‘And I a sword in my cane. I think we might brave the streets of London together.’
When they emerged onto Berkeley Square, they could hear popping and shouts from the direction of the river. It was either a riot or a very exuberant party.
‘What’s going on?’ Dora asked, intrigued. ‘The crowds seem headed that way.’
‘It’s the Illuminations for Wellington’s victories in Spain.’ Alex steered her around a drunkard lying outside a tavern, insensible. Someone had started their celebrations early. ‘He’s been made a Field Marshall. I think people are relieved to have something to applaud after years of defeats and retreats.’
‘You can’t blame them.’ The rapid patter of a firecracker split the twilight, followed by screams. ‘But it sounds as if it is getting out of hand.’
‘Fortunately, we are headed away from it. Let’s hurry.’ He hailed a cab. ‘Fuelled by drink and a fine summer evening, I don’t think it is going to die down for a few hours, do you? I’d like to be back before they really get going.’
They arrived at Henry and Eliza Austen’s house and were quickly ushered into the drawing room.
‘Thank goodness you came so quickly,’ said Henry, striding towards them. He glanced over Dora’s shoulder. ‘Where is Dr Sandys?’ He turned back. ‘And who is this?’
‘Mr Alexander Smith,’ said Dora, ‘our righthand man at the agency. I’m afraid Jacob met with an accident. Do I take it from your words that you sent for us?’
‘You must’ve crossed with the messenger. Yes! Let me ring for Jane and Eliza. They are up in Jane’s room putting it to rights.’ Henry went to the bell and sent a maid to fetch the ladies. ‘What’s this about Dr Sandys and an accident?’
Dora wanted to say ‘What’s this about Jane and putting her room to rights?’ but knew she would have to satisfy the client’s curiosity first. She quickly explained the events of the day and how it might connect with the case. His wife and Miss Austen arrived during her account and listened quietly until the end.
‘That makes sense of what was senseless,’ said Miss Austen, taking a seat next to her brother. He put his arm around her in comfort.
‘I’m sorry, Jane. You should be safe in my house. Anything taken?’ he asked soberly.
She grimaced. ‘Only some letters. Lord knows what anyone wants with my news to Cassie about the cost of muslin and plaiting lace.’
‘Everything else is… in one piece?’ He cast a look at Dora and Alex as if fearing to divulge family secrets before an audience.
Miss Austen folded her hands demurely in her lap. ‘P and P is intact. I had left it in the bottom of my valise, and they did not rifle through to find it. If they had, they would probably have dismissed it as my laundry lists,’ she said with a droll smile.
He chuckled. ‘Indeed.’
There was something going on here that Dora did not understand. What could Miss Austen have that Henry would worry about, and what was P and P? Pounds and Pence? Was sheholding on to some secrets involving the bank and thecomte’s accounts? Did she have his transactions secreted in her luggage? That would be very irresponsible of the banker.
‘I don’t suppose you would care to explain?’ Dora asked, looking directly at the lady who had dogged her steps all day. It was annoying to feel one step behind especially when Miss Austen was supposed to be following her lead. ‘We can’t do our job properly if we aren’t in possession of all the facts.’
Miss Austen knitted her fingers together and squeezed. ‘I suppose it will not harm to say and childish to hold on to what is not so very great a secret. Henry, what do you think?’
Her brother nodded. ‘We hired Dr Sandys and Miss Fitz-Pennington as confidential agents. They won’t divulge any of our private information– it states as much in the contract. I assume the same goes for Mr Smith here?’
‘It does,’ said Alex.
Miss Austen gave an unexpected laugh, suddenly looking much younger and mischievous, twenty rather than nearly forty. ‘Miss Fitz-Pennington, I apologise. I lied about lying.’
Dora could feel a headache hovering. Why did no one speak plainly in this household? ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’
‘I am in truth the author ofSense and Sensibility.My reference was to my next novel, the manuscript of which is in my valise, and I would hate to lose it. Not that the world need share the opinion of an ignorant and prejudiced writer. However, Mr Egerton, my publisher, is hopeful that it will be approved by the public.’
‘You are talking aboutFirst Impressions?’ asked Dora, realising the lady had played her for a fool that day. Why had she not suspected when the lady had such a ready story to tell the opera singers?
‘I’ve decided to call itPride and Prejudice.It fits better with the title of my previous work and the meaning is less obvious. IfI keep the original title everyone will guess that first impressions are wrong and will distrust my heroine’s opinions on the people she encounters.’
‘And we wouldn’t want anyone to distrust Elizabeth Bennet, would we?’ said Eliza with a fond smile. ‘I’m going to be fierce in defence of my namesake.’
Dora had the unpleasant experience of challenging her own first impressions. The lady, far from stealing another woman’s credit, was modestly hiding her own, allowing herself to be underestimated and slighted as an uninteresting spinster from Hampshire. For all Dora’s advanced views on the role of women, she too had been guilty of assuming the lady couldn’t write such a sparkling novel asSense and Sensibility.
Miss Austen’s cheeks flushed. ‘I apologise, Miss Fitz-Pennington, for the subterfuge. In my defence, you will be aware that society does not like ladies to advance their name in public and many of us choose not to make ourselves a target.’ She gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘I think my publisher likes the speculation. If I were Lord Byron, he would naturally trumpet my identity from the rafters, but this way my readers can wonder if I am not a much more exciting personage than I am, some lady with access to the highest circles in society, a scintillating hostess, like Eliza here.’
