Chapter Fifteen
THEY ARRIVED AT the tavern and left Mrs. Austen sitting in the front room by the window, which she pronounced perfectly respectable, considering it was afternoon and she was visible through the window.
She asked for a glass of port and it was brought for her.
She seemed cheery and Jane wondered if her mother simply got bored and wished to leave the house from time to time.
It was true that the life Mrs. Austen led now was a great deal less eventful than the life she used to live, being a pastor’s wife, raising all her children, helping to run a school for boys, and having many responsibilities.
They sought Mr. Hardy and were directed by several servants to find him behind the tavern, outside, staring up at the window which belonged to Anne’s bedroom.
“Ah,” he said when he saw them, “it’s you two. I was wondering when you would both turn back up.”
“We have spoken to Mrs. Blethens,” said Byron by way of greeting, which was not how Jane would have done it, she supposed, but it did get right down to the heart of the matter.
“Have you, then.” It wasn’t a question. Mr. Hardy was still looking up at the window.
“She told us a number of very interesting things,” said Byron, “some of which I’ve had confirmed with Mr. Beaumont, and so now, it really comes down to a few things we need you to clear up.”
Mr. Hardy glanced at them both and then back at the window. “If you know that I was with Amelia that night, you know I wasn’t here, do you not? You know that I couldn’t have hurt Anne. So, does the rest of it matter?”
“It does, because we need to understand everything,” said Jane.
“Or because the two of you are gleefully stirring up everything in town and unearthing all manner of things you oughtn’t have unearthed,” said Mr. Hardy.
“Mr. Seward, the new owner, says you were with him the night that Anne died,” said Byron.
“Well, you know that I wasn’t,” said Mr. Hardy.
“Any idea why he’d lie?” said Byron.
“None.”
“Mrs. Blethens says her supply of wild carrot seed is low. You did say you went to her to get it,” said Byron. “Is Mrs. Blethens a means to an end for you? Did you seduce her for the purpose of helping Anne? Was it simply to get the wild carrot seed? And if so, why did Anne come to you for it?”
Mr. Hardy was silent, staring up at the window. “Well, then. You do have a way of getting right to the center of things, don’t you?”
“Are you going to answer any of our questions?” said Jane.
“Perhaps it started that way with Amelia,” said Mr. Hardy.
He still wasn’t looking at them. “Perhaps I wished to use her. But it isn’t that way anymore.
I’m ashamed that I stole from her one last time.
I was really planning on coming back here and telling Anne that I was done with whatever was between us.
I was going to tell her that I’d fallen in love and that I wouldn’t be her… whatever I was to her.”
“What were you to her?”
“Her lapdog,” muttered Mr. Hardy, looking down at his feet.
“Even so,” said Jane, “a woman who has a man at her beck and call doesn’t ask him to procure things like that for her, doesn’t ask him to get womanly articles.”
“No, she didn’t ask,” said Mr. Hardy. “I went looking for it myself for her, so that she would have a supply of it. I did not want her to be with child, for I thought it would be calamity for the tavern. I told her she should drink the tea after a night with a man as a preventative.”
“I see,” said Jane. “Yes, it’s one thing to be a female tavern owner. It would be quite another to be a female tavern owner carrying a babe out of wedlock, it’s true. So, I suppose that makes sense.”
“You conceived the scheme to go after the supply from Mrs. Blethens on your own, then?”
“I knew what sort of woman she was,” said Mr. Hardy.
“I assumed she’d have some on hand, and it turned out that I was right.
I pursued her. I did not think it would work, but to my surprise, she seemed quite flattered at my attentions.
She was very lonely. Even the man who was her benefactor, the one who purchased her house, he didn’t seem to have been much for companionship when he was alive, leaving her for long stretches of time, only coming by whenever he wanted…
well, you know what he wanted. That’s why a man goes to that kind of expense, after all, puts up a woman in a house and keeps her there. He wants exactly one thing.”
“True enough,” agreed Byron.
“Perhaps I’m no different. I thought I was using her for love, for something noble.”
“Love?” said Jane. “You mean, you were in love with Anne.”
