‘A husband guillotined; the son of that marriage dead at fifteen or sixteen some years ago.’
‘Poor lady.’ Dora sobered at the mention of the lost child. His Dora had a heart the size of Hampshire.
Alex put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. ‘The only bright side is that Henry and Eliza have no other children so they are free to rattle around London without worrying about the funds to send the infants to school or provide a dowry. And that’s exactly what they do– gad about town to parties, late nights, trips to the theatre. They are great fun, and I think you’ll enjoy making their acquaintance.’
‘We aren’t going to them to make friends but to save them from financial disaster,’ reminded Jacob.
Alex released Dora, fetched her bonnet from the peg by the door and held it out. ‘But it might be a pleasant side benefit, might it not?’
Chapter Four
64 Sloane Street, Knightsbridge
Henry Austen rose from behind his desk when the maid showed Dora and Jacob into his study. The room was gloomy after the street. Afternoon sunlight slanted through the bow window so he’d pulled the curtains to reduce the glare. Dust motes danced in the gap.
‘Thank you for coming. I take it this means you’ve accepted the case?’ He shook Jacob’s hand and insisted on bowing over Dora’s.
‘We have,’ said Jacob, placing the contract on the desk. ‘Would you care to review our terms?’
Waving them to a chair, Henry read through the document with laudable care, which Dora found reassuring in a man who was responsible for other people’s money. He raised a brow when he came to the amount and looked over at Jacob.
‘I owe your brother a debt,’ said Jacob.
‘Thank you.’ Henry nodded and signed the bottom with a flourish. ‘Frank will appreciate the gesture, though he has always said he was doing no more than his duty.’
‘Few captains would wade into the surf to haul a bleeding man off a beach.’
Dora was liking the sound of this naval Austen and hoped she would get a chance to meet him.
Their client grimaced as he blotted his signature. ‘Please don’t tell my mother and sisters about that. He has them convinced his duties are nothing more than nannying trading vessels along the coast, with rarely a shot fired in anger.’ He passed the contract back. ‘Has Miss Fitz-Pennington explained the case?’
‘She has,’ confirmed Jacob.
Henry drew a sheet from the top drawer in his desk. ‘In preparation for your visit, I made a note of what we learned at the inquest. There were witnesses who may know more. The coroner rather hurried through it, thinking there was no one alive to prosecute.’
Jacob took the paper, glanced at it, then passed it to Dora. ‘Mr Austen, what are you hoping we can achieve by looking into this? You told my partner you wanted to know what drove the servant to the killing, but would it not be better, as she suggested, to let the matter drop? Your bank could do without more bad publicity, particularly should we find out things that do no credit to the victims, and by extension to yourself.’
The lines around Henry’s mouth deepened, frown lines on his brow aging him beyond his forty-odd years. ‘Then you’ve heard the rumours? I’m not sure more damage could be done, Dr Sandys, but I’m hopeful some good can be salvaged if we find out the truth. Thecomteandcomtessewere fine people. I for one don’t believe the bad things being said about them and they do not deserve to have their reputation smeared by the speculation that has been swirling since they are no longer here to defend themselves.’
‘What speculation would that be?’ asked Dora.
Anger flushed Henry’s cheeks. ‘That they were feeding information to Napoleon’s ministers and using their connections to find out secrets about the relations between the Prince Regent and the government.’ Henry wiped a hand over his mouth as if the words were leaving a bitter taste. ‘There are rumours of bribes.’
‘Ah. Now I think I understand. They would need a source of funds for bribes. Were they clients of yours?’ asked Jacob.
Henry nodded. ‘Not exclusively, but yes, we had dealings.’
‘Are you prepared to show us the books?’
Anger turned into doubt. ‘I… I would have to ask their son, but in principle I would be happy to do so, if he agrees.’ A bell rang in the room next door, and Henry looked relieved at the reprieve. Dora wondered if indeed he had something to hide. ‘That’s my wife ringing for tea… and to remind me to introduce you. She doesn’t want to be left out of this– the D’Antraigues were her friends even more than they were mine. In view of the sensitivities, we wish to be very closely involved in this investigation, as we will explain. We’d like a convincing counter-story in place for the return to the Autumn Season. Shall we go through?’
Dora had to admit to a certain excitement at meeting the famous Mrs Austen, the one Alex considered the most interesting personage in the family that already included a heroic naval captain. She was therefore taken aback to find two ladies in the drawing room, rather than one. She hesitated for a moment, trying to decide which was Henry’s wife and realised she could tell by dress alone. Mrs Austen, a mature beauty with sparkling dark eyes, was in an exquisite morning gown of striped cambric muslin, elaborate pintucks, needle lace and white-work embroidery– the kind of gown that would suffer if the wearer did anything as practical as cook or clean a fireplace. The other lady, comely rather than pretty, fresh-faced with curly lightbrown hair and hazel eyes, was wearing a round gown similar to ones Dora owned. You could don these without assistance from a maid, thanks to the drawstring neckline. The cloth was finer than Dora could afford– grey leaves printed on a blue background– but it was of a colour and thickness that meant it would not suffer from a little housework or a walk in the country. Was the second woman a companion to Eliza Austen? Many fine ladies had dependent relatives to keep them company while their husbands were at work or at their club.
‘Dr Sandys, Miss Fitz-Pennington, may I present my wife,’ said Henry as the white-bedecked lady greeted them from beside the tea tray, ‘and my younger sister Jane?’ The other lady rose, revealing her to be taller and thinner than Eliza. She gave them a wry smile, and Dora got the distinct impression that Miss Austen had noticed her survey of their clothes and the conclusions Dora had drawn upon entry and was vastly amused by her. So much for Alex’s description of the Austen sisters as dull spinsters; this one was as sharp as one of Jacob’s scalpels.
Having shaken hands and taken a seat, Eliza poured the tea while her sister-in-law handed the cups around. Dora wondered how much they could discuss before the visitor from the country. Henry had already said that the details of his brother’s exploits should be kept from his mother and sisters and a murder investigation was far worse.
‘Are you staying in the city for long?’ she asked Miss Austen politely when the initial pleasantries on the weather and state of the roads were over.
