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.
But Eleanor merely nodded, settling in one of the high-back chairs. “As we worked the loom when you were learning. Do you remember the songs?”
Kate exhaled. “I do.” It was a bittersweet memory, conjuring scenes of her brothers crowding into the hall with the dogs and cats, threatening to topple the tall loom. All dead now, all three brothers. Though Geoff, her twin, lived on in spirit, it was not the same, would never be the same.
Matt’s arrival with ale and food drew Kate out of her sudden melancholy – his smile was a grace, always able to warm her heart.
“I will be away now.” He hummed a jaunty tune as he strode from the hall.
Griffin bestirred himself, pouring some ale, slicing some cheese to balance on a chunk of bread.
“Some woman will be most fortunate in that young man,” said Eleanor. “Or have you claimed Matt for yourself, Daughter? I saw how you brightened with his arrival.”
Eleanor, with her startlingly green eyes and winning ways – when she chose to use them – had always charmed men into caring for her and dancing to her tune. Her husbands, sons, nephews, cousins, brothers, neighbors – the males had all been hearts to conquer and shape to her advantage.
Kate chose to ignore her comment about Matt. “So. Lionel paid you a visit?”
Eleanor’s teasing smile vanished with a sigh, and she bowed her head. “That odious creature. He pretended concern about our welfare, having heard about an intruder.” She fussed with a sleeve. Was that a tear rolling down her cheek? “But Agnes lied to us, you see. The house was not her gift to give. It belongs to Lionel Neville.”
“God in heaven,” Kate whispered. He must be praying for a scandal in the Martha House, something to ruin her good name by association.
Eleanor leaned toward Kate, reaching for her hand, pressing it with both of hers. Yes, there were tears spilling down her face. “I am so sorry, Katherine. I didn’t know – I never imagined – I was in such haste. It is my fault. I am to blame. How can you forgive me?”
Kate touched her mother’s cheek with the back of her hand and shook her head at the impossibility of what her mother had uttered. Never had she heard those words from her mother: sorry, my fault, I am to blame. Months earlier, when she had confronted Eleanor with the horror she had unleashed by carelessly advising Walter, Kate’s eldest brother, to reach out to an old enemy, stirring the flames of an anger that would not be slaked until both men were dead and Petra was an orphan, her mother had refused to take responsibility, much less express remorse. She had even tried to lay the blame on Kate and her brothers. Yet now here she sat, clutching Kate’s hand, asking forgiveness.
Was she entirely to blame? Kate might have discovered Lionel’s name on the property had she taken the trouble, had she not washed her hands of her mother because of the guilt she would not own. She, Jennet, and Berend investigated the holdings of all with whom Kate did business. It was her own fault for neglecting to do so with Agnes Dell.
But it was no time for pointing fingers. For Dina’s sake, indeed for all their sakes, Kate needed to discover what had happened in the house Eleanor had leased, whether any or all of them were in danger.
“Do you say nothing to me, Katherine?”
Kate placed her free hand over her mother’s. “Forget about blame, Mother. Tell me all that you know. That is how we will discover what happened, whether it was a random encounter or something more sinister.”
“Do you think the rest of us are in danger?” Griffin asked.
Kate glanced over at him. “That is what we need to find out.” She patted her mother’s hand and offered her a cup of ale. “Wet your throat, then tell me all. From the beginning. What made you suspect Agnes had not been honest with you?”
She listened closely as Eleanor recounted Nan’s announcement that Lionel was in the hall, her obvious discomfort and reluctance to fetch Agnes, Agnes’s consequent blubbering, and the conversation with Lionel, the lie about what had happened with Dina.
“A story perfect for Lionel,” said Kate. “Certain to dissuade him from asking further questions. You were inspired, Mother. Have you informed Magistra Matilda of this version of this morning’s events? This must be our story going forward.”
“With everyone?”
Kate thought about Sir Elric, his men, Thomas Holme, Griselde and Clement, the monk at the abbey infirmary. And what had Berend told Sir Alan and his guests?
“No, it is Lionel’s special tale. With anyone else, say that you do not wish to talk about it. Though if you are pushed …” It would not be that simple. Kate threw up her hands. “How can I advise you when I do not know what happened? For now it is best to say as little as possible.”
Eleanor gently cupped Kate’s face in her hands, then released it with a tearful smile. “I promise to keep my own counsel, except with you. Now. As to what we do about the house–” She explained Sister Clara’s proposal and her own insistence that they consult Kate before making any changes or saying anything to Agnes and Nan.
Kate caught herself glancing over at Griffin as she might Berend or Jennet to gauge their reaction. The breeze had dried his hair, now a coppery mass of curls that gave him an angelic appearance.
“Let me discuss this with Berend and Jennet,” said Kate. “Until we come to a decision, say nothing, Mother.”
“Agnes will ask,” said Eleanor.
“Advise her to pray. Is that not what she joined with your sisters to learn, how to live all her life as a prayer? Suggest she find a work that is pleasing to God, helpful to the community.” Agnes Dell. What was her story? What was her part in this? “What do you know of Agnes? What reason did she give for her offer of the house and her wish to be a beguine?”
Eleanor tilted her head back with a sigh, leaning against the high back of the chair. “What exactly did she say?” she said softly. “She spoke of her grief over her husband’s death, and at sea. With no body to clean, dress, bury with blessings and prayers for his soul, she feels robbed of the farewell. She seeks solace, grace, a life devoted to good works. As you say, it is time she found good, honest work through which she might gain grace for herself and her husband’s soul. May God grant them that.”
Was her mother still referring to Agnes and her late husband, or herself and Ulrich? Kate glanced over at Lille and Ghent. The two slept, Ghent’s head resting on Lille’s back. She rose and helped herself to some cheese and bread. Griffin joined Kate at the table, his back to Eleanor.
“In truth, I asked Agnes very little,” Eleanor said as she rose to join them. Peering into Kate’s eyes, she demanded, “What do you know, Katherine? I sense there is much you are not telling me.”
Kate’s hands itched for the release a session with her bow and a quiver of arrows would bring. “I know far less than I would like, and what little I know is confusing. I need to be quiet now and think. Go to the maison dieu, tell Magistra Matilda what you told Lionel. And then quietly go about the rest of your day as if nothing were changed. We can consult further when we know more.”
Eleanor lifted a hand. “The maison dieu reminded me – Dina sleeps with a dagger beneath her pillow.”
“I know.”
“You do? Did she–?”
“Sister Brigida told me.”
Eleanor had returned to the loom, running her hands over the threads. “Well, the dagger is missing. Agnes and Clara searched for it between the house and the church, thinking Dina may have dropped it as she fled to sanctuary, but they found nothing.”