I donned my pelisse, and went in search of Lord Harold.

Chapter 28

Setting the Snare

5 November 1808, cont.

“Good evening to ye, Miss Austen,” Fortescue the publican said truculently when I appeared at the Dolphin. “Are ye wanting his lordship?”

“Indeed I am — but I know him to be much involved today, and should not presume to trouble him. Would you be so good as to convey this note on my behalf? The communication it contains is of an urgent nature.”

The publican eyed my missive apprehensively.

“You’ll have heard the news of the inquest?”

“I was present throughout, as was my brother, Captain Frank Austen. I know that you have long held the Captain in esteem, Mr. Fortescue, and you should be happy to learn that my brother regards Lord Harold as worthy of the highest confidence.”

Fortescue’s pale blue eyes shifted uneasily. “Folk do be saying as how that valet — the foreigner — is guilty of murder.”

“Or perhaps of nothing worse than fleeing in fear of his life. Will you carry my letter to his lordship?”

The publican studied my countenance, and the doubt lifted from his own. “His lordship’s just ordered dinner, ma’am. If you care to wait, I shall enquire whether he is receiving visitors.”

I certainly cared to wait, and retired to the side parlour in which I had last seen Flora Bastable. It was lit this evening by a quartet of candles in pewter sconces; the early November dark had already fallen. Townsfolk hurried home along the chill pavings beyond the window, with their collars buttoned high and paper parcels tucked under their arms. I thought of the long, dreary winter — of soldiers slogging through mud and gore on the Peninsula, of Frank buffeted by brutal seas; of George and Edward shivering in the dormitories of Winchester College. A greater sense of oppression than I had lately known settled upon my soul, as though all the light in life was bound for London in the baggage-coach of Sophia Challoner.

“Pray to follow me, miss,” said Fortescue from the door.

He led me up two flights of the broad front stairs; Lord Harold should never be placed directly above the public rooms, where the noise and odour must penetrate the bedchamber. The Rogue had been situated instead at the rear of the edifice, well removed from the clatter of the stable yard, in a comfortable suite that encompassed a private parlour. This door Fortescue threw open with a flourish, and announced, “Miss Austen, m’lord!”

It was a simple space, quite out of keeping with what I imagined to be his lordship’s usual style: a round deal table; four chairs; a dresser with a few serving pieces upon it; a poker and tongs propped near the hearth. A pug dog, done in Staffordshire, sat upon the mantel — Mrs. Hodgkin’s bit of whimsy, I conjectured. Lord Harold was established at the table, with a quantity of papers spread out before him. He was working in his shirtsleeves, his coat discarded upon a chair. Left to his own devices, without a valet, he must be inclined to the informal. A pair of spectacles perched on his nose, bringing age and wisdom of a sudden to his visage.

“Jane. Have you dined?”

“Thank you, sir — I have.”

“A little wine, perhaps? Claret — Madeira—”

“Port, this evening,” I said thoughtfully.

Lord Harold smiled. “A bottle of your best Port, Fortescue, and two glasses.”

“Very good, sir,” the publican replied with greater cordiality than before, and closed the door behind him. I began to remove my bonnet, acutely conscious — as I had been only once before, in his lordship’s carriage — of the intimacy that surrounds a man and woman confined in a small space.

“Is your mother aware that you visit strange gentlemen in their rooms?” his lordship demanded abruptly.

“As Mr. Fortescue apprehends that much, we may presume the fact will circulate through the town by the morrow.”

“Then I commend you for bravery.”

“Have you discovered Orlando?”

“—No, though I searched every road out of this wretched place,” he answered bitterly. “I have been in the saddle nearly two hours, Jane, and intend to remount as soon as I have dined; but I have little hope of finding him. He has gone to ground somewhere, like a wounded fox.”

“Or to sea, perhaps?”

He removed the spectacles and stared at me.

“That is how I should flee Southampton, my lord. The sea, after all, betrays no footprint of man or beast.”

At that moment, Fortescue reappeared at his lordship’s door, burdened with a tray. A weary figure stood behind him, in a greatcoat splashed with mud.

“Frank!” I cried. “Returned from Portsmouth, and not a moment too soon!”

“Found the Captain in the stable yard, I did,”

Fortescue explained, “and understood straightaway that it’s his sister he’ll be wanting. I’ve brought extra rations for the Captain, and no need to offer thanks.”

Lord Harold rose, and clapped my brother on the shoulder. “Come in by the fire, man — you’re perishing of cold.”

“I encountered rain seven miles from Portsmouth, and a long, wet road of it we made,”

Frank said, and shook his sopping hat over the hearth. “However, a bit of weather does not signify. I delivered your message to the Admiralty telegraph, my lord — and waited only for a reply. Here it is.” He extended a letter sealed with wax. “I have no notion of the contents.”

Lord Harold broke it open immediately, and surveyed the close-written lines.

“Here’s rabbit stew,” Fortescue continued, “a bit of baked fish; warm bread; a wedge of cheese; and a quantity of peas. And the London papers, what’s fresh off the mail! And the Port, for the lady!”

“Well done, Fortescue,” his lordship murmured.

“Any friend of the Austens cannot ask for too much, and that’s a fact.” He beamed at Frank, glared severely at his lordship, and backed his way out of the room with his empty tray dangling.

“My status has received an elevation,” Lord Harold observed drily. “I forgot that Southampton is your home, and not a mere way-station, as it so often proves for me. You have been acquainted with Fortescue for some time, I collect?”

“Everyone knows Mr. Fortescue,” I replied, unwilling to relate the sad history of the Seagrave family, and the end it had found in the Dolphin. I could not revisit the place, however, without recalling that desperate period in our first Southampton winter, and the hard truths it had taught me of the naval profession.[28] “And, too, we have our Assemblies here in the winter months — the ballroom is not indifferent.”

“And filled with every random officer so fortunate as to gain a bit of shore-leave! Dare you venture into such a place? I have an idea you are besieged!”

Frank dragged a chair from the table near the fire, and proceeded to divest himself of boots and coat. “I confess I am equally surprised to discover my sister here, my lord, at such an hour of the evening. What drew you out of Castle Square, Jane?”

“A matter of some urgency; but I would beg you both to take your meal while I relate the whole.”

Lord Harold furnished me with a glass of wine, which I gratefully accepted; and as the minutes wore away in that comfortable room, and the good Port fired my veins, I told them of Sophia Challoner, and the Conte’s offer of marriage; of her petition for passage on a western-bound ship, and the mysterious companion Mr. Ord should carry with him.

Lord Harold listened, and drove a knife into his cheese, and drank some of the wine with an expression of absorption, as though he heard my words less clearly than the thoughts that ran through his brain. When I had done, my brother whistled soft and low. “So the Jesuit and Ord must flee by dawn, is it?