Jane Austen Mysteries 10 Jane and the Madness of Lord Byron (20 page)

"I cannot accept what you are telling me, Henry," I said, as my gaze drifted over the happy scene. "Miss Twining was in the company of her father last evening. She was escorted by that repugnant clergyman. How, then, did she go missing long enough to meet her end--and the General never sound the alarm?"

"All excellent questions, to which I may return no answers."

I clasped my hands in frustration. "How I
wish
it might have been possible for us to attend that ball!"

Henry placed his hands over mine. "Do not berate yourself, my dear. You
cannot
regard yourself as responsible for Miss Twining's death. I will not allow it. You could have had no notion--"

"You do not perfectly understand," I managed. "The last words Catherine Twining uttered to me were a plea that I remain. She
feared
him, Henry--so much I knew; but I thought her a goosecap for doing so, in the midst of an Assembly. I actually
laughed
at her a little. When in fact she went in fear for her life. Oh, God, I am to blame! I am to blame for the loss of that innocent creature!"

The picture of Catherine as she had been--flower-like in her white muslin gown, the thin bones of her shoulders as subtly molded as porcelain--and the image of what she must
now
be, were too melancholy to contemplate. My eyes filled with tears.

Henry grasped my arm and turned me firmly back along the way we had come. "Jane," he said bracingly, "we require a revival of your formidable spirit--one I have not seen in nearly two years. You must take up the role of Divine Fury. You must penetrate this killer's motives, and expose him to the world!"

"It should be a form of penance, I suppose."

"Penance! It should be nothing less than justice for Miss Twining's sake!"

"There are so many persons, Henry, far more adept than I--the magistrate, the coroner ..."

"Neither of whom knew Miss Twining in the least."

I glanced at him in grudging acknowledgement.

"But what if the man you ruin is indeed
Lord Byron
?" my brother suggested. "Would you hesitate, when guilt falls upon a poet--one the Polite World acclaims as a genius?"

I did not bother to reply, but strode only more swiftly towards the Steyne.

"I tremble for the poet." Henry sighed.

A
S WE DINED QUIETLY IN ONE OF THE
C
ASTLE'S PARLOURS
that evening, a serving-man appeared with a note for me, presented on a silver tray. Desdemona, Lady Swithin, had scrawled it so swiftly as to blot her words, on an elegant scrap of hot-pressed paper. Struck afresh by the Swithin crest, a tiger rampant, I broke the seal--and begged permission of Henry to peruse the communication.

21 Marine Parade
11th May 1813

My dear Miss Austen
,

If you do not take pity upon Charles and me, and come round directly after dinner to discuss this miserable affair of Byron's, there will be no living with either of us. We may promise you tea and an excellent Rhenish cream in return; Swithin is most anxious for Mr. Austen to sample his Port. Two dozen of his finest bottles sent down from London, wrapped in cotton wool and supported by goose feather pillows, so as not to disturb the sediment! But I digress. I would not have you believe we are mere gluttons for gossip--that not an hour may pass, but we must surfeit on the latest whiff of local scandal--but my interest has been sought in the present tragedy, by one I hold in friendship. I shall say no more. We shall expect you at eight o'clock--but if you are otherwise engaged, pray send your reply by the footman; he awaits your pleasure
.

I remain, etc.
,
Desdemona, Countess of Swithin

"We are invited to take tea on the Marine Parade," I informed my brother.

"Nonsense," he replied, reading over Mona's note without so much as a by-your-leave. "We are invited to canvass a murder. There is no end to the dissipations of Brighton! I never thought to enjoy myself so much!"

I drank down my glass of claret, knowing I required the fortification; there could be only one
friend
of Desdemona's interested in the death of Catherine Twining--Lord Byron's lover, Jane Elizabeth, Countess of Oxford.

16
Part of Brighton's attraction was the belief that sea-bathing was a healthful practice; and for those who could not swim, wooden bathhouses on wheels--drawn to the water by horses--were employed, particularly by women, who were deemed too modest to be seen in wet clothing. The dippers were persons of the serving class who helped bathers descend a ladder into the safe enclosure of the bathhouse once it was immersed in the sea. Having bathed, the lady would once more ascend the ladder with her muslin shift clinging to her body. It was said to be a common practice for idle gentlemen to train telescopes upon the bathing houses, in the hope of seeing various women of their acquaintance in the Regency equivalent of a wet T-shirt contest.--
Editor's note
.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Passions of Lord Byron

T
UESDAY
, 11 M
AY
1813
B
RIGHTON, CONT
.

