"Nancy's the b.i.t.c.h as nailed the pullet to my door. Wouldn't give 'er the pleasure o' takin' it off, I wouldn't. It can stay there, and look as foolish as Nancy 'ersel, by my mind."

I sat back, thoroughly at sea. "And why should the woman do such a thing?"

"'Er son Bob was on the boat. Just fifteen, 'e was. I'm not sayin' as she ain't got a right to mourn, same as all o' them-but a chicken?" chicken?"

"The grounding occurred last spring, you said, and yet your husband's hanging came only two weeks ago. How do you account for it?"

She shrugged, and pulled herself to her feet, the soiled dressing gown sagging about her hips. "Screwin' up their courage, more'n likely. Nancy Harding was, for certain sure-it took er long enough to show my Bill for a coward. She only stuck that chicken there the night afore he got took."

"As a sort of-signal?" I enquired, with sudden inspiration.

"Dunno."

I paused for reflection, and allowed the sense of this to sink in. "You speak of your husband's being taken. Did his murderers come to this very door?"

She shook her head and her eyes filled with tears. "? was at the Three Cups, same as always, 'cept that night 'e din' come 'ome. I reckon they bamboozled 'im on the street, when be 'adn't much fight in im, and strung 'im up when no one was to see."

Remembering the image of that fateful dawn-the surf crashing whitely over the gibbet and its terrible burden- I shivered involuntarily. How horrible to meet one's end at the hands of neighbours, and to know that pleas for help will avail one nothing, when the weight of community opinion has condemned one already to death! I understood, now, the positioning of the gibbet-Bill Tibbit had been executed in the very midst of the furious waters, in a manner to recall the deaths his carelessness had caused.

"Who is likely to have served your husband so rough a justice, Mrs. Tibbit?"

She eyed me warily over the lip of her brandy botde, which must be fast approaching its dregs. "Why d'you want to know all this? What's my Bill to you?"

I hesitated, as if in consideration of her trustworthiness, then leaned a little closer. "You may have heard of Captain Percival Fielding," I began.

Her eyes lit up, and she licked her lips with avidity. "'Im what got popped out on the Charmouth road."

"Exactly so."

"And?" She was all enthusiasm for the intelligence.

"I was on terms of some intimacy with the Captain." I cast my eyes downwards, to suggest a nearer interest than I felt The att.i.tude was not lost upon my interlocutor.

"Sweet on 'im, eh? And lookin' fer answers?" Maggie slapped her thighs with relish. "Sad to say, miss, but you won't find 'em near my Bill."

"Your husband never knew Captain Fielding?"

"Not as I could say."

I allowed my disappointment to be obvious. "I had thought it possible your husband performed a job of work for the Captain...."

"And if be did?'" Maggie replied, crossing her arms over her ample chest. "There's still no call to kill 'im."

"But did did your husband do some work for Captain Fielding-in his garden perhaps?" your husband do some work for Captain Fielding-in his garden perhaps?"

She shrugged, with infinite disregard. "Makes no odds. My Bill drank what little 'is labour fetched, and me never the wiser."

I cast about for another approach. "Did your husband claim any of the local men as particular friends, Mrs. Tib-bit?"

"A few," she replied. "Leastways, until the Royal Belle Royal Belle went down." went down."

"And might he have worked in tandem with them?"

"In what?"

"Might they have gone out to work together?"

Her expression of bewildered irritation cleared of a sudden. "Matt Hurley," she declared.

"The man who"-I hesitated, then found more acceptable words-"the man whom Mr. Smollet seemed to find so objectionable?"

"The very one," she replied, with a gleam of satisfaction in her eye. "'E's a rare one, is Matty. Likes to set 'imsel up as foreman o' the crews, what stands out on Broad o' Mondays, waitin' on people's fancy."

This took a moment to decipher. "The local men wait in gangs on Broad Street of a Monday, in the hope that someone will purchase their labour?"

"That they do. Matty styles 'imsel a gang 'ead, 'e does."

I had seen such groups of men loitering about the street corners, and thought them merely idle rogues, never realising there was a purpose to their inactivity.

At this interesting juncture, a knock unfortunately came upon the door, and the dim shape of a head appeared through the window's stained oilcloth. Joe Smollet, I supposed; and Maggie should be little likely to turn him away again. Very well-I should take my leave. But a few questions yet remained to me.

"Where might? find Matthew Hurley?" I enquired.

