Jane Austen Mysteries 08 Jane and His Lordship's Legacy (19 page)

Major Spence's sombre gaze shifted a fraction to meet my own, and I thought I read in its depths a kind of apology, and a plea for discretion. But then the steward's grey eyes returned to the bright image before him, and he lifted her hand from his cheek. "Julian will not be happy unless you play. Therefore I charge you only to
play well,
my lady."

"Such a steward!" Lady Imogen observed mistily; "so caring and thoughtful in every respect, that I might run roughshod over your heart and mind both, and you will not presume to manage me. Take care, Charles," she threw over her shoulder as she left him, "or I shall accept that proposal of marriage you offered me. It would ruin us both, I assure you."

Major Spence did not allow his expression to change as his eyes followed Lady Imogen to the faro table; and in that perfect reserve and preservation of countenance I read the strength of the man. Perhaps I alone would name such a look as passion--but I, too, had loved a wild thing once to my loss. A simpleton could perceive that the steward was languishing for the Earl's daughter.

Jane and His Lordship's Legacy ~ 147

Spence bowed correctly in my direction, enquired if there was anything I wanted--if I was amply supplied with muffin and tea--and then took up his place beside my mother at the whist table.

I am no card player. The elder Prowtings and the Papillons made up one party of whist; Mr. Middleton, Miss Beckford, my mother, and Major Spence another; while Lady Imogen was claimed by Julian Thrace.

"She is said to be a gamester of the most hardened kind,"

Henry murmured in my ear, "tho' she is but two-and-twenty. It is not to be wondered at, with the Earl for a father. The gaming trait is fatal in the Vansittart blood. It is said to rival even that of the Spencers."

"Did you know, Henry, that the Earl was a friend of Lord Harold's?"

"I did not. But they were both of a Whiggish persuasion; and I confess I cannot be surprised. The Earl's society is rackety enough, Jane--his lordship being cheek by jowl with the Carl-ton House Set; and Lady Imogen's mother, you know, ran away with a colonel of the Horse Guards when her daughter was only three."

"How diverting is your knowledge of the Great, Henry!" I sighed. "The appearance of Mr. Thrace--the prospect of losing so considerable an inheritance as Stonings--must make her la-dyship quite blue-devilled."

"I should think the earldom would be entailed on the male line," Henry said doubtfully. "Absent the upstart Beau, the title will pass to a cousin of some kind. But it is certainly true that Stonings at present forms a significant part of Lady Imogen's jointure. At her marriage or her father's death, the estate should come to her; but his lordship
now
appears inclined to al-low Thrace to live in it. Spence told me as much himself."

148 ~ Stephanie Barron

"So it is for
Thrace
that Major Spence is undertaking re-pairs?" I enquired in astonishment. "That cannot be an easy circumstance--when the Major has so clearly lost his heart to Lady Imogen."

"Do you believe it? Perhaps he means to rescue her ladyship from an unendurable future. Julian Thrace will be three-and-twenty in three weeks' time, and on that date the Earl will throw a ball and invite the entire county. His lordship intends, so Spence assures me, to appoint Thrace his heir--to Lady Imogen's loss. She must either marry, or in some other wise put an end to the Bond Street Beau's pretensions."

"--By discovering, perhaps, that Thrace is not at all what he claims," I said slowly. Three weeks was little enough time to se-cure a fortune. Who would know the truth about Thrace? An acute observer--a man of the world--a self-trained spy with his finger in every
tonnish
plot. Lord Harold might know, and guard the facts in his subtle papers. Did Lady Imogen compre-hend as much? Was direst need the spur to her playful conver-sation?

My own father . . . would part with half my inheritance to know in
what manner he himself figures in those pages, and which secrets have
been let slip like the veriest cat out of the bag.

"Is Lady Imogen expensive?" I asked Henry.

