Jane And The Man Of The Cloth Part 15

"Jane!" my mother cried. "Remember where you are, my girl! Have you lost all sense?"

But Seraphine's attention was gained-her expression more pained, and less remote-and so my cruel object was won. Her face, always pale, was almost translucent, and her eyes were gone gla.s.sy from shock.

"Get out," she said, her fingers clenched upon the bedsheet. "Get out, before I serve you with violence."

"As you did Captain Fielding?" I replied, drawing forward a chair, and seating myself companionably by her side, to my parents" consternation. "Was that the thought of the moment as well-or did you plan plan your a.s.sault upon his person?" your a.s.sault upon his person?"

Seraphine's beautiful face was working, lost between outrage and confusion, and I hastened to profit from the moment.

"I have the idea of it well," I continued. "Yourself on a horse, perhaps in pursuit of a surgeon for one of the smuggling men kept hidden in your attic-you will recall that I could not help but hear their movements, the day I visited you at the Grange, the very day your cousin was seized by Mr. Dobbin." At this, a redoubled expression of shock seized her features, and something very like fear. (I saw no reason to mention the wounded man borne from the beach the night of Sidmouth's arrest, for his his appearance was well after Fielding's death, and my knowledge of him appearance was well after Fielding's death, and my knowledge of him must must be explained. It was enough to alert her that I knew of the attic's use.) be explained. It was enough to alert her that I knew of the attic's use.) "You are coursing down the Charmouth road, intent upon your purpose, but with one ear c.o.c.ked for sounds in the underbrush-for you, a woman alone in a lonely place, should not like to encounter a brigand. It was in consideration of this that you carried with you one of the Grange's pistols, and kept it hidden beneath your cloak. Imagine it," I said dreamily, my eyes fixed upon Sera-phine's countenance. 'The moonlight-on the wane, but strong enough for a general glow, as the night before, when we all dined together at Darby-and the sudden appearance of Fielding's horse, from the entrance to his drive. It is a white horse, is it not? He rode it to call upon us at Wings cottage one day, and looked every inch le Chevalier. le Chevalier. At this, Seraphine could not contain a shudder. "The horse and rider must have shone in the moonlight like an apparition. At this, Seraphine could not contain a shudder. "The horse and rider must have shone in the moonlight like an apparition.

"Did he hail you, eager for the conversation you had denied him the night before? Did you pull up in alarm? And at what moment did you fire the ball, so clear into his heart? When he leaned close to kiss you?"

"This is madness," Seraphine hissed. "You know it is madness."

"Do I?" I replied, with a look for my father. "I know only that Geoffrey Sidmouth would rather die than reveal what might clear his name-and I can think of no one for whom he might offer such a sacrifice but you, you, mademoiselle. Who better than yourself, to have taken a horse from the Grange's stables, and counted on the stable boy's silence-for that Toby adores you, is readily apparent. He might even now believe that you simply went for the surgeon, as you had intended-and as you undoubtedly did, once the Captain lay dead upon the road, and his horse fled for home. And so Toby said nothing to the justice, Mr. Dobbin, regarding your midnight errand-for the fact of the men's existence in your attic is something to keep hidden. Is it not?" mademoiselle. Who better than yourself, to have taken a horse from the Grange's stables, and counted on the stable boy's silence-for that Toby adores you, is readily apparent. He might even now believe that you simply went for the surgeon, as you had intended-and as you undoubtedly did, once the Captain lay dead upon the road, and his horse fled for home. And so Toby said nothing to the justice, Mr. Dobbin, regarding your midnight errand-for the fact of the men's existence in your attic is something to keep hidden. Is it not?"

"I see that you know altogether too much about our affairs, Miss Austen," Seraphine rejoined. She had pushed herself upwards on the pillows, and looked at me direcdy, without animus or anger. "But I think you do not know quite enough. You make leaps before you know the distance to be covered, and so you fall into the abyss, yes?"

"Jane was ever a foolish, fanciful girl," my mother broke in. "And she is forever writing her fancies in a little book, and secreting it beneath a table linen whenever I enter the room. She is not to be thought of, I a.s.sure you, mademoiselle, so pay her no mind."

"But I fear that I must," Seraphine replied, with a sudden smile for my mother. "Your daughter's fancies might be taken for truth, did I fail to address them. And so, good sir, and gende madame, would you be so good as to leave us alone for a time? It is best that we speak in private."

I c.o.c.ked an ear towards the pa.s.sageway, and gave a look to my father. "If I am not very much mistaken," I said, "that is the maid returned with the Green Leaf I bade her purchase. Do you go, my dear father, and take some tea with my mother. I shall not detain you above a quarter of an hour."

