The amount shocked Jacob. ‘Well, that explains at least one of the houses, doesn’t it?’ he said dryly.
‘Small change for a Sandys, I’ve no doubt,’ said Knighton with a wink, ‘but yes, his fine words must have buttered a few parsnips.’
Chapter Nine
Covent Garden
Miss Austen pulled on her white cotton gloves as they left Covent Garden, a prim gesture that was out of place in the district known for its theatres, whores and cabbages. The lady was behaving as if they’d just emerged from a church service, which got on Dora’s nerves.
‘That was very informative,’ Miss Austen said, looking back at the pillars of the theatre’s classical façade, a smile hovering on her lips.
Dora wasn’t feeling so sanguine. She hadn’t gained many answers from the opera singers, only more questions. ‘You think so?’ She headed towards Long Acre.
‘To see what life is behind stage, how they speak and behave– yes, I’d say it was very informative.’
‘I think you are taking your story about being a novelist rather to heart.’ Dora hailed a cab. The banker was footing the bill and she doubted he would like his sister to walk all the way to their next destination.
‘Where to, love?’ asked the jarvey, pulling his carriage up beside them.
‘Barnes, please.’
His eyes widened. ‘You got enough for that fare? It’s a long way.’
‘I do, sir.’
‘Fair enough.’ He glanced at Miss Austen. ‘Want me to get down and help you in?’ Cabbies rarely descended from their seat behind their horses, but he must have realised he had a real lady as a customer.
‘We will manage,’ said Dora, helping Miss Austen into the carriage compartment.
‘All right, ladies,’ the jarvey declared, flicking his whip to tickle his horse into motion. ‘We’re off to the country.’
‘May I enquire as to where we are going next?’ asked Miss Austen, trying not to sound put out that Dora had not consulted her on their next move.
‘To the scene of the crime.’
‘Ah, Barnes Terrace. Of course.’ Her hazel eyes watched the world passing by, seemingly missing no detail.
‘You visited them there?’
‘No, we called on them in Queen Anne Street. I remember that they had an excellent collection of paintings, but thecomtewould insist on speaking French so our communication was somewhat limited, Eliza having to translate. The son is very musical. I wonder what will become of him now?’
‘It’s good he has a talent to fall back on.’ Dora let a few minutes of quiet thought pass as she debated whether or not to raise what was concerning her. It niggled away like an itch that had to be scratched. ‘I wasn’t comfortable when we were in the Green Room.’
‘Oh?’ Miss Austen turned to face her. ‘In what way? You looked perfectly at home to me.’
‘I wasn’t comfortable with the way you took credit for another woman’s success.’
Something closed down in Miss Austen’s expression, her friendliness going inside like a maid whipping in the washing as a rain cloud threatens. ‘I don’t think it matters. We have a greater cause we are pursuing.’
‘I wonder if it is the same one.’
‘What do you mean?’ Miss Austen could summon a haughty tone when she felt affronted, Dora noted.
‘Dr Sandys and I are after the truth. Your brother said he relied on you to spread fictions.’
Miss Austen rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, Henry!’
‘We won’t be involved in misrepresenting the facts about two people who are unable to defend themselves, and neither should you, pretending, as you do to care about what becomes of the son. Think of him if you decide to spread falsehoods.’
