Jane Austen Mysteries 08 Jane and His Lordship's Legacy (29 page)

"I did not intend to stay in Alton above a few days. But mat-ters are so miserably left at present--I cannot feel it wise to bolt to Kent, Jane, however much I should wish to do so. Thrace is still at large; Hinton sits in the Alton gaol, accused of murder-ing the man he cuckolded; and your papers have not been found. Have you written to Major Spence?"

"I am still composing the letter." I studied my brother from my seat at the Pembroke table. "I understand your discomfort, Neddie--but the unpleasantness of the past week is not only yours to resolve."

"No--because I have not chosen to make it so! But if I would call myself Squire, Jane--if I would assert my authority over Chawton's rents and freeholds--have not I an obligation to manage my tenants' affairs?"

"You cannot live their lives for them. You cannot serve as conscience to an entire village."

He sighed in exasperation. "Do you not see--that in my be-reavement--my loss of my excellent wife--I have read a
warn-
ing,
Jane?"

"What kind of warning?"

"I have been shown, in the most dreadful manner possible, that life and its comforts are not a surety! One may be taken off at any moment. To live therefore in the frivolity of self-indulgence is to waste what must be precious. I want to be
doing
something,
Jane, to win the respect of the people in my charge. I want to be the kind of landlord and master that is remembered when I am gone, for the soundness and worth of my actions."

I smiled at him faintly and set down my pen. "I am sure you will be, Edward. --In particular by those of us whose lives you have directly altered, through the generosity of your heart. But 232 ~ Stephanie Barron

if you wish to impress your Chawton neighbours with your goodness, there is one gesture of benevolence you might im-mediately make. You might visit Mr. John-Knight Hinton at the Alton gaol."

My brother's colour changed. "That pup?"

"He is fully five-and-thirty years old. And he is at present em-broiled in considerable difficulty. The appearance of magna-nimity such a visit must offer the surrounding country should do you much good in publick opinion."

"I should not like to meddle in Prowting's province."

"You are Squire; Mr. Prowting is not. And it might behoove us to hear Hinton's version of the story. I have wondered, of late, if Catherine Prowting is entirely to be trusted."

"Good Lord, Jane--how can you talk so?" my brother re-turned impatiently. "Recollect the fact of the footprint--the boot mark in the cellar. Prowting told me of it himself!"

"True--but what if it was left there some time ago? I believe Catherine Prowting carries a
tendre
for Julian Thrace, and might do much to shield him. What if she did
not
in fact recog-nise the man near the pond that night to be Mr. Hinton--but his rival for her affections?"

Neddie whistled beneath his breath. "We ought to tax her for the truth."

"She is likely to plead the head-ache, and retire to her bed-chamber in an attitude of misery. We shall get no more from Catherine, Neddie; we must try the man she has accused." I sealed my sheet of paper with wax and wrote
Major Charles
Spence, Stonings, Sherborne St. John
on the reverse. "Should you like to walk with me into Alton? I might post my letter--and we might take in the gaol on your way to the George. The consta-ble is likely to prove no more particular about the disruption of his Sunday than we."

Jane and His Lordship's Legacy ~ 233

My brother stared at me with narrowed eyes. "Do you know, Jane--I believe you possess more wit beneath that linen cap than any of the rest of us?"

"
Avarice,
Neddie," I reminded him. "Do not be wishing for what is beyond your God-given merits; for that way lies ruin, as Mr. Papillon has assured us."

There were four cells no bigger than a clutch of loose horse-boxes in the Alton gaol--for indeed the building had once been a stable, and the constable yard an accommoda-tion for grooms, until the passion for local justice caused an al-teration. I had visited gaols before--alone, when the occasion required it, and with Edward at Canterbury, in his capacity as magistrate; they held no terrors for me.

"Mr. Austen to see ye, sir," his gaoler called as he opened the oak door of the box with a heavy iron key. "No tricks, now, as we're prepared for anything you might offer."

John-Knight Hinton was lying in the straw of his prison, in clear disregard for the state of his clothes; the Hoby boots were dulled with dust, and he had not shaved since his arrival two days before. The physical dereliction of the gentleman was a sign of his oppression of spirits; and I confess my heart sank as I observed him.

