Jane And The Unpleasantness At Scargrave Manor Part 20

"Forgive me, Mr. Mayhew," I said, with extended hand, "you have been kindness itself, and have greatly a.s.sisted our efforts; but Mr. Cranley and I have pressing business elsewhere that cannot wait. I am honoured to have met you, sir-and feel certain that with your penetration exercised on her behalf, the Countess shall escape the clutches of her enemies even still."

"She is unlikely to require my support, Miss Austen," Hezekiah Mayhew said dryly, "when your own is already hers."

Mr. Cranley parted from me at the solicitor's door; having procured a hackney carriage for my return to Scargrave, and hastening himself to his chambers at Lincoln's Inn, the better to prepare his defence of my friends. It was but a few moments to Scargrave House, where I found f.a.n.n.y as yet upstairs in a darkened room, and Madame Delahoussaye resting on the settee before the drawing-room fire.

"My dear Miss Austen," Madame said, sitting up briskly at my appearance, "I could not think think where you had gone-and the house all at sixes and sevens. If you intend to run about by yourself in this manner, it would be well if you were to tell Cook when you expect to return, so that dinner at least is not a matter for conjecture." where you had gone-and the house all at sixes and sevens. If you intend to run about by yourself in this manner, it would be well if you were to tell Cook when you expect to return, so that dinner at least is not a matter for conjecture."

"I was not alone, Madame," I rejoined. "I was with Mr. Cranley, in a visit to the Scargrave solicitors."

"With Mr. Cranley Cranley" Madame's expression dissolved in contempt, and she ran her eyes the length of my grey wool, as though it were transparent. "I suppose you have set your cap at him. He is not a bad sort of fellow, and quite suitable for one of your position in the world."

I felt myself colour. Setting my cap at him, indeed. Setting my cap at him, indeed. "That is an expression, Madame Delahoussaye, that I particularly abhor," I cried, perhaps too warmly. "Its tendency is gross and illiberal, and if its construction could ever have been deemed clever, time has long ago destroyed all its ingenuity. "That is an expression, Madame Delahoussaye, that I particularly abhor," I cried, perhaps too warmly. "Its tendency is gross and illiberal, and if its construction could ever have been deemed clever, time has long ago destroyed all its ingenuity.3 I merely accompanied Mr. Cranley on a matter of business." I merely accompanied Mr. Cranley on a matter of business."

I turned away, intending to dress for dinner, being unequal to the maintenance of my temper if I retained the room any longer; but Madame called after me.

"Business? What may a lady lady have to do with have to do with business business, pray?"

I revolved slowly and regarded her before answering. "It is Madame who must answer that, and not I."

Something of the sourness in her expression drained from her face, and was replaced by obvious caution. "Whatever do you mean, Miss Austen?"

"I had understood that business was a peculiar province of your own, Madame. Particularly the business of your family fortune."

She started at this, and looked somewhat nettled; and seeing that she was for once deprived of speech, I determined to press my advantage.

"Mr. Cranley and I were only now informed of your interest in the Countess's affairs. It seems it is to you you Isobel must look for financial protection." Isobel must look for financial protection."

"I!" the good lady cried, her composure regained, "she can find no protection from me me, I a.s.sure you."

"That much is evident, from your disinterest in her troubles," I said bitterly. "It is even possible she is past all such protection, in any case."

To these words of reproach, Madame answered me nothing. With glittering eyes, she rose from her place and swept by me, out of the room; and after a moment, I followed in her train. I was greatly fatigued, and looked forward to my dinner, and considered dispensing with the necessity of changing my dress; I should far rather enjoy a tray by my bedchamber fire, than a chilly hour in Madame's company. But I had only gained the comfort of my room a few moments, and undone the quant.i.ty of horn b.u.t.tons that run the length of my gown's back, before the swift pa.s.sage of footsteps in the corridor demanded my attention. I peered around my door, and observed Madame Delahoussaye disappearing down the stairs, arrayed in a cloak and a very fine hat, indeed. And since she should require the use of neither neither in the Scargrave dining room, I quickly surmised that she had determined to disregard the lateness of the hour, and undertaken to pay a call. in the Scargrave dining room, I quickly surmised that she had determined to disregard the lateness of the hour, and undertaken to pay a call.

