Stephanie Barron - Jane and the Prisoner of Wool House

“It should be nothing, I suppose, for such a woman to learn Chessyre's name and direction,” my brother had said, as we perused die false confession by candlelight last evening. “Lady Templeton already possessed a good deal of influence; she should soon be the mistress of a considerable fortune; and she had only to promise Chessyre the world, to gain the sacrifice of his honour.”

“And everything else merely followed. Louisa, we may assume, would have told her of your express, and the events the Frenchman witnessed; Lady Templeton might have learned of them as early as Wednesday, when she appeared in Portsmouth. And so she determined to be rid of both men.”

“It is a puzzle,” my brother said pensively, “for you know Tom was told in Portsmouth that Louisa went out in Lady Templeton's carriage that Wednesday night. Do you think, Jane, that Lady Templeton carried her into Southampton, and made her speak to Chessyre?”

“—That she served as lure, you mean, for her aunt's murderous purpose?”

I had glanced down at Louisa Seagrave's body as I said this, and the sight must quell my tongue. Whatever Lady Templeton and Louisa had done between them was finished now. “I do not think, Frank, that we should ask that question.”

MR. PETHERING BOWED; MY BROTHER NODDED SLIGHTLY in return; and the magistrate was shown the door. I collapsed into a chair and stared at my brother.

“I believe, my dear, that we should fortify ourselves with a glass of wine.”

“But it is barely ten o'clock in the morning, Jane!”

“And the sun is not yet over the yardarm.” I smiled up at him. “Consider, Frank, that if you were in the Indies now — or rounding the Horn …”

“I should be already deep into a bottle. Ring for Jenny, my dear — we shall send round to the Dolphin for a bottle of Madeira, and drink to Seagrave's innocence. It is all the man has left to him, poor fellow.”

WEEKS PASSED, AND THE MOVE TO CASTLE SQUARE WAS accomplished. We are established in this comfortable house exactly a fortnight, and know the pleasure of watching spring roll in off the Solent from the broad expanse of our very own garden. Martha and I — for Mary is grown too large for gambolling, particularly on a stone parapet that may permit of only three or four walking abreast — will stroll for hours together along the high old walls of the fortified city, staring out at the faint green of the New Forest. My mother no longer keeps to her bed, but digs at the raspberry canes that are setting out in the fresh earth; she is constantly on the watch for the Marchioness, our neighbour, so that she might have the pleasure of the lady's faerie horses, and find consolation in a fallen woman installed so conveniently to hand. Now that Mr. Hill is gone off to Greenwich, as resident surgeon for the naval hospital there, consolation must be necessary.

Cassandra is expected at home next week, and I have purchased figured muslin for a new gown.

I have been so busy throughout March, indeed, that I have almost forgot the events that opened it — or I had succeeded, perhaps, in diverting my mind from so much that was troubling, and must remain forever unresolved. But the matter was brought forcibly to my attention today, with the arrival of the morning post.

One shilling, eight pence, was demanded of me, for the receipt of a packet in an altogether unfamiliar hand. I duly paid the charge — slit open the seal — and commenced to read with a smile at my lips.

5 March 1807

On board the Dartmouth, in the Downs

Ma chère mademoiselle Austen:

I write swiftly, as a mail boat has just called without warning, and we are to have our missives sent within the hour; but I know that you are familiar enough with naval life to forgive this small bêtise.

I have been fortunate enough to obtain a position — with the help and collusion of your Admiralty, than which no institution of subterfuge and statecraft could be more honourable — as ship's surgeon aboard an American vessel bound for Boston. I am very well satisfied with the outcome of my late adventure, and may think with satisfaction that no small part of my happiness is due to having made your acquaintance. The Admiralty is now in possession of what personal property I carried out of France; and I trust that they shall continue to evidence a pleasing concern for my welfare.

Accept my deepest thanks and undying devotion for yourself, mademoiselle — without whom I should never have remained —

Etienne, Comte de la Forge

“The man's become a spy,” said Frank shortly, after perusing this missive. “He's been despatched to inform upon the Americans. I shouldn't wonder that he will prove as wretched at the business as he did at avoiding the Emperor.”

I must forgive my brother the slight bitterness of that speech; Frank is only just made aware, by the very same post, of his latest appointment. He is not to have a fast frigate — those are very dear in the Navy at present— but is to command the St. Albans, on convoy duty to the East Indies. In this, I suspect, we see the malice of Sir Francis Farnham, who cannot excuse my brother for Seagrave's acquittal.

“A bride-ship,” Frank muttered as he read the official letter from the Admiralty. “There is certain to be a bride-ship in the convoy, Mary, awash with tittering females who cannot stand the heat of the sun. A long, desperate slog of it we shall make, with no hope of prizes, neither.”

“My poor lamb,” soothed the stalwart bride; and said nothing of the fact that he should be absent for the birth of his first child.

THOMAS SEAGRAVE IS TO REMAIN THE CAPTAIN OF THE Stella Maris. We learned of his acquittal on all charges considered by the court-martial a few days after his wife's burial; and even Admiral Bertie is disposed, now, to make much of him when the two chance to meet. Young Charles and his brother Edward are to be despatched to Uncle Walter and Luxford House in Kent once their father is again at sea. Seagrave has handsomely allowed little Charles to take the name of Carteret — without repining or rancour at his millions of pounds. The new Viscount accedes to all the honours and fortune of his grandpapa's estate, with Sir Walter for trustee; and I am sure that the Baronet will greatly enjoy his second childhood in Charles's keeping, once his wretched wife is no more.

The baby girl, Eliza, is to take up residence with her august relations; but Edward is destined for the sea, and when he has achieved a full ten years, is to join his father in whatever fast frigate the Captain then commands. I cannot help but wonder if the lad is not the happiest party in all of Southampton — who had least to do with the shocking events at Wool House.

THE END

Although accorded the courtesy title of captain, a master and commander was an officer one rank below a full captain. He usually commanded a vessel smaller than a Royal Navy post ship, one that carried fewer than twenty guns. A post captain, however, was a full-grade officer entitled to command a post ship. He held a place on the navy list, which ranked and promoted officers by seniority; a master and commander did not. — Editor's note.

Frank's words to Jane closely echo sentiments he first expressed a few days after Trafalgar in a letter to his then-fiancée, Mary Gibson, written from the Canopus while off Gibraltar. — Editor's note.

Jane refers here to characters in Elinor and Marianne and First Impressions, which had not yet achieved their final manuscript forms as Sense and Sensibility (published 1811) and Pride and Prejudice (published 1813). — Editors note.