He was master enough of himself to rise to his feet and reach for the coat he had discarded on the wooden bench that served as both seat and bed; he donned this article before deigning to notice us, as tho' we were servants that must await his pleasure. Then, having adjusted his cravat and shirtsleeves with careful dignity, he met my brother's impervious gaze, and bowed.

"Mr. Austen. To what do I owe this signal attention?"

234 ~ Stephanie Barron

"To a sincere desire to be of what help I may in your present trouble."

Hinton's lip curled. "I should be grateful, I suppose; but I fear I must decline your offer. I cannot believe any help of yours should
improve
my circumstances."

"I am uninterested in gratitude," my brother replied quickly. "Understand, Hinton, I neither expect nor wish for it."

"Are you come, then, to triumph over me?"

Neddie deliberately removed his hat and gloves. "I am come to learn the truth."

"Your sister"--Hinton inclined his head with sneering civil-ity in my direction--"professes to know it already."

"My sister is well aware there may be various constructions placed upon a person's behaviour. It is to her insistence you owe our visit today."

"Really?" He stared at us with mock incredulity. "Miss Austen no longer has confidence in the power of a footprint?"

Pup,
Edward had called him; and he was certainly a grace-less one. I struggled to maintain at least the appearance of civility.

"Mr. Hinton, do you apprehend the gravity of your circum-stances?" I enquired.

"--That I might hang for a murder I did not commit? Yes, Miss Austen, I think I understand that much."

"And have you heard that another person has lately died by violence--and the man believed responsible has fled the country?"

Jack Hinton's expression changed. The sneer--which I now recognised to have been born of a desperate defiance--drained from his face, to be replaced by a look of surprise and dawning hope. "I hear nothing in this beastly place. Not even my sister has come near me. What has occurred?"

Jane and His Lordship's Legacy ~ 235

"Lady Imogen Vansittart was killed while riding horseback yesterday morning. The horse was tampered with. Her acquain-tance, Mr. Thrace, rode off in panic when the worst was discov-ered--and has not yet been found."

"Thrace!" he muttered in a goaded tone. "It
would
be he, of course. Life was quite different in this village before that gen-tleman came into Hampshire, Miss Austen."

"I can well believe that your own prospects changed as a re-sult of his appearance."

Hinton glanced at me searchingly. "You know that Catherine Prowting betrayed me to her father?"

"Yes."

"There was a time when she did not treat me with such cold-ness."

"Are you suggesting," my brother broke in, "that Miss Prowting lied about what she saw last Saturday night?"

"No." Hinton shook his head deliberately. "I will only say that she was too ready to believe me Shafto French's enemy, in part because of the talk circulated by
that person.
Thrace is rather freer in his conversation to young ladies than I should be."

"He told Catherine that you had pursued French's wife?"

Hinton laughed. "As indeed I had. Years ago--before she was married. It was a common enough flirtation in a country town: the idle gentleman just down from Oxford, with little to do of a summer's morn, and the pretty young maid all too often underfoot. Jemima cannot have been more than sixteen at the time, and I was but six-and-twenty. We had practically been reared together, recollect."

"And you were in a position of power over her," I added smoothly. "Being dependant upon your household for her wages, Jemima could hardly refuse to accept your attentions.

Until your sister dismissed her for impropriety."

236 ~ Stephanie Barron

A hot flush rose in his cheeks. "I did not ruin the girl then or later. Nor did I get her with child under French's very nose.

But Thrace would say anything to cut out a rival--and so he styled himself in Miss Prowting's eyes. The silly little fool be-lieves herself in love with him--a man who will never honour her affections as he ought! Thrace is to be an earl one day--he told me so himself. He will never ally himself with the daughter of a provincial nobody, however many times he consents to take dinner at Prowting's table."

"I am sure you are right. But Mr. Thrace's actions suggest an intimacy with Shafto French's history. Was he at all acquainted with the man?"

"He had met him in the course of the repairs undertaken at the Earl of Holbrook's estate--Stonings, at Sherborne St. John.

