“Your delicacy does you credit, I am sure,” Miss Wren interjected. “I could wish that all young ladies might conduct themselves so becomingly.”

The Earl’s sisters bestowed upon Wren their condescending smiles, and sank with a languid air into some chairs at the Duchess’s side.

“You are not, I think, acquainted with Miss Austen.” Her Grace turned her affectionate looks my way. “Lady Louisa and Lady Augusta Fortescue — Miss Jane Austen, Lady Desdemona’s particular friend.”

“Indeed?” the elder said, with an appearance of interest. “And are you visiting, then, in Laura Place, Miss Austen?”

“I am so fortunate as to call Bath my home, Lady Louisa.”

“Ah. And what part of Bath?”

“My family resides in Green Park Buildings.”

“Green Park—” She turned and glanced significantly at her sister. “And are you, perchance, a clergyman’s daughter?”

My traitorous cheeks grew hot. So the Chronicle was read in the Earl’s household, at least. But the Dowager Duchess’s smooth intercession saved me the trouble of replying.

“How long do you intend to remain in Bath, Lady Louisa?” Her Grace enquired.

The Earl’s sister shrugged, with all the indolent charm of a lady educated privately and at great expense. “As long as it pleases Charles. We come and go entirely at his command, Your Grace, for he must have the society of ladies to lend his establishments elegance.”

“But of course,” the Duchess replied. “You were lately, I believe, in London?”

“We came down on Thursday, at our brother’s request. Charles sent for us from Bristol, you know, having business there earlier in the week — and when the intelligence of Lord Kinsfell’s misfortunes reached his ears, nothing would suit but that he should journey to Bath immediately. And so we were required to join him, at great trouble to ourselves, and very little notice.”

My senses were all alerted at this intelligence. The Earl of Swithin, so near to Bath as Bristol, at the time of Mr. Portal’s murder?

“The Earl’s attention and concern for the Wilborough family does him credit,” Miss Wren observed, beaming. “So thoughtful of every particular!”

“I am sure that consideration had little to do with it,” Lady Augusta supplied, “for Charles is a very heedless fellow, and never acts without consulting his own wishes first. Poor Mona will suffer from it, by and by — but I own I shall be glad to give up my place to Charles’s wife! It is quite tedious to be always dancing attendance upon a brother. Only think! I might have gone to any number of balls in such a season, had I been allowed to remain in London; but here I am, forced to rusticate in Bath, and all because some actor must get himself killed! It is quite provoking.”

“It is too bad of you, Augusta!” her elder sister cried, “for you were complaining only last week that London was dreadfully thin, and pining for a change.”

The clatter of a horse’s hoofs drew all our attention to the ring, and the interesting revelations of the Fortescue ladies were at an end.

“Good morning, Miss Austen!” Lady Desdemona cried, drawing up before the rail. “Louisa — Augusta — how droll to find you here! May I have the honour of presenting Colonel Easton?”

He was a ruddy-faced young man of perhaps thirty, with bright red hair and an expression of cheerful good temper in his brown eyes that was immediately pleasing. An air of capability and strength surrounded his person; but I shuddered to consider him at twenty paces from the Earl of Swithin’s duelling pistol. The ruthlessness of the one must make short work of the other.

“Lady Louisa Fortescue, Lady Augusta Fortescue, Miss Jane Austen — Colonel George Easton.”

That he knew to whom the Fortescues were related, was entirely evident from the subtle transformation of the Colonel’s expression; but he was nothing if not a gentleman, and merely inclined his head in salutation. His right arm was as yet in a sling, while his left managed the reins of his mount. “Forgive me, ladies, for my rudeness in retaining my headgear, but a trifling injury—”

“Say nothing of it, Colonel, I beg,” I replied for my part, and curtseyed.

Lady Louisa inclined her golden head. “We have known Colonel Easton this age,” she said, “though he pretended not to notice us in Bath Street the other day. Thursday morning, was it not, Augusta? We were only just arrived.”

“I beg your pardon, ma’am — had I perceived the honour of your presence in Bath Street, I should surely have attended you; but it was impossible. I arrived in Bath only yesterday.”

“And had not even stopped to secure a room, before paying your respects in Laura Place,” observed the Dowager. “Such gallantry!”

“Why, I declare, Colonel Easton,” Augusta Fortescue cried. She had been surveying his visage most intently. “You have quite shaved off your whiskers — and they were so very handsome, too! I might never have known you! But you will remark, Louisa, that it cannot have been Colonel Easton Thursday in Bath Street. For that gentleman possessed whiskers — and the Colonel’s are quite gone.”

The Colonel coloured, and made some slight remark of deprecation — the fashion being now for clean-shaven faces — himself a slave to ladies’ good opinion.

“You are on leave for the Christmas holiday, Colonel?” I enquired.

“A few days only, to my despair.” This, with a glance for Lady Desdemona. “But every minute is as gold stored up against the poverty of winter.”

She blushed, and covered her emotion in leaning down to caress her horse’s mane. “Colonel Easton has expressed a desire to visit Simon, Grandmère — and I believe I shall attend him to the gaol.”

“My lady!” Miss Wren cried out in horror, and looked all her agony at the Fortescue sisters. “It is not to be thought of!”

“Is there any small item for Kinny’s comfort you should wish me to convey, Your Grace?” Lady Desdemona continued hurriedly.

The Dowager did not answer her for the space of a heartbeat. Then she smiled. “Send Simon my dearest love, of course — and my belief in his courage. He shall not remain there long.”

“No,” Lady Desdemona said thoughtfully, “for Uncle says he is to be conveyed to Ilchester on Monday.”

“You cannot condone such a foolish notion, Your Grace,” Miss Wren protested. “I am sure you cannot! For the daughter of the Duke of Wilborough, to be seen in such a place!”

“If the heir to the Duke of Wilborough is already in residence, I cannot believe it makes one whit of difference,” Lady Desdemona retorted, flaring. “Besides, I shall have Miss Austen as chaperone. Shan’t I, Miss Austen?”

“But of course,” I stammered.

“And with Easton to attend us, there cannot be the slightest objection. We shall travel in his phaeton, and go entirely unremarked. I am quite determined, Wren.” She wheeled her horse with grace and dexterity. “I tarry only to stable my mount, Miss Austen!”

With a smile and a bow, the Colonel cantered off at her heels.

“Only fancy, Louisa,” Augusta Fortescue remarked. “Dash Easton dancing attendance on Mona again. And without his whiskers, too! What will Charles say?”

It was unfortunate, I thought, that the Earl arrived too late for such a display; but his sisters had lost not a syllable of the conversation.