Alone in the doorway, my gown undone, I debated with myself. Madame might do little more than fetch a physick for poor f.a.n.n.y from the local apothecary; but no-in that case, she should dispatch a servant. Only the greatest need could send Madame forth at such a time-and I little doubted that it was my words my words, spoken angrily in the drawing-room below, that had done it. I reached for my pelisse and hat, and ran hurriedly for the stairs, clutching at my undone back. I was in time to observe Madame through the drawing-room window, in an att.i.tude of some urgency, as she stepped swiftly into the Scargrave carriage.

SHE LED MY HACKNEY A MERRY CHASE, MADE ALL THE MORE difficult by my injunction to the driver upon engaging him, that he should be at pains not to be observed by our quarry. It is not that the way to Wilborough House was so difficult to find, but that the traffic at this hour, when merchants and gentlemen were bent upon finding their dinners at home or in the exclusive clubs of Pall Mall, should be decidedly snarled. The jostling of carriages and horses, of coachmen and waggoneers shouting invective as hallmarks of their masculinity and claim to place, made any pa.s.sage a tedious if colourful one; and the anxiety of keeping the Scargrave carriage in sight, without ourselves being seen, was an added fillip of torture. difficult by my injunction to the driver upon engaging him, that he should be at pains not to be observed by our quarry. It is not that the way to Wilborough House was so difficult to find, but that the traffic at this hour, when merchants and gentlemen were bent upon finding their dinners at home or in the exclusive clubs of Pall Mall, should be decidedly snarled. The jostling of carriages and horses, of coachmen and waggoneers shouting invective as hallmarks of their masculinity and claim to place, made any pa.s.sage a tedious if colourful one; and the anxiety of keeping the Scargrave carriage in sight, without ourselves being seen, was an added fillip of torture.

Madame soon arrived at her destination, however; ordered the coachman to wait; and ascended the august flight of marble steps with alacrity. I recalled that during Lord Harold's Christmas visit to Scargrave Manor she had particularly declared herself a stranger to the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Wilborough; and so such a call, at such an hour, was something to amaze. But having observed her flight, I had guessed she would fetch up here; and I had little doubt as to her object in paying homage to those so much above her station. Madame cared nothing for Wilborough, or his lady: it was his brother she sought, her partner in all her crimes.

1. Postage was actually an expensive item in the nineteenth century, as letters were billed according to how many miles they traveled. No envelopes were used-the sheet of paper was folded and sealed with wax-and a letter comprised of two sheets of paper was billed double. Most important, the recipient recipient paid the postage, not the sender; and so Lord Scargrave's meticulous accounts may be taken as evidence of his scrupulousness in keeping track of his debts. - paid the postage, not the sender; and so Lord Scargrave's meticulous accounts may be taken as evidence of his scrupulousness in keeping track of his debts. -Editor's note.2. Separate estate, or separate property, was a term in the marriage settlement drawn up at a woman's engagement, particularly if she was an heiress. This set certain property-investments or land-in trust, with the income available to the woman, but the property itself beyond the reach of herself, her husband, or his creditors. Such property customarily pa.s.sed to her female children at her death. -Editor's note.3. Interestingly, Austen's dislike of this phrase resurfaces in her novel Sense and Sensibility Sense and Sensibility, in which Marianne Dashwood uses almost identical language to upbraid Sir John Middleton, when he jests that she has "set her cap" at Willoughby. -Editor's note.

Chapter 22 - The Uses of Brothers.

