“How would we prove he hadn’t done it?” said Mrs. Austen. “I suppose, if he wasn’t here when it was done, that would work. Is that why you wish us to say you were here?”
“That would be a lie,” said Jane.
“I suppose,” said Byron. “I wasn’t thinking clearly whilst I was running for my life, really. I was just trying not to be hung. I really wish you wouldn’t have told everyone who I was. When this gets all over London, that I strangled some strumpet—”
“She’s not a strumpet,” said Jane. “She owns the tavern.”
“A female tavern owner,” said Byron, raising his eyebrows.
“Well, there are rumors,” said Cassandra.
“Yes, because she’s a female tavern owner,” said Byron. “Women who own businesses are, you know, usually dabbling in that, in the end.”
“Are they.” Jane glared at him.
“Well, anyway, I don’t need to pay strumpets anymore,” said Byron. “After all, you saw who I had with me when I visited you yesterday. I am really sort of famous at this point, you see. Women are just clamoring for me. There’s positively no reason why I should ever visit someone like Miss Seward.”
“This really isquitean untoward conversation,” said Mrs. Austen.
“It is,” agreed Jane, “and moments ago, you all but admitted it. You said that you had strangled her.”
“I did not say that,” said Byron. “I said that when that gets all over London, that will be disastrous.” He sighed. “Apologies for bringing this down on you, truly. And for eating all of your biscuits.”
CHAPTER FOUR
BYRON WAS INVITEDto luncheon by Mrs. Austen. After all, it would have been impolite to do otherwise, since he was there and clearly hungry.
But then the Austen women gathered together in the hallway outside of the sitting room, Byron shut up there alone with the biscuit crumbs, and discussed, in low voices, what must be done about him.
“He can’t stay here, obviously,” said Mrs. Austen. “We certainly can’t have him as an overnight guest.”
“Yes, we have to get rid of him,” said Jane.
“Oh, Jane, that is not the way I would put it,” said Mrs. Austen.
“I don’t think he’s going to leave,” said Cassandra. “He seems rather adept at making himself at home. Did you see how he ate all of the biscuits?”
“You are quite preoccupied with biscuits for someone who didn’t even want any biscuits made up,” said Jane.
“Perhaps,” said Cassandra. “But the fact remains, he is not going to go willingly.”
“We must be delicate about this, of course,” said Mrs. Austen. “We cannot force him to go. We cannot indicate in any way that we wish him to leave. That would be most incredibly rude, after all.”
“I think,” said Jane, “we must simply be plain with him. This man, after all, is very likely a murderer. He is, at any rate, a philanderer who makes off with other men’s wives and wakes in the bed of another woman the next day, and I don’t see why we entertain him at all.”
“Well,” said Cassandra, “he is a baron.”
“True,” said Jane, shoulders slumping.
“What if we simply do as he asks and help him clear his name?” said Mrs. Austen.
“I don’t think it will work,” said Jane. “Even if we lie to everyone and say he was here, they will know he wasn’t, considering they found him in Miss Seward’s bedchamber.”
“Yes, I don’t know if it can be that easy,” said Cassandra.
“But if we did lie for his sake, and it got him out of the house,” said Mrs. Austen, “it would be expedient. I’m not saying it would be right or good or moral, I suppose, but it would be understandable why we have done so, I think. Sometimes, one must make compromises in order to achieve comfort.”
“Why wouldwehave Lord Byron staying withus?” said Jane. “I tell you, it’s a preposterous lie and no one is going to believe it.”
