“Of course, madam.” Beaumont had turned bright red.
Then, it was quiet, only the scrape of their knives against their plates.
Beaumont spoke into his carrots. “It’s only that it is rather the nature of things, isn’t it? God created Eve as a helpmeet for Adam. Women are here to…”
“Serve men?” said Jane.
“Complement men,” said Beaumont.
“Well, if that is the case,” said Jane, “that is as it is, I suppose. But if you are one of the women who isn’t much of a complement to anyone, there might be something for us to do, truly. You have no idea what it is to be a person that society just throws away as unimportant and odd. You have no idea what it is not to belong.”
“That’s not true, Miss Jane,” said Byron quietly. “We both do know about that.”
She eyed him, wondering at that. She considered asking more about what he meant, and then discarded the idea. Something about the way he spoke made her decide to leave any inquiry on the topic. She drew in a breath and changed the subject. “Whatever the case, that is not the purpose of this conversation.”
“No?” said Beaumont. “What is?”
“Where did you go after you saw Lord Byron last night?” said Jane. “Did you see Miss Seward?”
“You think I killed her,” said Beaumont.
“This is why I said for me to handle this,” said Byron to her.
Jane rolled her eyes. “You know, I think I’ve had enough to eat. I think I must take my leave of you both. I know scurrying out in the midst of dinner is rather irregular, but this entire conversation, you must own, has been highly irregular, and I am simply through with it all.” She got to her feet.
“I didn’t kill Anne,” said Beaumont. “Is that why you’re running off like this? You don’t wish to eat with a murderer?”
“You didn’t kill her,” said Jane. “Byron didn’t kill her. Mr. Hardy was off wherever he was and that means he didn’t kill her. But something happened to her, and we don’t know what it was.”
“No one’s saying you killed her, Thomas,” said Byron. “But did you see her with anyone?”
“Last night, you mean?”
“Aye,” said Byron.
“I didn’t see her at all. I was only at the tavern briefly,” said Beaumont.
“And Mr. Hardy,” said Jane. “Do they get on? Are they… involved?”
“Oh,” said Beaumont, raising his eyebrows. “You know, she was wild, so I would not put anything past that woman. But near as I know, that was just a business relationship.”
“Who would have a reason to kill her?” said Byron.
“I haven’t any idea,” said Beaumont. “But it must have been someone who didn’t like her, don’t we think?”
“Someone who didn’t like her, perhaps,” said Byron. “Or someone who liked her very much and therefore flew into a passion when she angered him.”
“Not a passion,” said Jane. “Not if it’s poison.”
“Yes, I suppose,” said Byron. “That would be planned. Cold and calculated and well thought-out.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
JANE STAYED FORthe rest of the dinner, after all, but once it was done, she was intent on getting back home. Byron, who seemed to have drunk too much wine with dinner and was looser, his gestures more exaggerated, volunteered to escort her home, and she protested, all the way out to the stables, that she did not need an escort.
She probably could have walked the distance from Mr. Beaumont’s house back to her own, but she was glad not to have to do so, not in the dark, not all by herself. A ride on horseback, though, would take very little time at all, and she was confident that she need not have anyone fussing over her, least of all a very drunk Byron.
Byron told the stable hands to saddle two horses, and Jane protested again.
