Jane and the Prisoner of Wool House (19 page)

There was a bustle in the hallway and the parlour door swung inwards to reveal my brother. Behind him I detected the forms of Mr. Hill and Monsieur LaForge. All three were subdued; and from the turn of Frank's countenance, my heart sank. I feared the worst.

“Mrs. Seagrave,” he said with a bow, “pray forgive an intrusion so unannounced. We thought it best to inform you—”

“Oh, God, pray tell me at once!” the lady implored.

Frank hesitated, and his eyes sought my face. “Captain Seagrave's court-martial has been suspended by order of Admiral Hastings.”

“He is free, then?” Mrs. Seagrave asked faintly.

“For the moment. But he remains under charge. Suspension, I am afraid, is not the same as acquittal.” Frank glanced over his shoulder at the pair on the threshold. “I must apologise for carrying strangers in my train, and thrusting them upon you at such an hour. Mrs. Seagrave, may I present Mr. Hill and Monsieur LaForge, two gentlemen who have been most active on your husband's behalf.”

Louisa shielded her eyes as the gentlemen made their way into the room, then sank once more upon the sopha. From her attitude, she might be overpowered with relief and thankfulness; I alone of the party must suspect the truth.

“The Lieutenant, Mr. Chessyre, failed to appear?” I enquired of Frank in a lowered tone.

“Mr. Chessyre is dead,” my brother returned without preamble. “He was murdered last night in a brothel beyond Southampton's walls, his body discovered only this morning.”

I pressed one hand to my lips in horror.

Louisa Seagrave began to laugh.

¹
Jane refers here to a heraldic shield that has been split down the middle to accommodate the arms of the lady's family, to the right, and the gentleman's, to the left. The gentleman is presumably a baronet, for the symbol of the bloody gauntlet is traditionally accorded to that rank.—
Editor's note.

Chapter 11
The Sourse of the Crouble

cont.

~

“T
HAT IS A VERY ILL YOUNG WOMAN,” MR. HILL DECLARED
as we stood in Lombard Street almost an hour later. We had subdued Louisa Seagrave's hysterics, and partaken of the dry sherry and iced cakes the maidservant had thrust upon us, however little appetite we felt for them.

“If she were my wife,” the surgeon continued, “I should engage a private nurse and demand absolute quiet. Her children should be taken from her care, and a strict control placed upon her diet. A tour in the Swiss Alps might answer the case, if safe passage could be managed.”

“Is the complaint a nervous one?” I enquired apprehensively. Even to Mr. Hill I dared not voice the idea of madness.

“Perhaps it began as such. But she has not helped her situation by consuming so much of laudanum. It is a tincture that carries its own dependence; more and more of the stuff is required to achieve a salutary effect; nightmares and waking terror swiftly follow; and the total destruction of the bodily frame must eventually result She should be weaned from it as soon as may be.” He shook his head grimly.

“You mean Dr. Wharton's Comfort? But surely that cannot be harmful. It is stocked in every stillroom in the land. Babies take it from their wet nurses' hands, to comfort them in crying.”.

“Laudanum is a tincture of opium, Miss Austen,” enjoined Mr. Hill brusquely, “and no less vicious than what may be eaten in a Chinese den. I suggest, Captain Austen, that you speak to your friend about his wife.”

“I expect to meet him within the hour,” Frank returned, “but it is a delicate subject. Perhaps if you would be so good as to vouchsafe an opinion—in a professional capacity, of course …”.

“I can do nothing unless I am expressly consulted,” said Mr. Hill, “but I stand willing to perform the office.”
⁵
Frank bowed. Mr. Hill clapped LaForge on the shoulder.

“We two shall take a nuncheon, Captain, and await you and your sister at the quay. Our French colleague deserves a toast to freedom, before he is immured once more in walls of stone.”

Our French colleague looked almost prostrate with apprehension. He had attempted too much in his weakened condition. I smiled encouragement at LaForge. “Did you speak before the court,
monsieurt”

“I did,” he returned with feeling, “but I wish that I had not My tale served no purpose in freeing your captain—he was no longer in danger—and it exposed me most decidedly.”.

“Exposed you? In what manner? I confess I do not understand.”

“A man has been killed, Miss Austen. This Chessyre who lied about murder. I am the sole remaining person who professes to know the truth. That is not a healthy position,
hein?
You see before you a man in terror for his life,
mademoiselle”

“I suspect you take too much upon yourself, LaForge,” said Mr. Hill drily. “A good lunch should defray the worst anxiety. Pray come along and allow me to buy you a glass of claret There must be smugglers enough along the Channel coast to provide us with refreshment.”

I could not be so sure that the answer to a Frenchman's care must always be found in wine. I reflected, as I watched the two men proceed up the street, that there were worse habitations than a comfortable gaol of stone.

“N
OW
,
FRANK,”
I C
HARGED, AS WE STEPPED SWIFTLY INTO
the High, “you must tell me everything you know about the proceedings against Seagrave and Mr. Chessyre's death. Relate the particulars without exception.”

He told me then of the ships of Seagrave's squadron drawn up at anchor off the harbour, in the strait of die Solent opposite to Spithead; of the signals that flashed from each to each, and the air of unhappy expectancy that pervaded the crews assembled on deck; of the solemn looks of the empanelled officers—a vice admiral, a rear admiral, and Admiral Hastings, Seagrave's commanding officer; of how Frank was forced to cool his heels while the court convened, his spirits oppressed by the gravest anxiety for his friend's fate.