“I think Anne only used me,” said Mr. Hardy. “Right up to the end, I think I was only some useful servant who followed her around, like, as I said, a dog. With my tongue hanging out, begging for scraps. What a fool I was.”
Jane said nothing.
Byron said nothing.
Mr. Hardy shot them both a dark look. “Oho! Nothing more to add, after you’ve dug right down into everything there is to know about me, hmm? Just stand there, staring at me with nothing to say, pitiful looks on both your faces. Spare me your pity.”
“There are a few more things, I suppose,” said Byron.
“We know that you blackmailed Mr. Seward into allowing Anne to have the tavern, because you knew he and Mr. Beaumont were, well, close. And we know that he thinks you fully intend to do it now, and this is why he wishes to sell the tavern as quickly as possible and run off to India to wait out the scandal. Before, you said that you thought he might have killed Anne to get his hands on this place.”
“There a question in there?” said Mr. Hardy darkly.
“It’s only that I wonder if you were jealous?
” said Byron. “She apparently liked for you to watch her with Beaumont, and then you discovered she brought her cousin into it. That was your one special thing with her, was it not? Then it wasn’t special, and it wasn’t yours. That must have made you angry.”
“Look, it wasn’t my idea to blackmail Reginald Seward,” said Mr. Hardy.
“Anne wanted to stay here, and I wanted to stay here, too. Neither of us thought it fair that simply because her father was dead that we must be sent packing. Perhaps I didn’t like the idea of her being sent off under her cousin’s roof either.
He didn’t think well of her, you know, not after all of that. ”
“Oh, it’s her he didn’t think well of!” exclaimed Jane. “And all along, this was Beaumont’s doing.”
“Just so, ma’am,” said Hardy, nodding at Jane.
“Anne was manipulated by that man, who never even wanted her, anyway. Beaumont saw her as a means to an end, to get to the bodies he really wanted to debauch, which were male. It was his idea and his villainy. But Seward didn’t see it that way.
He thought Anne far too corrupt to marry, and he would have prevented any marriage for her, since he knew she was not what he considered pure.
I didn’t like it. Anne didn’t like it. We came up with the scheme together, I suppose, and I don’t regret it.
But if you’re asking if I intend to ruin Reginald Seward now?
” He shrugged. “What is the point of it all now? Maybe I want to get away from this place. Maybe I want to leave it all far behind.”
It was quiet again.
The silence stretched on a long time.
Finally, Byron said, “What about Mr. Eves? You just made that up, because you were angry that he wants to get rid of the tavern, did you not? He and Miss Seward were not lovers.”
“Yes, spur of the moment thing,” said Hardy. “The minute I said it, I regretted it. I only wanted him to suffer. I wanted you two to think he was the murderer. The truth is, I don’t know who the man was who was Anne’s lover, only that there was one and that she sneaked out to see him sometimes.”
“What about Mr. Wellings?” said Byron.
“I suppose it’s possible,” said Hardy.
“But you don’t know,” said Byron.
“I do not.”
ON THE WAY back through the tavern, Jane and Byron chatted about what Mr. Hardy had revealed, and they both agreed that it made him a likely suspect for the murder.
If he was so hurt by the way Anne had treated him for all those years, he might have done away with her.
However, the poison made it seem less likely, they thought, because that pointed to thinking things through and Mr. Hardy had obviously not thought through what would happen to the tavern upon Anne’s death. That made it less likely to be him.
They were hoping that Mr. Seward would be in the tavern, too, but he was not, and they were told to seek him at Mr. Eves’s inn just a few doors down.
They collected Mrs. Austen, who was tipsy and red-cheeked, smiling affectionately at Jane and saying, “My daughter, the murder solver!”
“I think we should call ourselves something else,” said Byron. “Maybe, erm, exposers or identifiers?”
“Detectors?” said Jane.
“Murder solver is good,” broke in Mrs. Austen. “Where are we going now?”
“To the inn, to find Mr. Seward,” said Jane.
“Oh, lovely,” said Mrs. Austen. “I shall sit myself down there and have another glass of port.”
“Not in the taproom,” said Jane.
“No, no, of course not in the taproom,” agreed her mother.
All the way down the street, Mrs. Austen kept up a steady stream of chatter, mostly about Jane as a small girl.