"Very well," my mother said grudgingly. "I cannot deny that I should relish some refreshment But, Jane," she whispered low in my ear as she pa.s.sed, "do you be careful. She is is French, after all, and may very well be a murderess, and must possess arts you can know nothing of." French, after all, and may very well be a murderess, and must possess arts you can know nothing of."

"I SHALL. NOT KEEP YOU ABOVE VOtJR QUARTER-HOUR," SERAPHINE began, without meeting my gaze. "I like your company too little to prolong its enjoyment."

"Our tete-a-tete tete-a-tete might be concluded in a moment. A word alone shall suffice to end it Did you kill Captain Fielding, Seraphine?" might be concluded in a moment. A word alone shall suffice to end it Did you kill Captain Fielding, Seraphine?"

She permitted herself the briefest of laughter. It was a brittle, a heartbreaking sound. "And what, now, do I answer? If I say no, you will not believe me; and if I say yes, yes, I will not believe myself. But I cannot avoid the one or the other; so I will not believe myself. But I cannot avoid the one or the other; so no no it must be, Miss Austen. I did not kill the Captain."I expected her to look at me then, to convey the sincerity of her words; but she did not. The very sight of my countenance must be odious to her. "I have been moved to wish for his death in the past; and I admit that his death, once achieved, caused me no pain. -Until, that is, my cousin was taken for it." it must be, Miss Austen. I did not kill the Captain."I expected her to look at me then, to convey the sincerity of her words; but she did not. The very sight of my countenance must be odious to her. "I have been moved to wish for his death in the past; and I admit that his death, once achieved, caused me no pain. -Until, that is, my cousin was taken for it."

"And why should I believe what you say?" I enquired gently.

She shrugged. "Why should you believe otherwise?"

"Because I am committed to a pursuit of the truth," I replied, "and must consider every possible alternative. I will leave no stone undisturbed, until I have found the meaning behind Fielding's death, and may know whether your cousin is guilty or no. My heart whispers that he is not; he had not the look of wilful deceit, in all his a.s.sertions to the coroner-his was rather the appearance of intentional restraint."

"And so you would have me stand in his place." Her expression of amus.e.m.e.nt was scathing. "I would gladly take it for him, if he would let me. I would give my life for Geoffrey, Miss Austen!" she cried, with a pa.s.sionate look. "And even you, who must bear him some love, could never say as much."

"I? Low? That is absurd," I replied, excessively stung. "I am merely an Englishwoman, who pays the notion of justice the most profound respect I would not have your cousin falsely accused, and hang for a crime he did not commit"

"n.o.ble words," Seraphine said, with something like a sneer, "but false words nonetheless. You Englishwomen are all the same-cold, and unwilling to admit in the brain what the heart knows to be truth. Well, Miss Austen, I am French. French. And I say you are in love with my cousin. I am not afraid to look the truth full in the face. But I hate you for it." And I say you are in love with my cousin. I am not afraid to look the truth full in the face. But I hate you for it."

"Hate me if you will, Mademoiselle. Believe what you will. It is no concern of mine,'" I rejoined, with an effort at calm. "I care only for the facts. Were you within the Grange's walls, the night of Fielding's murder?"

"Why should I answer you?"

"Because the more knowledge I have, the more likely that I will find the truth; and that can only help us all. Even did I prove your cousin guilty, we might draw comfort from the certainty. Would you rather continue in ignorance, and allow blind luck to determine the outcome?"

"No," she said reluctandy. "Though you will understand that the truth makes not a particle of difference to me. me. I care nothing for your justice. I care only for Geoffrey. But if the world believes him guilty, he shall certainly die. I am not so wilful I do not see the danger." I care nothing for your justice. I care only for Geoffrey. But if the world believes him guilty, he shall certainly die. I am not so wilful I do not see the danger."

"Will you answer me, then?"

The need for hope and the desire to thwart me struggled for mastery in her face. "I was within the Grange all night. I did not stir beyond its doors, as the housekeeper, Mary, may vouch. You were correct, when you said we had guests abovestairs. She and I were much occupied in tending to them."

"A smuggler's crew?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps. You saw yourself what a friend my cousin has been to them."

"A friend? Not their leader?"

She did not answer.

"How many horses are stabled at the Grange, Mademoiselle?"

"Eight," she answered, without hesitation. "A matched pair for the curricle, and Satan, of course; four draft horses for the farm; and my own mount."

"And do all bear the same sort of shoes?"

"Stamped with Geoffrey's initials, you mean? Of course. Any of the horses might have left those prints."

