“So, you didn’t spend the night at the Hill farm,” said Jane. “You came back to town at some point.”
Mr. Eves folded his arms over his chest. “All right, yes. It was late, likely near midnight. I came back in my own carriage, and I went straight to bed.”
“And then,” said Jane, “how did you come to be in the tavern to discover Lord Byron?”
“Well, everyone heard the screaming,” said Mr. Eves.
“Screaming?” Jane was confused, because surely Miss Seward had been dead by then. Who had been screaming?
“That was me,” said Byron. “I did cry out when I realized I was in bed with a corpse.”
“You killed her,” said Mr. Eves. “It amazes me that you are attempting to say anything else, that you haven’t run away, back to London, to hide from the truth of it!”
“I didn’t kill her,” said Byron. “You did.”
“Me?” Mr. Eves touched his chest. “You’re barking mad, are you not?”
“People have said so,” said Byron, with a shrug. “But here’s what I think happened. You came back from the cock fights, but you didn’t go straight to bed. Instead, you came up to see your lover, Miss Anne—”
“I never once touched Anne Seward.”
“And then you saw that I was there, and you flew into a rage and…” Byron stopped, wincing. “Forced her to drink laudanum,” he finished lamely. “You know, that doesn’t really work, does it?”
“It does not,” said Mr. Eves. “And what were you doing there, anyway?”
“Well, I don’t remember,” said Byron. “But here’s the thing. I was fully dressed. She was not. So, I am fairly certain that nothing occurred between us.”
“I had never been in Miss Seward’s bedchamber until I heard you making that noise and I ran in to find you,” said Mr. Eves. He sighed. “I will say, it hardly makes any sense for you to have murdered her and then yelled like that, calling everyone in to see your handiwork. That doesn’t seem like something a murderer would do.”
“I didn’t kill her,” said Byron.
“Well, I didn’t either,” said Mr. Eves. “You want to know what I think? Mr. Hardy did it himself, and he’s trying to put the blame on anyone else, throw suspicion elsewhere.”
“Can anyone confirm you went straight to bed?” said Byron.
“What? Do I look as though I employ a valet?” said Mr. Eves, giving him a withering look. “I own an inn. I’m not a lord.”
“So, no, then?” said Byron.
Mr. Eves glowered at the both of them.
IT WAS CLOSEto luncheon, so they decided to get something to eat at the inn. It was not proper for Jane to eat in the taproom, else she be thought a certain sort of woman, so they got the food wrapped up and sat outside together. They ate bread and fish. Well, Jane ate bread, Byron said he was not eating anything except flesh that day.
“I see,” said Jane.
“Sometimes I have days where I only eat vegetables,” said Byron.
“You sound like my sister, who gets it in her head to reduce every two or three months,” said Jane. “She wants to try all manner of strange diets.”
“My mother was the same,” said Byron.
“Your mother?” said Jane. “You’ve said nothing about her.”
“She’s dead,” said Byron with a careless wave of the hand.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Jane. “Was it a long time ago?”
“Last year,” said Byron. “I was abroad. My grand tour. I didn’t write her enough letters.” He looked away, down at his fish.
