CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Mrs. Silchester's Confidence THURSDAY, 13 MAY 1813 1813.

BRIGHTON.

THE RAIN THIS MORNING WAS TORRENTIAL, FORESTALLING all ventures out-of-doors; there would be no drives along the sea, no visits to picturesque ruins, no picnics on the Downs-and to my secret relief, no a.s.saults upon all ventures out-of-doors; there would be no drives along the sea, no visits to picturesque ruins, no picnics on the Downs-and to my secret relief, no a.s.saults upon bathing machines bathing machines. Henry should spend the better part of the morning at Raggett's Club, talking airily of his keen sense of the turf; I might do as I chose-whether my whims tended towards the patronage of a favoured linen-draper's on North Street, or several hours' indulgence of reading in my rooms. I debated the former: Of what use was the purchase of a gown that must must be black? And should I be justified in securing a be black? And should I be justified in securing a different different colour at Henry's expence, against a future freed of mourning? What, I asked myself, would Eliza do? colour at Henry's expence, against a future freed of mourning? What, I asked myself, would Eliza do?

And therein had my answer.

Eliza should buy the most outre outre gown to be had in Brighton, in a shocking colour of silk that became her extremely, and complete the toilette with gloves, reticule, diaphanous shawl, and bonnet. Furthermore, she should sport the ensemble at the first opportunity-and the Regent's invitation-and set the whole town on its ears. gown to be had in Brighton, in a shocking colour of silk that became her extremely, and complete the toilette with gloves, reticule, diaphanous shawl, and bonnet. Furthermore, she should sport the ensemble at the first opportunity-and the Regent's invitation-and set the whole town on its ears.

La comtesse est morte. Vive la comtesse.

I drank the scalding tea that Betsy supplied, and smiled a little wryly at my vanished sister. I was not not Eliza de Feuillide, and however much her unquenchable spirits had inspired my admiration in the past, the present demanded a less frivolous duty. Eliza de Feuillide, and however much her unquenchable spirits had inspired my admiration in the past, the present demanded a less frivolous duty.

Tucked beneath the journal on my bedside table was a sc.r.a.p of paper; the list of questions regarding Catherine's death I had penned only yesterday. I glanced at it, then threw back the bedclothes, donned my wrapper-one of the few things I presently wear, along with my nightdress, that is thankfully not not black-and settled into an armchair close to Betsy's fire. black-and settled into an armchair close to Betsy's fire.

