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.
“I sense a good woman in much pain. My gifts do not extend to loftier realizations.”
As they paused in front of Dame Jocasta’s house, she asked where Kate was headed.
“Lionel Neville’s, to tell his man Fitch of his brother Robin’s death.”
“Brothers? I never would have guessed. May Robin rest in the peace of God’s grace.” Jocasta crossed herself. “Then I will not keep you. It is best to arrive before he sits down to dinner.” As Jocasta was turning, she paused. “Your mother carries a terrible burden. I cannot guess what causes her suffering, but I pray that Friar Gerald will draw her out. I do not believe she is called to a life of service among the sisters, but for now they are a comfort to her.” She patted Kate’s arm. “Be patient with Dame Eleanor. You are everything to her.”
“You gleaned this in one brief encounter?”
“Some I have gleaned from you. God go with you, my friend.”
As Kate continued down Fossgate she puzzled over the sting she had felt in Jocasta’s comments regarding her mother. Be patient. She tried, but with lives in the balance she found it difficult to accept her mother’s secrecy. You are everything to her. Kate was all that survived of her mother’s marriage to David Clifford. But how much of that was her mother’s doing? She paused on the bridge, startled by that question. Is that what she thought? Did she blame her mother for her family’s troubles? Her brothers’ deaths? Walter’s death, yes, but Roland’s? Geoff’s? Of course not.
Father challenged Mother about everything, Geoff said in her mind. He taught us to doubt her.
Kate had forgotten. We were to check with him before doing what she asked. Is that why she took Ulrich as a lover?
You would be a better judge of that, Kate.
Kate stared out over the Foss, the brown waters calmly flowing down to join the Ouse. Dame Jocasta had given her much to ponder. She shook herself, remembering her mission. Once across the bridge, she must set her mind to how to give her brother-in-law the impression that her sole purpose in visiting was to bring the news of Robin’s death to his brother, when of course that was but a small part of her mission. Her mother’s landlord. She must tread softly.
Maud Neville, Lionel’s eldest daughter, answered her knock and surprised Kate with an enthusiastic embrace. When Simon was alive, Kate had spent many happy hours with Winifrith Neville and her children. She was fond of them all, save Lionel. “You never come! And you never, ever bring Lille and Ghent! Welcome! Mother would like to see them. She is abed. The babe is coming any day now. They can climb stairs, can’t they?”
“Yes, of course. But are you certain she will welcome them in her lying-in chamber?”
“She talks of the countryside, you know how much she misses it. A horse would be even better, but lacking that, dogs are the best I can imagine. They will cheer her.”
Of course Winifrith would need cheering. She had borne so many children, the house was bursting, and she’d come close to death bearing the last baby. Blessed Mother, bring Winifrith through this birth with grace.
Without giving Kate a chance to state the reason for her visit, Maud escorted her and the hounds up the outer stairway to the solar. Lille and Ghent hesitated on the threshold of Winifrith’s chamber, the room hushed and stifling, the windows shuttered and a smoky brazier adding to the misery. But seeing them in the doorway, Winifrith called out in delight, urging Kate to bring the hounds to her. Their training overruled their unease.
The expectant mother’s usually bony face was swollen and damp, as were the hands that reached out to stroke Lille and Ghent. Kate wanted to fling open the shutters and put out the fire, but it was not her place.
“I would so much rather be lying in somewhere far from the city, in the peace of the countryside, with my own hounds lying at my feet. Bless you for this moment, Katherine, the pleasure of stroking them, remembering my own. Though I suppose you are here to see my husband?”
“His manservant.” Kate told her about Fitch’s brother and the heavy news she bore for him.
Winifrith waved a swollen hand. “Half brothers, or so they believed. I doubt their mother, the strumpet, knew who had fathered them. But that is no matter. My discomfort makes me spiteful. I am sorry for him. Maud, help me sit up.” Winifrith reached out to the dogs.
Kate motioned for Lille and Ghent to put their front paws on the bed so that Winifrith might scratch their necks.
The woman cooed to them as she worked their necks and their ears, taking her time with them, drinking them in. At last, visibly weary, she nodded to her daughter that she’d had enough. “You will find Lionel in the hall. I will make sure he sees to the burial for Fitch’s brother. It is the least we can do for his long service in this challenging household.”
“Bless you,” said Kate, calling Lille and Ghent to her. “Have you a midwife you trust, Winifrith?” Sister Clara was an experienced midwife, though she had not put herself forward as such in the city, fearful lest she antagonize those already caring for the women of York.
“Are you offering one of your mother’s beguines? To irk Lionel?” Winifrith sighed. “I weary of his constant battle with all and sundry. The man lost all humor when Simon died. His adored elder brother. He blames you, though in truth I should think it was that whore in Calais who exhausted him. So many unnecessary journeys.”
Kate tried to ignore the prick, but it was difficult. “Would you prefer to tell Fitch?”
“No, no. And thank you, but no beguines in this house. I would never be at peace with that man.” With a great sigh Winifrith closed her eyes.
Kate could not escape from the stifling chamber fast enough. At the bottom of the stairs she paused, indecisive – find a servant to announce her, or simply enter the hall? She decided on the latter when, through the slightly opened door, she heard Sir Elric’s ringing tones. Elric and Lionel. How convenient.
Pushing the door wide, she startled Fitch, who was hovering at the edge of the hall, ready to jump at his master’s command.
“Just the man I came to see,” Kate said quietly.
The man squirmed in his master’s old clothes, always slightly too large for him and absurdly fussy for a servant. He backed away from Lille and Ghent, having experienced their strength once in an unfortunate encounter. “Me? Who is telling tales on me?”
Kate caught both hounds’ collars, keeping them by her side. “No one, Fitch. I saw Prior Norbert this morning, and I thought you should know that your brother Robin has died.”
A hand to the heart and his pained look were all Kate needed to see. He had heard.
“May he rest in peace,” she said, and began to step past him toward Sir Elric and Lionel, who were talking quietly now, their backs to Kate and Fitch. But she paused. “Might I ask who told you about your brother?”
“His friend Carter called this morning. Said Robin had passed at the priory, shriven. I was grateful.”
“Had you known he was there, that he’d been injured?”
Fitch glanced toward the hounds. “I might have heard it in the wind, mistress. Not much happens in the city doesn’t become gossip.”
“Of course. Your mistress assures me that she and Master Lionel will see to your brother’s burial.”
A frown, sharp shake of the head. “I would not ask for that.”
“You need not. Dame Winifrith wishes to do it in respect for your long service. Fitch, your brother had a sweetheart. Nan. Did you know her?”
He shook his head. “I knew little about his life.”