EVENTS FELL OUT AS I HAD DESIGNED, AND WE WERE NOT three minutes under way in Sir William's comfortable chariot, the snow still falling softly about the lanterns that had been lit against the gathering dark, when he cleared his throat and embarked upon a subject of pressing concern to us both.

“Now, my Jane, perhaps you may tell me why the Countess summoned an old man out in such weather, and then escaped to her room with barely a word? I should almost believe her note of yesterday a subterfuge of your own, for renewing old acquaintance!”

“Indeed, sir, there was a darker purpose, and though I intend no dishonour to Lady Reynolds in avowing it, I should not be calling at your home this evening were I not charged with revealing it.”

“Ah! The matter gains in interest,” the magistrate said, his satisfaction in his voice. “Speak!”

I handed him the maid Marguerite's piece of foolscap, and let the ill-written words speak in my stead.

Sir William rummaged among the pockets of his greatcoat for some spectacles, and took a moment to settle them on his nose. In the darkness of the chariot's interior, his eyes strained to make sense of the handwriting. “Very curious,” he said, after several moments’ silent perusal. “When was this received?”

“Yesterday.”

“Have you an idea of the author?”

“We believe it to be Isobel's maid, a Creole girl by the name of Marguerite. She has decamped, and cannot be found, though Isobel sent some trusty fellows in pursuit when her absence was discovered last night.”

“And so the Countess is become afraid,” Sir William said slowly, “that the evil tongue of rumour is unleashed upon the land. A nasty business for one so shortly married.”

“Or so recently widowed. She feels it most acutely,” I said, “and would have a stop to such vicious talk.”

“There are two accusations contained herein,” Sir William said bemusedly, “that she has taken a lover among the peerage, and that she has done away with her husband, with or without her lover's help. One would think there could hardly have been time for all that — she's not many days returned from her wedding trip, I believe?”

“But a fortnight.”

“And so the gentleman must have been in her acquaintance before the wedding, and thrown in her way once again upon her return. There cannot be many such fellows in Scargrave, beyond the family itself.” And with this last, Sir William appeared to have heard the sense of his words for the first time, and was lost in painful speculation. There was but one lord among the Scargrave family now that the Seventh Earl was dead, and so the magistrate took Marguerite's meaning.

“Dear, dear,” Sir William said, turning his gaze once more upon the note, “this does put a rather nasty complexion upon it.”

“Marguerite would have us look to a lord, but does not tell us which,” I said. “She might as well intend Lord Harold as Lord Payne.”

“Lord Scargrave, you mean; for so we must call him, from this day forward. But tell me of Trowbridge — is he a near acquaintance of the late Earl?”

“A very recent acquaintance, I believe.”

“And yet he remains in the household, when all but those with a special claim on the affections of the family, such as yourself, should long since have left. It is like a man of his cheek.”

“It is very singular,” I said, with feeling; I could see no reason for Trowbridge's continued presence at Scargrave, and found him a burden on the entire household.

“Indeed,” said Sir William. “But Trowbridge is a singular fellow. More than once he has pulled the wool over the Crown's eyes in the matter of some sugar duties on his West Indies imports. When last I heard, he was backing opium runners trading for tea in the South China Sea. I should not have thought to find him in Scargrave, and at such a time; I have long thought death to be the only thing the man fears. And what do you surmise is his motive for such indelicacy?”

“I had understood him to be awaiting the Countess's disposition of some business matters.”

“So it is the Countess who is acquainted with Lord Harold. And as a business partner, too. That does give one pause.”

“I believe the term partner to be inaccurately applied, Sir William,” I said sharply. “Lord Harold merely seeks the Countess's interest, but he is very far from securing it.”

Sir William peered at me narrowly, but deigned not to comment. He tapped the poisonous letter and pursed his lips. “If Lord Harold is the man, we must ask what the maid might know of her mistress's business. A great deal, or a very little, depending upon the character of the maid. What think you, Jane?”

“That Marguerite has formed a tissue of lies,” I replied, with more stoutness than I felt. A clergyman's daughter may use wit at times, and candour whenever possible, but conscious deceit is more likely to fail her.

“And to what purpose?”

“With the intent of extorting payment for her silence.”

“I see no request for sovereigns here,” Sir William said.

“I should be very much surprised if that does not appear in the next letter.”

“The one I am intended to receive?”

“So we are told.”

“Not a very intelligent course, surely? For / cannot be expected to pay her.”

“She is a very foolish girl,” I finished lamely.

“Aha. So you say,” the magistrate muttered dubiously, and folded the paper away in his waistcoat. “You were present at the Earl's death, I believe?”

“Not at the moment of his passing, but I observed some part of his illness.”

“And what did you conclude?”

I hesitated, and the pause revealed me as less certain of matters than I would wish.

“Come, come, Jane!” Sir William chided. “You are not a blushing girl, given to airs and sighs; you have your wits about you, as I've always approved, and are readier than any I know to form a judgment when the facts stare you in the face. Was it a death you could ascribe to natural causes?” “In truth, sir, I must own it was not, though the physician would have it otherwise,” I told him. “The violence of the Earl's illness was Such as I had never witnessed, except under the influence of a deadly purgative.”

“Indeed,” Sir William said softly. “Indeed. And yet they called it dyspepsia. I had a few bad moments myself in hearing the news of Frederick's death; I swore off claret for a twelvemonth, though my resolve lasted but two days. The suddenness of his passing shook me. It disturbed you as well?”

“I cannot deny it, though I alone of the Scargrave household felt apprehension.”

“That is hardly to be remarked, my dear,” Sir William said dryly. “You alone had nothing to inherit.”

I STOPPED IN SIR WILLIAMS HOUSEHOLD LONG ENOUGH TO greet his dear lady, to hear her news of three daughters and four sons long claimed by marriage and profession, exclaim over the domestic arrangements of her new home, and offer what intelligence of my circle in Bath it was in my power to convey. Then Sir William very kindly ordered his carriage to the door once more, against the protests of his wife, who would have had me stop the night rather than venture out again in such weather.

“It takes more than snow to hinder our Jane,” Sir William said fondly, as he handed me into the carriage. “I shall communicate with you directly I receive the letter.”

The last sight of his bare white head, starred with falling flakes like a Saint Nicholas of old, was to be my comfort the length of that solitary return to Scargrave. It is much, indeed, to have a friend down the lane, when a murderer may be among the household.