Jane and the Canterbury Tale (22 page)

Read Jane and the Canterbury Tale Online

Authors: Stephanie Barron

Tags: #Austeniana, #Female sleuth, #Historical fiction

“And this fellow was unknown to you?”

“I had never seen him before in my life.”

“What was his errand at Chilham Castle?”

“He wished to present a gift to the bri—the widow of Deceased.”

“Do you know what that gift was?”

“A purse of silk, as it were a kind of reticule, embroidered all about with gold threads.”

“It sounds like an exotic object. Did you accept it from him?”

“I did, sir—and give it to Joseph to present to the lady.”

“Do you know what the purse contained?”

Twitch smiled. “I saw it opened myself. At the time I had no word for what was in it, but I know now they was tamarind seeds.”

A second murmur rose from the crowd; they were so far diverted from the matter of murder at this point, being adrift
on an exotic sea, that I doubted they should ever find their way back.

“You have heard, I think, that a tamarind seed was found in Deceased’s coat, wrapped inside a note that established a meeting on the Pilgrim’s Way.”

“Yes, Your Honour.”

Edward glanced at the coroner’s panel. “I put it to the men of the jury that this seed we speak of, which must be considered a rare and unusual item in England, is unlikely to have come from a
different source
than the seeds in the silken pouch.”

Edward allowed the panel an instant to absorb the implications of his thought, but I wondered very much what he was about. Did he intend to condemn
Adelaide
, whose hands had opened the stranger’s gift? Would he next imply that her hand had written the note, and tucked the seed inside it? I could not risk a glance in the lady’s direction; I feared to see her sensibility, or her husband’s indignation.

The sailor beside me was agog with interest, leaning forward intently with his elbows resting on his patched knees. He must have taken shore leave from one of the Kentish ports—Deal, perhaps, or Dover—and wandered into Canterbury with an eye for publick spectacle. As a source of entertainment, an inquest could hardly equal a Tyburn hanging; but beggars could not be choosers, after all.

Edward was speaking again; I must attend.

“Were you at all acquainted with Deceased in previous years?” he asked Twitch.

“Mr. Fiske? Aye—I’ve known him, to look at, these seven years or more.”

“Would you kindly step into the closet with Dr. Bredloe, and inform us whether Deceased is the person who delivered the silk purse to Chilham Castle? We might then explain the seed discovered in his pocket.”

Ah. Edward hoped to keep Adelaide entirely out of it.

Twitch opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it with resignation. He was led into the compartment where Curzon Fiske lay.

The seaman rose and began to make his way towards the centre aisle; we had not succeeded in securing his interest for so much as a quarter-hour.

“That’s Mr. Fiske, well enough,” Twitch declared as he emerged from the closet, “tho’ I’d not have known him straight off, with that beard.”

“And was it he,” Edward asked, with palpable satisfaction, “who rang the bell at Chilham Castle Wednesday night, and asked that the purse of tamarind seeds be presented to the lady?”

“No, Your Honour, it was not.” Twitch shook his head emphatically. “But I can tell you who did.”

He lifted his arm and pointed directly at my seaman, who had almost achieved the publick room’s door.

  
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  
 
A Man Impossible to Move
 

“That quickness of mind is given, at birth, to every

Woman: lying and weeping are birthright gifts

From God, natural weapons to help us live.”

G
EOFFREY
C
HAUCER,
“T
HE
W
IFE OF
B
ATH’S
P
ROLOGUE

 

23 O
CTOBER
1813,
CONT
.

S
UCH A LITTLE THING, THAT POINTED FINGER; BUT IT CAUSED
the sort of chaos to which even a Royal rout should never be equal.

“Stop that man!” Dr. Bredloe cried, at which the seaman heaved open the publick room door, and dashed towards the Little Inn’s front entry.

I rose, but the entire throng was before me; I had an idea of MacCallister and Thane surging through the Canterbury bystanders, determined to seize the fellow, and being stopped by a knot of men in the doorway; heard a great halloing from the main body of the inn, and the crash of an overturned bench besides. I glanced about me, and saw that Adelaide MacCallister had not stirred from her place; her head drooped
a little beneath her bonnet and veil, the countenance obscured. I hesitated, and then crossed the aisle to where she sat.

“Are you unwell, Mrs. MacCallister?”

She turned her head, then raised her veil. “Miss Austen! What a comfort it is to see another lady in this miserable place!”

Impulsively, as it seemed, she extended her gloved hand, and I took it between both of my own. “I hope that we need not remain very much longer.”

“They have not called me,” she said in some agitation. “They have not called
Andrew
, or Julian.… The agony of waiting! How long are we required to endure it? I confess that I live in dread of the moment, however. It was almost too much to witness poor James—”

“And yet he acquitted himself admirably, did he not?”

She drew a trembling breath in an effort to calm herself; she was far more discomposed than I had ever seen her. “I cannot say whether he spoke well or ill. He certainly did not speak
frankly
. I cannot blame him for that; we are all terrified of what we do not know—of what may be hidden in those around us, the impulse to violence. You cannot know what it is like at Chilham Castle—each of us aware of James’s pistol, and the use to which it was put, and wondering
who
among us employed it.… Every word is charged with unintended meaning, and the very air of the place is turned poisonous. Oh, God, that I had never come there, to trouble such good friends!”

