‘Understood. Jacob, I don’t think we need you for this.’ Dora shrugged into a light shawl. The morning was fine and she needed no overcoat.
‘It’s a sad day when you women no longer need us men. Then, as I am superfluous, I’ll go to Coutts and see if they will tell me whether thecomtekept anything in their strongroom.’ He took his top hat and tapped it into place.
‘On your own?’ asked Dora, brow wrinkled in worry.
‘It’s early yet, villains are hopefully abed, and I’ll take care, I promise.’
‘No walking near the edge of the pavement.’ She kissed him. ‘Take care of my doctor.’
He kissed her back. ‘And take care of my actress.’ At least he hadn’t said forger. There were some things Jane Austen didn’t need to know about her, decided Dora.
‘Will anyone take care of me?’ Jane asked with humour dancing in her eyes at their little farewell ceremony.
Dora turned to her, hand outstretched. ‘We both will– but this morning it is my turn.’ She squeezed Jane’s gloved fingers in reassurance. ‘Please do as I say. If I sense danger, we can’t pause to argue what we should do next.’
‘Understood. Navy rules. The captain is always right.’ Jane saluted her.
Dora offered her arm so they could walk together. ‘As we go you must tell me about your brother Frank. Have you ever thought of writing a book about the navy? You must know an awful lot about it with two brothers in that profession.’
Jane rolled her eyes. ‘Et tu, Dora? If I had a shilling for the many times someone told me what I should write, then I would already be a very rich woman.’
Layton & Shear’s was in Bedford House, half the size of the vast Harding, Howell & Co. or not as well stocked as Newton’s, but Dora found she preferred it as she wasn’t overwhelmed with the choice on show. Bolts of cloth were stacked on shelves with some strategically placed fabrics spilling out like waterfalls. The shopkeepers only risked the hardier dyes and prints in this display with the choicest material kept under the counter and reserved for the discerning customer who could pay her bill. The male attendant was wrestling a bolt of yellow muslin, letting it billow out over the counter, quite an arresting colour that Dora knew would look well on her– if she could afford it. Eliza took one edge and held it up against the pale skin of her inner arm.
‘Will it make me look sallow, do you think?’ she asked her server.
‘Madam looks beautiful in every shade,’ said the man untruthfully.
Jane marched over and rapped her sister-in-law on the temple. ‘What are you thinking, Eliza! It is a very lucky chance that I returned in the nick of time. You can’t wear that– I definitely shan’t wear that– and Cassandra ten years ago could have carried it off, but not today. Strike it off the list.’
‘But it is so pretty,’ sighed Eliza.
‘For daffodils and newborn chicks, it is, not for grown English women with too much red in their complexion.’
The server glowered at Jane but rolled up the offending muslin. ‘Would madam like to see anything else?’ he asked portentously.
‘That will be all today, Martin,’ said Eliza. ‘Please have my parcels made up.’
He bowed and went to the desk to tot up the account.
‘Eliza, we were hoping to find you here,’ said Jane leaning on the counter next to the seated Mrs Austen. Chairs were provided for paying customers, not for loiterers. ‘Miss Fitz-Pennington has a question.’
Eliza greeted Dora kindly and raised an expectant eyebrow. ‘How may I help?’
Dora checked that no one was in earshot, but for the moment they were in an island of calm surrounded by seas of silk and satin. ‘The day thecomteandcomtessedied– had you heard of a party that they planned for that evening, or planned to attend?’
Eliza frowned and then her brow cleared. ‘Oh, yes, I had forgotten. The awfulness drove that out of my mind, and it never took place in any case. They were holding a select musical evening to welcome the Russian delegation back to London. Their particular friends, the Vorontsovs, were to be the guests of honour and a Russian singer of some renown was to sing with thecomtesse. I had been looking forward to it.’
‘Yekatarina Petrovna, by any chance?’
Eliza drummed her fingers on the polished counter. ‘That might’ve been the name– yes, I think it was.’
‘And the party was to take place in Queen Anne Street?’
‘That’s correct. I remember that I was already getting ready to go out– Dorcas was pressing my lilac sarsenet with the demi-train and I had such a pretty little cap to go with it– and then we heard news of their murder. You can imagine what a terrible shock that was. Henry went immediately to the house to see if Julien needed any help, but the Russians were already with him and fending off unwanted callers. Henry returned and told me he wasn’t required.’
Those Russians kept turning up. They were certainly making up for the lost years by shoehorning themselves in the D’Antraigues’s lives again, both generations. Dora could think ofno reason for violence from the Vorontsovs. Russia had joined the anti-Bonaparte coalition again and were now Britain’s ally. The delegation could woo thecomteback to report for them if they wished to pay for it. Killing him did not make sense.
‘Had you seen the Vorontsovs with the D’Antraigues before then?’