7 January 1803

WHEN I I CHARGED MY BROTHER HENRY TO DISCOVER ALL CHARGED MY BROTHER HENRY TO DISCOVER ALL that he could of the finances of the Scargrave family, he set about his work with customary diligence; and so swiftly achieved results, that he waited upon me this morning with intelligence of no little import. As but two days remain before Isobel must appear in the Lords, I was in a fever of impatience to hear Henry's news. that he could of the finances of the Scargrave family, he set about his work with customary diligence; and so swiftly achieved results, that he waited upon me this morning with intelligence of no little import. As but two days remain before Isobel must appear in the Lords, I was in a fever of impatience to hear Henry's news.

"My dear Jane," he began, seating himself in an easy chair in the late Earl's study-the only room in which I feel completely safe from prying ears, due to its heavy wood panelling and walls lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves-"I find that you have taken up lodgings with a rather rum set."

"You surprise me, Henry," I rejoined. "Is not murder merely one of the country house games a guest may expect at Christmas?"

"Among our great families, I suppose anything may be made a game. They have certainly made a charade of robbing one another," my brother replied gravely.

"A fate to be considered worse than death."

"Or capable of precipitating it, a.s.suredly." Henry's large grey eyes twinkled; he was enjoying his new-won role in the Scargrave drama.

"Begin at the beginning, pray," I commanded him, with some asperity.

"Let us start with Fitzroy Payne."

"I am all attention."

"His circ.u.mstances are by no means as easy as he might wish, nor yet as distressed as you have been told."

"Sir William will not have it thus, you may depend."

"Sir William may have no choice. The facts are these: the new Earl is possessed of a considerable estate in the West Indies, acquired by his father and managed by a man who has done little to merit the trust placed in him by the Payne family. In short, the plantations are in reduced circ.u.mstances-"

"As I understand many such holdings are, at the present time."

"Indeed. It is not the year to be in sugar production."

"Or coffee, so I understand."

"Jane! Are you become a shareholder in some venture I should know of? Are we to expect you to take a London journal upon your return to Bath, and make cryptic references to the 'Change1 over breakfast?" over breakfast?"

I smiled at his banter and bade him go on.

"The holdings remain, nonetheless, of substantial worth, and may require only an infusion of capital and a change in managers to make them a going concern. That the Earl hopes to use a part of his uncle's estate for just this purpose, is a fact Sir William must underline before the House of Lords."

"And his personal debts?"

"Fitzroy Payne lives on the interest from his father's Derbys.h.i.+re estate, to the tune of three thousand pounds a year-a respectable income, a.s.suredly, but not of the level to cut a certain dash among the glittering set in which he is owned a confederate." Henry hesitated, and eyed me dubiously. "Payne has habits of considerable expense, sister."

That he thought of the rumoured mistress, I readily discerned, and hastened to set him at his ease.

"You may except the ill.u.s.trious Mrs. Hammond," I a.s.sured him. "I have met the lady."

My brother threw up his hands. "I am all amazement. I shall endeavour not to tell our mother of the company you now keep."

"Mrs. Hammond was his nursemaid," I protested. "Lord Scargrave but cares for the woman in retirement."

"Dashed again! I had hoped for something more engaging from the scrupulous Earl. But no matter. His carriages, his horse, his rooms in Town, and the upkeep of the Derbys.h.i.+re establishment, have strained his funds to the limit-and past it, I fear. I could not find out, however, that there were debts of honour, due to gaming; but I learned that he had discharged such on behalf of another, some few months back."

"Lieutenant Hearst?" I said, with a sudden, sharp pang.

"The gentleman who most succeeded in robbing the family," Henry returned, nodding. "That man's affairs would make an amusing trial, but damme, he has deprived us of the pleasure. The Lieutenant exhausted what little his brother retained of their father's estate-and did the poor Mr. George Hearst wish to buy a living somewhere, it must be impossible for one of his reduced resources. I hope he has come in for a Scargrave living under the late Earl's will."

"I believe he has," I replied, "but that circ.u.mstances might forbid his taking it." To show his wife about Scar-grave would be a form of purgatory on earth, given the acid tongues and long memories of the local people. But that was George Hearst's affair. "Have you anything further regarding Lord Scargrave?"