"The Three Cups," the widow said, with a dubious look; "not that a lady like yoursel 'ud go to the pub o' nights." She crossed to the window and squinted through its murkiness, waggling her fingers. "I'm much obliged to yer fer the kids' things, miss, but IVe bizness that wants attendinV'

"I understand." I rose and brushed absent-mindedly at my skirts. "Have you any idea, Mrs. Tibbit, why a white flower should be left near your husband's gibbet?"

"A white flower," she said, staring. "What white flower?"

"A lily, I believe. You knew nothing of it?"

"Not a whisper. Coo, that's odd, that is. What'd they go puttin' a flower by Bill fer?"

"I cannot imagine," I replied, "though the act itself bears a decidedly melancholy aspect."

Maggie reached for the door latch and pulled it meaningfully-to suggest, I suppose, that the interview was at a close. I stepped over little Jack, who was rolling about in the dirt with a tomcat of ferocious appearance, and opened my purse.

"The price of your silk, Mrs. Tibbit," I said.

She turned over the peach-coloured stuff with an expression of regret, but deemed my three guineas to afford a deeper satisfaction; and so we parted, equally pleased with our bargaining. I had learned from her a little to my purpose, but hardly enough; it remained to locate the resourceful Mr. Matt Hurley, an errand for another day.

BUT THE MOST CURIOUS EVENT OF THIS MORNING'S ACTIVITY occurred as I was wending my way out of the River Buddie district. For it was then I observed the approach of a carriage, that bore a familiar coat of arms upon the door, and within its depths, a lady much veiled, as I observed upon her leaning out the window in converse with her tyger. Mrs. Barnewall, if I was not utterly mistaken, and her carriage pulled up before Maggie Tibbit's very door. occurred as I was wending my way out of the River Buddie district. For it was then I observed the approach of a carriage, that bore a familiar coat of arms upon the door, and within its depths, a lady much veiled, as I observed upon her leaning out the window in converse with her tyger. Mrs. Barnewall, if I was not utterly mistaken, and her carriage pulled up before Maggie Tibbit's very door.

1 Austen here describes a feature of the River Buddie district that was apparently not wiuiout design. Geofftey Morley notes in his book, Austen here describes a feature of the River Buddie district that was apparently not wiuiout design. Geofftey Morley notes in his book, Smuggling in Hampshire and Dorset, ijoo-1850 Smuggling in Hampshire and Dorset, ijoo-1850 (Newbury, Berkshire: Countryside Books, revised edition, 1994), that this was die traditional smugglers' quarter of Lyme, and that the proximity of the housing served as a useful means of escape. When a smuggler's home was to be searched, its occupants often fled out die back windows to the houses on the Buddie's opposite bank, taking their contraband with them. - (Newbury, Berkshire: Countryside Books, revised edition, 1994), that this was die traditional smugglers' quarter of Lyme, and that the proximity of the housing served as a useful means of escape. When a smuggler's home was to be searched, its occupants often fled out die back windows to the houses on the Buddie's opposite bank, taking their contraband with them. -Editor's note.2 Maggie Tibbit is presumably referring to the two-story structure set upon a knoll between West Bexington and Puncknowle. It was built as a signal tower for the Sea Fencibles, the local militia arrayed against a seaborne invasion by Napoleon; it commanded a view beyond Portland and Weymouth to the east, and over Bridport to Lyme Regis and Lyme Bay some seven miles distant Signal fires would have been lit to warn of enemy ships approaching the coast, which ran straight and clear at this point, making for easy landing. - Maggie Tibbit is presumably referring to the two-story structure set upon a knoll between West Bexington and Puncknowle. It was built as a signal tower for the Sea Fencibles, the local militia arrayed against a seaborne invasion by Napoleon; it commanded a view beyond Portland and Weymouth to the east, and over Bridport to Lyme Regis and Lyme Bay some seven miles distant Signal fires would have been lit to warn of enemy ships approaching the coast, which ran straight and clear at this point, making for easy landing. -Editor's note.

Chapter 16 - The Night in Question.