"Ruinously so. It is said that young Ambrose, the Viscount Gravetye's heir, cried off from an engagement when acquainted with her true circumstances, and that only old Coutts stands be-tween her and disaster.2 Observe: Lady Imogen will end the 2 Thomas Coutts (1735-1822), a cautious Scot who became the chief banker and financial support of the most fashionable people in London during the late Georgian period, was known for having privately floated the Prince of Wales, Charles James Fox, and Georgiana, Duchess of De-vonshire, whose fatal habit was gambling away a fortune.
--Editor's note.

Jane and His Lordship's Legacy ~ 149

evening by wagering that emerald circlet with young Thrace--for she cannot abide to lose."

"Particularly to
him.
"

They were a compelling pair: the Beau with his guinea-gold hair in fashionable disorder and his coat of the most elegant cut gracing a sportsman's form; the easy humour of his smile; the warmth in the lazy blue eyes. And Lady Imogen: dark, hec-tic, her lips parted with excitement at the turning of every card, her alabaster throat a lily rising from the vessel of her gown.

They reminded me of two others who had once played at faro--

Lord Harold, and the woman he believed a spy, long since fled from England in the arms of her betrothed. But Lord Harold had always been in command of himself as well as the cards; I doubted Julian Thrace was so masterful.

"The lady looks to win," Henry said admiringly.

It is a curious game, faro--played upon a little baize table set between the two players. One must deal the cards, and the other guess as to their face value before each is overturned; a talent for tallying sums, and holding a keen memory of all the cards played, will serve the gambler well. The tension in Lady Imogen's body suggested that a good deal rode on the outcome of this hand; she was half-risen from her seat, her cheeks flushed and her dark eyes sparkling.

"And so to the final card," she said in that low and throb-bing voice, "and so to the final card! Turn it over, Thrace! Show its face! My luck cannot desert me now!"

He smiled, and with long fingers turned the card to the fore; she sprang from her chair, face exultant and fierce as a huntress's, oblivious of those who watched her from the flanks of the room.

"The Devil!" she cried out, impassioned. "The Devil is in these cards, and by God,
the Devil is with me
! I shall outrun you 150 ~ Stephanie Barron

yet, Thrace--you and all the petty duns of England who would see me ruined!"

In the heavy silence that followed this extraordinary out-burst, the doors of the sitting room were thrust open to reveal a manservant bearing a note on a silver tray. The assembled guests stared at him in fascination as he moved towards the magistrate, Mr. Prowting.

The gentleman took up the note, perused it swiftly, and then raised his head to stare accusingly at
me.

"Is anything amiss, sir?" I enquired.

"Gentlemen and their boots be demmed! Footprints in the cellar, likewise! It is as I expected. Bertie Philmore has returned to the scene of the crime--and has been caught stealing into your cottage, Miss Austen!"

Jane and His Lordship's Legacy ~ 151

Letter from Lord Harold Trowbridge to Mr. Henry Fox, later 3rd
Lord Holland, dated 13 December 1791; one leaf quarto, laid;
watermark fragmentary ELGAR; signed
Trowbridge
under black
wax seal bearing arms of Wilborough House;
Personelle, Par

Chasseur Expres,
in red ink.

(British Museum, Wilborough Papers, Austen bequest)

My dear Henry--

You ask if I am well; and I suppose that I am in health
enough. The trifling mark of a foil on my left shoulder is healing
nicely, and gives no trouble, save to impair my aim with a pistol
in that hand--but as it is not the one I write with, I may give
you a letter long enough to satisfy the main points of your last.

Many of our old friends are gathered here at Aix and elsewhere
in the province, laying in provisions and bartering for places in
the boats putting off at Marseille. There is a rumour abroad that
a party of considerable size is lost and wandering in the Pyrenees,
giving the Comte much cause for uneasiness; the snows are
already deep at the pass's height, and his daughter has not
appeared although she is daily expected. I hope to meet you soon,
with a group of thirteen, and drink a bumper of wine to your
health; but if the Comte pleads his cause well enough I may be
forced to return and form a search party for Helene--even if only
to retrieve the frozen end of a father's hopes. It is said that the
Committee intends to seize all emigre goods before long; let us
trust we shall be paid before they do.

