Jane and the Unpleasantness at Scargrave - Stephanie Barron [116]
“I care little for all that,” I replied, with some truth. “My mind is sadly tormented with a dangerous possibility. By the time he had arrived at Scargrave, Tom Hearst was surely driven to believe his entire life hung in the balance—his commission, his possible marriage to Fanny, and his honour. That beloved possession of every officer. Would he have poisoned his uncle to preserve it? And implicate the Earl's heirs, the better to ensure that his brother George succeeded to a fortune? With Fitzroy gone—and remember. Lieutenant Hearst bore his cousin a grudge, according to the Colonel—he might eventually improve his fortunes, and win Madame Delahoussaye's consent for Fanny and her thirty thousand pounds. With George Hearst the new Earl, Tom should not want for greater means to satisfy his debts. And his corps should hesitate to drum out the brother of a peer, in a manner they should not scruple to cashier the poor relative of a clergyman.”
I paused, my eyes upon the rain that had commenced to fall beyond the carriage windows; a lady arrayed in plum sarcenet, with a feathered bonnet to match, raced at a hectic pace along the pavement, her sunshade raised in but poor defence of the weather. I feared the splashing of our carriage wheels should make a fearful business of her handsome boots. “It is in every way horrible, Eliza, and only too plausible.”
“But how should Hearst have effected it?”
“Through his batman, Jack Lewis,” I replied, turning my gaze to the scenery within the carriage. “He had made the acquaintance of the maid the previous summer, and given her a locket; in visiting Scargrave this winter it was only too likely that the acquaintance should be renewed. The Lieutenant might have persuaded his man to give the girl the nuts, with the express purpose of placing them in the Earl's tray. He may even have played upon Marguerite—offering her something she valued, in return for betraying her mistress. Certainly she wrote those letters accusing Isobel and Fitzroy Payne with some other aim than blackmail; Sir William could not comprehend why she never asked for money. But her reward was not to come from the Countess, and it was not in the form of silver. Marriage to the batman, perhaps, and safe passage to the Barbadoes?”
“But he killed her instead.”
“She knew too much, Eliza. And so he slit her throat while she waited, as she thought, for her lover—Jack Lewis. But it was the Lieutenant who arrived at the hayrick that morning, the Lieutenant who did the deed; and it was Jack who retrieved the maid's things. Tom Hearst knew he could trust to Lewis's silence; you saw how terrified the man was of being tied to the maid's death.”
“It is surprising he is even yet alive,” Eliza said thoughtfully.
“Lieutenant Hearst told me once that he owed the man his life; and even he—with his precious sense of honour—may feel an obligation in such a case. It is in every way convincing, do not you agree?”
“Jane, what shall you do?”
“I shall send for Mr. Cranley at once. Perhaps he shall be able to force an admission from the fellow; for in truth, Eliza, we have not a shred of proof.”
We were arrived in Portman Square, and Eliza's coachman had pulled up before the doors of Scargrave House. “Will you come in, Eliza, and take some refreshment?” I asked her.
“I confess that I should hate to miss the denouement,” she replied excitedly, “if you can bear my company another hour, Jane.”
“It shall be my only prop. I move henceforth in enemy territory, my dear.”
She bade her carriage wait, and we ascended to the door; only to be greeted upon our entrance to the hall with a loud wailing and