Read Online English Tea Murder by Leslie Meier - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leslie Meier
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reasoned, and it was awkward to confront grieving family members. Even worse, perhaps, when the family member wasn’t grieving.
“Well, then. Onward and upward as my dear mother likes to say.” Quentin was ready to take charge. “I believe George made arrangements for an excursion to Hampton Court today. In fact, I noticed a minibus parked outside, and I spoke to the driver, who is waiting for us. So if you all want to get your things for the day, we can get this show on the road.”
As always in London, the road was crowded and the minibus crawled through town. Lucy didn’t mind the slow pace, because it gave her an opportunity to get the lay of the land. Passing through busy Leicester Square, she spotted the TKTS booth where theater tickets were sold for half price, and passing Green Park, she noticed a sign pointing the way to Buckingham Palace. This was all useful information that she filed away for future reference.
Sue was also taking notes. “That’s the Wolseley,” she said, pointing out a restaurant on Piccadilly. “Very fashionable.”
“Looks expensive,” said Lucy, noticing the Ritz Hotel on the next corner and the well-dressed men in bespoke suits with slim briefcases striding along purposefully on the sidewalk.
Sue had also noticed them. “Don’t you wish people in America dressed better? All anybody seems to wear anymore is jeans.”
“Jeans are just fine with me,” said Lucy, looking down at her denim-clad legs, “and I’ve noticed plenty of people wearing them here in London, too.”
“Only tourists,” sniffed Sue.
Lucy laughed. “We’re tourists. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Even Jane Austen was a tourist,” said Quentin, joining the conversation. “It was quite the fashion in nineteenth-century England to tour the countryside and visit the stately houses. Elizabeth Bennett goes sightseeing in Pride and Prejudice . In fact, it’s the sight of Mr. Darcy’s impressive estate that prompts her to revise her previously unfavorable opinion of him and decide he’s marriage material.” He paused. “I think you will discover that Hampton Court is well worth a visit. It was built by Cardinal Wolsey and was the finest palace in England, a fact that didn’t sit well with Henry the Eighth. He complained that the cardinal’s home was far nicer than anything he had, compelling the cardinal to offer it to him. Henry didn’t hesitate to seize it. He wanted something that would impress his new lover, Anne Boleyn.” Quentin paused. “I guess we all know how that turned out.”
“She was beheaded, wasn’t she?” said Autumn. “We saw the monument at the Tower of London.”
Quentin nodded. “Henry soured on the relationship when she failed to produce a male heir.”
“Typical!” snorted Autumn. “Like that was her fault.”
“Nowadays we know it’s the father’s sperm that determines the sex of the child,” observed Dr. Cope. “They didn’t know that in the sixteenth century.”
“Was that why she died?” Jennifer’s voice was low and her face pale. “Just because she didn’t have any sons?”
“It was a bit more complicated than that. She was accused of treason and fornicating with her brother and just about anything her enemies could think of. But Henry had it done in true royal style.” Quentin spoke with relish, enjoying showing off his knowledge. “Instead of letting the usual executioner go at her with an ax, which sometimes took more than a few whacks, he hired the famous swordsman of Calais to do the deed in the French manner. One quick swing of the sword and the problem was solved.”
“I hated the Tower,” whispered Jennifer. “It’s a horrible place. You can almost hear those poor souls screaming.”
“I imagine more than a few got exactly what they deserved,” said Tom Smith.
“And others were sacrificed to royal whims,” said Quentin. “At Hampton Court, they say, visitors sometimes encounter the ghost of Katherine Howard,
“Well, then. Onward and upward as my dear mother likes to say.” Quentin was ready to take charge. “I believe George made arrangements for an excursion to Hampton Court today. In fact, I noticed a minibus parked outside, and I spoke to the driver, who is waiting for us. So if you all want to get your things for the day, we can get this show on the road.”
As always in London, the road was crowded and the minibus crawled through town. Lucy didn’t mind the slow pace, because it gave her an opportunity to get the lay of the land. Passing through busy Leicester Square, she spotted the TKTS booth where theater tickets were sold for half price, and passing Green Park, she noticed a sign pointing the way to Buckingham Palace. This was all useful information that she filed away for future reference.
Sue was also taking notes. “That’s the Wolseley,” she said, pointing out a restaurant on Piccadilly. “Very fashionable.”
“Looks expensive,” said Lucy, noticing the Ritz Hotel on the next corner and the well-dressed men in bespoke suits with slim briefcases striding along purposefully on the sidewalk.
Sue had also noticed them. “Don’t you wish people in America dressed better? All anybody seems to wear anymore is jeans.”
“Jeans are just fine with me,” said Lucy, looking down at her denim-clad legs, “and I’ve noticed plenty of people wearing them here in London, too.”
“Only tourists,” sniffed Sue.
Lucy laughed. “We’re tourists. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Even Jane Austen was a tourist,” said Quentin, joining the conversation. “It was quite the fashion in nineteenth-century England to tour the countryside and visit the stately houses. Elizabeth Bennett goes sightseeing in Pride and Prejudice . In fact, it’s the sight of Mr. Darcy’s impressive estate that prompts her to revise her previously unfavorable opinion of him and decide he’s marriage material.” He paused. “I think you will discover that Hampton Court is well worth a visit. It was built by Cardinal Wolsey and was the finest palace in England, a fact that didn’t sit well with Henry the Eighth. He complained that the cardinal’s home was far nicer than anything he had, compelling the cardinal to offer it to him. Henry didn’t hesitate to seize it. He wanted something that would impress his new lover, Anne Boleyn.” Quentin paused. “I guess we all know how that turned out.”
“She was beheaded, wasn’t she?” said Autumn. “We saw the monument at the Tower of London.”
Quentin nodded. “Henry soured on the relationship when she failed to produce a male heir.”
“Typical!” snorted Autumn. “Like that was her fault.”
“Nowadays we know it’s the father’s sperm that determines the sex of the child,” observed Dr. Cope. “They didn’t know that in the sixteenth century.”
“Was that why she died?” Jennifer’s voice was low and her face pale. “Just because she didn’t have any sons?”
“It was a bit more complicated than that. She was accused of treason and fornicating with her brother and just about anything her enemies could think of. But Henry had it done in true royal style.” Quentin spoke with relish, enjoying showing off his knowledge. “Instead of letting the usual executioner go at her with an ax, which sometimes took more than a few whacks, he hired the famous swordsman of Calais to do the deed in the French manner. One quick swing of the sword and the problem was solved.”
“I hated the Tower,” whispered Jennifer. “It’s a horrible place. You can almost hear those poor souls screaming.”
“I imagine more than a few got exactly what they deserved,” said Tom Smith.
“And others were sacrificed to royal whims,” said Quentin. “At Hampton Court, they say, visitors sometimes encounter the ghost of Katherine Howard,
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