"He is everywhere recorded as a man of taste and decency, though adjudged somewhat proud and cold; though people respect him, they do not necessarily warm to him, and that may go against him in public opinion, however this trial turns out. There were once many hopes entertained of his heart, among the mothers and daughters of London's select; but I gather he is now become an object of fearful suspicion, and his value has dropped on the marriage market. You might pick him up on the cheap, by the by, now you have vetted him, Jane; I give you my consent in lieu of Father's, since you have made your brother your confidant."

"I feat; Henry, that the Earl's affections are apportioned to another," I told him, "and that all of society shall know of it in a very little while."

"Worse luck for you, Jane," my brother replied; "did he make a go of the plantations, as his wife you might come in for quite a pretty amount of pin money-and Eliza will have it that there is nothing like being a Countess." As always, the mention of his vivacious wife's name brought a smile to Henry's lips. He had borne with Eliza's retention of her t.i.tle with good grace.

"Now tell me of Madame Delahoussaye," I urged, with a keener interest.

Henry steepled his fingers before his nose, for all the world like our father, did he but know it. "Though her daughter possesses thirty thousand pounds in trust, the good Creole lady hasn't a farthing in her purse, nor one she can borrow," he said comfortably, little comprehending the effect his words should have. "She depends entirely upon the household of her niece, one reason she is so faithful a companion, and stands to lose much by the reversal in Isobel's fortunes."

"But how can this be?" I cried. "I understood Madame to be a woman of easy circ.u.mstances."

"I fear that we may only speak of wealth in the past tense, Jane. In fact, her banker-old Robeson, of the London concern-is most desirous of investigating Madame Delahoussaye's accounts more thoroughly, in what I may only term an audit. Robeson suspects some irregularities in the disposition of some trust income Madame oversees, but would say no more, in deference to the lady's privacy, no matter how much I plied him with Port."

I THANKED HENRY PROFUSELY FOR HIS BENEVOLENCE ON THANKED HENRY PROFUSELY FOR HIS BENEVOLENCE ON my behalf, and vowed I should never do him recompense for such goodness; and he left me with much to consider. I do not begin to understand the motives for Madame Delahoussaye's behaviour; they are all of a tangle, between her own need and her daughter's prospects of fortune; from Henry's words, Madame should only lose by placing Isobel in a noose-and yet, and yet! That she is concealing something of import, I am utterly convinced. my behalf, and vowed I should never do him recompense for such goodness; and he left me with much to consider. I do not begin to understand the motives for Madame Delahoussaye's behaviour; they are all of a tangle, between her own need and her daughter's prospects of fortune; from Henry's words, Madame should only lose by placing Isobel in a noose-and yet, and yet! That she is concealing something of import, I am utterly convinced.

I believe Lord Harold to be a party to Madame's intrigue, and that neither is a friend to Isobel, or concerned with her fate. But how to force the matter? I am overcome with the proximity of the trial, which is to open the day after tomorrow; and must suffer f.a.n.n.y Delahoussaye's tirades over the state of her costume. She has emerged from mourning the gallant Lieutenant long enough to harry a bevy of shopkeepers, and my sole consolation in the trial's fast approaching, is that it shall witness an end to such frippery-and to my tenure, for good or ill, among the intimates of Scargrave. I fear that I shall be returning to Bath with a heavy heart, and the knowledge that I have mortally failed a true and innocent friend.

Journal entry, that same day

SIR WILLIAM REYNOLDS HAS BEEN AND GONE-A BRIEF VISIT, with the sole purpose of informing me that I am to be called before the Bar as a witness for the prosecution. The magistrate intends me to testify to the finding of the maid's body and all that ensued thereafter however little I may relish the office. That my old friend suffers for me, and my divided loyalties, I read in his eyes; but Sir William is a man of iron where he believes himself to be right, and my feeble efforts at prevarication availed me nothing. with the sole purpose of informing me that I am to be called before the Bar as a witness for the prosecution. The magistrate intends me to testify to the finding of the maid's body and all that ensued thereafter however little I may relish the office. That my old friend suffers for me, and my divided loyalties, I read in his eyes; but Sir William is a man of iron where he believes himself to be right, and my feeble efforts at prevarication availed me nothing.