1. With whom did Catherine Twining dance at the a.s.sembly, besides Mr. Smalls With whom did Catherine Twining dance at the a.s.sembly, besides Mr. Smalls?-I had yet to ascertain. Mrs. Silchester might supply the intelligence; but the most dependable source should be the Master of Ceremonies, a quelling gentleman by the name of Forth, who held the social world of Brighton in his thrall; and as today was Thursday-when, murder or no murder, the second second a.s.sembly of the week should be held, at the Old Ship-I knew where he might be found. Surely even a lady in mourning might be admitted to the ballroom, if her object is to interrogate the Master? I should have to secure my introduction to Mr. Forth from the Countess of Swithin. In Mona's presence, even he a.s.sembly of the week should be held, at the Old Ship-I knew where he might be found. Surely even a lady in mourning might be admitted to the ballroom, if her object is to interrogate the Master? I should have to secure my introduction to Mr. Forth from the Countess of Swithin. In Mona's presence, even he must must unbend. unbend.2. When did Catherine arrive at the Pavilion in Caro Lamb's care When did Catherine arrive at the Pavilion in Caro Lamb's care?-I noted down the approximate time of one o'clock.3. What was the purport of the ladies' tete-a-tete What was the purport of the ladies' tete-a-tete?-According to Caro Lamb, so that she might warn Miss Twining against Byron; but Catherine required no warning-she went in fear of the poet already. I scribbled, rather: so that Caro Lamb might learn every detail of her former lover's pa.s.sion for Miss Twining, and then toss her out into the street in a fury of jealousy so that Caro Lamb might learn every detail of her former lover's pa.s.sion for Miss Twining, and then toss her out into the street in a fury of jealousy. I could readily imagine her ladyship committing such an unpardonable act of rudeness; it explained her vagueness as to the time and manner of Catherine's departure. But had she been jealous enough to observe the girl's movements...lure her back into the grounds of the Pavilion...lead her down to the shingle, and force her head beneath the waves? Caro Lamb looked frail; but I had watched those supple hands on the reins of her flying horse, and guessed she commanded a wiry strength.I could not, however, imagine her ladyship trussing the body into a hammock stolen from Byron's boat-which must be moored at a distance from the shingle, necessitating a midnight swim from a woman who had nearly drowned in those waters the day previous-much less carrying the shrouded body into the King's Arms in the middle of the night.Could Caro have bought the aid and silence of Another?4. When did Catherine quit the Pavilion When did Catherine quit the Pavilion?-I might trust the undergroom's testimony by the stable clock; she had been seen at three-quarters past one. But did she truly leave the grounds at that hour?5. If the undergroom observed her walking towards the Steyne, how did she come by her death in the sea If the undergroom observed her walking towards the Steyne, how did she come by her death in the sea?-It seemed certain Catherine had tarried in the shadow of the Pavilion long enough to be seized-or lured-down to the water. But by whom?6. Where was Lord Byron at the time Where was Lord Byron at the time?-Walking with his friend Scrope Davies and his valet towards Church Street, along the very route Miss Twining should have adopted on her way home. Were the three men conspirators? Had one killed her, and the others observed it-agreeing, out of loyalty or avarice, to lie on each other's behalf? Of Davies I could believe mendacity possible; but the valet owed Byron no particular loyalty-he must live among his fellows in Brighton for years to come, long after Byron should be forgot; he might hang for his lies, were they discovered; in sum, the man named Chaunce had too much to lose and too little to gain. I could not think conspiracy likely.7. Colonel George Hanger Colonel George Hanger?He was the Regent's guest, and might have observed Catherine Twining's arrival with Caro Lamb-and her solitary departure. Did he think to finish his attempted rape by the water line, and grow too violent when Catherine screamed?Did Catherine scream-and if so, did anyone hear it?

I sighed. There were a number of enquiries to be made at the Marine Pavilion-and I could wish them to have been made anywhere else. One does not easily put pointed questions to Royalty and its circle. Henry would have to work a miracle with his acquaintance, Lord Moira or Colonel McMahon, to secure an interview on that exalted ground.

