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.
“We did not speak of it, mistress.” The minx kept her eyes downcast. Oh, yes, now she played humble.
“Did it not occur to you that you were exposing her to danger?”
“No.”
Agnes sniffed and pushed out her ample bosom as if to impress upon Eleanor the weight of her words. “We never had trouble here.”
“That is no excuse.” And what precisely would she call trouble, Eleanor wondered, when she kept a maidservant like Nan. She bit back a threat to let Nan go. Too soon. First she would have Griffin find out just where the young fool had been. “For the short term, Griffin will sleep in the kitchen, and Nan will take her rest with my maidservant.”
“On a pallet at the foot of your bed?” Agnes huffed. “And what of Nan’s mother? Who will sit with her at night while the children sleep?”
Eleanor had not considered that. “We shall discuss that later. Sister Dina’s welfare is our first concern.” As it should be theirs. But both seemed entirely wrapped up in their own self-protection. Eleanor glanced at her daughter’s maidservant, Jennet. She was such an odd young creature, freckle-faced and petite with a walk and a manner of speaking far more like a young lad. “Might I trouble you to summon my man Griffin? I want him to search for Dina.”
Jennet nodded. “As soon as I repair this lock.”
“It is broken?” Eleanor went to look.
“As Nan said, it is stuck, not broken.” The young woman took out a small metal tool and fussed with the latch. “There.” She stepped back with a look of satisfaction.
Eleanor thanked her.
“Let us withdraw to the hall and kneel in prayer for Sister Dina’s safety,” said Sister Clara, stepping out of the kitchen and into her role as senior sister. Sister Brigida followed, head bowed, hands folded in prayer.
“I suppose you must leave the door unlocked for Griffin,” Eleanor said to Jennet.
“You need not worry, Dame Eleanor. This tool will allow me to let him in. Shall I tell him to await you in the kitchen?”
“You are able–” Eleanor stopped. “You will find Griffin in–”
“I know where he bides, Dame Eleanor.”
“How–” She stopped herself again. “Bless you, Jennet. Yes, ask him to wait here in the kitchen.”
So the young woman might enter the house whenever she pleased. And knew where Griffin was staying. Eleanor had chided her daughter for her choice in servants, but they certainly seemed to earn their keep and provided her with a sense of safety. She said a prayer of thanks for the help of Katherine and her servants as she followed Clara and the others into the hall, though her gratitude was tempered by a worry that they would discover more than she would wish brought to light. A dilemma.
As Eleanor knelt, the enormity of Sister Dina’s disappearance blotted out all other concerns. Merciful Mother, protect gentle Dina, guide her to a safe haven where we might find her and bring her home to be comforted.
As Kate and Berend neared the Martha House, someone hurried down Hertergate toward them.
“One of the sisters from the maison dieu,” said Kate. She handed him the dogs’ leads and went to meet the woman.
“Magistra Matilda sent me.” Matilda was the mother superior of the poor sisters who tended the sick in the maison dieu attached to the parish church across Castlegate. The three beguines had lodged there while Dame Eleanor was away for a time in the spring. “Sister Dina is in the church, lying before the altar, and … there is blood on her gown.” The woman crossed herself. “Magistra Matilda says come quickly.”
Out on Castlegate a few folk were stirring, though so early in the morning they did not pause to chat, focused on going about their business, opening shops, stoking fires, delivering goods for the day’s work. The sister led Kate and Berend to the side door of the church, offering to watch the dogs. “My father raised hounds. I miss them.” Lille and Ghent sniffed her outstretched hand, then her face, and sat obediently as Kate handed her the leashes. The woman’s little cry of delight as Lille nuzzled her hand convinced Kate. Berend was holding open the door.
Kate stepped over the threshold, pausing a few paces in, blinded by the dimness after the early morning sun. Across the church, a figure in gray knelt on a prie-dieu before the Lady altar. As the door swung shut behind Berend, the figure straightened, turning toward them. Magistra Matilda. She gestured toward a prostrate figure on the ground before the altar. Gray gown, white veil. Slender. Sister Dina. Kate approached as quietly as possible, lowering herself to her knees beside the woman, placing a hand on her upper back.
“Sister Dina, praise God that you are here. Safe. Your sisters have been so worried.”
At first Dina did not move, not even a twitch, and Kate feared the worst, though there was no evidence of blood pooling beneath her. She sat back on her heels and waited. The prie-dieu creaked as Magistra Matilda rose. Tucking the paternoster beads up her sleeve, she approached, but stopped as Sister Dina drew in her arms and tried to push herself up. She wobbled. Fearing she might fall back on her face, Kate reached out to support her. But Dina went limp in her arms. Kate glanced back toward Berend, nodding.
Berend came forward, and, bending to the slight woman, gently lifted her up in his arms.
Magistra Matilda rushed over with a cry of distress. “What if she wakes and sees him? If it was a man who attacked her … Forgive me, my good man, but you look …”
Scarred, missing an ear, several fingers, and with a muscular build, Berend was intimidating, Kate was well aware of that. She found it useful. “I need him. And Dina is in a faint, Sister. She is unaware of us. Carry her back to my home, Berend.”
“No. The maison dieu is closer,” said Magistra Matilda. “Let us nurse her.”
Kate looked at Berend, who nodded his approval. “Bless you, Sister. It might be best that Dina not wake in the house in which she experienced whatever frightened her so.”
As Berend carried Sister Dina into the light he paused, gazing down at the woman’s gown. Kate saw it now, blood on her right sleeve and across her torso. Hers? Or someone else’s? They would soon know.
2
A Bloodied Angel
Kate had sent a servant from the maison dieu to let her mother and the others at the Martha House know where Sister Dina was, and that she was safe. Dame Eleanor and Sister Brigida had just arrived when Magistra Matilda beckoned for Kate to come see for herself that Dina had suffered bruises and a small scrape, but nothing to account for all the blood on her gown.
“Dina, did you injure someone in defending yourself?” Kate asked softly.
Though awake, Sister Dina stared off at the ceiling, mute and unmoving.
Perhaps Sister Brigida might have more success – she had been Dina’s good friend in Strasbourg. Kate asked her to try. She did, but to no avail. Dina would speak when she was ready. Kate was content that she bide there for now, until she was herself once more and could tell them whether she could bear to return to the Martha House.
“What of her shift?” Kate asked Matilda. “Was there blood on the shift she wore beneath her gown?” She would have worn only that if awakened by an intruder.
The sister gestured to the pile of clothes. Beneath the gown Kate found the shift, encrusted with blood. So it had been quite soaked. Kate ached with grief for the woman’s ordeal.