"Any, that were the same size, and bore the same weight," I replied thoughtfully, "for the height of the horse and the heft of its mount, must severely affect the impressions."

"That is true!" she cried. "Geoffrey is a tall, well-built fellow, and Satan the same. Not every horse could make a print like that stallion's, when Geoffrey is upon him."

"Not, for example, yourself."

"No," she replied, with a bitter smile. "My Elf is a dainty lady. The draft horses, however, with a man astride, might manage it"

"There is also the curious affair, Mademoiselle, of the white lily."

"Yes," she murmured, her gaze s.h.i.+fting. "It is curious, indeed."

"Have you any notion what it might signify?"

"I fear that I do not. It is simply one more confusion amidst all that is bewildering."

"I wondered if it might not refer to the Captain's name."

"His name?" name?"

"Yes. lje Chevalier. lje Chevalier. The tide Fielding won from his service to you." The tide Fielding won from his service to you."

She winced. "I do not pretend to understand you, Miss Austen."

"A French flower for a French knight," I said patiendy. "Is not the fleur-de-tys fleur-de-tys a white lily?" A symbol of a country's trampled greatness, like the absurd tide Fielding bore. But what, then, was the significance of the flower left by the hanged Bill Tibbit? a white lily?" A symbol of a country's trampled greatness, like the absurd tide Fielding bore. But what, then, was the significance of the flower left by the hanged Bill Tibbit?

"I wonder, Miss Austen, that you think you might affect the odds in this way," Seraphine said, breaking into my thoughts. "For what can a woman do, in a proceeding so determined by men? Had not Geoffrey better stand his chance, in a world in which he is at least an equal, unlike ourselves?" But for the steadiness of her sombre gaze, I might almost have believed her to be mocking me.

"I have never been willing to admit that inequality," I told her. "I spend the better part of my life endeavouring to redress it. But no matter. If all all did but bend their efforts to determining your cousin's guilt or innocence, some resolution might speedily be found. I do but contribute my part, as I am sure Mr. Crawford will, and even Mr. Dagliesh." did but bend their efforts to determining your cousin's guilt or innocence, some resolution might speedily be found. I do but contribute my part, as I am sure Mr. Crawford will, and even Mr. Dagliesh."

"I have seen enough of their parts today."

"Their hands were tied."

"Then I do not want their hands further in the matter," she rejoined with animosity.

"Very well," I said. "But that cannot prevent you from sharing what you know with me. me. I cannot emphasise enough, Mademoiselle, that some part of the conviction of your cousin's guilt arises from the general perception that he hated Captain Fielding. What possible reason can he have had, for doing so?" I cannot emphasise enough, Mademoiselle, that some part of the conviction of your cousin's guilt arises from the general perception that he hated Captain Fielding. What possible reason can he have had, for doing so?"

In her look of contemptuous dismissal, I fancied I read the same disdain her long-dead mother must have shown the guillotine. "I am not inclined to tell you, Miss Austen, and certainly not without Geoffrey's approval. It would seem too great a betrayal."

"And if your cousin dies as a result of your silence, you foolish girl?" I cried.

"He will not."

"But of course he will!"

She shrugged, all of France in the gesture, and stared into the middle distance. I saw that whatever influence I had held over her mind, had begun to slip away.

"You were ready enough to speak this afternoon, before the coroner," I threw out, in one final attempt. "You very nearly then then revealed everything to do with your affairs, and gladly, in an effort to save your cousin's neck." revealed everything to do with your affairs, and gladly, in an effort to save your cousin's neck."

"But as you saw, Miss Austen," she replied with chilling calm, "my cousin did not wish it It was his his words that stopped my mouth before Mr. Carpenter, and yours shall certainly never loose it." words that stopped my mouth before Mr. Carpenter, and yours shall certainly never loose it."

"Tho' you hazard the risk of sealing his guilt?"

"Even so. I must trust in Geoffrey's determination of what is right; and further importuning must be useless. I must beg you to cease. We have spoken long enough."

I saw from her looks that she was quite determined, and so I rose with a sigh, and turned for the door.

"You shall have but a few days for the consideration of your cousin's fate," I said, "when every hour is precious. If ever you determine to seek some a.s.sistance with your burden of confidence, know that I stand ready to help you bear it."

"And if you, Miss Austen, can ever admit what you feel for Geoffrey," she replied, "then we shall both know where we stand. But until then, I believe I shall keep my own counsel."

"And I shall pursue my own path," I said, with some asperity. "For the cause of justice will not suffer indifference, Mademoiselle."

"Justice, Miss Austen?" she said mockingly; and turned her head away. But her laughter followed me down the length of the pa.s.sageway, and I confess it disturbed me more than I should like. There was too much of Eliza's knowing in it.

