A Twisted Vengeance
- Автор: Робб Кэндис
- Серия: A Kate Clifford Mystery #2
- Год: 2017
- Язык: английский
- Год: Pegasus Books
- ISBN: 9781681774756
- Жанр: Исторические детективы
Электронная книга - «A Twisted Vengeance». Краткое содержание книги:
As the fourteenth century comes to a close, York seethes on the brink of civil war – and young widow Kate Clifford, struggling to keep her businesses afloat, realizes that her mother is harboring a dangerous secret…
1399. York is preparing for civil war, teeming with knights and their armed retainers summoned for the city’s defense. Henry of Lancaster is rumored to have landed on the northeast coast of England, not so far from York, intent on reclaiming his inheritance – an inheritance which his cousin, King Richard, has declared forfeit.
With the city unsettled and rife with rumors, Eleanor Clifford’s abrupt return to York upon the mysterious death of her husband in Strasbourg is met with suspicion in the city. Her daughter Kate is determined to keep her distance, but it will not be easy – Eleanor has settled next door with the intention of establishing a house of beguines, or poor sisters. When one of the beguines is set upon in the night by an intruder, Kate knows that for the sake of her own reputation and the safety of her young wards she must investigate.
From the first, Eleanor is clearly frightened yet maintains a stubborn silence. The brutal murder of one of Eleanor’s servants leads Kate to suspect that her mother’s troubles have followed her from Strasbourg. Is she secretly involved in the political upheaval? When one of her wards is frightened by a too-curious stranger, Kate is desperate to draw her mother out of her silence before tragedy strikes her own household.
God help her, she had rushed right into Lionel Neville’s trap. That business with his brother’s will. The man would do anything to push Katherine into the arms of a suitor, always spying on her, looking for an opportunity to trip her up. Or so said young Petra, and Eleanor had learned to trust her granddaughter’s confidences. Eleanor closed her eyes and took a breath. Katherine would never believe she had not known she was leasing the house from Lionel. Nor would she forgive. All Eleanor’s hopes of reconciliation dashed by her own heedless haste.
“I will go to him,” she said.
“Shall I come, Dame Eleanor?” asked Clara.
“No. Take my servant Rose and look for the dagger. No, take Sister Agnes. She could use some fresh air. And, Agnes, as this is not your house, I am at liberty to cast you out. If there is anything more I should know, it is best to tell me now.”
Tears welled in the woman’s eyes as she reached out in supplication. “Dame Eleanor, I beseech you …”
“Obey her and you’ve nothing to fear,” Sister Clara said.
Agnes shook her head. “There is nothing more.”
“Good.” Sister Clara took the woman by the arm. “Come, we have work to do.” With a nod to Eleanor, Clara led Agnes out into the garden.
Squaring her shoulders, Eleanor swept out of the bedchamber, through the kitchen, and across the garden, not pausing until she’d taken a few steps into the hall. Lionel had not yet noticed her. Well dressed and tall, Lionel Neville might have been handsome had he possessed any admirable qualities. But there was a pinched quality to his face and a guardedness in his bearing that suggested petulance and defensiveness – quite accurate signs, which might be considered advance warning to those who must endure his presence. At the moment he was leaning toward the altar as if assessing the value of the embroidered cloth, the statues, crucifix, and candle holders.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” she said.
He straightened abruptly. “Dame Eleanor. I did not hear you enter.”
“I noticed. We are a quiet household.” She bestowed on him her most gracious smile and suggested they sit by the window, where there was a slight breeze. “A gift on such a warm day.” Fussing with her skirt, she schooled herself to silence on the matter of the house. She would consult with Katherine before confronting him about it. “You wished to speak to me?”
“I came out of concern for your welfare and that of your household of women. There is talk of an incident here last night? One of your poor sisters attacked?”
“Attacked? Oh, dear me, no. No, Master Lionel. Oh dear, how shall I put it. Sister Dina had a dreadful dream, and paired with …” She glanced away as she cleared her throat. “… her monthly courses …” A shrug. “I fear she is excitable in that way.”
He had colored slightly and now averted his eyes in embarrassment. “I am sorry for her suffering, but relieved to hear the cause, that there was no assault or intrusion.” He rose. “I pray you, Dame Eleanor, if there is ever anything you might need, be assured you have a friend in me.”