8. General Twining? Mr. Hendred Smalls General Twining? Mr. Hendred Smalls?-The General claimed to have left the a.s.sembly at eleven o'clock Monday evening, leaving his daughter to the care of Mrs. Silchester. One could a.s.sume Hendred Smalls quitted the place at the same hour-perhaps even letting down his friend in Church Street before proceeding in a hack chaise to his lodgings at Brighton Camp; but what if the cleric had lingered? I had an absurd idea of the moist-handed gentleman conceiving a jealous pa.s.sion against Lord Byron; of lurking in sight of the a.s.sembly Rooms; observing the departure of Miss Twining for the Pavilion; and at a quarter to two in the morning, halting the young lady in her path with a confused declaration of suspicious love. Even an absurd fellow may have feelings; even a bald and aging cleric may be moved to violent pa.s.sion. I must endeavour to learn the movements of Mr. Smalls on the night in question.9. What did Lady Caroline Lamb do after Catherine left her What did Lady Caroline Lamb do after Catherine left her?-Bathe; sleep; stay up until dawn writing a screed to Byron...or pursue her rival down to the water's edge? Would any of the Pavilion's servants be likely to know? Had Caro Lamb brought her personal maid?10. When did the General discover that his daughter never returned home Monday night-and did he sound an alarum When did the General discover that his daughter never returned home Monday night-and did he sound an alarum?-The General claimed to have learnt the news at five o'clock in the morning, from his daughter's maid, who had every reason to be truthful; he then stated he had alerted the Brighton constabulary that Catherine had very probably been abducted again by Lord Byron.While the General may be pardoned for leaping to such a conclusion, he appears not not to have considered asking first at Mrs. Silchester's for Catherine, who might easily have spent the night with her chaperon. A mere omission in his testimony, or something else? to have considered asking first at Mrs. Silchester's for Catherine, who might easily have spent the night with her chaperon. A mere omission in his testimony, or something else?11. How could a body be carried into the King's Arms in the dead of night without being seen How could a body be carried into the King's Arms in the dead of night without being seen?-There was absolutely nothing I could put down beneath this question. I had no idea how to answer it. Neither, it would seem, did the magistrate nor coroner-for not a single point of information had touched upon the subject at the inquest. The body had been found in Byron's bed, therefore it had been brought into the Arms; but everyone connected with the enquiry appeared content to ignore the question of HOW HOW.12. Did anyone at the Arms hear a disturbance in Byron's rooms? Query: Who was lodged next to Byron Did anyone at the Arms hear a disturbance in Byron's rooms? Query: Who was lodged next to Byron?-I glanced towards my streaming windows; it would certainly rain all day. Perhaps dear Henry would consent to escort me to a nuncheon at the King's Arms; he should have little else to do.

And finally: 13. Who, among the respectable and the highborn of Brighton, hates Lord Byron to the point of madness Who, among the respectable and the highborn of Brighton, hates Lord Byron to the point of madness?-The poet himself had promised to supply me with a list; but I doubted, once restored to sobriety, he should recollect the offer. I need not wait for it. The tendency of the question was this: Who hated Byron enough to make him look guilty of murder look guilty of murder, solely in order to see him hang? In this framing of Catherine's death, she might have been anybody-a mere convenience, as victim.General Twining, of course, had every reason to hate Lord Byron; but that should hardly urge him to murder his daughter. Mr. Hendred Smalls was capable, perhaps, of a jealous rage-but of the subsequent black joke, the hammock from the Giaour Giaour, and the sodden gift of his cherished bride in Byron's bed? I could not think him capable; I judged him to lack the necessary subtlety of mind. Lady Oxford was brilliant enough to fashion the scheme, but had known nothing of her lover's unfaithfulness, and was in London at the time. Caro Lamb...I had already judged Caro entirely equal to such devious ploys, and heedless enough to execute them. But if she drowned her rival, how had the body been deposited in the King's Arms how had the body been deposited in the King's Arms?

My tea was cold, my fingers cramped, and my mind disordered. I thrust aside my pen in frustration, and put on my blacks for breakfast.

"IF YOU WISH TO SAUNTER DOWN TO N NORTH S STREET," Henry urged over the last of his toast, "I am happy to procure a chair for your use, Jane, and even walk alongside it until the modiste is achieved. That was an excellent notion of yours, that I should frank you in a new gown; for without your kind solicitude for my health, I should never have come to Brighton at all-or engaged in so advantageous a wager."

"It is remarkable, is it not, how unforeseen are the consequences of benevolence?" I returned. "I shall be urging you to adopt my slightest whim in future, Henry, from a desire to see you rich. But you need not accompany me to the modiste; I have been dressing myself for donkey's years, you know."

"Not in Brighton. Do you expect Madame La Fanchette to extend credit to a complete stranger?" He drew his purse from within his coat. "Here is a draught on my bank, Jane-if you require anything over, I daresay the woman should consent to send the bill to the Castle with her compliments."

Fifty pounds. When Henry said my bank my bank, he meant his bank-and the signature of the proprietor of Austen & Tilson over the draught should be all I required to win Madame La Fanchette's confidence. But fifty pounds fifty pounds? I had existed an entire twelvemonth on as much. I stared at my brother in awe; whatever one might say of the evils born of gambling, stinginess was not one of them.

