Stephanie Barron - Jane and the Barque of Frailty

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Stephanie Barron - Jane and the Barque of Frailty» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию без сокращений). В некоторых случаях можно слушать аудио, скачать через торрент в формате fb2 и присутствует краткое содержание. Жанр: Исторический детектив, Иронический детектив, на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале библиотеки ЛибКат.

Jane and the Barque of Frailty: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «Jane and the Barque of Frailty»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

Exciting Regency historical mystery that gives the reader a glimpse of the dark side of the ton.

Jane and the Barque of Frailty — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «Jane and the Barque of Frailty», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Тёмная тема
Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

“It seems quite obvious,” I continued, “from the few words you have let slip, that Princess Tscholikova did not die by her own hand.”

The Runner smiled thinly. “Forgive me, ma’am — but you cannot possibly know that.”

I shrugged. “No murder weapon has been mentioned in the newspapers. I collect that none was found by the lady. Do you think it was a knife, Mr. Skroggs, or a gentleman’s razor that slit the wretched Princess’s throat?”

“Either would serve,” Skroggs replied with ruthless precision, “but I will not be led into an admission I am enjoined not to make prior to the convening of the coroner’s panel. I cannot allow you to spread rumours in this way, Miss Austen. — Being but a suspect criminal, prattling for her life.”

“If indeed the poor creature was deliberately and coldly taken,” I continued, oblivious to his scruples, “then her killer chose to place her directly on Lord Castlereagh’s doorstep. The scandal that has followed is everything an enemy of his lordship could desire. I do not for a moment entertain the notion that Castlereagh was himself responsible for striking the Princess down, and leaving her where she fell; such careless disregard for convention is not in his character. Therefore, he was the object of a plot. I have an idea that Castlereagh would wish to know who was the party that set out to destroy his reputation and career.”

“Naturally!” Eliza cried, “So that he might challenge the fellow to a duel, and put a ball through his heart!”

“Mr. Skroggs refuses to say yea or nay,” I mused. “And in his very silence we may read a fatal admission. He is in Lord Castlereagh’s hire, and the Princess’s jewels are merely a foothold on the greater slope he must climb. But how, indeed, shall such a man as a Bow Street Runner penetrate the holy of holies — the inner sanctum of the British ton — where, without doubt, Lord Castlereagh’s enemy hides?”

I paused for effect. The countenance of William Skroggs was slowly flushing scarlet.

“I hold myself as good as any of them,” he said hoarsely.

“No doubt you do.” I ran my eyes the length of his figure. “But I fear, my good sir, you will never come within an inch of your killer. You do not possess the air or address — or forgive me, the birth — that distinguish a Bond Street lounger. His native ground will be barred to you. Whereas my sister — that jumped-up countess … is everywhere received.”

Clem Black snorted derisively. I observed Bill Skroggs’s hands to clench.

“You require our help as much as we require your mercy,” I declared. “Come, Mr. Skroggs — shall we strike a bargain?”

Chapter 11

Lord Castlereagh Condescends

Friday, 26 April 1811

THE MORNING OF THE PRINCESS’S INQUEST DAWNED fair and bright, more May than April, with a frivolous breeze that set the horse chestnut leaves to fluttering. I had no share in the innocence of the day, however; I was wrapped around in deceit, the chief object of it my brother.

Upon Henry’s return from his bank, Eliza and I had said nothing of the Bow Street Runners’ calamitous call. We had enjoined poor Madame Bigeon and Manon to secrecy, and their love for Eliza was so great, that at length they acquiesced — tho’ Madame was all for recruiting Henry’s wit and stoutness in foiling the brutal intent of the Law. The Frenchwomen’s experiences in their native country, and the troubles that occasioned their flight to England, had taught them to trust neither in plots nor constabulary — but to avoid all such authority as might sever their heads from their necks. In this I detected good sense and hard courage, and resolved to employ the two ladies’ talents whenever my own should fail me.

