Read Online Face Down among the Winchester Geese by Kathy Lynn Emerson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathy Lynn Emerson
Ads: Link
save to swear ‘twould keep ten families in food for a year.
Once he'd removed everything from the trunk, Sir Robert began to search for hidden compartments, slitting the canvas lining with his dagger. He found nothing. No secret panels. No concealed pockets. A thoughtful look on his face, he lifted the damask gown.
Jennet could not hold back a gasp when she realized his intention. Just before he sliced into the fabric, Lady Appleton caught his wrist. “That is not necessary,” she said.
"She must have hidden letters or other papers somewhere. They may be secreted in her clothing."
"Then we will pick out the seams and look, but there is no need to slash and destroy it."
With a mocking bow, he yielded the garment.
"Jennet,” Lady Appleton called softly.
"Yes, madam?"
"Fetch scissors."
For the next hour, they picked apart seams while the men again searched the trunk, inside and out. Lady Appleton made the only discoveries. The first, which Sir Robert dismissed as unimportant, was that a small triangle of fabric was missing from the clothing the Frenchwoman had been wearing when she died.
"Caught her sleeve on something and it tore,” he concluded.
It was a very even tear, Jennet thought. It almost looked as if the piece had deliberately been cut out of the black brocade.
Then Lady Appleton found a folded sheet of paper hidden in the lining of a dark brown wool cloak. She opened it, skimmed its contents, and announced it was a bill of exchange.
"What is that?” Jennet asked.
Sir Walter answered, winning Jennet's gratitude and an even greater degree of liking than he'd claimed before. It was not every gentleman who took time to explain things to a servant.
"'Tis a way of getting money at the end of a journey without the necessity of carrying coins.” He took the parchment from Lady Appleton and examined it. “The traveler, in this case Diane St. Cyr, deposited money with a local merchant, in this case a goldsmith in Paris, who gave her in return this paper. It is directed to a correspondent here in London. When Mistress St. Cyr presented this bill of exchange to him, that London goldsmith would have returned to her a sum only slightly less than what she deposited in Paris."
"'Twas a very great sum,” Lady Appleton remarked.
Who would claim it now? Jennet wondered, but she did not ask, only watched Sir Walter tuck the paper inside his doublet. She had other questions, as well. The search of the dead woman's belongings had brought them no closer to discovering Mistress St. Cyr's reason for coming to England, nor had they unearthed a motive for someone to kill her.
Jennet and Lady Appleton repacked the traveling trunk while the two men talked quietly in a corner of the hall. Jennet could not overhear a single word. Her annoyance was simmering by the time Sir Walter's man returned with a coffin.
"I will arrange for the burial,” Sir Walter offered. “What is the vicar's name?"
"Busken,” Lady Appleton told him. “But what are we to do with her trunk?"
"Keep it, dear lady. For what you have done for her, you deserve the finery. Remake the garments for yourself."
When Lady Appleton would have objected, Sir Robert cut off her protests. “Pendennis is right, Susanna. We have earned these goods."
No matter that the clothing was much too small to fit Lady Appleton, Jennet thought. No doubt Sir Robert expected her to sell it and give him the profit.
"She must have kinfolk. Heirs. Is there no one in France?"
Sir Walter promised to make inquiries, but insisted Lady Appleton keep the trunk and its contents, no matter what he found.
"'Tis fine cloth,” Jennet ventured when the two men had left.
"They will not search for her relatives,” Lady Appleton said. “For some reason, they want this matter to end here."
Jennet sighed deeply. She knew her mistress well. Injustice made Lady Appleton angry. She was both perturbed and offended by the idea that murder might go unpunished. If neither the authorities
Once he'd removed everything from the trunk, Sir Robert began to search for hidden compartments, slitting the canvas lining with his dagger. He found nothing. No secret panels. No concealed pockets. A thoughtful look on his face, he lifted the damask gown.
Jennet could not hold back a gasp when she realized his intention. Just before he sliced into the fabric, Lady Appleton caught his wrist. “That is not necessary,” she said.
"She must have hidden letters or other papers somewhere. They may be secreted in her clothing."
"Then we will pick out the seams and look, but there is no need to slash and destroy it."
With a mocking bow, he yielded the garment.
"Jennet,” Lady Appleton called softly.
"Yes, madam?"
"Fetch scissors."
For the next hour, they picked apart seams while the men again searched the trunk, inside and out. Lady Appleton made the only discoveries. The first, which Sir Robert dismissed as unimportant, was that a small triangle of fabric was missing from the clothing the Frenchwoman had been wearing when she died.
"Caught her sleeve on something and it tore,” he concluded.
It was a very even tear, Jennet thought. It almost looked as if the piece had deliberately been cut out of the black brocade.
Then Lady Appleton found a folded sheet of paper hidden in the lining of a dark brown wool cloak. She opened it, skimmed its contents, and announced it was a bill of exchange.
"What is that?” Jennet asked.
Sir Walter answered, winning Jennet's gratitude and an even greater degree of liking than he'd claimed before. It was not every gentleman who took time to explain things to a servant.
"'Tis a way of getting money at the end of a journey without the necessity of carrying coins.” He took the parchment from Lady Appleton and examined it. “The traveler, in this case Diane St. Cyr, deposited money with a local merchant, in this case a goldsmith in Paris, who gave her in return this paper. It is directed to a correspondent here in London. When Mistress St. Cyr presented this bill of exchange to him, that London goldsmith would have returned to her a sum only slightly less than what she deposited in Paris."
"'Twas a very great sum,” Lady Appleton remarked.
Who would claim it now? Jennet wondered, but she did not ask, only watched Sir Walter tuck the paper inside his doublet. She had other questions, as well. The search of the dead woman's belongings had brought them no closer to discovering Mistress St. Cyr's reason for coming to England, nor had they unearthed a motive for someone to kill her.
Jennet and Lady Appleton repacked the traveling trunk while the two men talked quietly in a corner of the hall. Jennet could not overhear a single word. Her annoyance was simmering by the time Sir Walter's man returned with a coffin.
"I will arrange for the burial,” Sir Walter offered. “What is the vicar's name?"
"Busken,” Lady Appleton told him. “But what are we to do with her trunk?"
"Keep it, dear lady. For what you have done for her, you deserve the finery. Remake the garments for yourself."
When Lady Appleton would have objected, Sir Robert cut off her protests. “Pendennis is right, Susanna. We have earned these goods."
No matter that the clothing was much too small to fit Lady Appleton, Jennet thought. No doubt Sir Robert expected her to sell it and give him the profit.
"She must have kinfolk. Heirs. Is there no one in France?"
Sir Walter promised to make inquiries, but insisted Lady Appleton keep the trunk and its contents, no matter what he found.
"'Tis fine cloth,” Jennet ventured when the two men had left.
"They will not search for her relatives,” Lady Appleton said. “For some reason, they want this matter to end here."
Jennet sighed deeply. She knew her mistress well. Injustice made Lady Appleton angry. She was both perturbed and offended by the idea that murder might go unpunished. If neither the authorities
Similar Books
