Jane and the Unpleasantness at Scargrave - Stephanie Barron [100]
“I fear we cannot remain much longer, Miss Austen,” Mr. Cranley said gently.
“Isobel,” I said, “we will have you out of this fearsome place, with your innocence proved and your good name restored. Never doubt that all our benevolence is active on your behalf. Let hope sustain you in this, your darkest hour; we shall see you freed, and Fitzroy Payne with you.”
“Do not speak his name, Jane. I wish never to hear it again.”
I gazed at her averted face and bitter eyes, profoundly disturbed. What fury is love that believes itself betrayed!
“I shall be very much surprised, Isobel, to discover him anything but as innocent as yourself; and in time, you may find in that as much hope as for your own cause.”
She bit her lip, and turned to me with emotion. At a nod from Mr. Cranley, I reluctantly released her; but remembered to press upon my friend the book I had fetched at the very carriage door. It was my most treasured novel—Cecilia, by Miss Fanny Burney—as certain a mental diversion as one could find, in so terrible a place. But Isobel refused it, with an eye to the women beyond her door, and the treacherous Crow.
“Do you keep it safe, dear Jane,” she told me softly. “I shall hope to enjoy its delights in a better time.”
“MR. CRANLEY,” I SAID THOUGHTFULLY, WHEN CROW HAD led us to the street, “we must endeavour to find a reason for the Countess to hope.”
“I agree, Miss Austen. But whence that hope might spring, I cannot say.”
“A renewed faith in the Earl might engender it. Did the Countess think his soul less black, she might suffer less despair.”
Mr. Cranley helped me into his carriage, and stood by the door; and I understood then he would not accompany me on my return to Scargrave House.
“You must descend once more into that hell?” I enquired, in some distress.
“I must meet with the Earl, Miss Austen; and no lady may be permitted in a cell such as his,” the barrister replied grimly. “I fear I have some business with the prison's governor as well, if I can but persuade him to hear me. The Countess and the Earl must be moved to more decent rooms, though a fortune be spent to achieve it.”
“You are goodness itself.”
“I only do what is required—what any gentleman of feeling would do.”
“Most gentlemen of feeling would hardly think a month's ablutions enough to rid them of Newgate's stains,” I replied dryly. “I remain convinced of your worth, my dear sir.”
He inclined his head, somewhat embarrassed, and I moved on with energy to my more important purpose. “Mr. Cranley,” I said, “when you speak with Fitzroy Payne, do you enquire as to his methods of correspondence.”
“His methods?”
“Indeed—what records of letters sent and received he may retain; whether he logs his postage; and particularly enquire if he makes copies of those missives he writes.”
Comprehension dawned upon the barrister's face. “You think of the scrap found in the maid's bodice.”
I nodded. “Could we but show that paper to have been taken from some part of the Earl's correspondence, his guilt in having written it might seem less heavy. For any might have sent the note to Marguerite. It cannot be proved that the Earl did so. What indicts him is his hand; the writing is surely his. We must endeavour to show that it was intended for another, and appeared upon the maid only by misadventure.”
The light in Mr. Cranley's eyes was enough to satisfy me; that we should soon know all we must about Fitzroy Payne's business, I little doubted, and rejoiced in the excellent understanding of Isobel's defender.
Later that day
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I I WAS TREATED AFTER DINNER TO AN EXTRAORDINARY IN-terview with Miss Fanny Delahoussaye, and am so far from understanding what it may mean, that I write down the essence of