"Henry-are you entirely entirely sure-" sure-"

He gestured me away, his colour heightened. "This is nothing, Jane. Recollect that I shall not be dressing Eliza in future-who cost me four times that that whenever she entered a modiste." whenever she entered a modiste."

We were both of us silent an instant; my throat constricted. Trust Henry to suggest that I did him a kindness kindness by accepting of his winnings. by accepting of his winnings.

"Is there anything else you require of me, Jane?"

"Only to meet me at the King's Arms for a nuncheon," I replied recovering. "Perhaps one o'clock?"

"I should be delighted. I don't know how it is-but even so elegant a table as the Castle's begins to grow tiresome after several days. And you will be wanting, of course, to put your questions to the publican."

Wise Henry.

"Or his bootboys."

"Just so. One o'clock it is."

He threw down his napkin and left me quite happily to my own devices-the sort of freedom that is almost never afforded me in the more crowded household at Chawton. I think I should be content to travel with Henry forever, did his luck hold out.

--- THERE WAS ALREADY A KNOT OF FASHIONABLE LADIES AT Madame La Fanchette's, in North Street, all of them a little breathless from having walked hurriedly along the paving in the rain, umbrellas held high. Three of them were young matrons, consumed with talk of children and measles; one was a mamma with a young, fair-haired daughter, just out, from her looks, which were compounded of hesitancy and exuberant conceit; and the last was Mrs. Silchester. Madame La Fanchette's, in North Street, all of them a little breathless from having walked hurriedly along the paving in the rain, umbrellas held high. Three of them were young matrons, consumed with talk of children and measles; one was a mamma with a young, fair-haired daughter, just out, from her looks, which were compounded of hesitancy and exuberant conceit; and the last was Mrs. Silchester.

"I cannot be so presumptuous as to go into full mourning, full mourning," she murmured from among her floating veils, when I had greeted her, "for that is most truly the province of family family, and however I may have cherished dear Catherine as another daughter-tho' I attempted to supply her dear mother's place-I cannot claim so near a connexion. I thought it not unpardonable, however, to put on some grey grey. The funeral, you know, is to be tomorrow at ten o'clock-Mr. Hendred Smalls is to lead the service-and tho' as a lady I shall not, of course, be in attendance, I should not like to be remiss in any mark of respect on the occasion. What is your opinion, Miss Austen?"

I a.s.sured her most earnestly that grey-whether charcoal or dove-must always be unexceptionable.

"I am most partial most partial to lavender," Mrs. Silchester pursued doubtfully, "and cloth of silver for evening-you do not think either would to lavender," Mrs. Silchester pursued doubtfully, "and cloth of silver for evening-you do not think either would offend offend?"

On no account could so conservative a choice offend offend, I insisted-but would Mrs. Silchester prefer that I review the gowns in question?

This was officiousness in the extreme from a relative stranger; but the lady appeared to require rea.s.surance. Her reference to Catherine Twining's mother had recalled certain phrases of the General's I should dearly wish explained. I determined to profit from the happy chance that had thrown us together this morning, and put my questions to Mrs. Silchester while half her mind was distracted by millinery.

Presently we were joined by Madame La Fanchette herself, a strong-featured, rail-thin woman with a p.r.o.nounced Yorkshire accent who had certainly never seen Paris; her toilette, however, was the last word in elegant severity, and I imagined I should be happy in anything her workrooms might fashion for Henry's fifty pounds. At the snap of her fingers, a bevy of young women appeared to exhibit the latest modes, all of them nicely suited to a lady of Mrs. Silchester's station in life; Madame was familiar with her clients' tastes.

