Read Online Newbury & Hobbes 04 - The Executioner's Heart by George Mann - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: George Mann
Ads: Link
said, ignoring her statement. “Your sister and Mrs. Leeson are waiting in the kitchen for you.” He turned to her, and in the low light she finally caught the shine of his eyes. It suggested a smile that had yet to form on his lips. “And besides, I’m in urgent need of a pot of tea.”
Amelia grinned. “Very well. I’ll make it fresh myself. Thank you, Sir Maurice.”
Newbury nodded as he reached for his candle snuff and set about smothering the still-burning flames.
With a shrug, Amelia crossed to the door. She opened it just enough to slip through, then stepped out into the hallway, shading her eyes against the dappled sunlight streaming in through the glass panel above the front door. She could still taste the foul mixture in the back of her throat as she headed off in the direction of the kitchen in search of Veronica.
* * *
Veronica reached for her teacup and turned it around in its saucer, tipping it towards her and peering inside as if expecting to discover that it had miraculously refilled itself while she wasn’t looking. As she’d suspected, it was still empty.
“That’s the third time you’ve looked at that empty cup in the last five minutes, Miss Veronica,” said the rotund, middle-aged woman who sat across the kitchen table from her. “Would you like me to make you a fresh pot?”
Veronica looked up, a wan smile on her lips. “No, thank you, Mrs. Leeson. Let’s wait for the others. They should be finished soon, and I’m sure they’ll both welcome a cup.”
Mrs. Leeson shrugged. Her eyebrows were raised and she looked somewhat startled, but Veronica knew this was only a symptom of the manner in which she insisted on wearing her platinum-grey hair, scraped back in the severest of buns. She was a kindly woman in her late forties, and had once been independently wealthy, but had fallen on hard times following the unexpected death of her husband a few years earlier. Veronica had come to rely on her enormously in Amelia’s care over these last few months.
They both turned at the sound of approaching footsteps from the hall. “Ah, Miss Amelia!” announced Mrs. Leeson happily, pushing her chair back on the tiled floor and standing to welcome her charge with an expansive gesture. “You do look sprightly. Whatever it is that Sir Maurice is treating you with, it’s certainly making a difference. I haven’t seen so much colour in your cheeks for weeks.”
Amelia, hovering in the doorway, smiled warmly in response. “Thank you, Mrs. Leeson. Sir Maurice is a remarkable man.” Her arms were folded across her chest and she rubbed them unconsciously, hugging herself as if cold. She glanced at Veronica. “I said I’d make him a pot of tea.”
“Oh, don’t you be worrying yourself with such things, young lady,” said Mrs. Leeson, bustling over to the stove. “I’ll see to that. You set yourself down with Miss Veronica here for a minute.”
Veronica nodded and beckoned Amelia over to join her while Mrs. Leeson set about filling the kettle. “You’d better leave her to it,” whispered Veronica, just loud enough that Mrs. Leeson herself wouldn’t hear. “If you start making the tea she’ll complain she has nothing left to do!”
Amelia laughed as she lowered herself into the chair opposite Veronica, placing her palms flat on the tabletop before her. Veronica could tell immediately that something was bothering her. “What is it?” she asked, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
Amelia’s face creased in concern. “I don’t know. It’s Sir Maurice. He … well, he collapsed in my arms after he completed the ritual. He’s not himself. I’m worried for him.”
Veronica put her hand on top of Amelia’s and squeezed it in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture. “You shouldn’t worry, Amelia. Sir Maurice knows what his limits are. He’s probably just tired. He’ll be fine in a few hours. You just concentrate on getting better.” It didn’t sound as convincing as
Amelia grinned. “Very well. I’ll make it fresh myself. Thank you, Sir Maurice.”
Newbury nodded as he reached for his candle snuff and set about smothering the still-burning flames.
With a shrug, Amelia crossed to the door. She opened it just enough to slip through, then stepped out into the hallway, shading her eyes against the dappled sunlight streaming in through the glass panel above the front door. She could still taste the foul mixture in the back of her throat as she headed off in the direction of the kitchen in search of Veronica.
* * *
Veronica reached for her teacup and turned it around in its saucer, tipping it towards her and peering inside as if expecting to discover that it had miraculously refilled itself while she wasn’t looking. As she’d suspected, it was still empty.
“That’s the third time you’ve looked at that empty cup in the last five minutes, Miss Veronica,” said the rotund, middle-aged woman who sat across the kitchen table from her. “Would you like me to make you a fresh pot?”
Veronica looked up, a wan smile on her lips. “No, thank you, Mrs. Leeson. Let’s wait for the others. They should be finished soon, and I’m sure they’ll both welcome a cup.”
Mrs. Leeson shrugged. Her eyebrows were raised and she looked somewhat startled, but Veronica knew this was only a symptom of the manner in which she insisted on wearing her platinum-grey hair, scraped back in the severest of buns. She was a kindly woman in her late forties, and had once been independently wealthy, but had fallen on hard times following the unexpected death of her husband a few years earlier. Veronica had come to rely on her enormously in Amelia’s care over these last few months.
They both turned at the sound of approaching footsteps from the hall. “Ah, Miss Amelia!” announced Mrs. Leeson happily, pushing her chair back on the tiled floor and standing to welcome her charge with an expansive gesture. “You do look sprightly. Whatever it is that Sir Maurice is treating you with, it’s certainly making a difference. I haven’t seen so much colour in your cheeks for weeks.”
Amelia, hovering in the doorway, smiled warmly in response. “Thank you, Mrs. Leeson. Sir Maurice is a remarkable man.” Her arms were folded across her chest and she rubbed them unconsciously, hugging herself as if cold. She glanced at Veronica. “I said I’d make him a pot of tea.”
“Oh, don’t you be worrying yourself with such things, young lady,” said Mrs. Leeson, bustling over to the stove. “I’ll see to that. You set yourself down with Miss Veronica here for a minute.”
Veronica nodded and beckoned Amelia over to join her while Mrs. Leeson set about filling the kettle. “You’d better leave her to it,” whispered Veronica, just loud enough that Mrs. Leeson herself wouldn’t hear. “If you start making the tea she’ll complain she has nothing left to do!”
Amelia laughed as she lowered herself into the chair opposite Veronica, placing her palms flat on the tabletop before her. Veronica could tell immediately that something was bothering her. “What is it?” she asked, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
Amelia’s face creased in concern. “I don’t know. It’s Sir Maurice. He … well, he collapsed in my arms after he completed the ritual. He’s not himself. I’m worried for him.”
Veronica put her hand on top of Amelia’s and squeezed it in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture. “You shouldn’t worry, Amelia. Sir Maurice knows what his limits are. He’s probably just tired. He’ll be fine in a few hours. You just concentrate on getting better.” It didn’t sound as convincing as
Similar Books
