Plain Jane (20 page)

By next morning, Mrs Hart was planning a rout to celebrate the captain’s return and Jane felt she could not bear her company any longer. She said she had the headache and wished to retire to her room. Mrs Hart looked at her sharply. ‘You must remember that Mr Nevill is calling this afternoon to take you out, Jane.’

Jane was almost on the point of saying she did not want to see Mr Nevill, but then she thought that Mr Nevill would know the hour of Lord Tregarthan’s return, and Jane had a longing to see him, to look into his eyes and see whether he cared for her just a little. As she went out of the dining room, she met Rainbird, who was coming down the stairs from the attics. She gave him a faint smile and said, ‘Well, Mr Rainbird, it appears my father is to return to us soon.’

Rainbird clutched the bannister. ‘And Felice?’ he asked.

‘Not Felice,’ said Jane. ‘She is to be an independent lady with a dowry. Oh, I see you know nothing about it.’ She told him the contents of her father’s letter.

‘Did Felice write? Did she mention me?’ asked Rainbird.

‘No,’ said Jane. ‘Were you expecting a letter?’

Rainbird shook his head sadly. ‘No, of course not.’ He went slowly down the stairs. It was some time before he could bring himself to tell the rest of the staff the news.

The first thing that Mr Nevill said after he drove off with Jane that afternoon was that he had received a letter from Lord Tregarthan.

‘Really?’ said Jane with affected indifference. He had not written to
her
. Why should he? Once more, her hopes sank. She had been an amusing diversion, nothing more.

At last Mr Nevill noticed her sad eyes and asked her if she were feeling unwell.

‘No,’ said Jane curtly.

Mr Nevill reined in his horses under a tree and looked at her anxiously. ‘You can talk to me, you know,’ he said.

Jane could not tell him of her love for Lord Tregarthan, but she suddenly felt she could tell him about her other fears. She poured out the whole story of Clara, of the party in Queen Street, and of that hand holding a dagger.

Mr Nevill heard her out in silence. Then he removed his curly-brimmed beaver and scratched his head in perplexity. ‘You say both Bullfinch and Gillespie were there? But they are both highly respected gentlemen. I mean, you don’t get a City banker or one of the King’s doctors going around stabbing young ladies?’

‘The trouble is,’ said Jane, ‘that people are always blinded by rank and position. If Mr Gillespie and Mr Bullfinch were Mr Bloggs and Jones of Hungerford Stairs, mudlarks by profession, everyone would cry, “Jane, one of them did it. Seize the villains!”’

‘Why don’t you discuss the matter further with Tregarthan?’ asked Mr Nevill. ‘Marvellous head on his shoulders. He should be with you tomorrow at the latest.’

‘I do not know whether I want to see him again,’ said Jane in measured tones. ‘I have not made up my mind.’

‘Here, you can’t say that!’ said Mr Nevill angrily. ‘I’ve been calling on you and squiring you around just so’s no one else could whisk you away. He told me to look after you. Besides, he said he was looking forward to seeing you and I’m blessed if I know what he’ll say to me when I tell him you don’t want to see him.’

Jane took a deep breath. ‘Lord Tregarthan mentioned me in his letter?’

‘Yes, I have it here.’ He fumbled in his many pockets and at last produced a crumpled piece of paper. ‘Here we are . . . let me see . . . “curst bad crossing, Felice sick, captain sailed like Neptune” . . . ah, I have it. “All I want to do is see my little Jane as soon as possible. I hope you have taken good care of her.” There!’

‘So
that
is why you have been so kind,’ said Jane, her eyes like stars.

‘Of course it is. You didn’t think . . . I mean, not that you ain’t a pretty companion, it’s just . . . Oh, I
say!
’ For Jane had leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

‘I did often wonder, Mr Nevill,’ said Jane, ‘why you called on me so much. I did not know until last night that Lord Tregarthan had gone off with my father to save that family in France. He . . . he told me he was going to see his tailor in the south country,’ laughed Jane. ‘Before he left, he told me to leave the mystery of Clara’s death alone.’ She clasped her hands, her eyes shining. ‘But would it not be wonderful if I could manage to find out who killed her
before
his return?’

‘No,’ said Mr Nevill, looking alarmed. ‘It all sounds a hum to me, daggers and bodies. Why don’t you go home and get some rest. Tregarthan will be with you very soon.’

Jane smiled and nodded, but the happiness that had flooded her brain when she had learned of Tregarthan’s desire to see her again seemed to have cleared it. She was sure if she sat down with pencil and paper and wrote down all she knew, then she might arrive at the correct solution.

When they returned to Glarges Street, Mr Nevill refused her offer of refreshment and drove off. Jane found her mother in the front parlour. ‘Mr Gillespie called when you were gone, Jane,’ she said. ‘What is all this about you throwing an hysterical scene at Mrs Baillie’s? There is some story going the rounds that you claimed someone had tried to stab you. It is making me look quite ridiculous, for you said nothing of it to me. Someone told me last night that a couple of females had started screaming at one of Mrs Baillie’s novelties.’

‘I made a mistake, mama,’ said Jane. ‘My nerves are a trifle overwrought.’

‘That is what Mr Gillespie said and he kindly left some pills with instructions that you should take them and go to bed for the rest of the day. Really, Jane, I am your mother, or had you forgot? It seems incredible you should believe an attempt had been made on your life and say nothing of it to me.’

‘I am sorry,’ said Jane. ‘I felt very silly when Mrs Baillie explained the whole thing had been a hoax.’ Jane did not want to tell her mother of her suspicions or of the news that Lord Tregarthan cared for her after all. All her mother would do would be to trot out all the old scandals about the beau’s love life and the futility of Jane nourishing any hopes in that quarter.