"I shall be struck dumb by the grandeur of the room, and the a.s.semblage," I protested. "Can not you present my experiences on my behalf?"

Sir William's kind brown eyes could not meet my own. "It is impossible, my dear. You alone discovered the handkerchief and Marguerite, and the sc.r.a.p of paper within her bodice." A brief smile played over his grave countenance. "Had you been less curious, my dear, or sent your active wits to sleep, we might not have you in this pickle."

And so I shall enter the House of Lords, and seat myself in the ranks reserved for witnesses, below those marked out for peeresses in the gallery-and I must speak before all a.s.sembled, without disgrace. Though it is no more than I expected, I am sick at heart; to face Isobel and Lord Scargrave in the box, and p.r.o.nounce what must be d.a.m.ning to their cause, is a hideous fate. And yet, what choice have I? I shall be sworn, and must speak the truth as I recall it, though friends.h.i.+p-nay, human decency-would argue otherwise.

Sir William departed not long after, having business of a pressing nature. As I waved him down the marble steps to his carriage, he shook his head over the Payne family seal, swathed in black and mounted on the facade of the house over each of the long windows. Thus Scargrave House proclaims Tom Hearst's death-but another in an increasing cause for mourning.

No further ceremony shall mark the Lieutenant's pa.s.sing, however; as a suicide, he is to be buried tomorrow at a crossroads some distance west of the city, with a stake driven through his heart. I shudder to think it; for such a man-riven with faults as he may have been-to end in the most indifferent of earth, without benefit of clergy or memorial marker, is in every way horrible. His brother is to accompany the body. The poor batman Jack Lewis-quite downcast and morose-goes along as well, and the good Mr. Cranley; a singular mark of that barrister's devotion to the family's concerns that I must believe is intended to comfort silly f.a.n.n.y Delahoussaye.

Mr. Cranley looks increasingly worried whenever he calls; and from his few words, I have learned that his defence is to rely solely on the notion that Fitzroy Payne's letter was stolen and Isobel's handkerchief purloined. For; in truth, he has no other suspects- and though I would dearly love Lord Harold Trowbridge to be arraigned, I cannot say upon what charge. There is no evidence to tie any but the Earl and the Countess to these murders; and so I toss and turn in bed of nights, and wonder greatly at what may be the purpose in collusion between Madame Delahoussaye and that man. that man. But today, I bethought myself of Frank. But today, I bethought myself of Frank.

My brother Francis is a post captain in the Royal Navy these two years past, and is presently stationed at Rams-gate, about the coastal defences. I cannot think with Frank to prevent it, that the French under Buonaparte are likely to invade our little island; and in the meanwhile, as he a.s.sembles his Sea Fencibles2 about Pegwell Bay, my dear brother might just as readily occupy himself in determining the use of a private deep-water port in the Barbadoes. That Lord Harold has recently visited France, and is bent upon acquiring such a port in the Indies, must give one pause; there is intrigue here, and Frank is sure to pa.r.s.e out the meaning. I wrote to him this morning, and am impatient for his reply. about Pegwell Bay, my dear brother might just as readily occupy himself in determining the use of a private deep-water port in the Barbadoes. That Lord Harold has recently visited France, and is bent upon acquiring such a port in the Indies, must give one pause; there is intrigue here, and Frank is sure to pa.r.s.e out the meaning. I wrote to him this morning, and am impatient for his reply.

And now I must see to my wardrobe, for a.s.suredly I possess nothing grand enough for the witness-bar of the Royal Gallery. And what am I to say? Only the truth Only the truth, Sir William told me this morning, as he stepped into his carriage-but what he believes to be true, and what I know know to be false, are one and the same. to be false, are one and the same.