“She adored Cassandra, you know, thought the sun rose and set in her. She wanted to do everything that Cassandra did. Cassandra didn’t mind it.
Who would? It’s lovely to be worshiped in that way.
They were so close as girls. I never had to worry a bit about them, because Jane was always following Cassandra around, and Cassandra felt the responsibility of it so deeply that she was quite careful.
I thought they’d grow up and get married and have large families.
Having grandchildren that your sons give you is one thing, of course, but there’s nothing like when your daughter has children, and neither of mine have. ”
“Yes, terribly sorry,” said Jane. “I’ll get right on getting married and having a number of babes. I think I still have a window of three years in which I can still birth babes.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, you have ten years,” said Mrs. Austen. “Well, eight, anyway, at least. Maybe when we visit Henry in London you’ll meet someone. It could happen. Just make sure never to tell anyone you’re a novelist.” She said this very loudly.
“You have just told the entire town of Alton,” said Jane.
“Men would not wish to marry a woman who’d done something like that,” said her mother. “When you said you wished to do it, I just knew that you’d given up entirely on ever settling down.”
“I am six and thirty, Mama,” said Jane. “I didn’t give up on it. It gave up on me!” She rounded on Byron. “I’m sure you’re simply loving this conversation. If my jealousy amused you, this must amuse you too.”
“Certainly not,” said Byron. “I suppose I’m understanding it a bit better, why you keep it a secret.”
“You know why!”
“Certainly,” he said. “I do, but I think there are different consequences for women, perhaps.”
They walked into the inn and they left Mrs. Austen to her port, and they asked at the front desk about where they might find Mr. Seward. Armed with the knowledge, they went up the stairs and knocked on the door.
Mr. Seward opened it. “You two.” He did not sound pleased to see them.
“Listen, we know your secret,” said Byron. “And really, I shan’t judge you.” He gave Seward a little smile.
Seward’s face turned white. “I was a boy! I was young! I was just trying things out, and—” He broke off. “Come inside if we’re going to talk about this at length.”
Seward’s room was small, mostly taken up by the bed, but there was a small table and chairs by the fireplace, which wasn’t burning. It was the part of spring where one doesn’t know, from one day to the next, whether or not one shall need a fire. Today, no fire was needed.
“Why did you say that Mr. Hardy came to you the night of Anne’s death?” said Byron.
Mr. Seward shrugged. “Because he did.”
“Except we know he did not, because we have spoken to the person he was actually with.”
Mr. Seward looked back and forth at them both.
“Well, all right, but I did think that perhaps it was all going to go away. Mr. Hardy had not said anything to me in some time. And I didn’t like the idea of not having anyone who could say where I was the night of Anne’s demise, for, in all honesty, I went for a very long walk that night.
I was gone for hours, walking in the dark, thinking about all manner of things.
I had no notion my life was going to change so dramatically.
I thought it would go on the way it had been.
I had all manner of plans for the future, for the shipping business, for everything.
I thought…” He sighed. “But all that is gone now, and I shall have to go and hide away and ride out this scandal.”
“Well, perhaps not,” said Byron. “The last thing we heard from Mr. Hardy was that maybe he didn’t want to see the place anymore.”
“You simply lied?” said Jane. “Made up that whole story about Mr. Hardy, whole cloth?”
“Well, I suppose one gets used to telling lies when one is concealing dark truths about oneself!” exclaimed Mr. Seward.
Jane supposed maybe that made sense. “If you don’t care so much about selling it for the money, why not see if Mr. Hardy would negotiate with you?
Perhaps you could allow him to keep running the tavern for you.
You would own it, and keep the profits, but you wouldn’t have to be here, day in and day out. ”
“He wouldn’t allow me to own it!”
“If you don’t throw him out of his home, he might be willing to negotiate,” said Jane.
“But I thought that Lord Byron just said that he didn’t want to see the place anymore.”
“I don’t know if he really meant that,” said Jane. “I think he would welcome it if he was not cast out on the streets.”
“Hmm,” said Mr. Seward. He rubbed his chin. “Do you still think I may have murdered Anne?”
“We don’t know one way or the other on that, I’m afraid,” said Byron.
“Well,” said Mr. Seward. “I didn’t.”