I sank down on the bench beside her; she was shivering, and I placed an arm about her shoulders. “Come. You require refreshment. Shall I get you some coffee? A glass of wine, perhaps?”

She shook her head, and leaned a little towards me; I perceived that she was weeping. And then a shadow fell across us.

“Mrs. MacCallister,” Edward said gently. “I am sure you
feel faint. It has been a very trying day, indeed; will you not take an airing? I should be happy to escort you outside through the side door; no one shall trouble you in that direction. We might attend your husband’s return.”

She glanced up, her eyes as dark as rain-washed violets; then she nodded and pulled the veil once more over her features.

When Edward returned a few moments later, he was alone.

“I set her to walking in the Cathedral Close until such time as MacCallister is able to escort her home. There is nothing for her to do here. It is a damnable business, Jane!”

My brother, the
gallant
. Not even Edward is immune to the pleasure that a pair of fine eyes, in the face of a pretty woman, may bestow.

T
HE CORONER’S PANEL HAD PROVED ADMIRABLY RESTRAINED
during the interval, and had failed to break ranks when the rest of the room had pelted out the door in pursuit of the seaman; but the patient fellows were beginning to shift uncomfortably on their benches, as if uncertain what next should be required of them.

“I warrant you did not expect this result, when you put your questions to Twitch,” I observed drily.

Edward studied the Wildmans’ butler, who still stood placidly in the area reserved for witnesses, until he should be told he must do otherwise.


That seaman
is the fellow who caused your manservant such perplexity?” Edward demanded. “I should have thought one glance at his clothes might be enough to earn him the tradesman’s entrance!”

“Ah, but then Your Honour never heard the lad speak,” Twitch returned comfortably. “Fair Eton and Cambridge, he is, when he gets to jawing. May I stand down, sir?”

“By all means. I have already taken too much of your time. Have you a conveyance back to Chilham?”

“I’ll stand up behind Mr. Wildman’s curricle, thank you kindly, sir. I expect Mr. Wildman and Young Mr. Wildman will be making for home soon.” He bowed. “I hope you catch the fellow.”

As the butler quitted the room, Edward consulted his pocket watch, then turned to the panel. “Pray adjourn to the private parlour, where I shall have some ale sent in to you.”

With grateful mutters and thanks, the men did as my brother suggested. Edward closed the door upon them, and glanced at me thoughtfully. “I am not sure that Twitch has not done us a very great service, Jane.”

“By providing an excuse to suspend the proceedings?”

He smiled, and went off to order the ale.

He was good enough to bring me ratafia and cakes upon his return; and we sat in splendid solitude, nibbling contentedly, until the distant sounds of riot pronounced the search party returned.

It was Julian Thane who thrust open the publick room door, and Thane who dragged the seaman in by his collar. Behind him strode Captain MacCallister, with his sabre pointed at the seaman’s back. After MacCallister came a flood of people, many more than had originally filled the publick room, the chase through Canterbury’s streets having attracted an admiring train. There were children and beggars, flower sellers and pedlars of sacred relics from the Cathedral Close; and even one or two housewives seduced from their shopping, with paper parcels on their arms.

There was no sign of Adelaide MacCallister.

“Pray bring the fellow forward,” Edward commanded.

Thane dragged the seaman before the empty benches where the panel had formerly sat, and glanced round in perplexity.

“Dr. Bredloe!” Edward called towards the rear of the room. “What do you wish? Your panel is closeted with their ale!”

The coroner sighed, and forced his way through the throng. In a matter of seconds the panel returned, several wiping their mouths on their shirtsleeves, and took up their places.

“Now, then, my lad, what is your name?” Dr. Bredloe demanded of the seaman.

The wizened old man surveyed the coroner imperiously. “I hardly think I am
your lad
, Dr. Bredloe—if indeed I have your name correctly. My own is Sir Davie Myrrh, late of Ceylon.” And he performed a bow that should have graced the portals of Almack’s.

T
HERE, HOWEVER, ENDED THE SEAMAN’S EFFORT AT COOPERATION
. Sir Davie refused entirely to answer any questions put to him, until, he said, he should have taken counsel of his solicitor; and being required to name that gentleman, offered the direction of an intimate of Temple Bar, London. Dr. Bredloe lifted a quizzical brow at my brother, and raised his hands as tho’ incapable of further decision; and after a brief, private colloquy, coroner and magistrate appeared to be mutually satisfied. Dr. Bredloe turned his attention to his panel.

Other books

Born To Be Wild by Patricia Rosemoor
Shadow's Edge by J. T. Geissinger
Wild Is My Heart by Mason, Connie
Golden Blood by Jack Williamson
Finding Dell by Kate Dierkes
Madness by Allyson Young
Red Line by Brian Thiem
Grand Avenue by Joy Fielding
The Scrapper by Brendan O'Carroll