Free The Dead Songbird (The Northminster Mysteries) by Harriet Smart Page A

presumably by the same person responsible for those vile letters.
    “Mamma?”
    Felix looked round and saw that there was a small child in his night shirt standing by him. He looked sleepy and disorientated. Presumably the commotion had awoken him.
    “Oh, Harry, darling,” said Paulina and put out her arms to him. Mrs Morgan also stretched out her hand and the boy went into the room, and hesitated, as if he did not know which of them to choose. But Mrs Morgan caught his hand and said, “Give your dear Aunt a hug, Harry,” and propelled him gently into Paulina’s arms. Paulina proceeded to give him the most suffocating embrace imaginable, but it clearly soothed her.
    “Why don’t you go and put Harry back to bed?” said Mrs Morgan. “You could sleep there, if you like.” Choking back her tears, Paulina nodded, and stood up, lifting up the boy in her arms now, the shawl falling from up her. She carried him out of the room. Mrs Morgan followed with her candle and stood at the foot of the stairs as they climbed up. She waved at the boy, then turned back to Felix.
    “Mr Carswell, I can’t thank you enough,” she said.
    “Your servants did not lock your door,” he said. “Which one of them should have done it?”
    “Berthe, I suppose,” said Mrs Morgan. “She must have forgotten.”
    “It seems gross negligence to me, given that... given that...” He was suddenly disturbed by her lack of clothing. Her nightgown seemed the flimsiest lawn item, slipping from her shoulders. He went and fetched the shawl that had fallen to the floor and handed it to her. “You must keep warm. The shock –”
    She smiled, and took it from him, and then proceeded to wrap it about herself with an elegant gesture which seemed to make her lack of dress worse. He felt his mind cloud with inappropriate desire. He had wild thoughts of falling to his knees and kissing her hem, her bare feet. He wanted to say so much and also to do too much. With difficulty he said, “You must bolt it when I have gone. And I will join Constable Eakins on his watch.”
    “No, no, that I cannot permit,” she said. “You must go to bed. You have been working all day. You must rest. You have a murder to attend to.”
    “And you are being tormented. I cannot –”
    “It is just a dead bird. It does not scare me, let alone torment me. It is just unfortunate Paulina saw it first. I should not have been so rattled, I promise you. Now, you must go home.” She wrapped her shawl about her a little more tightly. “Is there no young Mrs Carswell to draw you back to your own fireside?”
    “No,” he said.
    “You should look to it,” she said, gently. “It would be good for you.”
    He managed a smile, though the remark stung him more than he cared to admit.

Chapter Eleven
    Next morning, Giles went in search of Watkins and found him marshalling his gaggle of choristers after their morning rehearsal in the song school, before sending them off to their lessons. He had his arms full of music and a vaguely flustered air as Giles approached.
    “One moment, sir,” he said, “if you don’t mind?”
    “No, not at all,” said Giles, watching the boys fidgeting and chattering in their places.
    “Silence!” Watkins shouted, and they fell silent. “Now Decani, I want you boys back fifteen minutes early this afternoon for extra rehearsal. You were all very sloppy. Cantores, that was adequate, but only just. And Herbert, your organ lesson today is in the Minster, not St Anne’s Chapel.”
    One of the older boys stuck up his hand.
    “Please sir, does that mean the body is still there?”
    “Mr Barnes to you,” said Watkins. “No, he has been taken away. And this is not a subject for idle conversation! No matter how odd the circumstances of Mr Barnes’ death, it is a great loss to us all and I hope you have all remembered him in your prayers.”
    “A good point,” said Giles, stepping forward, “and there is another way you can help Mr Barnes. If any of