A Murdered Peace
- Автор: Робб Кэндис
- Серия: A Kate Clifford Mystery #3
- Год: 2018
- Язык: английский
- Год: Pegasus Books
- ISBN: 9781681779270
- Жанр: Исторические детективы
Электронная книга - «A Murdered Peace». Краткое содержание книги:
England still in tumult at the start of the fifteenth century, as Kate Clifford finds herself working to prove the innocence of her longtime confidante.
It is deep winter in York, 1400, the ground frozen, the short days dimmed with the smoke from countless fires, the sun, when it shines, low in the sky. It is rumored that the Epiphany Uprising, meant to relieve the realm of the Henry the usurper and return King Richard to the throne has, instead, spelled his doom. As long as Richard lives, he is a threat to Henry. So, too, the nobles behind the plot. The ringleaders have been caught, some slaughtered as they fled west by folk loyal to Henry, and the king's men now search the towns for survivors.
A perilous time, made worse for Kate Clifford by the disappearance of Berend, her cook and confidante, shortly after Christmas. Her niece saw his departure in a dream – he said he was honor bound to leave. Honor bound – to a former lord? One of the nobles who led the uprising? Is he alive? She is hardly consoled when Berend reappears, wounded, secretive, denying any connection to the uprising, but refusing to explain himself. When he is accused of brutally murdering a spice seller in the city, Kate discovers a chest of jewels in his possession. Some of the jewels belong to her old friend Lady Margery, wanted by the king for her husband’s part in the uprising. For the sake of their long friendship, and the love she and her wards bear for him, Kate wants to believe his innocence. So, too, does Sir Elric. And he has the powerful backing of the Earl of Westmoreland. All she need do is confide in him. If only she trusted her heart.
Matt knocked but once and the door swung open to reveal Fitch, Lionel’s longtime servant. He bowed to Kate, nodded to Matt, and attempted to hide the shudder that traveled through his body at the sight of Lille and Ghent.
“Is your master at home, Fitch?” Kate asked.
Another brief bob. “He is, Mistress, but he can see no one today.”
“Who is that, Fitch?” Winifrith called out from behind him.
As Fitch turned to respond to his mistress, she hastily set aside her embroidery, hurrying to the door to greet her visitors.
“My dear, dear gray giants, what a joy to see you!” As the hounds smelled Winifrith’s slender hands she glanced up at Kate. “I fear Fitch is correct. My poor Lionel is abed with an ague.”
Was it Kate’s imagination, or did Winifrith pause before the last word, as if searching for an appropriate excuse? Matt cleared his throat, a habit he had when he noticed something amiss. Good, it was not her imagination.
“You look well, my friend,” said Kate. “I can hardly believe we were so worried for you only months ago.” Winifrith’s latest pregnancy had nearly killed her. Her body had swelled dangerously and Lionel and the children had almost given up hope. But she was deceptively sturdy.
“Why, I am feeling quite recovered,” Winifrith said now, smoothing her skirt. With a little laugh she stood on tiptoe to kiss Kate’s cheek, then stepped back and complimented her visitor’s obvious health. “There are roses in your cheeks and sparks in your eyes. Is it that handsome knight of yours? Is he good to you?”
Kate made a face. “Not you, too, Winifrith. Of all people I thought you would know not to trust such rumors.”
A little shrug. “You are young, and without children of your own …” A little wink. “And who is this handsome man in your company? I do not believe we have met.”
As Kate introduced Matt she searched her mind for a compelling excuse to disturb Lionel on his sick bed. For it was clear that Winifrith was uneasy about something, her behavior was so unlike her. It was more than a possible lie about her husband’s being ill. And once Winifrith remembered her duty as a hostess and invited them in for some refreshment before trekking back across the city, Kate found her behavior even more suspicious. A whirlwind of children rushing to greet their Aunt Kate was sternly sent out to the kitchen. Not at all Winifrith’s usual behavior.
“Forgive me,” Winifrith said when she turned back to her guests. “But they are so loud, and their father’s head pounds when they shriek. I do pray you did not come all this way to see him?”
