Read Online Air of Treason, An: A Sir Robert Carey Mystery (Sir Robert Carey Mysteries) by P. F. Chisholm - Free Book Online Page B

nothing. Wouldn’t even let his first wife be named in his presence.”
    “Your lady mother?” Carey asked cautiously. “Did she…er…?”
    “You’d think she’d have been jealous of Amy Robsart, as my stepfather’s first love, but she wasn’t. She was jealous, exceedingly. But not of Amy Robsart.”
    Carey said nothing. They both knew the woman Lettice Knollys had real cause to hate.
    “I’ll be seeing my lady mother later,” Essex said. “I’ll mention it to her if you like.”
    “That would be very kind, my lord. I need all the help you can give. But surely the Dowager Lady won’t be coming to Court?”
    “No, no, of course not, the Queen won’t have her. But she’s staying in Oxford at the moment so I’ll see what I can do…”
    That was hopeful—if the Earl remembered his promise and if he actually kept it. Carey thought of mentioning Emilia’s suit, but then decided not to. After all, she hadn’t yet even offered him a proper fee for the introduction to Essex. There was a nervous cough behind him. Carey turned back to see John Tovey standing there in his worn grey doublet, holding a close-written piece of paper and looking scared.
    “Mr. Tovey,” said Carey affably, “Have you finished?”
    “Y…y…yes,” stuttered the boy.”D…did you want me to sign the copy?”
    Carey shook his head, took the translation and read it carefully; a little to his surprise, some of the Latin had meant what he had guessed it did. As the Earl was still standing there, avid with curiosity, Carey passed it to him and he read it, too.
    “It all seems in order, Sir Robert. The jury found it was an accidental death.”
    Carey was so surprised to hear Essex say this that he looked carefully to see if the Earl was joking. No, there was no twinkle in the blue eyes, no smile, but no puzzled frown either. Essex saw nothing wrong with the accounts at all.
    “Yes, my lord,” he said after a moment’s thought and didn’t say any of the things that had struck him forcibly even while he had been struggling with the Latin. He caught John Tovey’s eye and saw from the terror there that the boy knew who Amy Robsart was and had spotted what he had in the dry legal phrases. So he had better deal with that.
    “I must go and meet the Queen,” said Essex. “I’ll do what I can for you, Sir Robert. I’ll arrange for you to talk to my lady mother—I’m sure she’ll be very happy to do it. But best not to mention the…er…the property business to her. She won’t be interested and might take it into her fluffy head to buy some, eh?”
    There was an unfilial wink and a laugh and then the Earl turned and strode out of the churchyard, letting the gate bang behind him. Carey bowed to him as he went, honestly impressed at how well the Earl could fake genuine amusement. So that was who had bought up the Cornish recusant lands, was it? Of course Lettice Knollys’ son would have done the business for his lady mother. It made a lot of sense. Carey wondered if Sir Robert Cecil yet knew that detail—he would undoubtedly find out. Perhaps it would be a good idea for Carey to be the first to tell him? Or perhaps not. He would likely be annoyed, and Carey didn’t want Cecil to know how much he knew about the Jackson affair. Though he probably did.
    Carey sighed at the weary complexity of Court life and turned to John Tovey, who was still standing there like a post, mouth open, Adam’s apple working every so often. His spots were more visible in the dull daylight, but he had done a creditable and more importantly fast job on the Latin. Carey sat down on the stone bench looking over the churchyard, the only part of the village not being camped on or grazed by the Court or its animals.
    “Mr. Tovey, how old are you?”
    “T…twenty, I think, sir.”
    “Are you looking for a place as a clerk?”
    The boy flushed—he was almost certainly not twenty but a couple of years younger at least.
    “Er…yes. Yes, I am, sir.”
    That