“Perhaps she misconstrued his attentions to yourself,” I offered gently. “The theatre alone can give an hundred examples of jealousy inciting a murderous rage.”

“But it is too absurd!” my companion cried. “I cared nothing for the fellow!”

“—Though you may have encouraged him, from a desire to pique the Earl of Swithin.”

Lady Desdemona flushed hotly. “Perhaps I may — perhaps I did. I have never regretted a similar indiscretion so intensely in my life, Miss Austen. For if either Swithin or Miss Conyngham was driven to violence by the appearance of my regard for Mr. Portal, I shall never forgive myself.”

We were silent a moment, and toyed with our macaroons. I considered my nightmares of early morning, in some confusion and vexadon. Jealousy of Lady Desdemona — from either the Earl or Maria Conyngham — could not hope to explain the haunting pendant eye Lord Kinsfell had found on Richard Portal’s breast. “Do not reproach yourself excessively, Lady Desdemona,” I said at last. “I would warrant that the Earl — if indeed it was his hand that struck the blow — acted as much at Miss Conyngham’s behest, as from a desire to despatch his rival.”

She smiled faintly. “There is very little of comfort in that reflection, however. I cannot rejoice in the suspicion of Swithin’s attachment to another.”

I studied her narrowly. “You regret the Earl’s defection, then?”

“I cannot help but do so. The sensation is nothing, however, to my horror at his lordship’s being suspected of murder. The torments of the past few days, Miss Austen, have been extreme. You cannot have the slightest notion; for revolve the matter in solitude as I might, I can arrive at no very satisfactory conclusion. Lord Swithin is either a murderer, a deceiver, or both; and the knowledge can only give me pain.”

“Then why, when he was eager to marry, did you refuse his proposals?”

Her countenance clouded. “Mamma does not admire him, on account of his being so much in the way of the Carlton House set. They are very fast, you know, as is everything to do with the Prince, and spend a vast deal of money; and Mamma suspects that Swithin sought me for my fifty thousand pounds.”

I silently blessed Desdemona’s Mamma; and concluded that the Duchess of Wilborough was less empty-headed than I had thought her.

“But Papa saw nothing wrong in Swithin — and said that with so vast a fortune at his command, mine should be the merest pin money. He was almost gratified, in fact, that I should have attracted the suit of a man who has spurned nearly every woman in London.”

“The Earl is much sought-after?”

“Oh, Miss Austen — I have observed such doings in Town, as should curl your hair! Such barefaced flattery, and complaisant simpering, and obnoxious efforts to please! There are ladies who go about in nothing but puce, because they believe it to be his favourite colour — though I know he quite abhors it, and laughs at them all the while. And there are others who embroider his device upon their sleeves—” She stopped short, her eyes widening. “Oh, good Lord!”

I seized her hand. “Like Mrs. Fitzherbert, who carved the Prince’s feathers in the lintel of her door in Richmond Hill.[61] The tiger! Of course!”

“A gift to a lady, and not his own.”

“The Maria Portal named with his dying breath! Why did we not perceive it before?”

“And so it was Miss Conyngham who killed Portal, and fled through the anteroom passageway, and lost the tiger unbeknownst to herself,” Lady Desdemona whispered breathlessly. “Oh, my dearest Miss Austen — we must away to my uncle.”

We threw some coin on Molland’s counter, called hastily for chairs, and were gone.

DINNER WAS EXCESSIVELY GRAND, AND I FELT MY WANT OF evening dress acutely; but the Dowager kindly assured me that a trifling affair of two courses, comprising some twenty dishes, should never incommode so dear a friend as myself. Lord Harold presided at one end of the long table, his mother at the other, with myself and Lady Desdemona ranged in between; Miss Wren’s earlier presentiment of ill-health having been realised with a most tiresome cold in the head, she kept to her rooms and requested a little warm gruel on a tray, and a hot mustard bath for her feet.

Her Grace was suffered to offer an apology, at presenting so excessively stupid a table for my amusement. Before Lord Kinsfell’s misfortune, they had been wont to see some thirty guests in Laura Place at dinner; but a festive mood was wisely deemed unsuitable at such a time, and the Dowager had desisted in entertainment.

Lord Harold had greeted me with a bow, and a countenance devoid of expression; no mention was made of the offending item in that morning’s Chronicle; and I blessed the elegance of manner that allowed the preservation of my composure. The Gentleman Rogue is too accustomed to impertinence from a public quarter, to dignify it with outrage; whereas among the Austens, such notice is so unusual as to be met with dismay on every side.

Her Grace enquired anxiously after Lord Kinsfell, and Lady Desdemona was able to give a tolerable report of his spirits; but before the servants, some four of which remained in an attitude of readiness behind our respective chairs, she was loath to mention the interesting intelligence our visit to the gaol had elicited. In thus longing for the relative privacy of the drawing-room, we were encouraged to make short work of the sole, the pheasant, and the venison. But an hour and a half of steady application to the Dowager’s table, in fact, was required before I was released to the comforts of tea and feminine society.

When Lord Harold had done at last with the duty of his solitary Port, and appeared in the drawing-room reeking of tobacco, Lady Desdemona fairly leapt to his side. In a breathless accent, she related the whole of our morning’s endeavours.

Her uncle listened, and looked grave. “My errand in Orchard Street gains in urgency. I had intended the Theatre Royal this evening — both the Conynghams are to play — and now I believe I must hasten there without delay. It is unfortunate that Mr. Elliot bore the interesting pin away with him to London; for I might have made an addition to my attire, and displayed the tiger on the collar of my coat. It should never have excited too great a notice in general; but in one quarter, at least, it might have moved the guilty to betrayal.”

“But you do agree, Uncle, that it is possible Swithin had nothing to do with Mr. Portal’s end?” Lady Desdemona persisted.

He gazed at her an instant before replying. “I hesitate to declare Swithin innocent of anything, my dear, until our excellent Mr. Elliot has returned from London.”

“We need not await the magistrate’s intelligence on one point, at least,” I broke in, with an anxious look for Lady Desdemona. “For Lord Swithin’s sisters acknowledged only this morning that the Earl had business so near to Bath as Bristol the very morning after Mr. Portal’s murder. Certainly it was from Bristol that his lordship sent for the Fortescue ladies, before journeying to Bath himself on Wednesday. They joined him here on Thursday, I believe.”

“Did they, indeed? This is news of the first water.” Lord Harold considered my words a moment, then wheeled to confront his niece. “Would it comfort you, Mona, to know that Swithin was in the clear?”

“It would,” she replied, with downcast eyes.

“Though in all probability Miss Conyngham wore his device — in the most public admission of his patronage? You persist in valuing a man of so dissipated a character?”

His voice had grown quite stern, and Lady Desdemona quailed; but it was the Dowager who replied.

“Leave her be, Harry,” she said with a wave, “you need not fear she is abandoned to the reprobate. She merely hopes he is not entirely so past recall, as to have murdered Mr. Portal. There is nothing very singular in this.”