“I had hoped to see him – I have some news about our partnership. But I also hope to spend some time with you and young Simon. I am glad to see you looking so well. And all the children,” said Kate. “If I might just have a brief word with Lionel, I believe I will cheer him.”
Winifrith shook her head. “I am afraid that is not possible. The fever, you see. I would feel responsible if you took ill. And I could not bear for you to take it to the children.”
“Surely but a moment …”
“I am sorry.” Winifrith commanded Fitch to bring claret for her and her guests and then fetch Maud with baby Simon. “Come let us sit by the fire.” She herself settled on a stool near the hearth, encouraging Lille and Ghent to sit beside her. “I am so fond of them,” she cooed.
In a few moments footsteps clattered on the stairs outside the house and Winifrith’s eldest daughter danced in with tiny Simon in her arms. He had not been so quick to recover the ordeal of his birth and had the translucent skin of a child destined to sit and watch his siblings in their robust play, ever too fragile to join in. But he had a grin that lit his sweet face and a squealing laugh that inspired laughter in all who heard it. Even dour Fitch, sitting on a bench by the door, made a sound that might be a chuckle. Maud, with her mother’s delicate features and her father’s height, flashed a dazzling smile at Matt and had soon deposited baby Simon on Kate’s lap so that she might flit about pouring wine and showing off her charms. Matt was smitten, his own warm, engaging smile beaming brightly.
Simon gurgled and reached out a hand toward Ghent, who was nearest him. His little legs pumping in delight, the baby bounced on her lap. It heartened her to feel his surprising strength. Not so puny after all.
As Kate bounced Simon on her knee and chatted with Winifrith about the mayoral election and Isabella Frost’s boasts that the mayoral feast would be the grandest in the city’s history, she noticed Matt and Maud slipping away. Maud was often Kate’s quiet supporter in disputes with Lionel. She wished she had anticipated the attraction and primed Matt to ask Maud about her father’s illness, how long, details.
Winifrith moved on to the gossip about Margery Kirkby. “I do not know what to think. King Richard was our king for so long, the grandson of King Edward, and now he is imprisoned, or worse … And King Henry demands our loyalty, so it is treasonous to support the very man it was treasonous to betray. Were the men committing treason when they captured King Richard? For he was still king when they did. What a muddle.” She wagged her head. “So I do not know what to think of Sir Thomas Kirkby’s betrayal of King Henry in support of King Richard – or I should say Richard of Bordeaux, as we are now to refer to him. It is difficult to condemn Sir Thomas. And in all the confusion– Well, how does anyone know who is doing what to whom?”
Winifrith’s breathless expression of bemused indignation was clearly meant to distract Kate. She hoped it rather distracted Winifrith, and did her best to keep the conversation moving along.
“I find it difficult to believe Sir Thomas would take sides after risking his life and his reputation attempting to reconcile the royal cousins,” Kate said. “And to think of Lady Margery being hunted down as she grieves for her beloved husband– I begin to wonder what manner of man wears the crown.”
“Have a care, Katherine. Those are treasonous words.”
Simon had been nodding in Kate’s lap, but as Ghent shifted and meeped in his sleep the baby woke and began to bounce again. Kate turned the conversation to marvel at his strength.
Winifrith’s expression softened, and she reached over to tickle her son’s feet. “He is a miracle child. My last, I fear. The midwife does not think I can – or should – carry another.”
“You have a houseful of beautiful, healthy children to comfort you, eh?” said Kate.
“What about you? You have Simon’s, and your brother’s child, but what about one of your own, Katherine?”
“One day I should like that. When the time is right.”
“These are your best years for it. Carrying them, birthing them, it was all so much easier when I was younger. Sir Elric is so handsome. Do not put business before marriage for too long.”
Kate was only half listening to Winifrith, more intent on the sound of feet on the outer stairs to the upper story and a creaking above. Maud and Matt visiting Lionel? She hoped so. She bent to smell the sweetness of Simon’s downy hair and tickle him so that he giggled and shrieked, waking Ghent, who barked in response, a noise to disguise the sounds overhead.