Stephanie Barron - Jane and the Unpleasantness at Scargrave Manor

“Why, so it is!” she exclaimed, taking the proffered handkerchief. “I am forever leaving my linen about like a forgetful schoolgirl. Where did you encounter it?”

“Miss Austen was so good as to retrieve it from the paddock this morning,” the magistrate replied.

“The paddock …” Isobel's face drained of its last vestiges of colour. “But I have not been to the paddock these several days. Jane—” Her eyes sought mine in confusion.

“It was lying by the gate, Isobel,” I told her quietly “From its appearance in the snow, it was quite recently let fall.”

Sir William interposed smoothly. “Have you any recognition of the hand that penned these words, Countess?” He took from his waistcoat the bloody slip of paper I had retrieved from Marguerite's bodice.

Isobel bent to study it with indrawn breath. She looked at me and then at the magistrate. “But what does it mean?” she said.

“The hand, my lady?”

With her eyes fixed upon the Earl's face, she replied slowly, “I should swear it to be Fitzroy's.”

Tom Hearst cleared his throat and pushed back his chair. As I watched, he folded his arms across his chest— the better, perhaps, to contain himself. Our eyes met, and his eyebrow lifted — a mute plea for some sense from all this muddle.

Sir William turned to the Earl, and withdrew his hand from his pocket. In his open palm sat a clutch of small brown objects. “My lord,” he said, “is it in your power to name these?”

Fitzroy Payne frowned and replied in the negative.

“And you, my lady?”

Isobel peered at the fruit, each one as small as a seed, in the magistrate's hand. “Why, they are the nuts of the Barbadoes tree!” she exclaimed. “The humble folk of my native island swear by them as a physick. But where did you find them?”

“Wrapped in velvet — in the present Lord Scargrave's gun case, my lady,* Sir William replied, and his face was very grave. “I had thought it possible, but could not be certain, that they were the very seed you have named.” He placed the nuts carefully on a serviette that lay upon the sideboard, and folded it into a neat package.

“And have you journeyed to the Indies unbeknownst to me, Fitzroy?” Isobel looked at the Earl, her brown eyes troubled. She retained admirable command of her voice, but I saw the pulse throbbing at her throat, and knew her heart was racing.

“You know it to be impossible,” Fitzroy Payne replied. “Sir William, are the nuts wholesome?”

“The taste is so delightful, that to eat one is to eat them all,” Sir William said, “which is what we may judge the late Earl to have done. For the Barbadoes nut is poison, Lord Scargrave; so deadly a purgative, in fact, that illness commences but a quarter-hour after ingestion, and death is achieved in a very few hours.”

Tom Hearst leapt to his feet, his hand upon his sabre hilt. “Good God, man, what do you mean to say?”

There was a small sound, almost a whimper, from Isobel, whose face had gone a deadly white. Her hands were clenched on the table edge, as though without its support, she should crumple to the floor.

“Sit down, Tom.” Fitzroy Payne's voice was weary.”Sir William intends us to believe the nuts caused my uncle's last illness.”

“But, Fitzroy, are you mad? The fellow is suggesting—”

“I know what the Justice is suggesting.” At his cousin's look, Tom Hearst stiffened, but regained his seat. Fitzroy Payne inclined his head to Sir William. “Pray continue.”

“It is my duty, Lord Scargrave,” Sir William said slowly, his eyes upon the floor; “to ask that the body of Frederick, Lord Scargrave, be exhumed from its resting place in the Scargrave vault.”

“To what purpose, sir, would you so disturb my uncle's rest?”

“I should like Dr. Philip Pettigrew, of Sloane Street, who attended his lordship at his death, to reexamine the body.” Sir William's eyes came up from the floor at that, and the coldness in them startled me.

“And what end may that serve?” The Earl's voice had lost its accustomed courtesy. “Pettigrew has already declared the man to be dead.”

Sir William glanced at Isobel, and following his gaze, I saw my friend's hand had gone to her throat. “It is possible, my lord,” the magistrate said, “for a physician to divine the contents of the stomach, even days after death; and from those, the cause of a man's demise.”

“You would anatomise [29] The medical dissection of corpses was a practice reserved for the bodies of executed criminals, which were often turned over to doctors for scientific study. Anatomization, as it was called, was considered the most degrading fate possible for the body of a loved one, so that even the families of condemned criminals sought to hide their corpses after execution, to prevent such disgrace. — Editor's note. my husband?” Isobel's countenance was sick with shock.

“I fear it is our only course, my lady,” Sir William said, not without gentleness. “In the case of poison, even a purgative that induces vomiting, it is the only method for proving the truth or falsity of the murdered maid's claims.”

I drew a deep breath, and found I was wadding the brown wool of my gown between my fingers.

“Sir William, I doubt you do this for your own satisfaction,” Lord Scargrave said, in a low voice. “There is a public aspect to all of this.” His dark eyes revealed nothing of the nature of his thoughts.

“There is, my lord. I should like the summary of Dr. Pettigrew's findings to be presented to a jury summoned by the coroner assigned to Hertfordshire, who shall be charged with finding the cause of the late Earl's demise. We must in any case summon such a panel for the poor maid Marguerite, and it may as well serve for the presentation of evidence in your uncle's death.”

“My dear Countess,” Tom Hearst's voice broke in, “I fear you are unwell.” Isobel's eyes were closed, and her breathing shallow. The Lieutenant rose as if to go to her; but Isobel stopped him with an upraised palm.

“I feel only what I should, dear Tom,” she said, “and for that, there is no remedy. Please — let us hear Sir William out.”

The magistrate had the grace to look uncomfortable for having caused a lady so much pain, and turned his gaze from Isobel with relief.

“The two cases can have nothing to do with one another” Fitzroy Payne avowed. “The maid's assertions are calumnies and lies. My uncle suffered a common complaint, and though he died of a sudden and was cheated of his span, such things have happened before.”

“Have they, my lord?”

“Fitzroy,” Isobel said faintly, and all our eyes turned to meet her own.

“Do as he asks, my love,” she said, now past all care forpropriety. “We shall never be free of doubt if we resist, and there shall be no living in the country.”

“I very much fear, my lady, that you are right.” Sir William inclined his head stiffly. “And my duty as a magistrate forces me to insist — for the maid's sake, if not your own.”

Tom Hearst coughed, as though he choked, and I raised my eyes to his; but he gazed at something in the middle distance. I observed that his fingers gripped the arms of his chair so fiercely, the knuckles had gone white.

“The maid,” Fitzroy Payne said thoughtfully. “That piece of paper, written in my hand, bears the marks of blood.”

“You are observant, my lord.” Sir William paced about the room and came to rest opposite my chair.

The new Earl appeared to hesitate before asking the question that burned in his mind, but apprehension is a cruel master. “You found it on her person?” he said.

“It was found there, assuredly, my lord.” Sir William cast an uneasy glance my way. I felt my face overcome with blushes, but none of the Scargrave party could spare a moment to study Miss Austen.