrust aside that dilemma as trouble enough for another day.

“And one thing more, Mr. Cavendish.” I rose to convey to him that our meeting was at an end.

“Miss Austen?”

“If you honour my reputation as a lady, you must never reveal the source of your information, do I succeed in obtaining it” I knew myself in that moment, and called myself a coward. For if I embarked upon a program of spying at High Down, and determined Mr. Sidmouth's guilt, I should be the means of bringing him to the scaffold, for the sake of all that I valued in society. But I could never bear to confront him, at his final day, with his knowledge of my betrayal full upon his face.

Chapter 11

Converse with an Angel

19 September 1804

ALL THROUGH THE LENGTH OF YESTERDAY THE WIND TORE ABOUT Wings cottage — shuddering at the casements, howling around the corners, and rattling the very door frames — while the rain lashed at the roof, and sheets of salty spray cascaded over the Cobb. I have never known what it is to sail the seas, and feel the tossing of a fragile vessel in the maw of a storm; and having witnessed the raging tide so close upon my stoop, I am happy to leave such adventures to my hardier brothers. The only consolation in foul weather is to turn one's lock upon the street, and settle in by the fire with tea and a good book — and hope that Cook will devise a meal that comforts, as the day fades into night.

But that meal, once taken, reveals itself as the high point of an unendurably dull day; and the slow mounting of stairs, while one's candle flickers in the turbulent air, affords a moment to attend to the voices in the wind. My sleep was certainly marked by their ceaseless crying— though sleep itself was long in coming, and my tossing and turning amidst the bedclothes a parody of the frenzied trees beyond my window. Such thoughts as roiled within my brain — of murder, and deceit, and a sinister smiling frog — would not be stilled, and required the full compass of the night for their consideration. I awoke from a fitful dreaming not an hour past dawn, and found the daylight sky turned peaceful, with the tattered remnants of cloud fading blackly at the horizon. Rivulets of water ran down Lyme's steep high street, to end in the calmer basin of the bay; and the first carters bound for the market were busy about the cobblestones. Peace after tumult, and with it, a clearing of the mind; I should take up the errand of returning Mr. Sidmouth's cloak, which he had placed about my shoulders some ten days before, and all but forgotten in a corner of my clothes press. I would attempt the few miles’ walk to the Grange that very morning.

HOW VERY DIFFERENT WERE MY FEELINGS UPON THE PRESENT occasion, in approaching the old frame farmhouse high upon the downs, than they had been the night of my sister's misfortune! Then, my anxiety was active on another's behalf; but now, to my trepidation, I found it exerted entirely on my own. Deceit has ever been foreign to my nature, and the adoption of stratagems and disguise abhorrent; but truth and frankness would not serve in the present case, where so much of both were already prostrate upon dishonour's altar.

With firmer resolve, then, I redoubled my grip on Sidmouth's cloak and crossed the familiar courtyard, expecting every moment the onset of the dogs, or the boy Toby and his blunderbuss; but I was allowed to proceed unmolested today, and took it for a favourable omen. The courtyard itself was a confusion of waggons and harness, cast aside but not yet stored; and I remembered Roy Cavendish's words with a sudden chill. The Customs man had offered it as certain knowledge that the smugglers preferred to land their goods in the very worst sort of weather, the better to confound the Crown's dragoons; and assuredly last night had been highly propitious for any sort of skulduggery. At this further suggestion of Sidmouth's propensities, I confess my heart sank; but I determined to go forward, there being little comfort in turning back, as ever benighted by ignorance.

My arrival at the door occasioned another tremor — for what words should I summon, did the master of High Down confront me at his very portal, though I had committed to visit his cousin? The mere sight of Sidmouth should reduce me to a painful penury with words, so conflicted were my emotions towards himself. But I was spared even this trial; after some few moments, when I felt certain the entire household had been called away, the housemaid Mary answered my ring at the bell, and bade me come in search of Mademoiselle LeFevre.

I followed her down the cool stone hallway, and out a door on the nether end, and along a path to the kitchens — which, owing to a fear of fire, were separately housed. And there I espied the three dogs — jasper, Fang, and Beelzebub, if memory served — in attitudes of languor about the kitchen door, and the sound of song emanating from within. It was assuredly Seraphine, her head bent over an ankle propped in her lap; and had it not been for a conviction that the foot was too small to be Sidmouth's, I should have turned and fled that very moment.

A sound I must have made, and her blond head came up; an instant's bewilderment, superseded as swiftly by recognition, and the ghost of a smile. “Miss Austen,” Seraphine said quietly, and set down the shears she held in her hand; “what a surprise. And a pleasure. Please”— with that, a gesture towards the kitchen's interior— be so good as to find a seat. I am almost finished my work here.”

I entered, and found that the ankle was attached to Toby, and that his face and arms appeared singularly bruised. “Whatever can have befallen the boy!” I exclaimed, and received a surly glance from the fellow in question by way of reply.

“He has had a fall,” Seraphine said smoothly.

“From the hay-loft,” Toby added, with a quick look at his nursemaid. “Missed the ladder in the dark, miss, on account o’ the lanthorn blowin’ over in the storm. Quite a tumble I had, and my foot gone lame.”

A hay-loft, indeed. To judge by the Grange's barn, such a fall should have succeeded in finishing young Toby, with a broken neck at the very least. More likely, to my mind, that he had taken a fall about the cliff, in the darkness of night and the confusion of a storm.