Jane and the Prisoner of Wool House Page 0,119

is not yet over the yardarm.” I smiled up at him. “Consider, Frank, that if you were in the Indies now—or rounding the Horn …”

“I should be already deep into a bottle. Ring for Jenny, my dear—we shall send round to the Dolphin for a bottle of Madeira, and drink to Seagrave's innocence. It is all the man has left to him, poor fellow.”

WEEKS PASSED, AND THE MOVE TO CASTLE SQUARE WAS accomplished. We are established in this comfortable house exactly a fortnight, and know the pleasure of watching spring roll in off the Solent from the broad expanse of our very own garden. Martha and I—for Mary is grown too large for gambolling, particularly on a stone parapet that may permit of only three or four walking abreast—will stroll for hours together along the high old walls of the fortified city, staring out at the faint green of the New Forest. My mother no longer keeps to her bed, but digs at the raspberry canes that are setting out in the fresh earth; she is constantly on the watch for the Marchioness, our neighbour, so that she might have the pleasure of the lady's faerie horses, and find consolation in a fallen woman installed so conveniently to hand. Now that Mr. Hill is gone off to Greenwich, as resident surgeon for the naval hospital there, consolation must be necessary.

Cassandra is expected at home next week, and I have purchased figured muslin for a new gown.

I have been so busy throughout March, indeed, that I have almost forgot the events that opened it—or I had succeeded, perhaps, in diverting my mind from so much that was troubling, and must remain forever unresolved. But the matter was brought forcibly to my attention today, with the arrival of the morning post.

One shilling, eight pence, was demanded of me, for the receipt of a packet in an altogether unfamiliar hand. I duly paid the charge—slit open the seal—and commenced to read with a smile at my lips.

5 March 1807

On board the Dartmouth, in the Downs

Ma chère mademoiselle Austen:

I write swiftly, as a mail boat has just called without warning, and we are to have our missives sent within the hour; but I know that you are familiar enough with naval life to forgive this small bêtise. I have been fortunate enough to obtain a position— with the help and collusion of your Admiralty, than which no institution of subterfuge and statecraft could be more honourable—as ship's surgeon aboard an American vessel bound for Boston. I am very well satisfied with the outcome of my late adventure, and may think with satisfaction that no small part of my happiness is due to having made your acquaintance. The Admiralty is now in possession of what personal property I carried out of France; and I trust that they shall continue to evidence a pleasing concern for my welfare.

Accept my deepest thanks and undying devotion for yourself, mademoiselle—without whom I should never have remained—

Etienne, Comte de la Forge

The man's become a spy,” said Frank shortly, after perusing this missive. “He's been despatched to inform upon the Americans. I shouldn't wonder that he will prove as wretched at the business as he did at avoiding the Emperor.”

I must forgive my brother the slight bitterness of that speech; Frank is only just made aware, by the very same post, of his latest appointment. He is not to have a fast frigate—those are very dear in the Navy at present— but is to command the St. Albans, on convoy duty to the East Indies. In this, I suspect, we see the malice of Sir Francis Farnham, who cannot excuse my brother for Seagrave's acquittal.

“A bride-ship,” Frank muttered as he read the official letter from the Admiralty. “There is certain to be a bride-ship in the convoy, Mary, awash with tittering females who cannot stand the heat of the sun. A long, desperate slog of it we shall make, with no hope of prizes, neither.”

“My poor lamb,” soothed the stalwart bride; and said nothing of the fact that he should be absent for the birth of his first child.

THOMAS SEAGRAVE IS TO REMAIN THE CAPTAIN OF THE Stella Maris. We learned of his acquittal on all charges considered by the court-martial a few days after his wife's burial; and even Admiral Bertie is disposed, now, to make much of him when the two chance to meet. Young Charles and his brother Edward are to be despatched to Uncle Walter and Luxford

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