“Never admit to such an ignorance before a lady, Charles,” I told him briskly. “It is the worst sort of offence a gentleman may bestow. I am Miss Austen, and this is Miss Lloyd. How do you boys come to be abroad, entirely alone, in such cold weather? Where is Nancy? Surely she attended you from Portsmouth?”

“Nancy is in charge of the baby,” retorted Charles, “and good riddance, so cross as she is!”

Little Edward rose to his feet, his bare fingers thrust under his arms, his lips blue and chattering. “Please, m-m-miss, don't be telling our mum about our lark! She's resting after our journey from P-p-portsmouth, which was bang-up jolly if you ask me — four post horses hired from the G-g-george, and everything prime about 'em! How we ratt-tt-tled along! We made the distance in under two hours!”

“Am I to understand that your mother is as yet ignorant of your absence?” I enquired in an awful tone. “That you are both abroad expressly without permission?”

Martha choked upon what I guessed to be a laugh. The brothers quailed. Charles threw his arm about Edward, as though his thin nankeen jacket might supply the want of warmth in the younger boy's own.

“We only meant to have a look around town,” he protested. “It's our first visit to Southampton! We've been down the High to the Quay, and seen all the ships, and poked our noses into the dockyard — though it's a poor thing indeed compared to Portsmouth's,” he concluded contemptuously.

“Not even Nancy knows of your going?”

He shook his head.

“They shall be all in an uproar at the inn,” murmured Martha beside me.

“We intended to return ages ago!” Edward cried. “Only — we could not find the High once we had visited the bathing machines. We are most dreadfully lost.”

I did not have the heart to tell them that the High Street was but a hundred yards away. Both boys were shivering violently now. Edward looked upon the verge of tears.

“Come along,” I said with a sigh. “Miss Lloyd and I shall treat you to hot chocolate and honey cakes in that pastry shop opposite, while I beg some paper and a messenger of the proprietor.”

Crows of delight interrupted my declaration. I endeavoured to look stern.

“We shall send a note to the Dolphin attesting to your whereabouts and safety — but the very moment your last drop of chocolate is drunk, my fine fellows, it is off to the inn with you and no mistake! You require hot water bottles and warm possets, and you do not wish to die of an inflammation of the lungs.”

Suitably subdued, the boys preceded us into the pastry shop, and commenced to eat with a voracity that suggested young wolves. I secured my paper and pen, and began to compose a note for Louisa Seagrave while Martha kept up a stream of nonsense calculated for the boys' amusement. But not all their talk was of spillikins and hoops, or the dashing naval actions recently reported in the Gazette; little Edward must be constantly reverting to the subject foremost in the boys' minds: the judgement hanging over their father's head.

“Charles and I have determined to run away to sea if Father hangs,” he informed us as he tucked into an apple pasty.

“Edward!” his brother hissed in a quelling tone. Possessing eight years to his brother's six, he was necessarily more cautious, and knew the value of discretion. “They will tell Mum straightaway! Only you mustn't,” he added for our benefit, “for it is our only recourse, as I'm sure you're aware, being of the naval set yourselves. If Father hangs, we shall be tossed overboard in a manner of speaking. I mean to say — no connexions worth having, and no influence with the Admiralty. We shall have to make our way if we mean to advance.”

Martha gazed at Charles doubtfully. “I am sure your father — even supposing the worst should happen, which I do not admit for an instant — would wish you to serve as support for your mother. She should be in ever greater need of you, if she were … alone … in the world.”

“Muzzer that go into Kent,” Edward declared through a mouthful of pastry. “We thould be more of a burden if we thayed.” He swallowed mightily. “Besides, I cannot support Aunt Templeton. She means to engage a tutor for us! As if we did not know all we needed to learn, already! She is an ape-leader! Poor Uncle Walter — how he must suffer it!”

“He is shot of her for now,” returned Charles, “and must be having a jolly time of it. But I for one shall certainly run away to sea if we are bound for Luxford!”

I met Martha's eyes over the heads of the two boys. She raised one eyebrow. At that moment, the bells of St. Michael's Church, adjacent to our seats in the shop's bow front window, tolled half-past eleven o'clock. The inquest into Mr. Chessyre's death must be concluded, or nearly so.

I was suddenly sharply impatient to know what the judgement might be, and determined to place the boys in Martha's charge — they were getting along famously, for Martha has always been a slave to children's amusement — and set off in search of Fly. I gathered up my paper parcels — one held a pair of gloves in dark blue satin, quite unlike my usual wear, but perfectly in keeping with the iridescent hue of the three feathers I had chosen under Martha's instruction — and motioned for the reckoning. Pray God I had sufficient coin to satisfy the ravages of two healthy young predators.

“Jane,” observed Martha in peering through the window panes clouded with February cold, “is not that Mr. Hill I see before us? He looks worn to a fag end. I should judge that travel by sea does not agree with him — a curious recommendation for a naval surgeon, I am sure!”

The thin frame, the narrow, black-clad shoulders, the periwig — indeed, it could be none other than Mr. Hill. I set down the gloves and hurried out of the shop to intercept him.

“Miss Austen!” The surgeon started at my address, as though lost in a brown study. “How well you look this morning! I should say that your cold is quite gone off!”

Martha appeared in the doorway, her parcels precariously balanced in her arms and the Seagrave boys hiding behind her skirts.

“Miss Lloyd, too! And you have been making a few purchases at the milliner's, I see — a pursuit that is always calculated to bring animation to a lady's countenance.”

“We have been entertaining Captain Seagrave's sons,” I informed Mr. Hill. “Master Charles, his heir, and Master Edward.”

Both boys scraped their bows. Mr. Hill inclined his head benevolently.

“Your brother is well, I hope, Miss Austen? No ill effects from yesterday's voyage?”

“I do not think that Frank could ever suffer at sea. You might better enquire how he fares on dry land!” I scanned the surgeon's face. He looked very ill indeed. “But what of yourself, Mr. Hill? Are you quite recovered from your exertions?”

He hesitated. “I could wish our friend Monsieur LaForge to be in better frame. I sat up with him all night. The effort of achieving Portsmouth yesterday — his testimony on Seagrave's behalf — or perhaps simply the exposure to poor weather in his weakened state—”

Chessyre is dead. I shall not long survive him.

“You find me just returning from a consultation with Dr. Mount,” the surgeon continued, “a physician of considerable reputation, and a great traveller in his day. He has seen many cases of gaol-fever — or ship fever, as it is also known. Even he cannot account for LaForge's symptoms. I confess that I am greatly disappointed; I had hoped for some inspiration. Instead, I have fetched only laudanum. It shall ease his suffering, at the very least.”

“Then you think … you believe it possible …”

“That the man will die?” Mr. Hill gazed at me baldly. “I should never undertake to say, Miss Austen. It is a point that only his Maker may answer. I will tell you that his fever has increased; that from cramping in the bowels, he may take neither food nor water; and that his pulse is fluttering and weak. Indeed, he may have passed from this life while we stand thus, in talking.”