Read Online Barbara Metzger by Christmas Wishes - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Christmas Wishes
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travelers. What about justice, Juneclaire?”
“But it was Charlie who hit your groom. And Ned said he wasn’t going to do it again, and he did help put out the fire. And we can give the money back now. What’s the justice in hanging a boy who looks after his mother the best way he can? Someone should have been helping them before, the parish or landlord. Then this wouldn’t have happened.”
St. Cloud had a dark inkling who was the title holder for these miles around St. Cloud Priory, in the vicinity of Bramley. It was only an inkling, mind, so he thought he’d keep it to himself while Miss Juneclaire waxed eloquent. Ned must have appreciated her defensive oratory as well, for he looked up and said, “Thank you, ma’am. It’s Miss Beaumont, from Stanton Hall, ain’t it? My aunt keeps house for the vicar at Strasmere, and we visited once before Ma took sick. She mentioned a Miss Juneclaire Beaumont, who decorated the church and taught Sunday school to the children.”
So much for squeaking through this coil without trumpeting their identities to the countryside, the earl thought, angrily stuffing what he determined his share of the thieves’ haul into his wallet. He checked to make sure his pistol was loaded.
“No!” Juneclaire screeched, rushing to put her hand on his sleeve, having correctly interpreted the earl’s aggravation if not his intent. “He won’t tell anyone I was here. Will you, Ned?”
“No, ma’am. Never. I’ll do anything you say, my lord.”
St. Cloud patted her hand, taking a moment to think. “Very well, Junco, you’ve won your case. Ned, you’ll take Farmer Blaine’s horses out again, with a lantern and your friend Charlie. You’ll ride to Lord Cantwell’s house to head him off from coming here. Tell him you were asleep . . . where? The loft over the cow barn? Fine. You heard a shot, went to investigate, and found this suspicious character dead in the stable, the horses in a lather, a sack of jewels and gold next to him. You don’t know anything else, did not see anyone run off, but suspect it was as we mentioned, an argument over the split. The other chap must have shabbed off when the shot woke the house. You had no pistol, so you couldn’t give chase.
“That should keep Cantwell happy, with the money returned.” The earl fixed Ned with a penetrating stare. “And be assured, bantling, I know exactly how much is left in that sack to be returned to the victims.”
“You don’t have to worry, my lord. I wouldn’t touch a groat. Not now.”
“Very well, I believe you. How long should that take?”
“No time at all. Bramley’s right over the next rise, around the bend.”
St. Cloud called curses down on the vagaries of fate while he searched in his pockets for a pad and pencil. “When you are finished with the magistrate, you will have to ride back to the Fighting Cock. I am sure you can get there and back before morning riding cross-country, even in the dark.”
Ned nodded, while St. Cloud tore a page from his book. “The note is for my groom. You needn’t see him, just give it to the innkeeper and redeem my signet with the purse I will give you. If you are back here with my ring, say, an hour past dawn, we can forget the whole bumblebroth. If not, young Ned, I will go straight to Lord Cantwell. And you can bet your bootstraps that Uncle Hebert will take my word over yours.”
Ned was nodding, swearing on his mother’s head that he’d do everything his lordship ordered, as fast as the horses could fly. He’d try to hold back dawn for an hour, too, if his lordship wanted.
“But what about his mother?” Juneclaire wanted to know. “They’ll be in the same mess.”
“I’ll see that the mother is taken care of,” St. Cloud promised, “if I see the son in the morning.”
Juneclaire was satisfied. Her knight’s armor wasn’t tarnished.
“Oh, by the by, Ned, there is no need to mention me or the lady in any context whatsoever. If, however, someone
“But it was Charlie who hit your groom. And Ned said he wasn’t going to do it again, and he did help put out the fire. And we can give the money back now. What’s the justice in hanging a boy who looks after his mother the best way he can? Someone should have been helping them before, the parish or landlord. Then this wouldn’t have happened.”
St. Cloud had a dark inkling who was the title holder for these miles around St. Cloud Priory, in the vicinity of Bramley. It was only an inkling, mind, so he thought he’d keep it to himself while Miss Juneclaire waxed eloquent. Ned must have appreciated her defensive oratory as well, for he looked up and said, “Thank you, ma’am. It’s Miss Beaumont, from Stanton Hall, ain’t it? My aunt keeps house for the vicar at Strasmere, and we visited once before Ma took sick. She mentioned a Miss Juneclaire Beaumont, who decorated the church and taught Sunday school to the children.”
So much for squeaking through this coil without trumpeting their identities to the countryside, the earl thought, angrily stuffing what he determined his share of the thieves’ haul into his wallet. He checked to make sure his pistol was loaded.
“No!” Juneclaire screeched, rushing to put her hand on his sleeve, having correctly interpreted the earl’s aggravation if not his intent. “He won’t tell anyone I was here. Will you, Ned?”
“No, ma’am. Never. I’ll do anything you say, my lord.”
St. Cloud patted her hand, taking a moment to think. “Very well, Junco, you’ve won your case. Ned, you’ll take Farmer Blaine’s horses out again, with a lantern and your friend Charlie. You’ll ride to Lord Cantwell’s house to head him off from coming here. Tell him you were asleep . . . where? The loft over the cow barn? Fine. You heard a shot, went to investigate, and found this suspicious character dead in the stable, the horses in a lather, a sack of jewels and gold next to him. You don’t know anything else, did not see anyone run off, but suspect it was as we mentioned, an argument over the split. The other chap must have shabbed off when the shot woke the house. You had no pistol, so you couldn’t give chase.
“That should keep Cantwell happy, with the money returned.” The earl fixed Ned with a penetrating stare. “And be assured, bantling, I know exactly how much is left in that sack to be returned to the victims.”
“You don’t have to worry, my lord. I wouldn’t touch a groat. Not now.”
“Very well, I believe you. How long should that take?”
“No time at all. Bramley’s right over the next rise, around the bend.”
St. Cloud called curses down on the vagaries of fate while he searched in his pockets for a pad and pencil. “When you are finished with the magistrate, you will have to ride back to the Fighting Cock. I am sure you can get there and back before morning riding cross-country, even in the dark.”
Ned nodded, while St. Cloud tore a page from his book. “The note is for my groom. You needn’t see him, just give it to the innkeeper and redeem my signet with the purse I will give you. If you are back here with my ring, say, an hour past dawn, we can forget the whole bumblebroth. If not, young Ned, I will go straight to Lord Cantwell. And you can bet your bootstraps that Uncle Hebert will take my word over yours.”
Ned was nodding, swearing on his mother’s head that he’d do everything his lordship ordered, as fast as the horses could fly. He’d try to hold back dawn for an hour, too, if his lordship wanted.
“But what about his mother?” Juneclaire wanted to know. “They’ll be in the same mess.”
“I’ll see that the mother is taken care of,” St. Cloud promised, “if I see the son in the morning.”
Juneclaire was satisfied. Her knight’s armor wasn’t tarnished.
“Oh, by the by, Ned, there is no need to mention me or the lady in any context whatsoever. If, however, someone
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