Free 14 - The Burgundian's Tale by Kate Sedley Page B

goodwill. Certainly the smile he gave me was an effort that showed in every muscle of his face, and I was seized by the sudden fancy that there was a shadow on his spirit like an indelible stain …
    Such nonsensical imaginings only demonstrated that I, too, was fatigued almost to the limit of endurance. I took myself in hand.
    The chamber into which I had been shown was one I had not seen before. Logs burned brightly on the hearth, for the warm day had given way to a chilly evening, and there were woven rugs on the stone floor instead of the usual scattering of rushes. Tapestries – Moses in the bulrushes, Joshua before the walls of Jericho – glowed against the walls, cushions covered with jewel-bright silks and satins adorned the beautifully carved armchairs, and a broad-seated settle was drawn up in front of the fire. There was a profusion of scented wax candles, some in a silver chandelier suspended from the middle of the ceiling, others in silver candelabra and in wall sconces.
    The Duke, who had changed the day’s formal attire for a long, loose gown of dark-green fur-trimmed velvet and soft slippers, also made of fur, poured wine into two Venetian glass goblets and handed one to me. (I immediately broke into a sweat in case I should drop it. My hands felt as big as shovels.) Then he filled a third, holding it up to the light. Misted by the glass, the liquid gleamed pale and tawny; amber silk shot through with a weft of gold.
    ‘The Dowager Duchess will join us in just a moment,’ he said.
    In fact she joined us almost at once, a small page preceding her into the room in order to hold the door open, and then taking himself off with a skip and a hop that suggested his duties were finished for the day. (No doubt another lackey would materialize when the Duchess wished to leave. Such is the smooth passage through life of our superiors.) She had also shed the heavy cloth-of-gold dress and jewel-encrusted mantle that she had worn for her entry into London and was clad instead in a simple blue silk gown that enhanced the colour of her eyes, and which made her appear far less matronly than her finery had done. Her abundant hair was loosely confined in a silver net. A huge ruby ring on her wedding finger was her only adornment.
    It was when she glanced in my direction that I realized she had recently been crying. Her eyes were still moist and there were traces of tears on her cheeks. She beckoned me to approach, and when I did so, she extended a plump white hand which I duly kissed.
    She smiled faintly at her brother. ‘How very sensible of you, Dickon, to choose such a handsome young man as your investigator. You remembered my weakness.’
    The Duke laughed with genuine amusement. ‘My dearest Margaret, I’ve known Roger Chapman for a number of years now, and have received many services from him, but I can honestly say that his looks have never been a consideration.’ He turned and indicated the settle. ‘Sit down, Roger.’ He himself sat in the other armchair on the opposite side of the fire to his sister. ‘I’ve told Her Highness all about you. She wanted to meet you. Hence this summons.’
    The Duchess nodded eagerly. ‘I knew nothing of my dear Fulk’s death until my nephew, Lincoln, informed me of it when he met me yesterday at Gravesend. I’ve hardly had time to take it in. Indeed, it didn’t even seem possible until I spoke to Judith St Clair an hour ago.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘We shed a few tears together. Judith was unaware of your investigation. She hasn’t met you yet.’ The Duchess ended on a note of reproach.
    ‘Roger himself only arrived in London yesterday,’ Duke Richard told her sternly. He raised an eyebrow. ‘But
do
you have anything to report, my friend?’
    ‘Very little as yet, Your Grace.’ I tried hard not to sound apologetic. What did they expect? Miracles? ‘However, I have spoken at some length to both Lionel Broderer and his mother.’
    The Duke looked impressed, the