I had managed, in the end, to bring Bill Skroggs neatly round my thumb. The Runner had been taught to see the sense of my argument — that Eliza and I should penetrate where he should be barred— and had agreed to accord us our liberty for the space of one week: a mere seven days to defeat the object of a most cunning and subtle killer. I found the constraint of the brief period immaterial; I had always intended to quit London by the end of the month in any case. The imperative to clear my name in the interim merely added a fillip of interest to the waning days of my Season. I had much to do, if I were not to hang.

While Manon ushered the two men to the door, and Skroggs issued his final cold-blooded warnings, I was busy enumerating in my mind the chief points that must be addressed, in an undertaking such as this:

Firstly, did Anne, Comtesse d’Entraigues, know to whom her jewellery in fact belonged, or was it a treasure that had fallen into her lap as chancily as she deposited it in ours?

Secondly, had the Comtesse participated in either the theft of the Princess Tscholikova’s jewels, or her murder?

Thirdly, if the Princess had been killed — or her dead body deposited — on Castlereagh’s doorstep, who should most benefit from the ruin of his lordship’s reputation?

And fourthly, were that person and the Princess’s murderer in league — unknown to each other — or were they one and the same?

Eliza went up to her room directly the outer door was closed on the offending emissaries of Bow Street. She pled her tiresome cold — and when at length Henry returned, he forbore to disturb her. I uttered falsehood after falsehood as we two sat down to a cold supper, furnished without apology or explanation by Madame Bigeon. Henry drank his wine, enquiring idly of my afternoon, and I was free to divert my anxiety by imparting every detail of Chizzlewit’s chambers — for my brother had known of Lord Harold’s Bengal chest nearly as long as I.

“It would seem, from what you say, Jane, that his lordship was most unhappy with Sir John Moore’s conduct of the Swedish campaign,” Henry observed. “I believe that gallant general was in fact arrested by King Gustavus, and only escaped Stockholm by donning a peasant’s clothes, and making his way through the gates of the city in a labourer’s cart.”

“Lord Harold utters no criticism of Moore,” I said thoughtfully, “and indeed, I have always reflected that Moore’s subsequent death in the retreat from Corunna would have deeply grieved his lordship, had he lived to know it. [12] General Sir John Moore was killed in the British evacuation from Corunna in January 1809.— Editor’s note. I took the import of his text to mean, rather, that he disapproved of the Government’s diversion of force and attention from Peninsular affairs, to those in the Baltic.”

“That is perhaps the case,” Henry said cautiously, “but I cannot find that troop dispositions made two years since, can have any bearing on the death of a woman in Berkeley Square. Recollect, Jane, that the Prince — rather than serving as unofficial leader of the opposition — now holds the reins of government as Regent; that Mr. Perceval’s government is in flux; that Lord Castlereagh and Mr. Canning came to such blows that they are no longer invested with considerable powers in the Cabinet — as they were when Lord Harold wrote his entry — and thus, that the case is entirely altered! You cannot be forever seeking illumination in those old papers, my dear — tho’ it pains me to say as much.”

“All the same — I should like to have a little conversation with Lord Moira, Henry. I would be most grateful if you could put me in the way of speaking to him, as soon as may be.”

“I should be very happy, Jane.” My brother appeared startled. “But why this impatience?”

An idea of the gallows rose in my mind. “My time in London … grows short.”

“As does mine.” He glanced at me ruefully. “I am expected in Oxford on militia business for much of next week. I quit London on Sunday — but rest assured that Egerton will proceed with his printing whether I am present to spur him, or not. Eliza shall be Egerton’s taskmaster in my absence.”

Читать дальше
Тёмная тема
Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «Jane and the Barque of Frailty»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «Jane and the Barque of Frailty» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё непрочитанные произведения.


Отзывы о книге «Jane and the Barque of Frailty»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «Jane and the Barque of Frailty» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.

x