"You will not have visited any of the warehouses," the modiste mused, "but I may be able to supply you with a lavender silk-only observe, Miss Austen," she said with polite acknowledgement as an a.s.sistant brought forth the bolt for my inspection, "as the weave is that fine, and the colour not too sharp."

"It might almost be grey, in a certain light," I admitted. "I cannot think this to be objectionable. One so dislikes to go in darker shades during the summer months-which are nearly upon us."

"I take it you've recently lost a close relation," she said, with an a.s.sessing glance at my black gown. "The workmanship is not without merit."

"A Frenchwoman who resides in London made it for me," I said carelessly. "Have you a clear dove sarcenet or perhaps a slate-blue twill, for Mrs. Silchester's walking dress?"

Indeed Madame La Fanchette had; and while she discussed necklines and sleeves, and ordered her a.s.sistant to measure Mrs. Silchester's waist, I looked on as tho' granting opinions to an acquaintance was all the joy I required. Mrs. Silchester's countenance, which had been suffused with anxiety, gradually relaxed under the combined ministrations of Madame and myself-there is nothing like ordering one's clothes to lift a lady's spirits, after all-and when at last we had arrived at the coveted cloth of silver, with a beaded hem and matching headdress, her spirits were entirely restored.

Madame promised faithfully to send round the lavender silk on the morrow, with the rest of the gowns to follow; then turned her blunt features upon me. Was there anything Miss Austen required?

I saw, to my regret, that the hour was now too advanced to permit of my own frivolity and and a nuncheon with Henry, and informed Madame of the unfortunate fact of a previous engagement-promised to return at the first opportunity-and accompanied Mrs. Silchester as she quitted the establishment. a nuncheon with Henry, and informed Madame of the unfortunate fact of a previous engagement-promised to return at the first opportunity-and accompanied Mrs. Silchester as she quitted the establishment.

"I must a.s.sume that tho' we cannot attend the funeral itself," I observed as we walked back along North Street in the direction of the Steyne, "that we ought, in good conscience, to pay a call of condolence upon the General at the conclusion of the service. Surely there will be any number of Brighton's notables who shall do the same?"

Mrs. Silchester hesitated. "In truth, the General lives so quietly-and tho' commanding respect, has never sought a broad acquaintance among the first families in the town-I cannot undertake to say whether he shall be receiving or not. However,"-and she squared her shoulders a little-"that shall not prevent me me from paying a call. I hope that I know what is due to that poor lost darling, tho' her father may not. I hope I am conscious of what her from paying a call. I hope that I know what is due to that poor lost darling, tho' her father may not. I hope I am conscious of what her mother mother should have wished, on the occasion." should have wished, on the occasion."

Here was my opening. "She died some years since, I collect?"

"When Catherine was but three years old, and her brother seven. Richard had already been sent away to school, of course, and Catherine was in the care of her nurse when Lydia...but that is ancient history, my dear Miss Austen, and cannot be of interest to yourself."

"I hope you will not think me inquisitive," I returned with an air of apology, "but the General was so indiscreet as to speak of his late wife in a manner I found rather shocking. I attempted to pay a call on him only yesterday, to offer my sympathy at the loss of his daughter; but he refused to admit me, and so far forgot himself as to declare that the sins of the mother had been visited upon the child the sins of the mother had been visited upon the child. Naturally, I could not know what to think. I ascribed it to the excesses of grief."

"Ye-es," Mrs. Silchester said hesitantly, "tho' with my knowledge of the General, I should be inclined to call it spite rather than sorrow. You will forgive me for speaking frankly, Miss Austen-the General is not not an amiable man. Dear Lydia was quite otherwise-possessed of perhaps an amiable man. Dear Lydia was quite otherwise-possessed of perhaps too too much sensibility, indeed-and a more ill-sorted pair I never hope to encounter again." much sensibility, indeed-and a more ill-sorted pair I never hope to encounter again."

"The marriage was unhappy?"

"She fell in love with a red coat, I fear-and never gave a thought to the nature of the gentleman who wore it."

