“Well, my lord?”

“My valet appears to have quitted the inn.”

“That is very singular behaviour!”

“I confess I cannot account for it. We might enquire after him at the Dolphin.”

“And keep this assembly waiting on the man’s pleasure? I think not, my lord.” The coroner stared meditatively at his clerk, whose pen hovered in midair, awaiting direction. “I have no choice but to suspend this proceeding, until such time as all the testimony regarding the death of Flora Bastable has been heard. Inquest adjourned!”

• • •

“Jane,” Lord Harold said hurriedly as we met near the door, “I must not stay. Captain Austen, my thanks for your support of your sister this afternoon. It has been a trying few hours.”

“But less troubling than it might have been — thanks to the American,” Frank replied.

“You believe so? I cannot be sanguine.” The Rogue thrust himself into his greatcoat, his expression abstracted. “They strike first at me — then at my valet — but it is all diversion! There is devilry in train, and the wretched girl was deliberately silenced. She knew what was towards — but her knowledge died with her. Captain, I must ask of you a great favour—”

“If it is within my power—”

“Will you take a horse from the inn’s stables, and ride like the wind to Portsmouth? I wish a message despatched by your Admiralty telegraph. Inform the First Lord that Trowbridge believes the Enemy will strike tonight. All yards must be placed on alert — and the Channel ports closely guarded. Will you do so much?”

“Gladly, my lord, once I have seen my sister safe in Castle Square.”

“I am perfectly capable of effecting the walk in solitude,” I retorted drily. “Whither are you bound, Lord Harold?”

“I hardly know.” He raised bleak grey eyes to my own. “I must go after Orlando. I am responsible for the man, and he is more than valet; I count him among my friends. His flight is natural in one afraid — but it must look damnably like guilt to those unacquainted with his character. If you were in fear for your life, Jane — and possessed no private equipage, no gentleman’s claim upon society, and very little coin — how should you proceed? What course must I set?”

“That depends,” I said slowly, “upon your object, my lord. Do you mean to find Orlando, and subject him to the law — or allow him to go free?”

Chapter 27

The Usefulness of Brothers

5 November 1808, cont.

“And so your rakehell Corinthian, Lord Devil-May-Care, has come to grief at last!” my mother declared as I seated myself at the dinner table. The inquest had demanded the whole of the afternoon, and it being already half-past four o’clock, the ladies of the household were assembled in honour of my parent’s early dinner hour. “You were very close this morning, Jane, as to the nature of your interest in the coroner’s panel; but I know it all!”

“Has word of the proceedings sped through town?” I enquired, as she handed me a dish of potatoes.

“Folk are all but shouting it from the very walls! I had the story of Madame Clarisse, whose establishment I had occasion to visit, once you were gone out to the Coach & Horses. She learned it of her drover, who had chanced to look into the Coach’s public room for a tankard of ale.”

“I have an idea that the drover’s story derives more from his ale, than from anything approaching the truth.”

Mary tittered from her position across the board.

“He knew enough to say that a young girl — no more than a child — was left for dead in the middle of a field, and not a body within miles but Lord Harold!” my mother returned indignantly. “There is nothing I abominate more than a man who has a straw damsel in keeping — unless it is one who sees fit to cut throats! I may only thank God — as I told Martha this morning — that your name was never joined to his! How your father should have blanched at a public scandal being visited upon his household! Not that we are such strangers to the magistracy — my poor sister, Mrs. Leigh-Perrot, having taught us what to expect of justice — but I cannot think that murder is at all the same as pilfering a card of lace.”[27]

“That is because you are a woman of excellent understanding, Mamma — and so must equally discern how unlikely it should be for Lord Harold to have anything to do with that unfortunate maid’s murder.”

“I see nothing of the sort!” she cried. “He has sported with your interest in the most abominable manner imaginable, Jane — and as there is not the least likelihood of your getting him now, I hope he may hang! That will teach him how a gentleman ought to behave. You intend to wear the willow for him?”

I stared at her archly. “Mamma! You have been indulging in dissipation! When we thought you prostrate upon your bed, you have only been reading novels! Where else can you have learned such a despicable cant expression?”

“Madame Clarisse is forever using it,” she replied unexpectedly, “and if one cannot learn the latest expressions, along with the latest fashions, from one’s modiste — then for what does one pay her?”

“True enough. We all want excellent value for our coin. But I see no cause to mourn Lord Harold’s loss: I know him to be quite innocent, and must trust to Providence. Others among Madame Clarisse’s acquaintance must sigh in vain for love. Mary, I trust you received Frank’s note from the Coach & Horses?

He is gone to Portsmouth on a matter of business.”

“Orders, I reckon,” she said darkly. “They will be sending him to Portugal again, and the St. Alban’s in want of coppering for her bottom. It’s a positive disgrace!”

I sought relief after dinner in the pages of Sir Walter Scott, for my thoughts were in a whirl and I feared the onset of a head-ache. I had hardly opened Marmion, however, when a tug at the bell brought Phebe from the kitchen. A murmur of conversation in the hall: the sound of a woman’s voice, rich and low. Instantly I set my book aside and moved to the door.

“Sophia!” I said in surprise. “I had not looked for the pleasure of seeing you in Castle Square today! Pray come in and sit by the fire!”

“I may stay only long enough to take my leave of you, Jane.” She drew off her gloves with fretful, impatient movements. “You are well, I trust? James told me you were in attendance at the inquest today.”

“It seemed the least I could do for that unfortunate girl.” I led Mrs. Challoner into the parlour and closed the door behind us. “Are you leaving Southampton, then?”

“Ernesto — the Conte da Silva — quits Netley for London tonight, and I shall be with him. You are to wish me joy, Jane. The Conte has begged my hand in marriage.”

For a lady charged with so weighty a communication, she lacked the appearance of happiness. I stared at her, all amazed. “The Conte? He is a formidable personage — and — decidedly handsome. .”

“—And possessed of a title, vast wealth, and estates considerable enough that I might be prevented from ever feeling want,” she concluded briskly.

“Though somewhat dull and ponderous at times, he is a man of integrity and worth, Jane. I do not love him — but I shall be able to respect him; and he shall never impinge upon that freedom I once talked so much of.”

“But, Sophia—” I sank into a chair. “You cannot require so much security, surely? There is nothing you presently lack. You command an independence — a home — a life ...”

“I command them in England, Jane — and I declare I detest the entire Kingdom! Portugal is my home, and Portugal is at war. I cannot return there without protection — and the Conte will ensure that I am safe.”

“I see.”

“I cannot pretend to regret anything I shall leave behind,” she continued, “except you, my dear friend.”