Friday, 21 September 1804 *

"MY DEAR," MY MOTHER SAID INTO MY EAR, AS WE SAT TOGETHER amidst the better part of Lyme's residents in the main room of the Golden Lion, awaiting the commencement of the inquest into Percival Fielding's death, "Miss Crawford looks very fine indeed, in her black silk and illusion veil. 1 do not think she could have had amidst the better part of Lyme's residents in the main room of the Golden Lion, awaiting the commencement of the inquest into Percival Fielding's death, "Miss Crawford looks very fine indeed, in her black silk and illusion veil. 1 do not think she could have had either either of Mr. Mil-sop-though he styles himself so very high, there is of Mr. Mil-sop-though he styles himself so very high, there is that that about his shop that defies real elegance. I wish our Ca.s.sandra were here to see it. Miss Crawford's veil, I mean. But then, about his shop that defies real elegance. I wish our Ca.s.sandra were here to see it. Miss Crawford's veil, I mean. But then, site site is free to wander about the shops of London-Ca.s.sandra, 1 would speak of now-Dr. Farquhar having p.r.o.nounced her quite recovered; and I is free to wander about the shops of London-Ca.s.sandra, 1 would speak of now-Dr. Farquhar having p.r.o.nounced her quite recovered; and I do do wish she might write to us of sleeves, and whether they are to be long or short this season; but she wish she might write to us of sleeves, and whether they are to be long or short this season; but she will will not, being much preoccupied with Eliza's circulating-library. I do not understand her indifference upon such a point-" not, being much preoccupied with Eliza's circulating-library. I do not understand her indifference upon such a point-"

"Mother," I interceded, as the good lady paused to draw breath, "I wonder if Miss Crawford is not to be called up by the coroner? For the care her attire has demanded, would suggest some benefit in display."

"Indeed," my mother replied, laying a hand over my own in agitation. "And yet, we we were as well acquainted with Captain Fielding-though were as well acquainted with Captain Fielding-though Miss Crawford Miss Crawford would have it he was to beg for Miss Armstrong's hand, and not yours, as I had thought. Why are not would have it he was to beg for Miss Armstrong's hand, and not yours, as I had thought. Why are not we we to be called?" to be called?"

"I imagine we can have nothing of particular intelligence to offer the coroner," I replied firmly, and patted my mother's cold fingers. My father harrumphed, censorious of our chatter, and at that very moment Mr. Carpenter appeared-coroner and surgeon of Lyme, and the superior of our friend Mr. Dagliesh-and strode importandy down the aisle. All rose to offer him the respect that was his due.

Joshua Carpenter was a portly gentleman of jovial countenance and a ponderous wig, of somewhat outdated fashion. He was dressed in rusty black-rusty, from its apparent long use and sad neglect-his collar was wilted, his shirt-sleeves frayed, and his coat collar bore the signs of a nuncheon recentiy consumed. When he turned and surveyed the uplifted faces of the crowd, however, I detected a gleam of amused intelligence in his eyes, and a contemptuous curl of the lip, as though he understood well that gossip, gossip, rather than justice, was the hope of nearly everyone a.s.sembled. He glanced at the twelve men of the jury-all strangers to my eyes, and drawn, it seemed, from local folk-who sat composed and cowed upon two of the inn's long benches, and nodded to the one appointed foreman. rather than justice, was the hope of nearly everyone a.s.sembled. He glanced at the twelve men of the jury-all strangers to my eyes, and drawn, it seemed, from local folk-who sat composed and cowed upon two of the inn's long benches, and nodded to the one appointed foreman.

How similar was this scene to the one I witnessed two winters past, at an inn in Hertfordshire, when another man had died all untimely! Painful memories could not but intrude as 1 contemplated my surroundings. And yet-how different, different, in the figure of Mr. Carpenter, and the mood of the crowd, and the degree of interest I felt in the outcome. For though my anxiety was roused on Geoffrey Sidmouth's behalf, and my heart aflutter at the prospect of seeing once more his harsh and brooding features, I knew better this time what I should expect. I had been an innocent, and had hoped for justice, when my dear friend Isobel, Countess of Scargrave, was accused of murdering her husband; today I was unlikely to be so sanguine. Appearances should tell against the master of High Down, and I little doubted that, the inquest speedily concluded, he should be held until the next session of the local a.s.sizes, in the figure of Mr. Carpenter, and the mood of the crowd, and the degree of interest I felt in the outcome. For though my anxiety was roused on Geoffrey Sidmouth's behalf, and my heart aflutter at the prospect of seeing once more his harsh and brooding features, I knew better this time what I should expect. I had been an innocent, and had hoped for justice, when my dear friend Isobel, Countess of Scargrave, was accused of murdering her husband; today I was unlikely to be so sanguine. Appearances should tell against the master of High Down, and I little doubted that, the inquest speedily concluded, he should be held until the next session of the local a.s.sizes,1 and then sent to London to be tried for the murder of Captain Percival Fielding. and then sent to London to be tried for the murder of Captain Percival Fielding.

