Read Online The Heiress of Linn Hagh by Karen Charlton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karen Charlton
Ads: Link
mind: hard work.
When they entered Mr Armstrong’s substantial house on Bellingham High Street the next day, they were shown into a front parlour cluttered with brightly upholstered and mismatched furniture, ornaments and children’s toys. Despite the clutter, the house was comfortable and the furnishings in excellent condition. A good indication of the financial stability of this family , Lavender thought.
‘Hello, young fellah,’ Woods said as a small boy suddenly popped up from behind the sewing boxes, books and cushions piled on a sofa.
The child, probably no more than three, stuck out his tongue, dashed out from his hiding place, veered past the clothing and blankets that littered the wooden floor, and clattered past them into the hallway. Another crowd of noisy young lads raced down the stairs, whooping at the tops of their voices. They quickly disappeared into the back of the house. Two young girls leant over the banister above the stairs and giggled at them as the maid took them across the hallway into Armstrong’s study.
‘Do shut the door firmly on your way out, Parker.’ Armstrong’s tone was plaintive as he instructed the maid. The old, white-haired man seated in front of the fire sighed deeply when the door finally clicked shut. Lavender could understand why. The young lads had returned to the hallway with reinforcements and wooden swords. They appeared to be enacting one of General Wellesley’s victories.
‘Damn those French dogs!’
‘To Vimeiro!’ they screamed in unison.
Peace eventually descended on the room, and Lavender could hear the steady tick of the French clock on the mantelpiece.
‘Thank goodness for that.’ The elderly man was wrapped in plaid blankets. He held out a gnarled, arthritic hand towards Lavender. ‘Their father is with Colonel Taylor in the Twentieth Regiment of Light Dragoons. A re-enactment of the Battle of Vimeiro is a daily occurrence in this house.’
‘It was a splendid victory,’ Lavender said, smiling. ‘No wonder your grandsons are proud of their father.’ He shook Armstrong’s hand and introduced him to Woods. Next, he handed over a sheaf of papers from Magistrate Read in Bow Street.
Armstrong’s hands shook slightly as he held up his monocle to read the invoice in his lap. Lavender knew that their client had run a successful legal practice for many years. Despite his obvious frailty, the old man’s eyes were sharp as they scanned the invoice. ‘Everything seems to be in order.’ Armstrong’s voice had lost its whine and become steady and authoritative. ‘I’m glad you’re finally here.’
‘I’m sorry for the delay, sir,’ Lavender said. ‘I was detained on important Home Department business in Nottinghamshire.’
‘Never mind—at least you’ve made it here. Let’s just hope you can bring this case to a speedy resolution—and a happy one. Please take a seat.’
Lavender sat down in the armchair opposite Mr Armstrong. Woods pulled up another chair and sat behind him.
‘Perhaps you would like to tell us how far the local constables have progressed with investigating Miss Carnaby’s disappearance?’
‘They haven’t.’ Armstrong’s tone was sharp. ‘The local constables have not discovered anything. No one knows what happened to my niece, or where she is.’
‘Surely someone must have seen or heard something unusual on the night of her disappearance—or in the following days?’
‘Not that we’ve discovered. My family and I are all very distressed and bewildered by these events, as are the constables who have already investigated the case.’
‘Can we start from the beginning, sir? What exactly happened at Linn Hagh on the night of the twenty-first of October?’
The elderly man sighed as if he was weary of retelling the story.
‘I’m sure George and Isobel Carnaby will be able to tell you the details better than I, when you visit Linn Hagh. However, I understand there was a dinner party; a couple of
When they entered Mr Armstrong’s substantial house on Bellingham High Street the next day, they were shown into a front parlour cluttered with brightly upholstered and mismatched furniture, ornaments and children’s toys. Despite the clutter, the house was comfortable and the furnishings in excellent condition. A good indication of the financial stability of this family , Lavender thought.
‘Hello, young fellah,’ Woods said as a small boy suddenly popped up from behind the sewing boxes, books and cushions piled on a sofa.
The child, probably no more than three, stuck out his tongue, dashed out from his hiding place, veered past the clothing and blankets that littered the wooden floor, and clattered past them into the hallway. Another crowd of noisy young lads raced down the stairs, whooping at the tops of their voices. They quickly disappeared into the back of the house. Two young girls leant over the banister above the stairs and giggled at them as the maid took them across the hallway into Armstrong’s study.
‘Do shut the door firmly on your way out, Parker.’ Armstrong’s tone was plaintive as he instructed the maid. The old, white-haired man seated in front of the fire sighed deeply when the door finally clicked shut. Lavender could understand why. The young lads had returned to the hallway with reinforcements and wooden swords. They appeared to be enacting one of General Wellesley’s victories.
‘Damn those French dogs!’
‘To Vimeiro!’ they screamed in unison.
Peace eventually descended on the room, and Lavender could hear the steady tick of the French clock on the mantelpiece.
‘Thank goodness for that.’ The elderly man was wrapped in plaid blankets. He held out a gnarled, arthritic hand towards Lavender. ‘Their father is with Colonel Taylor in the Twentieth Regiment of Light Dragoons. A re-enactment of the Battle of Vimeiro is a daily occurrence in this house.’
‘It was a splendid victory,’ Lavender said, smiling. ‘No wonder your grandsons are proud of their father.’ He shook Armstrong’s hand and introduced him to Woods. Next, he handed over a sheaf of papers from Magistrate Read in Bow Street.
Armstrong’s hands shook slightly as he held up his monocle to read the invoice in his lap. Lavender knew that their client had run a successful legal practice for many years. Despite his obvious frailty, the old man’s eyes were sharp as they scanned the invoice. ‘Everything seems to be in order.’ Armstrong’s voice had lost its whine and become steady and authoritative. ‘I’m glad you’re finally here.’
‘I’m sorry for the delay, sir,’ Lavender said. ‘I was detained on important Home Department business in Nottinghamshire.’
‘Never mind—at least you’ve made it here. Let’s just hope you can bring this case to a speedy resolution—and a happy one. Please take a seat.’
Lavender sat down in the armchair opposite Mr Armstrong. Woods pulled up another chair and sat behind him.
‘Perhaps you would like to tell us how far the local constables have progressed with investigating Miss Carnaby’s disappearance?’
‘They haven’t.’ Armstrong’s tone was sharp. ‘The local constables have not discovered anything. No one knows what happened to my niece, or where she is.’
‘Surely someone must have seen or heard something unusual on the night of her disappearance—or in the following days?’
‘Not that we’ve discovered. My family and I are all very distressed and bewildered by these events, as are the constables who have already investigated the case.’
‘Can we start from the beginning, sir? What exactly happened at Linn Hagh on the night of the twenty-first of October?’
The elderly man sighed as if he was weary of retelling the story.
‘I’m sure George and Isobel Carnaby will be able to tell you the details better than I, when you visit Linn Hagh. However, I understand there was a dinner party; a couple of
Similar Books
