Free Jane and the Prisoner of Wool House by Stephanie Barron Page A

perfectly suited for a promenade in view of the sea. The garden of our prospective house in Castle Square is bordered by the city's battlements, and from its height—achievable by flights of steps at several points along the wall's length—one might gaze at the New Forest beyond. The sea washes steadily at the great wall's foot; and I imagine that in warmer months—my window flung open to the night air—I shall fall off to sleep amidst the gentle susurration of the waves, and dream that I am rocking aboard one of my brother's ships. 1
    So absorbed was I in this pleasant thought, that I was almost propelled headlong into the arms of the brother in question, as he stood outside the door of the Dolphin Inn, gazing earnestly upwards at one of its bow windows.
    “Frank!” I cried; and, “Dearest!” exclaimed Mary at the same moment
    He turned, and appeared not to recognise us, so absorbed in thought was he. But then his expression changed; he shook off abstraction and mustered a smile. “You have caught me out, Mary, in a private dissipation— I never can pass the Dolphin without remarking upon the strange picture by way of a ship, that they have propped there in the window; a very strange ship, from its construction, and hardly one I should consent to command. The wind is filling the sails from entirely the wrong quarter, to judge by the ensign; and how any fool of a painter could expect such a craft—but enough, you are laughing at me, and no husband worth respect should consent to be laughed at,”
    I was convinced, from an intimate knowledge of my brother's ways, that some other object had drawn his eye to the Dolphin's window; but I forbore to question him. Over Mary's head, his gaze slid anxiously to my own; but I preserved my serenity of countenance, and he appeared relieved.
    “You are in time, Mary, to renew your acquaintance with Captain Sylvester,” Frank told his wife. “See—he is just coming along the opposite side of the High, and Mrs. Sylvester with him. Should you like to cross, and say how d'ye do?”
    Mary expressing her willingness to perform this small social duty, we had soon exchanged one paving for another, and stood in a tight little knot of the Navy, while the Sylvesters—he a hale fellow of perhaps fifty, she a smaller article with an expression of bird-like intelligence—offered all that was solicitous regarding Mary's condition and Frank's shipless state. Our direction being consulted, the couple then obligingly turned back in order to accompany us on our way to Queen Anne Street. Amidst all the chatter of, “When do you expect to be removed to your home?” and, “When may we visit you in Castle Square?” and, “Pray allow me to relieve you of the burden of your eggs, Mrs. Austen—” an exchange of Captain Sylvester for Frank was made at Mary's arm. I found my brother at my side.
    “I have seen him,” he murmured low in my ear. “I have found him out. Chessyre.”
    “He lodges at the Dolphin?”
    Frank nodded abruptly. “It was no very great matter to learn his direction. The whole town may know it, provided they frequent the more disreputable taverns and houses of ill repute by the quayside. Mr. Chessyre, I find, is intimately known in certain circles that should never gain admittance to the Dolphin.”
    “And you spoke to him? You learned the truth of the engagement?”
    “You possess far too wide a knowledge of the world, Jane, to assume that truth is so easily secured,” my brother replied grimly. “Do not sport with my under standing by undervaluing your own; I am not in the humour for it.”
    Mary's laughter pealed delightedly before us; Captain Sylvester—or his diminutive wife—must be roundly entertaining.
    “What did Chessyre say?”
    “Very little. For a man much given to boasting when disguised in drink, he preserved a Delphic silence in his own rooms. I prodded—I pleaded—I threatened by turns; but the Lieutenant remains obdurate in his charge of