Free 13 - The Midsummer Rose by Kate Sedley

mouth. And she disliked me as much as ever; I could see it in the hard, set lines of her face. She still held me responsible for her father’s death.
    ‘No, thank you,’ she replied coldly. ‘I am quite capable of looking after myself. I’ve had to since my husband died.’
    ‘You weren’t married long, I think? Indeed, I know you could not have been.’
    She refused to rise to my bait and ask how I knew.
    ‘Ten months. Ralph died of the plague last summer.’
    ‘You … You didn’t catch it too?’ I asked anxiously.
    ‘He was away from home when it happened.’ She did not enlarge on the subject, but added, ‘Mistress Alefounder has been very kind to me and given me employment as her companion. We are here, in Bristol, on a visit to her brother.’
    I nodded. ‘Yes, I know … You decided against returning to live with your aunt, then?’
    She gave a mirthless smile. ‘Dear me! What a lot you seem to know about me, Master Chapman. But why are you so interested? Does your conscience bother you?’
    ‘About your father? I’ve never lost a moment’s sleep on his account, I do assure you.’ I was angry at the mere suggestion.
    For a few seconds, she gave me back stare for stare, then dropped her eyes and turned away, indicating that our conversation was at an end. I looked around for Richard Manifold but he had disappeared. The life of the quayside was back to normal; the momentary excitement had passed like the shadow that it was, the dead stranger already half forgotten. By tonight, he would not even be deemed worthy of a mention in the alehouses. I hoisted my pack higher on my shoulder.
    ‘Mistress Hollyns! Rowena!’
    Someone was calling to my erstwhile companion who, meantime, had set off towards the bottom of High Street. I saw her pause and scan the crowds. Then Robin Avenel appeared, pushing his way through the workmen and sailors who were impeding his progress. I gained on him and Mistress Hollyns rapidly, and was soon close enough to overhear their conversation.
    ‘What’s happened?’ Robin demanded, hurrying to meet her. ‘Someone told me that a body’s been dragged out of the Avon. A man! Murdered! Is it true? Is it … Is it anyone I know?’
    Rowena smiled and my heart gave an uncomfortable lurch. She was even lovelier when she wasn’t frowning.
    ‘My dear sir, how can I tell? Our acquaintance has been so short.’ She laid a hand on his sleeve. ‘I heard it said that the poor fellow was a sea captain. An Irishman … Master Avenel, you’re looking very unwell. But it’s hardly surprising, the sun is so hot. Please take my arm. I’m returning to Broad Street now that I’ve finished my errand for Mistress Alefounder.’
    Robin Avenel may have been suffering from the heat, or from anxiety, perhaps – as yet I wasn’t sure which – but it didn’t prevent him from taking full advantage of Rowena’s invitation. He leaned against her so heavily that she had to support him with an arm about his waist. Keeping a few yards behind them, I eyed him malevolently and recalled that I had always disliked him, ever since the days when he and I had both fancied ourselves in love with Cicely Ford.
    He was about a year younger than I was, with auburn hair cut in a fringe and curling to his shoulders. He had a cherubic, florid face, was a dandy who adopted every passing fashion, regardless of whether or not it suited him, believed himself to be irresistible to women, and, above all, oozed the sort of self-confidence that came from being the son and heir of one of Bristol’s richest citizens. I loathed him, and was greatly cheered by the thought that his wife of a mere eighteen months was playing him false with her father’s brewery assistant.
    I was hoping, as we entered Broad Street, that I might be rewarded by a sight of the elusive Mistress Alefounder, but I was to be disappointed yet again. As they reached Alderman Weaver’s old house, Robin Avenel produced a key, letting both himself and his