Chapter 18 - The Sagacity of Fathers.

21 September 1 1804, cont.

I FOUND MY FATHER ENSCONCED IN A DIM CORNER OF THE FOUND MY FATHER ENSCONCED IN A DIM CORNER OF THE L LION, HIS book open upon his lap. My mother had long since departed the inn to pay a call upon an acquaintance-an intelligence I received with some relief, as I had feared her too-eager canva.s.sing of Seraphine LeFevre's affairs in so public a place. I could now avail myself of my father's advice without concern for interruption; and so, as he gathered up his things, I suggested we take a turn along the Cobb. A dubious proposition for one of my father's unsteady gait; but the day was fair enough, and the wind not of a strength to overwhelm. He appeared surprised at the suggestion, but ready enough to seize the opportunity for exercise; and thus we set off, companionably arm-in-arm. book open upon his lap. My mother had long since departed the inn to pay a call upon an acquaintance-an intelligence I received with some relief, as I had feared her too-eager canva.s.sing of Seraphine LeFevre's affairs in so public a place. I could now avail myself of my father's advice without concern for interruption; and so, as he gathered up his things, I suggested we take a turn along the Cobb. A dubious proposition for one of my father's unsteady gait; but the day was fair enough, and the wind not of a strength to overwhelm. He appeared surprised at the suggestion, but ready enough to seize the opportunity for exercise; and thus we set off, companionably arm-in-arm.

"And so, Jane-what is your your opinion of this sad business of Sidmouth's? I should enjoy a share in your thoughts at the present; for I know that your acquaintances among the great have taught you much about scandal and violence," my father began. That he referred to Isobel Payne, and her nephew Fitzroy (who were even now upon the point of uniting once more the t.i.tles of Countess and Earl of Scargrave), I immediately understood. opinion of this sad business of Sidmouth's? I should enjoy a share in your thoughts at the present; for I know that your acquaintances among the great have taught you much about scandal and violence," my father began. That he referred to Isobel Payne, and her nephew Fitzroy (who were even now upon the point of uniting once more the t.i.tles of Countess and Earl of Scargrave), I immediately understood.

"I fear that my singular experience of two winters past prepared me for nothing in the present case-unless it be a greater tendency to question the truth of everything everything I hear, and to a.s.sume that the persons appointed to safeguard the law, are little likely to look beyond the most obvious construction of events,"I replied. "But I would gladly share my intelligence, Father, if you will promise in return some measure of perspicacity." I hear, and to a.s.sume that the persons appointed to safeguard the law, are little likely to look beyond the most obvious construction of events,"I replied. "But I would gladly share my intelligence, Father, if you will promise in return some measure of perspicacity."

And so, as we coursed the length of the breakwater's stone, I told my father all that I had learned of the infamous Reverend and of Mr. Sidmouth-who might, or might not, be one and the same man. I did not neglect to mention my dubious commission from Roy Cavendish, nor the curious movements in the Grange's garret, nor the appearance of a wounded man on the Charmouth s.h.i.+ngle, nor my own midnight adventure in the cavernous tunnel, nor my interview with Maggie Tibbit. When I had done, the good man was lost in silent contemplation for some few minutes; and when he had sufficiendy roused himself from thought to pay his companion more heed, he turned to me with an expression of wonder and-dare I say it-respect.

"My dear Jane," he said. "My dear Jane. I knew you for a lady of fine understanding and natural courage; but I dared not hope you possessed such faculties of determination and initiative. Forgive me if I must observe that they seem rather the part of one of your brothers, than a member of the weaker s.e.x. I am not entirely entirely a.s.sured that the affairs of either Mr. Sidmouth or the Captain required so a.s.sured that the affairs of either Mr. Sidmouth or the Captain required so much much active benevolence on your behalf-and at such risk to your person-but I will not pain you with suppositions regarding your motives. Only tell me, active benevolence on your behalf-and at such risk to your person-but I will not pain you with suppositions regarding your motives. Only tell me, Jane"-and here he hesitated-"are you quite convinced quite convinced of Sidmouth's innocence in the Captain's death? For I should not like you to suffer for what you will discover." of Sidmouth's innocence in the Captain's death? For I should not like you to suffer for what you will discover."