My brother has never commanded a ship that has struck to the enemy, or been wrecked upon a stormy coast; and thus he has been spared the indignity and suspense of a court-martial.
¹
He had supposed that his ardent wish of speaking to Seagrave's character, and delivering a witness in the form of Monsieur LaForge, might be exercised at the first opportunity; but, in fact, he was forced to await the court's pleasure, while the charges against his friend were read out. Next Mr. Chessyre was summoned, and found to be absent; a tedious interval ensued, while the Admirals deliberated their course; and at last, Captain Seagrave was called before the panel to give his account of the
Stella's
engagement with the
Manon.

In relating the latter, Frank became so enthralled with the details of battle that he quite forgot for a period the point of his recital, and I was forced to endure all the tedium of broadsides and their timing, until we had left the High Street behind and turned towards the Portsmouth naval yard. It was there we intended to fall in with Captain Seagrave, before undertaking the passage back up the Solent. I felt compelled to interrupt my brother's effusions regarding the excellency of the
Stella's
guns.

“Mr. Chessyre,” I supplied. “When did you learn of his unhappy fate?”

“LaForge had delivered his account of the French captain's end, to considerable shock among the officers and much muttered consultation. There were those among the assembly inclined to discredit the surgeon,

as a Frenchman and a dog; but others, more sanguine, expressed the view that LaForge should hardly have fabricated such a story about a British officer completely unknown to him. I believe that Seagrave might have received a complete acquittal at about six bells, and put the affair at his back, if it had not been for a lad rowed out to the
Valiant
He handed Admiral Hastings a note from the Southampton magistrate. Hastings broke the seal and read it silently to himself— appeared immensely struck—and handed the note around the panel. At length, Vice-Admiral Black read the intelligence aloud.

“ ‘Compliments of Percival Pethering, magistrate of the City of Southampton, who begs to inform the commanding officers of the Channel Squadron, that Mr. Eustace Chessyre, commissioned first lieutenant of His Majesty's frigate
Stella Marts, was found dead this morning at eighteen minutes past six o'clock. Due to the irregular nature of the gentleman's passing, an inquest into Mr. Chessyre's death will be called by His Majesty's Coroner not later than Wednesday next’ ”

“So much for Seagrave's acquittal,” I murmured as we approached the towering portals of the naval yard.

“Indeed. It was clear that more than one man present considered Tom the very person to have throttled Chessyre to death.”

“Was he throttled, then?”

“With a garrote. It is decidedly a man's weapon.” Frank threw me so troubled a look that my heart turned over with pity. “This death comes hard on the heels of your Frenchman's story. Do you think it possible, Jane, that I spurred Tom Seagrave to
murder
when I sent him that express?—That I gave him every cause to avenge betrayal?”

“It is what the court-martial will hasten to believe, certainly. But I regard Chessyre's death in a different light altogether.”

“That being?”

“The sinister glow of conspiracy. You said that when you met the man he was mortally afraid. He came to you but a few hours later, and disappeared when he could not secure an interview. Chessyre meant to recant his testimony, Frank—to expose, perhaps, his employer—and he was killed to quell his conscience.”

“Jane! You have read far too many horrid novels!”

“Then I suggest you adopt the practise. You reveal a distressing naivete, Fly, with regard to the ambition of evil men. Think how much more useful Chessyre shall be, dead instead of alive! Rather than exonerate his captain, he shall seal his fate.”

Frank's countenance was wooden with disbelief. “But how are we to expose such a plot—if indeed it exists?”

“You must look into Seagrave's personal affairs. You have the means to do it, Frank. You know his colleagues— how he stands at home and at sea. From the men who esteem and serve him, the men who despise and mistrust him, we shall learn the answers we seek.”

“You would ask me to spy on Tom!”

“It would not be the first time, I assure you. Someone—someone who bears him no goodwill—has learned his habits long since.” My steps slowed as we approached the iron portal of the naval yard. “We may assume that Chessyre did not act on the spur of the moment His plans were set before ever the
Stella
hauled anchor off Spithead. I should dearly like to know the nature of Tom Seagrave's sealed orders. Is it customary to sail in complete ignorance of one's duty, as he did?”

“I should not call it customary—but neither is it so unusual. Sealed orders are adopted when the duty at hand must be undertaken in extreme secrecy. They are intended to keep the ship's destination from being common knowledge among the crew, which might talk too freely among their mates onshore.”

“You have no idea why the
Stella
was sent to Lisbon?”

“Tom has never said. I should never think to ask. These were
sealed orders,
Jane.”

“I admire your delicacy,” I said wryly, “but must consider it ill-placed in such a turn. You must begin to ask questions you personally abhor, Frank, if you are to save your friend. Who should despatch him on such a duty?”

“Admiral Hastings. But the directive might come from the Admiralty, in London—from persons unknown to Seagrave himself.”

“I see,” I said thoughtfully. “Careful planning, and the simple employment of an established system for despatching ships, might answer the case of conspiracy. I wonder if the engagement with the
Manon
was intended as well?”

“Absurd!” Frank cried. “Now you
liave gone
too far!”

I wheeled upon my brother with ill-concealed impatience. “Etienne LaForge is afraid for his life, Frank. After what occurred in Southampton last night—can you blame him?”

¹
A court-martial was automatically held for the commanding officer of any ship lost at sea or taken by the enemy, to determine whether dereliction of duty was the cause.—
Editor's note.

Chapter 12
A Sparring Among Friends