Unless, of course, I discovered something to his benefit betweentimes.

Mr. Carpenter called for order, and at that moment there was a rustle of consciousness and low-muttered talk from the rear of the room; turning, I perceived Mr. Dobbin, the Lyme justice, and his burly fellows, as they led Geoffrey Sidmouth into the a.s.sembly. Behind them came Seraphine, her head high above her long red cloak, and the boy Toby on his crutches; and the mutters swelled into a roar. What pity I felt for the mademoiselle, at that moment! The mixture of pride and despair that overlaid her countenance! A confusion of emotions could not but grip her, at such a time.

'This inquest is now convened," Mr. Carpenter declared, in a voice plummy and deep, as the Grange folk found their seats; and he called first a young fellow of rough appearance, who stated his name as Ted Nesbitt, of Smallwood Farm, not far off the Charmouth road. It was this Nesbitt-a lad of perhaps fifteen-who had discovered Captain Fielding's body; and with many awkward pauses, and scratchings of his head, young Ted related for the a.s.sembly's edification how he had all but stumbled upon it.

"Lying at the edge of the road, the dead gentleman was, and near hid by the tall gra.s.s, that part of the field not having been mown yet in the hay-making. I'd have pa.s.sed him entire if the horse hadn't started, and even then I took him for a lot of cast-off clothing."

"And what did you then, Mr. Nesbitt?" the coroner enquired.

"Made sure he was dead, I did-which he were-and took off for Darby as though the Devil himsel' were arter me." he were-and took off for Darby as though the Devil himsel' were arter me."

"Was the gendeman known to you?"

"He were Captain Fielding," the lad said stoudy. "I'd seen him about, us being neighbours of a sort; but my folks don't mix wit' the quality, sir, and I can't say as we ever exchanged more nor a hullo."

Mr. Crawford next appeared. His bald pate shone with anxiety, his aspect was set and disturbed. He said little more than was necessary for the grim intelligence he must impart-namely, that he had attended Nesbitt to the body, and ascertained to his shock that the dead man was Percival Fielding, and that he had certainly been murdered; and that done, he had fetched Mr. Carpenter and his a.s.sistant, William Dagliesh, and the Lyme justice, Mr. Elliot Dobbin.

"Did you note anything particular about the corpse or the scene that might a.s.sist this enquiry, Mr. Crawford?" the coroner asked, with an air of complaisance.

There was an instant's painful silence; and I observed Mr. Crawford's eyes drift towards Geoffrey Sidmouth's position in the rear of the room. "I did, sir," he replied, and his jaw set firmly on the words. "There was a chaos of hoofprints in the mud about the corpse."

"From this, we are to a.s.sume that the deceased was mounted at the time of his death, or very nearly before."

Mr. Crawford bowed, and hesitated, and then continued with reluctance, "That is not all we are to a.s.sume, Mr. Carpenter."

"I see," the coroner replied slowly, his voice like cut velvet. "Then perhaps you may enlighten us, Mr. Crawford. Why should these hoofprints concern us?"

"They were of a singular kind. They bore the initials GS GS clearly stamped within them." clearly stamped within them."

"GS?" The slightest of frowns beetled the gendeman's brow. "And can you conjecture, Mr. Crawford, what these letters might signify?"

Poor Crawford appeared to debate the point within himself. "I took them to mean that the horse belonged to a gentleman of my acquaintance." "Presumably a gen-deman whose initials are GS?" Mr. Carpenter suggested. "Yes" There was a fractional pause as the coroner adjusted his frayed lace cuffs. "I must ask you, Mr. Crawford, which gentleman among your acquaintance may lay claim to those letters of the alphabet?" "Geoffrey Sidmouth," Crawford replied, his voice barely audible.

"And why should this be so?" The coroner glanced about the room as though seeking some support. "Why should not these hoofprints and their d.a.m.ning marks belong to some other person?"

"Because I knew Mr. Sidmouth to make a practise of having his blacksmith etch those initials on his mounts' shoes."

