They paused at a side street to allow a collier’s wagon to lumber past.
“Why, precisely, did you quarrel?” Sebastian asked. He’d already listened to Jane Austen’s explanation, but he wanted to hear her brother’s version.
“I don’t know if I’d describe it as a quarrel, exactly. Preston was already furious when he walked into the pub. If you ask me, he was looking for someone on whom to unload some spleen, and I was simply there.”
“What was he angry about?”
“The crushing of his grand ambition of seeing his daughter married to a title, I suppose. Jane told you about Anne, didn’t she?”
“She did. Although I must admit I find it hard to believe Preston would be so enraged simply because your wife expressed regrets over something she said six years ago.”
“Yes, well . . .” Austen put up a hand to scratch his ear. “The thing is, I didn’t exactly tell my sister everything. I mean, Preston was angry because of what Eliza had said. But he was also furious with Jane.”
“For what?”
“For ‘encouraging Anne’s romantic notions,’ was the way he put it. You see, before Captain Wyeth reappeared in town, Anne was on the verge of accepting an offer from Sir Galen Knightly.”
Sebastian was familiar with Sir Galen. A prosperous if somewhat lackluster baronet, he was ten years older than Sebastian—which would make him nearly twenty years older than Anne Preston. “And your sister discouraged the match?”
“Oh, no—at least, not intentionally. It’s just that Anne likes to read romance novels.”
“And Miss Austen gave her novels?”
The banker drew his chin back into his cravat and fiddled self-consciously with the buttons of his coat. “Well . . . yes.”
Sebastian watched Austen’s gaze slide away. The man obviously needed to take lessons in lying from someone with Priss Mulligan’s talents. Although why he should be anything less than honest about his sister’s involvement in Anne Preston’s reading material escaped Sebastian entirely.
Sebastian said, “How well did you know Preston?”
“I’ve known him for years, although the real friendship was between our wives.”
“Any idea what he might have been doing at Bloody Bridge on a rainy Sunday night?”
“I suppose it’s possible he decided to go for a walk after leaving the pub. He’d worked himself up into quite a rage. Perhaps he realized he needed to cool off.”
“I understand he had something of a temper.”
“He did, yes. Although I’ve known worse. Much worse, actually. He was a man of strong passions who sometimes allowed his emotions to override his sense. But there was no real harm in him.”
There was no real harm in him. Austen’s words almost exactly echoed those of his sister. And Sebastian found himself wondering why both Austens had felt compelled to make such similar observations.
He said, “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to kill him?”
“No. But then, as I said, we weren’t exactly intimates.”
“Did you ever hear him mention a man named Oliphant?”
“Who?”
“Sinclair, Lord Oliphant. He was until recently the governor of Jamaica.”
Austen thought about it, but shook his head. “Sorry. You might try talking to Sir Galen Knightly. He owns plantations in Jamaica too, you know. And unlike Preston, he’s quite a steady fellow. My sister Jane calls him Colonel Brandon.”
“Colonel Brandon? Why?”
Austen glanced down, his eyes crinkling as if at a private joke. “I suppose you’ve never read Sense and Sensibility?”
“By the author of this new novel everyone is talking about? No.”
“Ah. Well, there’s a character in it—a Colonel Brandon—a staid, older man in love with a much younger woman, who herself prefers a younger, more romantic figure.”
“And Sir Galen Knightly reminds your sister of this character?”
“He does, yes. I don’t think Sir Galen was ever dashing, even when young.”
“Unlike Captain Wyeth.”
The amusement faded from Austen’s face, leaving him looking serious and troubled. “Jane worries that Wyeth may well be another Willoughby or Wickham.”
“Excuse me?” said Sebastian.
“The dastardly fellows in Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice.”
“She thinks Wyeth is dastardly?”
“Not exactly; it’s more that she worries he could be. Have you met him? He’s quite handsome and charming.”
“I didn’t realize such attributes were considered a bad thing.”
Austen gave a soft laugh. “Jane would tell you that handsome, charming young men without fortune should always be considered suspect, particularly when showering attentions on fair maidens of good family.”
“I’m told Miss Preston is not well dowered.”
“I suppose that depends on your standards. She’s no great heiress, certainly. But she has a small portion from her mother in addition to what she’ll get from Preston.”