Read Online The Lady Chapel by Candace M. Robb - Free Book Online

two years ago when Wilton was struck down with a palsy from which he had never recovered. Lucie had been remembering Wilton lately. She said it was the time of year. Owen had tried to be patient. He had agreed to the Guild's requirement that Lucie keep the name Wilton as long as she was an apothecary. He had agreed to the papers they'd asked him to sign, giving up any claim to the shop if Lucie should die before him. Those had been administrative details, nothing to do with his love for Lucie or hers forhim. But her grieving for Nicholas tried his patience. And this was nonsense, to kneel out here for several hours in the snow.
    "Lucie, for pity's sake, what are you doing?"
    She looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed. "I could not sleep."
    "You've noticed the snow, have you?"
    "Of course I have." Her eyes challenged him to say more.
    He knew better. He changed the subject. "I've been called to the Archbishop's palace. Another murder in the minster yard."
    "Then you must go to him." Lucie's voice held no affection, no regret that he must go out so early on an errand that would no doubt mean he must go away.
    Owen did not have fond memories of Lucie's first husband. He did not understand Lucie's continued affection for the man. Nicholas had not deserved her. Not that Owen felt himself worthy of Lucie's love, but he trusted he was more deserving than Nicholas.
    "Will you come in with me and share some ale or hot wine before I go?"
    Lucie nodded, crossed herself, rose to accompany Owen back into the house. As they walked back through the garden, Lucie caught Owen's elbow. "I do not mean to hurt you."
    Owen pulled her to him and hugged her hard. It was enough to know that she cared how he felt.
    Archbishop Thoresby sat at a polished table, a scroll curling beneath his hands. "A generous gift to my Lady Chapel. But my benefactor was murdered last night, Archer. I need you again."
    "I do not like to leave Lucie at this time of year, Your Grace," Owen said. "This morning she was kneeling in the snow at Wilton's grave. I curse the day you agreed to consecrate that grave in the garden. It stirs up morbid humours."
    Thoresby shrugged. "At the moment, Wilton's grave is not heavy on my mind. Ridley's murder is. He was my guest last night. He left here feeling ill, and I let him go alone. He was murdered exactly as Crounce was. It was no accident. Someone waited for Ridley. This was planned. And this time we must find the murderer."
    "Have you learned anything new? We came up with nothing last time."
    "There is one thing. Ridley had changed since Crounce's death.
     
    His body had gone from barrel-like to skeletal, his disposition from arrogant to humble."
    Owen thought about that. "Fear can rob one of sleep and appetite."
    Thoresby shrugged. "Poison can have a similar effect."
    Owen nodded.
    "Perhaps Cecilia Ridley will know something," Thoresby said. "She was dosing him. I want you to go tell her of her husband's death. Before she has had time to talk to anyone else. Ask her who might have killed her husband."
    "A churchman should tell her. Not a soldier."
    "You are no longer a soldier."
    "I look like one. With this patch and scar--" Owen shook his head. "I am not the person for this task."
    "I would send Archdeacon Jehannes, but I cannot spare him at the moment. Besides, Cecilia Ridley has met you."
    "Aye, and bad news it was I brought that time. She'll think me the messenger of Death."
    "Does that disturb you?"
    "That is not what most disturbs me."
    "And what is that?"
    "Leaving Lucie right now."
    Thoresby waved the argument away with brusque impatience. "Perhaps your wife would like the privacy to mourn Wilton."
    That stung. "She has all the privacy she wants."
    "Marriage is not the Heaven you imagined it."
    "I have no regrets, Your Grace," Owen said.
    The eyebrows raised. "Indeed? Then you are most fortunate. In any case, I want you to go to Beverley. Cecilia Ridley has met you, she did not seem unfriendly toward you, you are precisely