‘I should have known better than to take you out anywhere,’ said Mrs Hart fretfully. ‘Does Nevill show any signs of proposing?’

‘No, mama.’

‘Well, I am not surprised. You are looking quite hagged. I must say there was a while when you looked very well. You are too intense, Jane. Excess of emotion can be very unflattering.’

Jane thought again about Lord Tregarthan, about how he had asked Mr Nevill to look after her, and another sunburst of happiness flushed her face and brightened her eyes.

‘And you look feverish,’ said Mrs Hart. ‘Take your pills. You are to take two right away.’ She poured a glass of water. ‘Take them and go and lie down.’

Jane looked at the two pills lying on her mother’s out-stretched hand. They were as red as rubies.

Jane slowly took them from her mother’s hand. ‘I shall take them in my room,’ she said slowly.

But once in her room, she laid the pills on a clean piece of paper, drew forward another sheet of paper and began to write down everything she had discovered about Clara and about the events at Mrs Baillie’s. She gave a little shiver and then rang the bell and asked Jenny, who answered its summons, to fetch Rainbird. Rainbird came in, looking curiously at Jane’s white and rigid face. ‘Sit down, Mr Rainbird,’ said Jane. ‘There is something I must tell you, and then there is something you must do for me.’

‘I am going to fetch Mr Gillespie to examine Miss Jane,’ said Rainbird some time later to Mrs Hart.

‘Very well,’ said Mrs Hart.

‘Do you not wish to see her?’ asked Rainbird.

‘Well . . . I am sure it is nothing serious. Jane is a very resilient girl. You will find me at Mrs Baillie’s at six o’clock should there be any cause for concern.’

‘Selfish woman,’ muttered Rainbird as he made his way out and along Clarges Street. Although he blamed Captain Hart more than Lord Tregarthan for supplying the means by which Felice had been able to secure her freedom from service – for if Captain Hart had not taken Felice away, she would still be in Clarges Street – he still liked and admired the man and felt he was a fool to return to such a querulous and domineering wife.

As soon as the captain returned, Rainbird planned to ask for a few days’ leave. He was sure if he were to travel to Brighton and see Felice, he might be able to persuade her to marry him. He would need to find work outside of service where Palmer could not touch him, but somehow they would manage. Rainbird was too obsessed with Felice to worry overmuch about the fate of the other servants at Number 67. Love gave him mad hope. He was convinced that he would not only be married to Felice but also that somehow Mr Hart might help him find posts for the others.

Mr Gillespie was at home. As soon as Rainbird told him about Jane, he said they must make all speed. He was so white and tense that Rainbird had the impression he had been waiting for hours for such a summons.

Mr Gillespie mounted the stairs two at a time to Jane’s bedchamber. But when he was outside the door, he hesitated, and then turned to Rainbird, who was right behind him. ‘Mrs Hart, and Miss Euphemia, are they at home?’

‘No, sir. They are at Mrs Baillie’s.’

‘I shall examine Miss Jane in privacy,’ said Mr Gillespie. ‘Leave me alone with her. Do not come near, no matter what you hear. Young ladies can become very nervous during examinations and I feel a
crise des nerfs
has distorted Miss Jane’s wits. She is best left alone with her doctor.’

‘Perhaps Mrs Middleton should be in attendance?’ suggested Rainbird.

‘No, no,’ said Mr Gillespie heartily, clapping Rainbird on the shoulder. ‘Do not look so worried, man. There is a great deal of fever about. That may be the cause of her disorder. None of you should risk catching it.’

He waited until Rainbird had gone down the stairs and then he went into Jane’s bedchamber and shut the door.

The curtains were drawn and the light was dim. She lay propped up on her pillows, her eyes wide and dark in the gloom.

‘Now let me have a look at you,’ he said.

He walked towards the bed, stripping off his dogskin gloves as he did so. His hands were white, strong, and well-shaped.

On the right hand, there was a large mole.

Jane stared at it, and drew a long breath.

‘You,’ she said.

‘It was you.’

See how love and murder will out.

WILLIAM CONGREVE
,
AMORET

Mr Gillespie stood very still, looking down at her.

Although her face was pale, she did not look ill in the slightest.

‘You did not take the pills I left for you,’ he said in a flat voice.

‘I had them examined at the apothecary’s in Curzon Street,’ said Jane. ‘They contained a very strong measure of quinine – enough to make me appear as if I had the fever. Mama would have sent for you.’

‘So you sent for me instead, you meddling jade.’ He drew a pistol from his pocket and levelled it at her. ‘Don’t scream,’ he said.

‘Why did you do it?’ asked Jane, marvelling at the steadiness of her own voice.

‘Why did I try to kill you at that Baillie woman’s ridiculous party?’

‘No,’ said Jane. ‘I know now that was you and you tried to kill me to stop me finding out how Clara died. I meant, why did you kill
her
?’

He sighed, sat down on the bed, and laid the pistol on his knee.

‘She played me false,’ he said. ‘She played me false,’ he repeated, and then fell silent.

A wheezy barrel organ was playing in the street below, a child called, a horse clopped past – all the sounds of everyday living came to Jane’s ears while she pressed back against the pillows and faced the murderer of Clara Vere-Baxton.

‘Why?’ asked Jane again.

‘She had a fever,’ he said. ‘I attended her. She told me she did not want to marry Bullfinch but that her parents were forcing her to accept him. I believed her. She was so very beautiful, the fragile beauty of a Dresden figurine. I fell deeply in love with her. I attended her several times.

‘My love appeared to be returned. How could I think otherwise when, after her illness was over, she called at my rooms and became my mistress? I begged her to allow me to speak to her father, elope with me, anything so that she might become my bride.