He affected to enjoy French's rough humour and easy ways. I do not think Thrace has lived all his life in the most select soci-ety, whatever his present affectations may suggest. I think he was rather more intimate with his labourers than you or I should be. Certainly he undertook to drink with Shafto French of an evening, at the Alton publick houses. I more than once observed him there."

Blood money,
Jemima French had said; and
it was the heir as
would pay. . . .
Shafto French had spoken more freely than he ought of his wife's adventures in the Hinton household; had Julian Thrace disclosed his private affairs under the influence of drink, and ruthlessly silenced his confidant when the man turned blackmailer?

"Will you not tell us what really occurred on Saturday the first of July, Mr. Hinton?" Edward asked quietly. "For however disappointed in Miss Prowting's affections, you cannot wish to throw your life away on her rival's account. I am sure you cannot."

Jane and His Lordship's Legacy ~ 237

Hinton glanced at my brother, weighing the odds of silence and disclosure. Speech won out.

"I cannot tell you how French died. I can say only what hap-pened after."

"Very well."

He began to pace restlessly about the cell, his boots kicking up a cloud of dust and straw, his hands shoved into his breeches'

pockets. "I had gone out to the prize-fight at Box Hill--"

"Are they still held there?" Neddie interrupted. "I once re-call taking in a mill on my return from Winchester, having left the boys at school. Belcher won his match. Who did you see?"

"It was said the Game Chicken would show, but in the end he did not, and we were forced to observe a Basingstoke lad by the name of Crabbe," Hinton returned dispiritedly. "I had trav-elled a considerable distance in the hope of seeing Pearce, and was disappointed.2 I went out to join my friends on Friday, the day before--"

"Your friends?"

"The Wilsons, of Hay House, Great Bookham. Hay Wilson and I were at Oxford together."

"Of course. And you were staying at Hay House itself ? Pray continue."

"As I said, I went out on the Friday and the mill was to be held at noon Saturday. We were at the Box Hill ground near seven hours--"

"How many rounds did the boy Crabbe go?"

Hinton's expressionless eyes suddenly lit up. "Nearly nine-teen, if you'll credit it, but in the end he could not be brought up to scratch."

2 Henry Pearce, a prizefighter known as the Game Chicken, was named champion of England in 1805.
--Editor's note.

238 ~ Stephanie Barron

"Who was his opponent?"

"John Gully."

Neddie whistled in deep appreciation; I felt myself to be in-creasingly beyond my depth.

"And so, the fight done," my brother said, "you retired to Great Bookham for high revel--and only after several hours'

eating, drinking, and conversing of the fight to your mutual satisfaction sought your road home. You must have left Surrey rather late, Hinton. I wonder you did not remain the night with your friend Mr. Wilson."

"I had promised my sister I would not travel on the Sunday,"

he replied in a sulky tone. "She is most attentive to such things; it is the influence of our late father, who was once--"

"--the incumbent of the Chawton living," Edward agreed with remarkable ease. This reminder of his status--of the fact that it should be Edward who must dispose of the living when next St. Nicholas's came vacant, at Mr. Papillon's demise--restored Mr. Hinton to all his former dislike. No amount of shared enthusiasm for the sport of boxing could do away with his resentment of the Squire.

"You made your way back to Chawton," Edward suggested helpfully, "arriving just barely after midnight, and thus travel-ling on Sunday, but it is to be hoped in a manner your sister should not discover, being sound asleep in her bed."

Hinton swallowed with difficulty. "As you say. I rode into Chawton from the south, and found the Street entirely de-serted. I was very sleepy, and little disposed to notice much--but the moon was high, and my horse shied at something in the road as I approached the pond. I glanced down, and supposed it to be a man. Naturally, I dismounted."

"And saw that it was Shafto French?" I enquired.

There was a pause. Hinton did not quite meet my gaze. "It was French. He was dead."

Jane and His Lordship's Legacy ~ 239

"You are sure of that?" Edward asked.

He nodded. "His body was wet from his waist to his head, and his eyes were open and staring. There was no response when I slapped his cheeks, no pulse in his throat."

"You did not think to give a shout? To summon help?"