1. Henry Austen refers here to the London Stock Exchange, founded in Change Alley in 1698. Before the mid-nineteenth-century dismantling of restrictive legislation on joint-stock companies (the result of the South Sea Bubble crisis and its resultant 1720 Act forbidding the formation of companies except by royal charter, or Act of Parliament), the Exchange was concerned primarily with public funds: government stock, East India bonds, ca.n.a.l-company shares, and later utilities and dock-company stocks.2. This was a corps of fishermen and coastal villagers equipped with boats-a sort of seaside militia-placed on alert in the event of invasion. -Editor's note.

Chapter 23 - A Deadly Contest of Wills.

9 January 1803

HOWEVER UNFORTUNATE THE CIRc.u.mSTANCES, I I MAY MAY justly say that the display of British might that is the House of Lords, fully a.s.sembled for trial-a thing that happens not above once in a generation-has not its equal for solemnity and grandeur. The youngest barons proceeded first, and the august file closed with the most ancient of dukes, all shepherded by heralds and the Garter at Arms-two hundred-odd men, arrayed in robes that signified their ranks in the peerage, filing two by two into benches ranged on either side of the Royal Gallery's Bar. On the high dais sat a chair meant for the Lord High Steward. justly say that the display of British might that is the House of Lords, fully a.s.sembled for trial-a thing that happens not above once in a generation-has not its equal for solemnity and grandeur. The youngest barons proceeded first, and the august file closed with the most ancient of dukes, all shepherded by heralds and the Garter at Arms-two hundred-odd men, arrayed in robes that signified their ranks in the peerage, filing two by two into benches ranged on either side of the Royal Gallery's Bar. On the high dais sat a chair meant for the Lord High Steward.

Below it were the seats reserved for peeresses; here should Isobel have sat, had fortune been kinder. These gave way to Mr. Cranley and Sir William's place, and then to the witnesses' seats, in one of which I found myself. Lizzy Scratch was to my right, looking well-scrubbed and defiantly in her element, despite the incongruity of her position; I feared her spirits should take a theatrical turn, once called before the Bar. Dr. Philip Pettigrew sat to my left, and beside him the cherubic scholar of Cambridge, Dr. Percival Grant.

Madame Delahoussaye and her daughter were lodged above, in the spectators' gallery; the briefest of glances revealed their seats to my indifferent eye. Miss f.a.n.n.y had adopted the dubious mystery of a quant.i.ty of black silk veiling about her blond curls; it was sheer enough to disclose a flash of blue eyes and white teeth, while enshrouding her in all the discretion her interesting circ.u.mstances demanded. I knew her to be wis.h.i.+ng for a greater part in the drama-or a wider stage, at least, for the parading of her costume; and would gladly have exchanged my place for hers.

A solemn bell tolled the hour; all rose; and a Proclamation of Silence was issued by the Serjeant at Arms. The Clerk of the Crown then knelt to present the Commission under the Great Seal to the Lord High Steward, who returned it to him; at which point the Clerk read its substance aloud, at interminable length, and we were treated to a declaration of "G.o.d Save the King!"

We must then endure the Certiorari and Return, a summary of the House of Lords' authority to preside over the case, with each and every peer a judge of fact and of law; much precedent was stated for their office, and many mouldy precepts of common law dredged before the a.s.sembly; but at last, when I had almost despaired of my sanity, we were informed of the decision of the a.s.sizes to try Fitzroy Payne and the Countess for murder.

"The Jurors for our Lord the King upon their oaths present that the most n.o.ble lady Isobel Amelie Collins Payne, Countess of Scargrave, a peeress of the realm, on the twelfth day of December in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and two, in the Parish of Scargrave, did kill and murder Frederick William Payne, seventh Earl of Scargrave. We further find that the most n.o.ble Fitzroy Gerald Payne, Viscount Payne, Earl of Scargrave, a peer of the realm, on the twenty-fourth day of December in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and two, in the Parish of Scargrave, did kill and murder one Marguerite Dumas, maidservant, native of the Barbadoes."

At that point, following the proclamation by the Serjeant at Arms, the Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod brought in first the Countess, and then the Earl, and escorted them severally to the Bar, where they knelt until the Lord High Steward allowed them to rise.