"I am convinced of nothing, dear sir," I replied, "and do not imagine me to harbour such tender emotions towards the gentleman in question, that my senses should be entirely routed if I find my labour has gone only to confirm his guilt I may congratulate myself upon a clearsighted view of his character. Sidmouth is forthright, but self-serving; loyal to those he values, but indifferent to the broader claims of society. His temper is mediated only with difficulty, though I could not charge him with unwonted unwonted meanness of spirit And though I know no real evil of him, I cannot profess a complete confidence in his motives or aims. I hear such conflicting reports of him, as should bewilder a finer understanding than my own. There-have I satisfied your anxiety?" meanness of spirit And though I know no real evil of him, I cannot profess a complete confidence in his motives or aims. I hear such conflicting reports of him, as should bewilder a finer understanding than my own. There-have I satisfied your anxiety?"

'Tor the moment," my father replied. "But tell me, Jane-could you ever love a man you regarded with such ambivalence?"

"Must love, then, be blind, blind, in your opinion?" in your opinion?"

"Not blind-but preferably unalloyed; and best bestowed upon a worthy object."

I hesitated before I answered him; for I knew from the kindly tenor of his words, that my father's whole heart was in the subject. "1 am not now in love with Mr. Sidmouth, Father," 1 said with remarkable firmness, "and I do not know that I could ever be, or that the question should even be put to the test, in the event that he returned such feeling. And since the gentleman promises fair to hang hang before he should have time for a tender dalliance, you may set yourself at ease." before he should have time for a tender dalliance, you may set yourself at ease."

"Jane! You cannot jest in such a matter!"

"Matters have come to such a turn, my dear sir, that I may fairly do little else. But I wiilbe wiilbe serious. I serious. I ivill ivill promise you to take what care 1 can in the business. I shalI not plunge whole-heartedly into a matter that might offer only harm, without judicious thought beforehand." promise you to take what care 1 can in the business. I shalI not plunge whole-heartedly into a matter that might offer only harm, without judicious thought beforehand."

"That is as I should expect of you, my dear," my father replied, with a pat to the hand he held close in the crook of his arm. "You were ever a girl whose heart was ruled by her head."

Was I? I thought fleetingly; I thought fleetingly; and is that to be preferred to a head ruled by the heart" I cannot be entirely certain, and is that to be preferred to a head ruled by the heart" I cannot be entirely certain, "Father-" I said, with a purposeful effort at changing the subject, "-what should, then, my next step be? For so much cries out for elucidation, that I am in a confusion as to my proper path."

We had reached the end of the Cobb, and lingered to feel the freshness of the spray; and I knew with a sinking of the heart that autumn was advancing, and winter coming on. The sea air was sharper than it had been only a few weeks before, and I s.h.i.+vered as I drew my shawl closer about my thin muslin gown. We had but a little of our Lyme sojourn remaining to us; but Geoffrey Sidmouth had fewer days still. I must not be a spendthrift with time.

"You have declared the horseshoes to be the crux of the business," my father said thoughtfully. "And since you are unlikely to have success where Mr. Dobbin did not, I should counsel against a useless review of the Lyme blacksmiths. Your appearance in their midst, and in pursuit of such information, should only arouse suspicion against you, and excite the attention of the local tradesfolk."

"Very true."

"Let us consider, my dear Jane, whether any of the people hereabouts might spurn the Lyme trade, and engage a private smithy for the maintenance of their beasts."

"No one in our acquaintance is likely to require such a service," I objected. "Even Mr. Crawford has a modest stable, as we observed only a few days ago."

"But the Honourable Barnewalls have gone in for horses on a larger scale, have they not?"

"In Ireland, Ireland, perhaps," I said doubtfully, but my father waved away such temporisations with surprising vigour. perhaps," I said doubtfully, but my father waved away such temporisations with surprising vigour.

"Forgive me, Jane, if I beg to speak from greater knowledge," he said. "I have known a few of your race-mad fellows in my time. They are never far from horseflesh if they can manage it; and from BarnewalFs conversation the other evening at Darby, I should adjudge him to be perpetually in a fever of acquisition over some some mount or another. You will recall he wished to purchase Sidmouth's Satan; and undoubtedly he has s.n.a.t.c.hed up a horse or two-or mount or another. You will recall he wished to purchase Sidmouth's Satan; and undoubtedly he has s.n.a.t.c.hed up a horse or two-or ten ten-in the course of his visit to Lyme. Have you paid a call on Mrs. Barnewall, Jane?"

"I have not," I replied, with new respect for my father's turn of mind.

"It is very remiss of you, when one considers the attentions she has shown. I should not have thought you capable of such rudeness."

"Indeed. And I might solicit her excellent taste, in the matter of my new silk-for Mrs. Barnewall is is the very soul of fas.h.i.+on, and would appear well-acquainted with Maggie Tibbit's wares." the very soul of fas.h.i.+on, and would appear well-acquainted with Maggie Tibbit's wares."