Free 12 - Nine Men Dancing by Kate Sedley

and after Nathaniel’s death.
    Ned must already have suffered one such blow when Tom was born so many years after himself. He was therefore unlikely to take kindly to a second. And then there were his sons, almost on the brink of manhood, and whichever of them was the elder twin stood in direct line to inherit Dragonswick Farm in his turn. The more dependants to be provided for, the less for him and his heirs. Petronelle, too, would be alive to this danger to her sons’ patrimony, and only the most unnatural of mothers is indifferent to her children’s interests.
    And what of Nathaniel’s sister? She could well have had a good deal to fear from a young woman suddenly put in authority over the household, the darling of a besotted elderly husband, ready to pander to her every whim. Eris could have made Jacquetta’s life a misery if, as seemed more than possible, the two women had no liking for one another.
    Finally, there was the housekeeper, Dame Elvina, who, if Theresa Lilywhite was to be believed, had been Nathaniel’s mistress for many years and who, again according to Theresa, was one day hoping to marry him herself. Eris had been a girl brought in to help her in the house. To have that girl suddenly elevated so far above her, to have to take orders from her instead of the other way about, surely any woman would have found such a situation intolerable.
    So it seemed to me that a girl as calculating as Eris Lilywhite appeared to have been must have guessed in advance that her marriage to Nathaniel Rawbone would provoke opposition not just from his family, but from almost everyone. Why, therefore, if she were ready for this eventuality, would she have run away? No; it was far more likely that someone had murdered her, removing her once and for all from the scene. But who? (Not that there was a dearth of candidates, but then, that was part of the trouble.) And when? And what had happened to her body?
    Yet another question distracting my attention from the Mass had been how to worm my way into Dragonswick Farm. But on this score, I need not have worried. As the Rawbone family followed Nathaniel out of church, Dame Jacquetta stopped in front of the Lilywhites and, raising her stick, poked me in the chest.
    ‘Are you this chapman I’ve been hearing about?’ she asked in a clear, ringing voice that possessed none of the feebleness of age, and which resounded throughout the tiny building, causing curious faces to turn our way. I muttered that I was and she poked me again. ‘Come up to the farm after dinner with your pack. There are certain things I’m short of that you might have. Buttons, laces, pins. Can you oblige?’
    I mentally reviewed my depleted store of goods, then nodded. I still had some buttons, I was sure of that, and would have lied outright just to get my foot in the door of the Rawbones’ farmhouse.
    ‘Stop loitering and come along, Jacquetta!’ her brother ordered irritably from the church doorway. ‘What are you doing back there?’
    ‘Don’t forget! As soon as you can after dinner,’ the old lady instructed, poking me for a third time.
    I rubbed my sore chest and began to move with the rest of the congregation, filing out into the cold winter air, where the inhabitants of Lower Brockhurst, like people everywhere, paused for a gossip before making their way home to dinner. Excusing myself to Maud and Theresa, I edged towards Rosamund Bush, where she stood, a little apart from her parents, who were deep in conversation with another couple of their own age. I reached her just ahead of Lambert Miller.
    ‘Mistress Rosamund,’ I said, giving her my best smile, which elicited no response, ‘are you still wanting me to play in your team this evening? If you’ve made other arrangements I shall quite understand.’
    ‘No, I haven’t made other arrangements,’ she answered crossly. ‘I’m still expecting you. If that’s all right on your part,’ she added on a more conciliatory note.
    ‘Of