“There is an emblem of arms, certainly — the head of a wolf, with teeth bared, and two sabres crossed. Curious. And yet: he did not claim it as his? Merely of his house, he said?”

I nodded. “He chose not to interrogate me too closely; and if he knew me for the woman encountered in the tunnel, he did not betray his fear.”

“Perhaps he considered of his risk — or perhaps. . perhaps he intended to shield another. Someone, as he said, of his house ...” Lord Harold dropped the chain. “Tell me, Jane: what was the scene, when you quitted the Lodge?”

“Mrs. Fitzherbert was utterly overcome — almost fainting with despair — and urging Sophia Challoner to seek your pardon. She wishes Mrs. Challoner to retract her accusation against you; but I do not believe that Mr. Ord will allow it — tho’ they are on such terms as for the lady to call him James.”

“So Maria would shield the boy?” In the light of the side lamps, I saw him frown. “I confess I do not understand the business at all, Jane. What interest binds that party? Such a disparate group of souls — so ill-matched, to all appearances, and yet united by an unspoken trust.”

“It has the look of conspiracy; and Mrs. Fitzherbert is in the thick of it.”

“The blackmail note,” he demanded suddenly.

“It prescribed a meeting, you say?”

“At the Abbey ruins — tomorrow at dusk.”

“Then I shall be there.”

“If you live so long.”

“Jane, ” he returned patiently. “There shall be no duel until Friday morning at the earliest. You can have no idea of the details to be arranged — wills to be witnessed, doctors procured, the ground to be laid out, and the hour of meeting to be struck — and my pistols fetched from my flat in London. All conducted in the gravest secrecy, so that the Southampton constables are not alerted.”

“Wretched business! I might inform upon you myself, and save a good deal of trouble.”

A faint gleam of teeth as he smiled at me through the darkness. “If I killed Ord, I should have to flee to the Continent — duelling is illegal in England, as you well know. Flight is not at all in my line, Jane. The cub’s life is safe with me.”

“But what of yours, my lord? Are you safe with him?”

I stared at the man in the moonlight: insouciant, self-confident, as careless of age as he must be of public opinion. James Ord, in all the flush of youth and heedlessness, might cut off his thread in an instant, and sail for America with the tide. I felt a great fear rise up in my heart: for what should my world be, after all, without Lord Harold in it?

He covered my hand with his palm. “Do not excite yourself, my dear. All shall be well.”

The lights of the ferry loomed out of darkness; the flat-bottomed vessel bumped against the dock.

“Pray take the lady’s carriage first,” Lord Harold called out to the ferryman. “The moon is high; and when the lady in question is Miss Austen, it does not signify how long I wait.”

Thursday, 3 November 1808

I awoke well after ten o’clock this morning, and made a slow toilette in the stillness of the Castle Square house. The rest of my family having breakfasted and gone about their various errands, I was alone with my thoughts — and they were all of Netley Lodge, and the duel that was to come. Would it indeed occur on the morrow, at dawn? And should I have the courage to face it?

At least I might go suitably attired in black. I descended to the breakfast room and applied to Cook for some late coffee and rolls — she threw me a harassed look, being already embroiled, as she said, in preparations for “the Cap’n’s dinner.” I fetched the victuals myself, but found I had little appetite for them. Ought I to go to the magistrate for Southampton — Mr. Percival Pethering — and inform him of the affair of honour that should presently take place? He might then prevent it, by arriving at the duelling ground with a company of constables — but he could not stand watch upon the duellists forever. As long as Lord Harold and Mr. Ord remained in the same country, they should be determined to draw blood.

My brothers, I am sure, would assert that I refined too much upon a trifle. I allowed my fancy to run away with me, and form an idea first of Lord Harold — and then of Mr. Ord — torn and bleeding upon the ground. In a spirit of anger at the foolishness of men, I crumbled my roll between my fingers and ignored my scalding coffee. I could not sit idly by while Lord Harold sent to London for his pistols. I must inform Mr. Pethering — but if my intelligence was to be of any use, I must know the choice of duelling ground. I rose and fetched my pelisse and Equestrian Hat. In a matter of moments, I had quitted the house in the direction of the High.

“Miss Austen.” The innkeeper’s stooped figure was thin as a whippet’s, his bald head shining with exertion. He had come through the saloon to the Dolphin’s entry on purpose to greet me, and stood drying his hands on his apron. “You are in excellent looks, ma’am, if I may be so bold — and how is the Captain? Keeping stout, I hope?”

“My brother is very well, Mr. Fortescue, I thank you. He has lately been much at sea.”

“I don’t doubt it! Off the Peninsula, with all the rest of ’em? A grand old party it must be, when Boney’s back is turned. And how may I serve you this morning?”

“An acquaintance of mine is lodging in the Dolphin at present,” I said, blushing furiously, “and I should like to enquire whether he is presently within.”

“Indeed?” the innkeeper said curiously. “May I have the gentleman’s name, ma’am?”

“Lord Harold Trowbridge.”

Fortescue’s expression darkened. “I’m afraid you’re the second party this morning as has asked for his lordship; and I’ve been told to turn away all visitors, as the gentleman is engaged. Howsomever, the young woman chose to wait; and his lordship’s man has agreed to see to her.”

For a fleeting moment I had an idea of Sophia Challoner, driven forth by terrors like my own, to beg Lord Harold’s forgiveness — but the innkeeper should never have called Mrs. Challoner a “young woman.” That appellation was used for females of the serving class; or those who were not quite respectable.

“If you’ve a mind to speak with the valet,” Fortescue concluded, “you’re welcome to take a turn in my parlour. Good day.”

He nodded stiffly, and moved off; leaving me to wonder what had inspired such disapproval. Far from being quelled in my ambitions, however, I was cheered by his recital. If Lord Harold was indisposed to receive visitors, so much the better. I might learn more from an application to Orlando.

I walked through the parlour doorway, and stopped short in surprise.

“Flora!”

The girl gripped her reticule tightly in gloved hands. She was dressed as I had observed her on Tuesday, in the Prussian-blue cloak and poke bonnet. Her countenance bore the same furtive expression of fear or deceit.

“Miss Austen?” She rose, bobbed a curtsey, and sank down once more onto the settee.

“Are you waiting for Orlando?”

Her pretty eyes narrowed. “What do you know of him, miss? Or my business?”

“Nothing good,” I returned abruptly, and sat down in the chair opposite her. “You have got yourself into some kind of trouble, my dear — and I cannot think it worth your while. Mrs. Challoner knows that you wrote that letter; and she is excessively angry. She means to call your bluff this evening; and she is bringing Mr. Ord.”

“What letter?” The girl’s reply was high and clear; it should drift out into the hall, and to any prying ears disposed to listen.

“I suggest you lower your voice. The letter you sent to Mrs. Challoner. She showed it to me last evening, at Netley Lodge. I know your secret; ignore this at your peril. Isn’t that what you wrote, Flora?”