Read Online Face Down among the Winchester Geese by Kathy Lynn Emerson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kathy Lynn Emerson
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nor Sir Robert did anything about it, then Lady Appleton would doubtless try to find out who had killed Mistress St. Cyr, especially now that she perceived herself to have profited from the woman's death.
"One mysterious murder,” Lady Appleton mused. “No obvious motive.” Her voice trailed off and she gave her housekeeper a sharp look. “What did you overhear, Jennet, while I was out of the room?” Jennet hesitated, torn between reluctance to involve herself again in tracking down a killer and the pleasant sense of self-importance to be derived from assisting her mistress. At least a full minute passed before she repeated every word that had passed between the two courtiers.
Chapter 11
"I must speak with the proprietor of this establishment,” Susanna Appleton said to the formidable male person who opened the front door of the Sign of the Smock. He had fists the size of hams and thighs as big around as small trees.
Insolently he looked her up and down, from the top of her hooded cloak, past the visor she'd found in Diane's trunk, to the tips of her sturdy boots. He cast the same speculative gaze over Jennet, but seemed less interested in her. “I have heard of gentlewomen visiting brothels,” he said, “but they do not customarily bring maidservants with them."
The previous day, after Jennet revealed what Robert and Sir Walter had said to each other about an earlier murder, Susanna had intended to begin her search for information by questioning her own husband, but Robert had left with Sir Walter and he'd stayed away. She could only guess how long she would have to wait before he deigned to return to Catte Street.
The only certain means she could devise to learn more was a return visit to Southwark to locate Diane's look-alike. With luck, Susanna thought she might find a reason for Diane's murder that had naught to do with Robert.
The woman had fled into this ... house. Doubtless she worked here. ‘Twas possible she was the constable's Petronella. The brothelkeeper would know.
Jennet disapproved, arguing that Susanna risked her reputation should she be recognized. Hence the visor. Jennet had also wanted to bring Fulke and Lionel and hire a man or two more for protection, but Susanna had overruled those objections, determined to arrive with as little fuss as possible. Faced with an impertinent giant, she had belated second thoughts.
"Will you let us in or not?” she demanded, relieved to find that her voice sounded normal.
Apparently deciding it was not up to him to bar the way of any who wished to enter, the sentinel stood aside, admitting them to a strangely appointed vestibule. He locked the door behind them.
Instead of the narrow, empty corridor that led into most dwellings, here was a goodly chamber. On the far wall were charcoal sketches of women in fine gowns and headdresses, the sort of studies artists did as preliminary work when they were commissioned to paint portraits. Susanna wondered if these had been executed by some patron of this house in lieu of payment in cash. Beneath the drawings sat a table, account books and coffers neatly laid out on top of it.
Beyond the reception area was the great hall, at present uninhabited. Susanna had never seen a room with so many chairs in it, let alone so many with seat cushions. The chairs were painted in bright colors, as was a cupboard laden with a variety of fine wines and dozens of Venetian goblets. Elaborately woven tapestries graced the walls, showing scenes from classical antiquity. If a few more unclothed bodies graced these depictions than Susanna would have seen in the decor of a private home, she did not find them offensive. In fact., she thought the quality of the arraswork most excellent.
It had seemed to Susanna that early on a Monday morning would not be a busy time in an establishment such as this one. She'd chosen the hour of her visit for that precise reason. Now, however, she wondered if everyone but the manservant was still asleep.
"One mysterious murder,” Lady Appleton mused. “No obvious motive.” Her voice trailed off and she gave her housekeeper a sharp look. “What did you overhear, Jennet, while I was out of the room?” Jennet hesitated, torn between reluctance to involve herself again in tracking down a killer and the pleasant sense of self-importance to be derived from assisting her mistress. At least a full minute passed before she repeated every word that had passed between the two courtiers.
Chapter 11
"I must speak with the proprietor of this establishment,” Susanna Appleton said to the formidable male person who opened the front door of the Sign of the Smock. He had fists the size of hams and thighs as big around as small trees.
Insolently he looked her up and down, from the top of her hooded cloak, past the visor she'd found in Diane's trunk, to the tips of her sturdy boots. He cast the same speculative gaze over Jennet, but seemed less interested in her. “I have heard of gentlewomen visiting brothels,” he said, “but they do not customarily bring maidservants with them."
The previous day, after Jennet revealed what Robert and Sir Walter had said to each other about an earlier murder, Susanna had intended to begin her search for information by questioning her own husband, but Robert had left with Sir Walter and he'd stayed away. She could only guess how long she would have to wait before he deigned to return to Catte Street.
The only certain means she could devise to learn more was a return visit to Southwark to locate Diane's look-alike. With luck, Susanna thought she might find a reason for Diane's murder that had naught to do with Robert.
The woman had fled into this ... house. Doubtless she worked here. ‘Twas possible she was the constable's Petronella. The brothelkeeper would know.
Jennet disapproved, arguing that Susanna risked her reputation should she be recognized. Hence the visor. Jennet had also wanted to bring Fulke and Lionel and hire a man or two more for protection, but Susanna had overruled those objections, determined to arrive with as little fuss as possible. Faced with an impertinent giant, she had belated second thoughts.
"Will you let us in or not?” she demanded, relieved to find that her voice sounded normal.
Apparently deciding it was not up to him to bar the way of any who wished to enter, the sentinel stood aside, admitting them to a strangely appointed vestibule. He locked the door behind them.
Instead of the narrow, empty corridor that led into most dwellings, here was a goodly chamber. On the far wall were charcoal sketches of women in fine gowns and headdresses, the sort of studies artists did as preliminary work when they were commissioned to paint portraits. Susanna wondered if these had been executed by some patron of this house in lieu of payment in cash. Beneath the drawings sat a table, account books and coffers neatly laid out on top of it.
Beyond the reception area was the great hall, at present uninhabited. Susanna had never seen a room with so many chairs in it, let alone so many with seat cushions. The chairs were painted in bright colors, as was a cupboard laden with a variety of fine wines and dozens of Venetian goblets. Elaborately woven tapestries graced the walls, showing scenes from classical antiquity. If a few more unclothed bodies graced these depictions than Susanna would have seen in the decor of a private home, she did not find them offensive. In fact., she thought the quality of the arraswork most excellent.
It had seemed to Susanna that early on a Monday morning would not be a busy time in an establishment such as this one. She'd chosen the hour of her visit for that precise reason. Now, however, she wondered if everyone but the manservant was still asleep.
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