Page 24 of A Fortune Most Fatal (Miss Austen Investigates #2)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
By the next day, Jane is so thoroughly dejected at her failure to persuade either Agnes or Mrs. Knight to collude with her in reducing the threat from Captain Fairbairn that the aroma of bacon pervading Rowling Manor turns her stomach. She glares at Neddy across the breakfast table, blissfully untroubled as he loads his plate with rashers. As soon as Elizabeth and the children retire, she will tackle him. She has nothing more than the overheard confession and his encounter with Fairbairn to reproach him with but, she fears, by deferring the confrontation, she is placing Agnes and Mrs. Knight in danger. A deadly criminal is stalking Godmersham Park and Jane is powerless to prevent him from striking.
Without evidence to support her claims, Neddy may repel her accusation of his involvement with Agnes’s past and refuse to comply with her wish that he arrest Fairbairn. Indeed, if it comes down to her word against his, she knows all their acquaintances are likely to believe her brother over herself. But, Jane prays, once Neddy realises he has made a pact with the devil he will act swiftly to restore himself to virtue. He cannot know the extent of the captain’s villainy. As pitiful as it sounds, Jane will not extinguish the tiny flicker of hope that some goodness remains in him. Whatever else he may have become, he is and will always be her brother.
“Were those more papers from your mother’s lawyer?” Elizabeth asks, as she butters a roll for Ted. “I saw Roger hand you a bundle when Jane arrived home yesterday.”
“They were, yes.” Neddy yawns, leaning down to pet Conker. The dog sits with his ears raised and one foot turned out like a dancer—confident that some scrap of breakfast will be thrown his way, if he can only maintain his good-boy posture for long enough.
“What portion of your fortune is she giving away this time?”
“We’ve talked about this. Mother isn’t giving away anything that isn’t hers to dispose of.”
“She is giving away something, then?” Elizabeth bristles.
“Honestly, it’s nothing to concern us.” Neddy shifts his weight in his seat. Really, he is too big for Elizabeth’s fashionable furniture. “She wanted my advice on a small legal matter. That’s all.”
“Which legal matter, exactly?” Elizabeth continues to hold her knife poised. Sunlight glints from the rounded blade as Ted stands on his chair, leaning across the table to claim his half-buttered roll.
“It’s …” Neddy’s smile recedes into a strained grimace. “Well, it’s a rather delicate situation involving her house guest.”
“I knew it! She’s signing Godmersham Park over to that harlot, isn’t she? That conniving little—”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Chawton, then? Or Steventon?” Elizabeth runs through the various properties that make up Mrs. Knight’s estate. Given the extent of her wealth, it could take some time—but even Jane holds her breath to hear what exactly the “something” that Mrs. Knight intends to do for Eleanor amounts to.
“Nothing of the sort. Mother might be tenderhearted but she’s nobody’s fool.”
“Then what is it?” Elizabeth slams the heel of the knife onto the table, rattling the bone-china crockery.
“Yes, Neddy. What is it?” Jane catches Ted as he is about to climb over the table and swipe Georgy’s breakfast in his impatience. Of all the people Mrs. Knight could turn to for advice on dispensing with her assets, why has she chosen Neddy? Unless it is to punish him by making him bear witness to the consequences of his reprehensible behaviour. She may not know for certain about his involvement with Agnes, but something must have occurred for her to contemplate defying her late husband’s instruction that she make Neddy heir to their entire fortune.
“I cannot say.”
“Why not?” asks Elizabeth.
Fanny hammers the shell of a boiled egg with her teaspoon, providing a military beat to the domestic dispute.
“It’s a private matter. Mother asked me to handle it with the utmost discretion.”
“Private,” Elizabeth narrows her eyes, “from your wife?”
“A man can never be expected to withhold anything from his wife.” Or his sister, Jane refrains from adding. She will find out how much Neddy’s transgressions have cost, even if she has to break into his study and retrieve the papers herself. “The ambiguity is upsetting Beth, and you know Dr. Wilmot said we mustn’t allow that.”
“It’s, well …” Neddy’s Adam’s apple bobs against his cravat as his glance shifts between Elizabeth and Jane. His discretion is no match for their combined scrutiny. “She received a message from a man claiming that Agnes is his ward. The girl’s father is dead, but her mother appointed a friend of the family as her daughter’s guardian shortly after she was widowed.”
Jane is aghast. This cannot be true. If there was anyone Agnes could trust, she would have told Mrs. Knight or Jane when they were alone in the carriage. This mysterious claimant must be the reason Mrs. Knight questioned who Agnes must be kept safe from. Jane watches Neddy carefully for signs of complicity. Is this desperate attempt to remove Agnes his idea? Who better than Neddy to understand how to manipulate the law to his own advantage?
