“A what?” said Cassandra.
“I say, you are quite familiar upon very little acquaintance, are you not, young man?” said Mrs. Austen.
“Apologies,” said Lord Byron. “I am entirely out of sorts, in all truth. I am subject to a great deal of anxiety in the present moment, and I am not at all certain that I am not going to be hung by a group of ruffians. That is the entire reason I am here, of course. I had nowhere else to go. Seeing as Miss Jane and I here are both authors, however, I knew we’d get on well together, and here we are, after all, so very familiar upon very little acquaintance, just as I predicted.”
Jane rubbed her forehead. “Youare familiar, sir. We are tolerating your behavior.”
“I’m quite used to that, I must say. Being tolerated, that is. It’s my lot in life.” He ate another biscuit. “I must say it is a bit disconcerting to eat biscuits alone. I shall have them all devoured and none of you will have had any at all, and that will make me look like a dreadful house guest.”
“Will it.” Jane was sarcasticandsharp.
He smirked at her.
“It seems to me that everyone is behaving frightfully,” said Mrs. Austen.
“Apologies, again,” said Byron. “In all honesty, I do get that same accusation from absolutely everybody, so I suppose there must be some truth to it.”
“All I mean,” said Mrs. Austen, “is that there are subjects being bandied about such as dead bodies and hanging, and everyone keeps returning to the subject of biscuits!”
“Oh,” said Byron, nodding.
“Indeed,” said Jane, sinking down to sit again. “You really haven’t explained it all, my lord.”
“I believe I have,” he said.
“Well, where was Miss Seward?” said Jane.
“She was in her bed,” said Byron.
“You went looking for a way out of the tavern and ended up in Miss Seward’s bedchamber?” said Jane, raising her eyebrows.
“Yes,” said Byron. He cleared his throat. “Dear me, there are only three biscuits left, it seems.”
“Oh, just eat them, my lord, and do stop going on about it,” said Cassandra, sitting down next to Jane. “I shan’t be having any of them, after all, because I am, in fact, trying to reduce.”
“I tell you, you have a lovely figure,” said Byron.
“Why did you go into her bedchamber?” said Jane.
“I don’t know,” said Byron.
“Isn’t it likely on one of the upper floors?” said Jane. “The tavern is downstairs and the family living areas are upstairs, and why were you upstairs?”
“Well, I woke up there,” said Byron.
“Upstairs?”
“Yes. I must have fallen asleep there. I have to say, to be very frank, my memory of last night is sort of… patchy? Bits here and there are missing entirely.” He ate a biscuit.
“So, you have no idea why you went up there, in other words,” said Jane.
“I had an idea when I did it, I’m sure,” said Byron. “I have since forgotten what it was.”
“So,” said Jane, “you went into Miss Seward’s bedchamber, and you found her in her bed. How did you even know she was dead? She must have looked as if she was sleeping.”
“Oh, no indeed, it was very obvious. No one would sleep that way. She would have been very cold. Also, her skin was sort of mottled and gray. Her lips were colorless. It was horrendous, I tell you.”
“Cold,” said Cassandra. “I suppose she was on top of the blankets of the bed.”
