The Weaver's Inheritance

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Authors: Kate Sedley
Tags: Fiction, General, Historical, Mystery & Detective, _MARKED
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man who insists that he is Clement. Dare we presume to make that claim upon your time?’
    I appreciated the restraint of this imperious young woman, and there was no denying that my curiosity was getting the better of my caution. What harm, after all, could one visit do – especially if Alderman Weaver remained in ignorance of it? So after a moment’s thought for appearances’ sake, I nodded.
    Mistress Burnett heaved a sigh of relief and rose to her feet. ‘Thank you. Do you know whereabouts we live in Small Street? Good! We shall expect you tomorrow morning then, after dinner. We dine at ten o’clock, so shall look for you sometime between eleven and midday. Goodbye, Mistress Walker. We won’t trouble you any further.’ She inclined her head towards Adela, not knowing her name. William Burnett simply grunted and followed her out of the cottage.
    ‘Well,’ said Adela, with the decision of manner I was coming to expect from her, ‘I can’t say that Alison Weaver has improved with the years. And as for that husband of hers, I never liked him. Now sit down, Roger. You too, Margaret. Supper’s ready.’
    I saw astonishment followed by anger kindle in my mother-in-law’s eyes, but both emotions were quickly suppressed. Nonetheless, the old saw that two women cannot share the same kitchen occurred to me; and in this case they had been cooped up together throughout the day in the same room. My mother-in-law’s determination that her cousin should shoulder her fair share of the household chores was having consequences which she had not foreseen, and Adela’s quiet assumption of authority obviously displeased her. It salved my conscience, however, for if a mere twenty-four hours could produce this amount of friction between them, how would they get on in the weeks and months that lay ahead?
    As I drew my stool close to the table and took Elizabeth on my lap – for there were not enough seats in the cottage to accommodate two children as well as three adults – I said to Adela, ‘I have a message for you from someone who, I think, must once have been an admirer, perhaps even a suitor, of yours. His name is Richard Manifold.’
    Adela’s arm, reaching across me to place a dish of oatcakes in the centre of the table, was arrested briefly in mid-air, and glancing up at her face I noticed a faint flush of colour along the cheekbones. But within seconds she had regained her composure.
    ‘Indeed?’ she replied steadily. ‘Dick Manifold. Yes, I remember him. A red-haired fellow. You’re mistaken, however, if you think he was ever my suitor. I can’t imagine what gave you that idea.’
    ‘His delight at hearing you were home again.’ I buttered an oatcake and fed a piece to my daughter, whose mouth had opened like that of a fledgling bird. ‘Don’t you want to know how I came to meet him?’
    Adela began ladling fish soup into bowls. ‘Not particularly, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me all the same,’ she said.
    ‘Quite right, I am, because you’ll find the circumstances of our meeting more intriguing than you think.’
    I then proceeded to relate the details of my encounter with Richard Manifold and had the satisfaction of watching the women’s expressions grow increasingly interested, despite a seeming determination on both their parts to demonstrate complete indifference.
    Their first questions, when I had finished speaking, naturally concerned the murder, but I was unable to add anything more to what I had already told them, and after a while Adela’s thoughts reverted to her former admirer.
    ‘So! Dick Manifold’s a Sheriff Officer, is he? I’m surprised, I must admit. He was rather wild in his youth.’ She gave a small, reminiscent smile.
    ‘An unprepossessing boy and an even uglier man,’ my mother-in-law opined tartly, her eyes snapping with suspicion as she regarded her cousin across the table. ‘I’m amazed you can even remember him, Adela, as pretty as you were. A girl who might have

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