“His ward? And he’s willing to take her in? Then she must go to him.” Elizabeth’s dark eyes are as bright as those of a hunting hound waiting for the sound of the horn. Jane can almost see her tail wagging.
“He’s more than willing. In fact, he’s demanding she be turned over to him immediately. But Mother doesn’t want to release her unless she knows for certain he has the girl’s best interests at heart.”
Jane’s limbs are seized with panic. Agnes is female and in her minority; she would be subject to the rule of any man who could persuade the authorities she belonged to him. “We mustn’t let her go.”
“Of course we must,” says Elizabeth, batting away Ted’s greasy hands as he grows tired of waiting and makes a grab for the butter dish. “She’s his responsibility, not Mrs. Knight’s.”
“Who is he, this man? Did Mrs. Knight give you his details?” Fairbairn cannot have claimed legal responsibility for Agnes in his own name after harassing Mrs. Knight, but Jane already knows he goes by at least one alias. Mr. Spooner, then? If only Mrs. Knight had trusted Jane enough to confide in her, she could have warned her they were one and the same.
“Why should that matter?” Elizabeth spreads the butter over Ted’s roll with such ferocity that she tears a hole in it. “Whoever he is, the girl’s place is beside him.”
“Could you two please slow down? You’re giving me a headache.” Neddy presses the heel of his hand into his forehead. “Mother didn’t give a name. She didn’t want to burden me with the details. Rather, she simply asked me to share my opinion on whether she’s obliged to relinquish the girl to him. In the eyes of the law, that is.”
“But why consult you?” Jane asks.
“I am the magistrate, Jane.”
“Yes. He is the magistrate, Jane,” Elizabeth parrots. “I expect you told her to hand her over immediately.”
“I know he’s the magistrate.” Beneath the table, Jane balls her hands into fists. She is all too aware that Neddy, a man who is meant to be upholding the law, is blatantly flouting it. “But still, why ask you and not her lawyer?”
Neddy lifts his palms. “Ladies, please. One at a time with the questions. Mother did consult Mr. Furley. But she didn’t like his answer so she approached me for a second opinion.”
“Which is?” Jane grips the seat of her chair as she waits for Neddy to pronounce judgement on Agnes.
“It’s perfectly reasonable for a man to lay claim to his ward. As Agnes is a minor, her guardian has every right to demand she is restored to him.”
“No!” Jane cannot prevent herself from shrieking.
“Take command of yourself, Jane.” Elizabeth turns to her husband. “That’s wonderful news, darling. Agnes will be restored to her guardian, and all will be right with the world.”
Neddy shifts, causing the mahogany chair to creak. “Erm … not exactly.”
“But you just said—”
“I know what I said. But I also told Mother that if she has real concerns over what would become of Agnes if she handed her over, then the best thing to do would be to keep her at the park.”
“You did what?” Elizabeth screams, so loudly that Georgy bursts into tears and Conker darts from the room.
“I know we’d prefer to see her gone, but I couldn’t lie to Mother. The fact is, as long as Agnes remains at Godmersham, her guardian can’t reach her without trespassing. He’d have to lodge a formal request to have her returned to him, and I doubt he’s the kind of man with the resources or the wherewithal to do that.”
Jane is too stunned to speak. Her faith in Neddy was not without foundation. He does have some shred of decency left, after all. She reaches out to comfort Georgy, rubbing her hand up and down his chubby arm.
“Are you out of your wits?” Elizabeth fists the tablecloth, knuckles turning white. “That girl is a threat to the financial stability of your family. Would you see that artful strumpet raised above your own children? Not to mention your wife!”
“Please, my love, don’t upset—” Neddy falls silent mid-sentence.
Roger has entered with the post. The footman’s flushed cheeks reveal he has overheard the family arguing. He lays two letters in front of his master, departing as abruptly as Conker. The frosty silence remains after he leaves. Neddy shoots Jane a sharp look, as he tosses one of the letters across the table. She grabs it, desperately hoping for a message from her mother, Cassandra or even Biddy. Instead, she’s taken aback by her cousin Eliza’s elaborate penmanship.
“Oh, look.” Neddy cracks open the seal on the remaining missive. “Here’s something that will restore our good humour. Henry is on his way. His leave must have been granted early.”
“Henry?” Jane is incredulous. “But he’s not meant to be arriving until mid-August so that he can escort me back to Hampshire after the baby is born.”
“Well, judging by the postmark, he’s most certainly on his way. It’s likely he’ll be with us before the end of the week. And, look, here’s the best bit, he’s bringing his new bride.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flicker towards the letter. “He’s married already?”
