Stephanie Barron - Jane and the Prisoner of Wool House

“You have been acquainted with the Baronet for some time, I see.”

“Nearly twenty years. I was governess to his little sisters when I was but eighteen, and spent nearly a year in the bosom of the Farnham family. When one has observed the formation of a man's character, one may forgive a great deal.”

“Certainly one may respect the enduring nature of his regard,” I observed. “Twenty years is a period! And yet Sir Francis's admiration for you is unflagging.” What had Frank said? That Phoebe Carruthers had been involved in scandal while a governess … something to do with the family's eldest son … and her marriage to her cousin had followed hard upon the business. Sir Francis — jealous Sir Francis — had married and acceded to his title; but he had not forgot the golden beauty. He had waited, and bided his time — and plotted to remove his rivals….

“Always his father's child,” I murmured. “It is remarkable how blood will out, Mrs. Carruthers.”

Her green eyes widened suddenly with alarm. She reached for her gloves.

“I must beg your pardon for trying your patience so long,” Phoebe Carruthers said, rising. “It has been delightful to make your acquaintance, Miss Austen.”

• • •

MY BROTHER SHOWED THE LADY TO THE DOOR, WITH many a fine flourish regarding his hopes of seeing her in future, and all the assurances of his wife's regret in having lost such an opportunity to form Mrs. Carruthers's acquaintance; and when she had dwindled down the street, he rounded upon me in indignation.

“Jane, you were exceedingly rude just now. Poor Mrs. Carruthers is the picture of grief — and you must interrogate her regarding Sir Francis Farnham! It is obvious she doesn't like the fellow's company, and only suffers his attentions because she is too well-bred to send him packing! You might have shown some consideration!”

“She is altogether too picture-perfect for my liking, Fly,” I said abruptly. “She displays her grief at the slightest urging; desires us to believe that she has no designs upon a baronet; adopts the general tone of disapprobation towards Captain Seagrave, and denies all knowledge of him in Southampton on Wednesday evening. It was a performance intended to distance her from murder, and that alone must make it suspect.”

My brother's countenance hardened. “You think her afraid, Jane? You believe her bent upon deceit?”

“I think that Sir Francis determined to destroy his rival for Mrs. Carruthers's attentions. That he plotted Seagrave's disgrace by offering advancement to his lieutenant, in return for betrayal. That he used the signal line to despatch a set of orders the Admiralty never contemplated — and that when Chessyre despaired of his guilt and dishonour, Sir Francis determined to be rid of him. I believe that Phoebe Carruthers went in search of Chessyre in the Baronet's coach on Wednesday night, and carried the man away to meet with Farnham. I do not need to inform you of the result.”

Frank took a turn about the room in considerable agitation. It is hard for such a man — trained up in the ways of gallantry — to credit a beautiful woman with evil.

“I could accept all this, provided Phoebe Carruthers had no notion of what she did. The wife of Hugh Carruthers should never collude to murder a man.”

“Very well. Call her merely a handmaiden — too stupid to know her purpose — and she will thank you for it from the bottom of her heart.”

“She don't even like that fellow Farnham!”

“Perhaps not,” I agreed, “but she may feel herself in some wise bound to his purpose. How did she phrase things just now? 'Not all our obligations are matters of choice.' How soon after her marriage to her cousin was Simon Carruthers born?”

Frank stared. “I have not the slightest notion!”

“You should do well to enquire. Phoebe Carruthers might do much for the father of her dead child, however little she has cause to love him — particularly when Sir Francis's quarrel is with the man she blames for her son's death.”

28 February 1807, cont.

“GOOD LORD, JANE — IF YOU WOULD HAVE SEAGRAVE the victim of a plot constructed well before the Stella sailed, then you must admit Mrs. Carruthers is out of it!” Frank cried. “Her boy was yet alive when Seagrave left the Channel. She could have no cause to hate poor Tom. Indeed, she vows she loved him as a brother.”

“But after she received the intelligence of young Simon's death, and learned that Seagrave was accused, moreover, of murder, her sentiments may have undergone a change. Sir Francis had only to appeal to Mrs. Carruthers's grief and sense of outrage, to secure her as accomplice.”

My brother pursed his lips. “We cannot prove that either of them had anything to do with Seagrave's debacle, you know. I should look an absolute fool, did I suggest to the Admiralty that Sir Francis Farnham was Chessyre's murderer.”

“We cannot risk an injury to your career, Frank— even in such a cause,” I said with decision. “The Admiralty shall be left in ignorance until such time as guilt is irrefutable. We must provide our friend Mr. Pethering with evidence of so compelling a nature, that he cannot do otherwise than arrest Sir Francis and Mrs. Carruthers both.”

“But how?”

“By catching them in their last desperate act.”

Frank's eyes narrowed. “Have not they done enough?”

“Etienne LaForge,” I said urgently to my brother. “He is in the gravest danger. Mrs. Carruthers meant to learn from us what the French canvassed, in their talk at Wool House. The appeal to her son's death was but a subterfuge: she was sent to test what we know. Sir Francis fears and suspects every sort of betrayal — this is why LaForge was poisoned after giving evidence in Seagrave's trial. And that is why the sick men have been removed to the prison hulk.”

“Farnham need only exchange the French to France to be secure in their silence,” Frank objected.

“But LaForge requested the right to remain in England as payment for his honesty. Does Farnham know as much?”

Frank looked all his discomfort. “The subject was generally discussed. Mr. Hill certainly knew of LaForge's plea, and I conveyed it myself to Admiral Bertie, who assured me he would try his influence at the Admiralty. As a prisoner, LaForge and his situation must fall under the authority of the Transport Board….”

“Which is governed by Sir Francis Farnham. Good God, we have contrived between us to deliver the man to the very Devil!”

Frank ran his hand through his hair. “Then we must endeavour to save him, Jane. I believe I know a way.”

WE FOUND THAT IT WAS NEARLY FOUR O'CLOCK, AND ordered dinner to be sent to my mother's room — left a note of apology and very little of explanation for Mary and Martha — and set out for Wool House thereafter.

“You said, I think, that you are a little acquainted with Captain Smallwood — the officer in command of the prison hulk?” I enquired as we hurried down the High towards Southampton Water. I spoke in part to defray anxiety; I could not help but feel we should have been hours beforehand in our apprehension of danger.

“An excellent fellow! Though quite enslaved to cards,” Frank returned distractedly. “There is no one like Smallwood for playing at faro. I met with him some once or twice in Malta, and later in the West Indies; I have seen Hamlet in his company, too, while ashore in Gibraltar. He once put me in the way of a bang-up prize-agent.” [24] A prize-agent was responsible for selling enemy ships seized in maritime war and condemned by the prize-court, one of the courts of the Admiralty. — Editor's note.