My most cordial regards, dear Fox--and God keep you--

Trowbridge

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Chapter 13

That Perfect Understanding

Between Sisters

Friday, 7 July 1809

~

"I must say, Jane, that you have endeavoured to dis-tinguish yourself and the name of Austen as much as possible, in as little time as possible--an exertion I should have expected to be beyond even
your
spirit and understanding," my sister Cas-sandra observed.

She was sitting in the single hard-backed chair I had placed near the window of the bedroom we were to share, her bonnet lying on the little dressing table and her hair still disordered from the effects of too many days' travel in an open carriage.

Her face was somewhat tanned, but shadows lingered in the hollows of her eyes and her hair has turned quite grey; at six-and-thirty, she begins to look the middle-aged woman. A young dog was asprawl in her lap--a gift from Neddie towards the for- Jane and His Lordship's Legacy ~ 153

mation of our new household. I was pleased to note that it was neither a bird-dog nor a hound, but a useful little terrier of cun-ning aspect. The rats, I felt sure, were already disposed of.

"I have determined to call him Link," Cassandra confided,

"after the link-boys of Bath; for he is always dashing ahead, to lead the way!"

I smiled at her as she crooned over the pup like a new mother with a long-awaited child; but the vision was not one of unalloyed happiness. I see in my sister the mirror of myself--a lady with hardened hands and correct posture, a gown done up to her neck, and a suggestion of strain about the mouth; and I remember her fleetingly as she was at nineteen, in all the flush of youth and a strong first attachment, when she accepted Tom Fowle's proposals. We both meant to marry Toms, Cassandra and I--and all our happy plans went awry, the men we had cho-sen being disposed of, in their fates, by other persons more powerful than ourselves: Tom Fowle despatched to the Indies and his death at the whim of Lord Craven; and Tom Lefroy packed off to the law courts of Ireland, and the safety of the heiress he eventually married. I never think of him now, except when my mind reverts to those silly, happy days my sister and I passed so unconsciously at Steventon Parsonage; he is no doubt a father these many years, and balding in his pate, and gouty in his foot, while I have long since given my heart and soul to an-other.

"I am sorry, Cass, if my publick exposure has occasioned any difficulties for you or Neddie," I returned, with what I con-sidered admirable control of my temper; "but I could not con-sider your descent upon Chawton, in all the style of a Kentish lady, when I confronted a corpse in our cellar."

"It is not of
that
I would speak. It is a most disturbing affair, to be sure, and not at all what one would like in the Squire's 154 ~ Stephanie Barron

circle--but as the poor wretch came there well before you and my mother appeared in the village, the business cannot be helped. No, Jane--it is your continued association with his lord-ship that I must deplore. I need not elaborate."

She proceeded to do so.

"When I learned, from the safety of Godmersham, that you had continued to court Lord Harold's notice--that you had so far forgot what was due to your family, as to involve my dear brother Francis in the unseemly circumstances of his lordship's murder!--when I understood, from a chance remark in one of Martha Lloyd's letters, that your intimacy had given rise to the general expectation of an
union
between yourself and the gentleman--for so I am forced to call him--I confess I believed you had taken leave of your senses."

"No doubt I had."

"And now I am not a quarter-hour arrived in Hampshire,"

my sister added, drawing off her gloves with a complacency that must cause me to grit my teeth, "before I learn that Lord Harold had the presumption to notice you in his Will. It is as Mamma observes: even from the grave the Rogue would de-stroy your reputation."

"I must beg you, Cass, not to speak of what you cannot un-derstand," I said stiffly.

"Jane, your intimacy is everywhere talked of. I heard it men-tioned on a stranger's lips while Edward halted at the George, and must have blushed for the exposure of a most beloved sis-ter. And our house broken into!" She lifted up her hands in amazement. "Would that the chest is never found! Then per-haps we may be rid of the odour of scandal his lordship has brought upon us."

At the thought of the stolen chest, I felt a tide of misery rise up within me. We had hastened from the Great House last evening, Henry and Mamma and I, in the company of Mr.