Jane’s stomach plummets. “Oh, good Lord, he can’t possibly do that.”
“Of course he can,” says Elizabeth. “Henry is always welcome at Rowling. He’s a godsend with the children. Even William is cheered by his visits. Will he remain long enough to join the hunt, do you think?”
Jane stares at the letter in her hand, rereading it in hopes she has misunderstood. “No, he mustn’t, because our cousin Eliza is making her way here too. She’s headed to Margate to stay with friends, and asks if you’d mind accommodating her and Hastings for a night?”
“Splendid.” Neddy grins. “The more Austens, the merrier. It’ll be a family reunion.”
Jane cannot allow this to happen. “You don’t understand. We can’t subject the former Miss Pearson to Eliza’s company. It was only the Christmas before last that Henry wanted to marry Eliza instead. He went so far as to propose while she was residing with us at Steventon.” At this, Elizabeth lets out a spluttering laugh. Jane is so taken aback by her sudden change in demeanour, she fears she’s having a fit. “What is it? What have I said that’s so amusing?”
Neddy leans in close to his wife, nudging her elbow with his own. “Do you hear that, darling? Henry proposed to Eliza, the Christmas before last.”
Elizabeth pretends to wipe crumbs from her lips with a napkin to hide her merriment. “What a terrible coquette your cousin is. I blame your aunt for bringing her out in Paris. It may have been cheap, but she’ll never shed her Continental affectations. Only the most unscrupulous flirt could string the two of them along at once.”
“String which two along?” asks Jane. But Neddy’s eyes are so full of mischief, she fears she already knows the answer.
“Our brother James also asked for Eliza’s hand the Christmas before last.”
Jane falls limp with second-hand embarrassment. She had been so busy watching Henry and Eliza, she must have taken her eye off James. “He never did.”
Elizabeth bites her lip. “He wrote to Edward, asking for the funds to make Deane Rectory habitable for a family. Then, later, he told us he’d made his offer as he escorted her partway to Brighton, but the foolish chit refused him. Still, I hear Mary’s enjoying the refurbishments.”
Jane lets her face drop into her hands. No wonder the latest Mrs. James Austen grows inflamed at the mere mention of the Austens’ gregarious cousin. Mary has invited all her new family to visit her and James in their newly refurbished home. Everyone to whom Jane has even the slightest claim of kinship, except Eliza. Mary must know she was James’s second, or rather third, choice. “This will be a disaster.”
“I wonder who will try courting the Comtesse next?” Neddy nuzzles Elizabeth’s cheek, causing her to titter like a schoolgirl. “Charles or Frank? She’ll have all the Austen boys trying for her.”
“This is not a jest.” Jane rises from her chair with as much gravity as she can muster. “You simply cannot let their visits coincide.”
But now that Neddy has found a way to divert his wife, he will not be stopped. “Not me, darling. You know I’ve only ever had eyes for one woman.”
Jane tucks Eliza’s note into her pocket before she stalks out of the room, forcing down the urge to upend the entire table on Neddy’s head. If Tom Lefroy ever did stir himself to write to Jane again, one of the many questions she would ask him is where the law stands on fratricide in cases of the utmost provocation. Jane is afraid she will soon be facing a double count. Allowing the newly married Captain Austen and his bride to reside at Rowling beside Eliza and her son is sheer lunacy. Yet Jane’s temper is cooled when she recalls that, if her cousin and her brother are en route to East Kent, she will soon be blessed with the company of two friends she can rely on for assistance. By advising his mother on how best to protect Agnes from the man claiming to be her guardian, Neddy has proved himself capable of acting with honour towards her. If Mrs. Knight’s defences can hold for just a few more days, until Eliza or Henry arrives, Jane can elicit their help in prevailing on Neddy to arrest Fairbairn and deliver Agnes to safety. 6. Letter to Cassandra Austen
Rowling Farm, Wednesday, 28 June 1797 My dearest Cassandra, If you will not murder yourself, and all who love you, you must resist being consumed by your grief. I remain in desperate need of your counsel. A calamity is hurtling towards me at the breakneck speed of two post-chaises. None of our Christian brothers are to be trusted. I don’t mean to alarm you, but I’m beginning to suspect there is not a man on this earth whose principles can withstand the onslaught of his baser urges. Yours affectionately,
J.A. P.S. We must desist from teasing Mary about her petty rivalry with Eliza. If you don’t write to me, I shall never, ever tell you why. And, believe me, you will want to know. It’s a story of such thwarted romance and tortured desire that even I couldn’t have made it up. Miss Austen Rev. Mr. Austen’s Deane Hants