"I see," Mr. Carpenter said, and sat back in his chair. That he had been apprised of this intelligence well before the proceedings, by the efficient Mr. Dobbin, I little doubted; and that his behaviour on the occasion was intended for effect, I perfecdy understood. The fellow had surely missed his calling-he should better have trod the boards of Drury Lane, in the guise of Falstaff. I expected him to call Sidmouth without delay, and end the sad business; but Mr. Carpenter was nothing if not thorough. The coroner had set aside the afternoon for the canva.s.sing of Percival Fielding's death; and he was not about to quit his glorious stage so well before dinner. He now bade Mr. Crawford stand down, and called Mr. William Dagliesh in his stead.

Poor Dagliesh took his place at his employer the coroner's right hand, and was sworn, and looked everywhere but in the eyes of his friend at the back of the room; but his moment of martyrdom was brief. The surgeon's a.s.sistant stated what Mr. Carpenter already knew-that the Captain had been dead some hours by the time they were called to examine the body; that Fielding had lost a quant.i.ty of blood, from the wound in his heart; and that he had witnessed Mr. Carpenter extract a ball from the wound itself, which he should judge to be a simple lead one such as was commonly used in a gentleman's pistol.

"And could you state the approximate hour of the Captain's death?"

"From the condition of the body, I believe we agreed that he had died sometime during the evening before."

"But you cannot state when?"

"I cannot."

"Have you anything further?"

Mr. Dagliesh hesitated, and looked finally to Sidmouth; and as if emboldened by the sight of his friend, a.s.sumed a sterner countenance. "I should simply like to add, sir, that I may vouch for the behaviour of Mr. Geoffrey Sidmouth," he said, in a voice so strengthened by his purpose it seemed to fill the room. "I believe him incapable of the despicable actions that the presence of his horse's hoofprints might suggest; and moreover, I will freely admit that I was in his company the entirety of the night in question, and parted with him only at dawn, when Captain Fielding's death had already been effected many hours."

Mr. Carpenter studied his a.s.sistant's face when the speech was done, his own expression unfathomable. "You are on intimate terms with Mr. Sidmouth, Mr. Dagliesh?" he enquired.

I am.

"The safeguarding of his person, then, is a near concern of yours?"

"Would I call myself friend, were it otherwise?"

"And have you another witness who might vouch for the gendeman's whereabouts?"

"Is not my word enough?" Mr. Dagliesh cried, his face reddening with indignation. I closed my eyes upon the sight, remembering my own poor hopes of sincerity and goodness two winters past, when Isobel's life hung in the balance.

The coroner smiled. "For myself, perhaps," he said, "but I fear the jury might demand a greater proof. Could you delineate for us all your movements on the night in question?"

Mr. Dagliesh blushed, if possible more hody, and his eyes shifted again to his friend. I turned, and surveyed Mr. Sidmouth's countenance. I read there what I can only take to have been a warning.

"Honour forbids it," the surgeon's a.s.sistant finally replied, "but I may a.s.sure you, sir, that our activities were such as should not disgrace a gendeman."

A low ripple of laughter greeted this unfortunate attempt, and I saw a knowing glance pa.s.s between two members of the jury. I adjudged Mr. Dagliesh's effort to have hurt, rather than aided, his friend. His words should be dismissed, as the desperate fabrication of a moment, and Mr. Sidmouth's fate be sealed. But from the look that had pa.s.sed between the two, I should rather say that Dagliesh was forbidden forbidden to speak to his friend's defence, than that he lacked the means. to speak to his friend's defence, than that he lacked the means.

Mr. Carpenter released his unfortunate junior, and Dagliesh fled with relief and a dignity somewhat impaired. As he hastened down the aisle, he cast upon me a look so beseeching as to be eloquent in its silence. I felt he begged, then, for the indulgence of being believed, however little he might reveal as proof of his a.s.sertions; and for my part, I certainly unshed unshed to grant his request. But the coroner had called Mr. Dobbin; and all my attention was claimed by the justice. to grant his request. But the coroner had called Mr. Dobbin; and all my attention was claimed by the justice.

Mr. Dobbin related in a concise and easy fashion, as though in converse of the weather, the disposition of Captain Fielding's body upon the Charmouth road, and the probable flight of his horse; the single shot to the Captain's heart, and the presence of the aforementioned hoofprints. It was for Mr. Dobbin to add, however, that the Captain's purse had been seized, and a white lily laid in the gra.s.s near his corpse-and undoubtedly not by chance.

At this, the coroner surveyed Mr. Dobbin shrewdly.

"Just such a flower was recently found near another another body, was it not?" body, was it not?"

"It was, sir-by the late William Tibbit, who was hanged on the Cobb last Thursday fortnight."