Why Mermaids Sing

Chapter 31

They faced each other across the elegant expanse of the library in Lord Jarvis’s massive Berkeley Square town house.

“Why?” Sebastian demanded. “What is your interest in any of this?”

Jarvis drew a gold enameled snuffbox from his pocket. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you. What is your interest in this?” Sebastian demanded again.

Jarvis flicked open the snuffbox with one deft finger. “I’ve brought you here because I’m concerned for the safety of my daughter, Hero.”

“Miss Jarvis?” The answer caught Sebastian by surprise. “What has she to do with any of this?”

Jarvis lifted a pinch of snuff to one nostril and sniffed. “I had a son once, David. David was a year younger than Hero.” Jarvis tucked his snuffbox away and dusted his fingers. “He was a strange child. Very…dreamy. At the age of eight he announced he wanted to be a poet, but by the time he was ten, he’d decided he preferred to be an artist.”

Sebastian studied the big man’s curling lip and narrowed eyes, but said nothing. Sebastian knew only too well what it was like for a son to disappoint his father, to never quite measure up to expectations.

“He spent several years at Oxford,” Jarvis was saying, “but found nothing to hold his interest. Six years ago, I sent David to my wife’s younger brother, Sidney Spencer. Spencer’s regiment was in India, and I thought the experience would do the boy good. Toughen him up a bit.”

Sebastian sat forward, his attention now well caught. “And?”

“The climate didn’t agree with David. He was always sickly as a child, although it was my opinion that his mother and grandmother coddled him.” Jarvis’s jaw tightened. “After eight months, Spencer decided to send him home.”

Sebastian thought he knew where this was going. “Let me guess. The ship was the Harmony, captained by Edward Bellamy.”

“That’s right. All went well at first. But three days out of Cape Town, the ship was struck by a fierce storm that lasted days. Her sails were ripped asunder, her masts lost, her timbers strained and leaking badly. It seemed obvious to all aboard that the ship was sinking. Captain Bellamy prepared to abandon ship. But most of the ship’s boats had been lost in the storm. Recognizing that there was not enough space for all those left alive, the ship’s crew mutinied.”

“And took the remaining boat?”

Jarvis nodded. “Along with most of the food and water. The Captain, his officers, and the passengers were left to die.”

“So what happened?”

Jarvis went to stand beside the empty hearth, one arm resting along the mantel. “The ship didn’t sink. The Captain and his officers managed to rig up a makeshift mast and sails, but it was useless. They were becalmed.”

“How long did it take the food and water to run out?”

“Not long. They were a day or two from death when they were rescued by a naval frigate that happened to come upon them. The HMS Sovereign.”

“And your son?”

Jarvis turned his head away to stare down at the empty hearth. “David was injured in the mutiny. He died within hours of their rescue.”

Sebastian studied the big man’s half-averted profile. His grief appeared genuine enough. Yet things were rarely as they seemed with this man. “I understand the connection to Adrian Bellamy. But what does any of this have to do with the murders of Dominic Stanton, Barclay Carmichael, and Nicholas Thornton?”

Jarvis’s head came up. “I don’t know about Thornton, but Lord Stanton and Sir Humphrey Carmichael were both passengers on the Harmony.”

Sebastian frowned. When he’d asked Captain Bellamy if he’d known either Stanton or Carmichael, the Captain had answered no. “You’re certain?”

“Of course I’m certain. Both men testified at the mutineers’ trial.”

“The crew was caught?”

“Caught and hanged. Four years ago. The trial caused something of a sensation.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. Four years ago he had been in the Army on the Continent. “What makes you think Miss Jarvis is in danger? You weren’t on that ship; her brother was.”

“And it’s not Captain Bellamy, Sir Humphrey, or Lord Stanton who have died, but their sons. David had no son, but Hero is his sister.”

From the street outside came a hawker’s cry: “Chairs to mend! Old chairs to mend!”

“How did you know I’d taken an interest in the murders?”

“I know,” Jarvis said simply.

Sebastian turned toward the door. “Then I suggest you take some of your spies off the streets and set them to guarding your daughter. Good day, my lord.”

He expected Jarvis to stop him. He did not. But then it occurred to Sebastian that the big man had probably said all he’d intended to say: it was up to Sebastian to use the information or not, as he chose.

He was crossing the hall when he encountered Miss Jarvis herself. She was a tall woman with plain brown hair, a direct gray gaze, and her father’s aquiline nose. If ever there was a woman who could take care of herself, Sebastian had always thought, it was Jarvis’s formidable daughter.

“Good heavens,” she said, pausing at the sight of him, “what are you doing here?” She tilted her head, making a show of studying him. “And not a gun or a knife in sight.”

The first time he’d encountered her here, in her father’s house, he’d held a gun to her head and kidnapped her. He held up his empty hands and gave her a smile that showed his teeth. “Not in sight.”

The smile was not returned. The fiercely intelligent eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

“I suggest you ask your father.”

“I believe I shall.” She headed toward the library door, pausing only to say over her shoulder, “Oh. Do kindly refrain from kidnapping any of the maidservants on your way out, if you please?”