And why would I be such a fool as to believe that? Eleanor growled inwardly. But she smiled as she rose to escort him to the door. “You are most kind. At present Sister Dina is being cared for by the poor sisters at the maison dieu. I trust there will be no more trouble.”
As Lionel ducked out the door and strode round to the alleyway, he glanced back at her with a frown. Wondering whether he had been deceived? Eleanor smiled and nodded to him, then closed the door.
4
Rumors
Frustrated by how little he had learned from the knights, Berend was about to take his leave when Sir Alan’s squire entered from the alleyway and sidled over to the knight, speaking softly, but not softly enough. People took Berend’s lost ear as a sign he was deaf. But he plainly heard the squire say, “Westmoreland’s man, Sir Elric, has just passed, headed toward Bootham Bar.” The knight nodded, dismissing his man.
“You take an interest in Westmoreland’s men?” asked Berend. He smiled at Sir Alan’s surprise.
The knight flashed an angry look at his squire, then composed himself. “I am curious why he is still here and not on the coast – or Knaresborough, if the current rumor is to be believed – with the earl, welcoming Henry of Lancaster.”
“You are so certain Ralph Neville will choose that side?”
“The Earl of Westmoreland married a Lancaster, did he not? For what other purpose than to cast his lot with that powerful house?”
What indeed. Berend noticed the knight peering at him, as if reconsidering.
“I forgot for a moment that your mistress is a Neville by marriage,” said Sir Alan. “Perhaps Dame Katherine has heard otherwise?”
Berend did not believe for a moment that the knight had forgotten the connection. “Not to my knowledge,” he said as he rose. “It grows late and I would not wish to outstay my welcome. We will talk again.” He bowed and departed.
Out on the street Berend hastened toward Bootham Bar, reaching it in time to catch a glimpse of Sir Elric just passing through the gate. He noticed how Elric tilted his hat over his face as he passed a party of knights and foot soldiers arriving on the other end. Cautious about being seen here? But of course he would be aware that those loyal to the king would wonder about the Earl of Westmoreland for the reason Sir Alan stated – married to a Lancaster … Berend followed, surprised when Elric turned down toward the gates of the Benedictine abbey of St. Mary’s. Now what might he want there?
A group of clerics and two peddlers with a wagon provided the cover Berend needed to draw close to the knight as he reached the abbey gate, close enough to hear his request for directions to the abbot’s house and the infirmary.
Seeking permission to visit a wounded colleague? Berend nodded to himself, rubbing his scarred ear.
The guesthouse hall benefited in such weather from several windows on each alley, allowing for a refreshing breeze. Kate sat with her back to one of the windows and closed her eyes for a moment while Goodwife Griselde led Lille and Ghent out to the kitchen for water. The heat and the events of the morning had already wearied Kate, and it was not yet midday. She meant to quiet her mind, but it kept jumping to Elric, that moment of warmth, and warning.
“I’ve cold meats, bread, cheese, and ale,” Griselde announced as she returned to the hall. Kate nodded, eyes still closed, listening as the housekeeper’s husband, Clement, entered from the kitchen, his limp giving him away. She smiled to hear yet a third member of the procession. Berend – she would know his tread anywhere. Solid, sure. When they were assembled round the small table, Kate opened her eyes and sat up, brushing a stray curl back behind her ear.
Griselde rose to help, tucking the curl into the crispinette. “When you arrived you looked as if your morning had been full and troubling, Mistress Clifford. I thought to give you a few moments to rest. I am glad to see you already more at ease.”
Would that she were. Kate patted the woman’s hand in thanks. “Our day began far too early.” She nodded to Berend. “So much to tell. I don’t quite know where to begin.”
“As ever, at the beginning. The hounds sounding the alarm,” said Berend.
“That is how it began,” said Kate.
“I am eager to hear of what happened,” said Griselde as she settled across the table. “Jennet asked me to tell you what she learned about Nan’s mother. I invited her to wait for you, but she was in such haste.” A shake of her head. “On the subject of Nan I’ve plenty to say. And about her mistress, Agnes Dell.”