"Many ladies might say the same, to their infinite misfortune," I offered piously.

"But few with poor Lydia's result."

Poor Lydia. It might be a veritable quotation from my own pen.

And as we walked towards the King's Arms and my expected nuncheon, Mrs. Silchester shared her friend's sad history.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A Pa.s.sion for Publick Houses THURSDAY, 13 MAY 1813 1813.

BRIGHTON, CONT.

"IT IS QUITE A DISMAL TALE, HENRY," I WARNED AS THE WARNED AS THE potboy set a tankard of ale, half a cold ham, some new-baked bread, and a Stilton cheese before us. I was drinking lemonade. We were seated in the King's Arms' coffee room among perhaps half-a-dozen other parties, with the horde of more common folk collected in the Ordinary beyond the communicating pa.s.sage, and the cheerful din made the perfect foil for intimate conversation. The Arms was a handsome-enough old publick house, broad-beamed and low-ceilinged, with smoke-darkened walls and ample hearths. Henry had already informed me that the Regent had been frequently revelling here in his salad days-before Mrs. Fitzherbert or the unfortunate marriage to his cousin Princess Caroline-and that the carousing of the 10th Hussars, whose preferred publick house it was, could be as nothing to the example His Royal Highness had once set. potboy set a tankard of ale, half a cold ham, some new-baked bread, and a Stilton cheese before us. I was drinking lemonade. We were seated in the King's Arms' coffee room among perhaps half-a-dozen other parties, with the horde of more common folk collected in the Ordinary beyond the communicating pa.s.sage, and the cheerful din made the perfect foil for intimate conversation. The Arms was a handsome-enough old publick house, broad-beamed and low-ceilinged, with smoke-darkened walls and ample hearths. Henry had already informed me that the Regent had been frequently revelling here in his salad days-before Mrs. Fitzherbert or the unfortunate marriage to his cousin Princess Caroline-and that the carousing of the 10th Hussars, whose preferred publick house it was, could be as nothing to the example His Royal Highness had once set.

"No local maiden was safe from his party," Henry observed. "And the gallons of wine and ale that were drunk! The publican, Mr. Tolliver-who has lived in the Arms, man and boy, his father being publican before him-says there was nothing to equal Prinny's l.u.s.t for life, in his youth. The reputation of the house grew so tarnished among the gentry, indeed, that Mr. Tolliver's father very nearly barred the Prince from the premises-but for the uncomfortable fact of his being being the Prince. But you were speaking of General Twining: Pray forgive my interruption." the Prince. But you were speaking of General Twining: Pray forgive my interruption."

"I fear that what I have to relate is less amusing." I allowed my brother to serve me a cut of ham. "General Twining was once himself a member of the 10th Hussars, as should not be unusual; and while in London a quarter-century ago, met and married a beautiful young heiress named Lydia Montescue-only then in her first Season. He was thirty; she was but seventeen, and wild for a red coat, as Mrs. Silchester would have it-the two ladies were together at school, and remained friends ever after. As is so often the case, poor Lydia discovered that she had married a stranger on the strength of three weeks' acquaintance, several b.a.l.l.s, and a drive or two in Hyde Park-who proved, as a life partner, harsh and incomprehensible: so strict a disciplinarian, that her frivolous pleasures were at an end; so parsimonious a master, that her ample purse was hers no longer; and so jealous a husband, that she might not stand up with one of his fellow officers at a garrison ball, without earning a blow from his hand. In short, she left the General-who was but Major Twining then-when her son was five and her daughter an infant still in arms."

"Eloped with another?" Henry suggested.

"One of her husband's cavalry officers-Captain the Honourable Philip Barrett, Mrs. Silchester persisted in calling him, as tho' his courtesy t.i.tle lent greater glamour to his memory. Captain Barrett was the second son of the Earl of Derwent.w.a.ter, she tells me, and exquisitely expensive-being addicted to gambling. Poor Lydia appears to have possessed appalling taste in men."

