“And?”
“Charles’s I’s burial vault has been violated. The inscribed section of the lead band that once encircled the coffin has been removed, as has the King’s head.”
“The head?” Sebastian stared at him, his attention well and truly caught. “Was anything else taken from the crypt?”
“That has not yet been determined, although I have instructed the Dean and his virger to make a thorough investigation.”
“Did you open Charles’s coffin when you first inspected the vault for the Prince Regent?”
“I did not.” The carriage swung onto Bond Street, and Jarvis reached up to grasp the strap that dangled beside him. “It is the Prince’s wish that he be present at the coffin’s opening, with the contents to be inspected not only by himself, but by a number of other important individuals.”
“So if you never actually opened the coffin, before, how can you be certain the head was ever there? King Charles might have been buried without it.”
“The depression where the head once rested within the folds of the cerecloth is quite obvious. Apart from which, all the accounts we have of the events that occurred immediately after the execution state quite clearly that Charles’s head was sewn back onto the body before the dead King’s remains were put on display.”
“Was he put on display?”
“Of course he was. It would have been vitally important to the usurpers that the populace be convinced their King was indeed dead.”
Sebastian stared thoughtfully out the window at a costermonger with a gaily painted donkey cart, the boy beside him shouting, “Turnips, penny a bunch!”
“The princess Augusta is not expected to live out the day,” Jarvis was saying. “Her funeral will doubtless take place sometime next week, and the Regent is determined to hold the formal opening of Charles’s tomb immediately thereafter.”
Sebastian brought his gaze back to his father-in-law’s face. “I take it no one has told His Highness that someone already beat him to it? No wonder you didn’t want to discuss this in the street.”
Jarvis tightened his grip on the strap. “It’s conceivable the theft has political implications. Was Stanley Preston an admirer of the Stuarts?”
“The Stuarts certainly interested him. But I don’t know if you could say he admired them.”
“You’re certain?”
“No. At this point, I’m not certain of anything.”
“And you’ve learned nothing that might suggest who was behind the violation of the royal vault?”
Sebastian found himself faintly smiling. “No.”
Jarvis studied him through hard, narrowed eyes. “You find my question amusing?”
“Amusing? Not exactly. Two days ago, a man was murdered in a particularly brutal fashion by someone who is still out there, walking our streets. Yet your only concern in all this is how it might lead to the recovery of some moldering old head?”
“This is not simply some random ‘moldering old head’ we’re talking about,” snapped Jarvis in a rare show of irritation. “And as for whatever fears have been aroused amongst the populace by the grisly manner of this murder, they will be easy enough to assuage with a swift public hanging.”
“Whether the hanged man is actually guilty of the murder or not?”
“Fortunately, we don’t all share your maudlin obsession with guilt and innocence.”
Sebastian met his father-in-law’s hard, ruthless gaze and wondered why it had never occurred to him just how much Jarvis and Oliphant had in common.
The carriage swung back onto Brook Street, and Jarvis signaled his coachman to pull up. “I want that head.”
“If I should happen to come across it, I’ll see it’s returned to you.” Sebastian opened the door without waiting for the footman. Then he paused on the step to look back and say, “What do you know of Sinclair, Lord Oliphant?”
“The man who was until recently governor of Jamaica?” Jarvis frowned. “Very little. Why?”
“Colonial governors are appointed by the Crown, are they not?”
“Officially. But they’re handled by the Home Office.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Sebastian, stepping down.
Jarvis leaned forward, his hand coming up to stay the footman who had moved to close the door. “I don’t like Hero’s involvement in this affair; it’s too dangerous.”
“Hero lives her own life as she sees fit—as well you know.”
Something flared in the powerful man’s eyes. “If anything should happen to either my daughter or my grandson because of this ridiculous obsession of yours, you won’t live long enough to mourn them.”
Then he settled back, turned his face away, and signaled his coachman to drive on.