I
F
I
EXPECTED TO FIND
L
ADY
O
XFORD ALREADY ESTABLISHED
in the Marine Parade, I was disappointed; but upon reflection, too little time had intervened between the discovery of the murder, and the arrival of such news in London; even were she in constant communication with Lord Byron, it must be impossible for the mistress of so considerable an establishment to fly south on a whim, as Caro Lamb had done. The Swithins were not quite alone, however: a dozen guests were arranged in the pretty drawing-room of No. 21, Marine Parade, a fact which caused me to hesitate on the threshold. I was suitably dressed for dinner
a deux
in the Castle's private parlour, but not for an intimate soiree of the
haut ton
. It was impossible to draw back, however, or to wish that Betsy had had the dressing of my hair--and so, with Henry's arm guiding me gently forward, I braved the tiger's den.

"Miss Austen." It was the Earl who greeted me, elegant as ever in evening dress. His smile was so warm that I wondered how I had ever thought him haughty, upon first acquaintance, in the Bath of our youth; perhaps nearly ten years of marriage had softened the ruthless opium trader he had once been. "It is very good of you to join us. Desdemona, I know, is most anxious to speak with you. Mr. Austen! As you see, the gentlemen--some of whom I believe are known to you--have by now rejoined the ladies; but pray allow me to fetch you a glass of Port!"

With merely a look, the Earl summoned a footman; Henry bowed to a tall, lean fellow with very little hair, and murmured, "Pleasure, Sir John--had thought you tied to Hertfordshire at this time of year--" and I was claimed by Lady Swithin.

"Miss Austen," she said as she curtseyed. "I am in your debt, dear creature. And I said nothing of this crush in my note to you! I feared you would not come, did you know we were encumbered with acquaintance this evening. Now, in penance for my sins, I shall make you known to only a few of these ladies--Miss Kemp, who is quite musical, and shall presently repair to the instrument, thereby allowing us to converse under cover of its noise; Mrs. Alleyn, who is so animated that no one may avoid her notice; and Mrs. Silchester, who acted as duenna to your unfortunate friend, Miss Twining."

Mrs. Silchester! Here was a treasure, indeed!

I fixed a smile to my countenance; moved sedately under Desdemona's guidance through the gauntlet of eyes, and found that Miss Kemp was of that uncertain age, when one does not know whether to hope for salvation in the form of an eligible
parti;
or accept the inevitable degradations of spinsterhood with private relief. She was, in short, approaching the age of danger, and should soon be at her last prayers. Her interest, therefore, was fixed upon such single gentlemen as the room afforded--a cousin of Swithin's called Mr. Stanhope, and a dark-haired rake in his late thirties who went by the name of Hodge. If he possessed any other, I never learnt it. He was absorbed in casting dice, his right hand against his left--which, tho' hardly the most genteel occupation for a drawing-room, appeared to be regarded as the merest commonplace by his intimates.

"So pleased," Miss Kemp fluttered; "I hope you shall find Brighton to your liking." Her gaze drifted continually over my shoulder, to follow the course of one gentleman or another through the crowd of her rivals.

"Augusta," Desdemona said, "we are expiring for want of music. Would you be so good as to play an air or two upon the harp?"

"But if Miss Austen should care to exhibit--?" she demurred.

"I know nothing of the harp," I assured her. Of the pianoforte prominently positioned at one end of the room, I chose to say nothing. Miss Kemp fluttered over to her instrument, which was conveniently placed next to Hodge and his dice--fluttered a bit in composing herself to play--and allowed her fingers to flutter over the strings. At the first note, Hodge frowned--collected his dice in one sweeping movement--and repaired to the pianoforte, where he lounged in heated debate of tomorrow's horse race with Mr. Stanhope.

Poor Miss Kemp.

Mrs. Alleyn, next in the gauntlet, was a vivacious widow who formed a principal part of Brighton's charms, I was made to understand; her children being not yet out of the schoolroom, her fortune secured, and her taste for Society as rich as in her first girlhood, she was at liberty to accept as many invitations as the Season afforded--and in her case, these were many. She was the decided object of Sir John Stevenson's gallantry--which, as Henry observed later, had much to do with her fortune of thirty thousand pounds, and explained why that gentleman was
not
tied to his estates in Hertfordshire at present.