"Fellow ditched her?"

"I am sure his family would have preferred him to have done so. In the event, Twining pursued them, challenged the Honourable to a duel-and killed him at twenty paces."

"Good Lord!" Henry almost choked on his ham. "And having put his rival below ground, Twining did not feel obliged to flee to the Continent?"

"He stood his trial, and was acquitted the crime of murder on the plea of having defended his honour-the first duty of any soldier or gentleman. Mrs. Silchester, however, could not quite condone such violence. I believe she was as smitten as all the rest with the dashing Captain. A tragedy tragedy, she called it."

"And Lydia?-She was hauled back to do penance, I suppose?"

I shook my head. "Having killed her lover, Twining cast off his wife without a penny, Mrs. Silchester says. Lydia died in extreme poverty in a back slum of London when Catherine was but three years old, and lies in an unmarked pauper's grave. Mrs. Silchester knows this to be true, because she received a letter from the vicar of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, which parish had the burying of Mrs. Twining; Mrs. Silchester's direction was found among the unfortunate lady's effects, when she had died."

"And the Montescues? They made no effort to support her? They allowed their Lydia to end in misery?"

"She was an orphan, I understand-which accounts for her considerable fortune, which fell entirely to General Twining's use."

"Melancholy," Henry observed. "And do but consider, Jane, how little his course in life has availed him-only son killed in the Peninsula, and now his daughter snuffed out in violence."

"Yes. One might almost call it a judgement-if one were possessed of a vindictive turn, in matters divine."

"I am glad glad I disliked that fellow upon first meeting," my brother persisted. "I can only wonder that little Catherine did not fly to London with Byron when he asked-so eagerly must she have yearned for liberty." I disliked that fellow upon first meeting," my brother persisted. "I can only wonder that little Catherine did not fly to London with Byron when he asked-so eagerly must she have yearned for liberty."

"But that is exactly what she would not not do, Henry," I countered. "Recollect her sheer terror at being returned to her home in disgrace-the reliance she placed upon us bearing her company-and the blow she received for her courage in having outwitted Lord Byron! I had heard before this that the General is most anxious on the subject of his name, and family dignity; and now we may know the cause. He perceives the world to be laughing at him, for having a shameful wife-and therefore no taint of a similar disease should be allowed to mar Catherine. do, Henry," I countered. "Recollect her sheer terror at being returned to her home in disgrace-the reliance she placed upon us bearing her company-and the blow she received for her courage in having outwitted Lord Byron! I had heard before this that the General is most anxious on the subject of his name, and family dignity; and now we may know the cause. He perceives the world to be laughing at him, for having a shameful wife-and therefore no taint of a similar disease should be allowed to mar Catherine. She She must be perceived as purer than the driven snow. What a curse for the poor child, that she should draw so rakish an eye as Lord Byron's!" must be perceived as purer than the driven snow. What a curse for the poor child, that she should draw so rakish an eye as Lord Byron's!"

"It explains the General's determination to marry her off so early to Mr. Smalls," Henry added. "What better safeguard against calumny than an aged clergyman?"

"What better inducement to a second elopement!" I cried. "No, Henry-the General understands nothing of women, and has been at every turn a fool. Did I not dislike him so thoroughly, I should be inclined to pity the man-so ham-fisted as he is. He even finds shame shame in Catherine's murder-as tho' she deserved it, through some moral lapse of her own. Could anything be more unjust?" in Catherine's murder-as tho' she deserved it, through some moral lapse of her own. Could anything be more unjust?"

"For my part," my brother replied, "I should like to strike strike General Twining." General Twining."

"And such are our ungenerous sentiments, on the very eve of his daughter's funeral!" I mused. "Which puts me in mind of something-you must attend, as a representative of the family."

Henry's brows rose. "Indeed, Jane? I have this comfort: there can be no difficulty in procuring mourning."