Isobel's face was pale, and her once-lovely eyes had lost their l.u.s.tre; some of the dirt and stench of Newgate had been washed from her person, but the freshness of her twenty-two years was yet overlaid with a haggard-ness that bespoke great turmoil of mind. The marks of her ordeal could not disguise her beauty, though they added something of romantic interest to her aspect. I had learned, upon my arrival that day, that her conveyance from Newgate was stoned by a mob, and that she was jeered as murderess and wh.o.r.e; the public had pa.s.sed swift sentence upon my friend, without benefit of a hearing.

Lord Scargrave retained his accustomed command of countenance, evidencing only a deeper gravity in the tightness of his jaw and the unwavering aspect of his gaze. He was led with Isobel to stools placed within the Bar; where the pair should be confined for the duration of the proceedings, and the charges against them were read. The Clerk of the Parliaments then arraigned them, and asked whether they were Guilty or Not Guilty, to which they severally replied, Not Guilty-Isobel in the merest whisper, her hand to her throat, while Fitzroy Payne's voice rang through the chamber. His glance was haughty, his silver head held high; and though, from knowing him a little, I judged this the result of a struggle for composure, I well knew how it should be judged. Proud and cold Proud and cold, he would be proclaimed; and his very effort at self-control play against him.

Sir William Reynolds now rose, and the weight of my duty fell full upon me at the sight of his benign old face. He He was a friend, and was a friend, and she she was a friend; and between them they had made a mockery of my better feeling. was a friend; and between them they had made a mockery of my better feeling.

The magistrate looked very fine, indeed, in a dark grey tail coat of excellent wool, arrayed with a double row of gold b.u.t.tons; and at his neck, the highest of white cravats I had ever seen-the collar tips reaching nearly to his ears. Thrown over all was a black silk robe; the awful weight of the Law he bore upon his aged countenance; and his bewigged head might almost be that of Jehovah, come to divide the guilty from the innocent. I quailed when his hard brown eyes fell upon myself, though I fancied they softened at the sight of my pale face; and understood of a sudden why the name Sir William Reynolds Sir William Reynolds was everywhere greeted with trepidation and respect, among his adversaries at the Bar. was everywhere greeted with trepidation and respect, among his adversaries at the Bar.

Sir William was prohibited from calling Isobel as a witness; and the only other persons capable of a.s.serting that she had been alone with her husband on the evening of his death were themselves dead. On this point, the magistrate could merely expostulate to the a.s.sembled lords, having permission to read the relevant testimony from the written record of the inquest. That only the Countess had survived the night, he said, should make his case. He then called Dr. Pettigrew.

The poor young man was sworn; stated his true name and place of birth, and was duly noted to be a physician who had attended the seventh Earl some three years, and at his death bed. Dr. Pettigrew gave his evidence much as he had at the inquest, and was allowed to stand down; at which point he was followed by Dr. Percival Grant, who testified that the seeds shown to the a.s.sembled peers by Sir William were indeed Barbadoes nuts, a toxic poison commonly used as a physick and purgative by the natives of Isobel's birthplace. It was then that I was called.

My legs were as water, and the trembling of my hands so severe, that I fear I appeared to wave to the a.s.sembly as I held my left palm high and swore to tell the truth, so help me G.o.d. Whenever I am forced to speak or perform in public-at the pianoforte, in particular-my cheeks and throat are overcome with a brilliant rash; I had worn my high-necked gown of deep brown wool on purpose, but must declare it to have failed in its office. Sir William, when he spoke, meant to be kind; I could hear it in the tone of his voice, and cursed him mentally. From his careful speech, the lords who should pa.s.s judgement upon Isobel and Fitzroy Payne would surely think me a ninny-and dismiss the worth of any evidence I might give to Mr. Cranley on the morrow.

I stated my name and that I was a spinster of Bath.

"You are a great friend to the Countess, are you not?"

"As I am to you, sir," I replied.

"And you arrived at Scargrave Manor on the very eve of the Earl's death."