"I should not ask it of you," I pleaded, "but that I cannot attend myself; you know it to be most improper. And I should dearly like an observant pair of eyes upon Mr. Hendred Smalls-he is to conduct the service."

"Ah," Henry said knowledgeably. "And at the cold collation that is certain to follow-not even the General could be so remiss in what is due to his daughter as to forgo the cold collation!-you would wish me to enquire as to the clergyman's movements in the small hours of Tuesday morning. Say, between one and three o'clock?"

"Henry," I sighed as I took a bite of cheese, "you are in every way a most excellent excellent brother." brother."

THE PUBLICAN, MR. TOLLIVER, PRESUMING SO FAR ON HIS PRESUMING SO FAR ON HIS earlier conversation with Henry to approach our table, and beam in a kindly way at me-enquiring whether the ham was cured to my liking, and whether I should not wish for a gla.s.s of ratafia, as an aid to my digestion-I seized upon chance and professed myself entirely delighted with every aspect of the meal and the establishment. However earlier conversation with Henry to approach our table, and beam in a kindly way at me-enquiring whether the ham was cured to my liking, and whether I should not wish for a gla.s.s of ratafia, as an aid to my digestion-I seized upon chance and professed myself entirely delighted with every aspect of the meal and the establishment. However modern modern the Castle's conveniences, I a.s.sured him, it could offer nothing so comfortable or sound as the King's Arms. the Castle's conveniences, I a.s.sured him, it could offer nothing so comfortable or sound as the King's Arms.

"Well, and it's a home-like place enough, which I allus think the traveller appreciates," Tolliver observed, gratified. "The lady has an appreciation, I take it, for fine old publick houses?"

"And posting-inns," I added ingeniously. "I have made a little habit, I confess, of looking into every one I find, upon the various roads of England. The White Hart in Bath, for example, is the very soul soul of a posting-inn; and my brother and I were recently treated to a fine example in Guildford." of a posting-inn; and my brother and I were recently treated to a fine example in Guildford."

"That'd be the White Lion, mebbe, or the Crown?"

"The Crown," I agreed. "Mr. Spraggs, the proprietor, was most generous in showing us about the place."

Tolliver took the hint, and despite a swell of custom-the hour being close on two o'clock-invited Henry and me to follow him through the princ.i.p.al rooms of the place, so that we might admire a quant.i.ty of ancient iron pots, pewter tankards, copper taps, oak settles, and stout barrels-all but the last, dating from Elizabeth's time.

"For the Arms-it were called the Ship and Bottle then, before the Royals descended on Brighthelmston and we were forced, in deference, to make the change-in my old dad's time, that were-has been the place for comfort and cheer, particularly along of the winter months, for time out of mind."

"And you let rooms, I understand?"

Tolliver's countenance lost a little in animation. "That we do-tho' I'm considering whether I shall in future. Only the four bedchambers have we above-stairs, most of the gentry preferring the Old Ship or the Castle, if they're not already in lodgings; and I don't mind to say that with the goings-on of late, it's hurt my reputation as an honest publican. You'd think, from what has been said, that the Arms was no better than a bawdy house! I thought we'd recovered from that indignity once the Regent grew too fat to stir out-of-doors-but there, you can never hope to serve the publick without suffering an injustice now and again. But Mrs. Tolliver feels it most acutely, I don't mind saying-took to her bed these two days past, from a dislike of the gossip as is going around the town."

"I am sure no impropriety can attach to your management of the house," I said with sympathy, "or Mrs. Tolliver's arrangements, either. It is not as tho' you invited invited a brigand to carry that poor child's body upstairs! And having seen Lord Byron quit the place-at such an unseasonable hour, too-you must have thought all business at an end for the evening." a brigand to carry that poor child's body upstairs! And having seen Lord Byron quit the place-at such an unseasonable hour, too-you must have thought all business at an end for the evening."