A Chorus of Innocents by P. F. Chisholm Read Free Book Online Page A

of the major connections between Scotland and England; couriers passed both ways across it every week—it was like Bamburgh. What was the point of not keeping it in good condition?
    She shook her head again as her horse stepped off the end of the bridge and both of them breathed easier. No doubt the King of Scotland thought it was better to have a bridge that would not stand an army crossing it.
    Wendron wasn’t very far from the road to Edinburgh, the continuation of the Great North Road which was well-used by travellers and merchants, not to mention the ceaseless hurry of post messengers riding to and from London and Edinburgh. There was at least one bag of dispatches a week and sometimes one a day if Scottish politics suddenly got interesting. The raid on Falkland in the summer had produced staggering quantities of paperwork.
    As they rode into the village they found two boys sitting in a tree by the side of the road and one ran off purposefully as they passed. Young Henry nodded approvingly. The church alehouse was full and the manse had a man standing by the door with a reasonably good jack on his back and a billhook in his fist. Young Henry dismounted and went forward to speak to the man who pointed at the alehouse.
    Eyes watched as they left their horses tethered near the alehouse, leaving two of the lads outside to keep an eye on them, and went into the smoky commonroom. The laird of the area had died of a flux a year before, and his wife had died in childbirth ten years before, so the land was in wardship to the Crown and theoretically being administered by Lord Spynie on behalf of the ten-year-old boy who was the only heir and now his ward.
    His grandmother sat in the best chair in the house, the Dowager Lady Hume of Norland, a tall hat on her head and a ruff at her neck, her fine dark grey wool kirtle under a magnificent gown lined with sable from Muscovy.
    Elizabeth hadn’t met her before. She thought she had been a great beauty fifty years before and her face still had the bones of it, but the flesh was gone the way flesh goes and she had two grim lines on either side of her mouth.
    Young Henry did a tolerable bow and Elizabeth swept a curtsey to her. She felt dowdy in her small hat and old green riding habit, but on the other hand, perhaps that was all to the good. At least she had her furred velvet gown.
    Grey eyes narrowed as the lady took in the whole of them.
    â€œWhit’s the interest of the Widdringtons in this outrage?” she demanded. “Our minister’s been foully murthered and his wife is aye missing. Well?”
    â€œMy lady,” said Elizabeth, “Mrs Burn is at Widdrington and as far as we can tell both she and the baby are well.”
    The creased face relaxed a tiny bit. “How did she get sae far south?”
    â€œShe rode, ma’am. She was in a terrible state and all she could think of was to get to me. I have no idea why. She rode Mr Burn’s hobby south all night and came to us yesterday afternoon.”
    â€œIs she hurt?”
    How could you answer that? “She is getting better and I’ve had the midwife to her and she says the babe is well.”
    The eyes narrowed again. “Why did ye come all this way?”
    â€œI wanted to fetch clothes for Mrs Burn as I feel she’ll be better to stay at Widdrington until she’s churched and I wanted to find out the truth of what happened to Mr Burn if I could. And of course, Mrs Burn asked me to see to it that her husband is properly buried.”
    It was an honest answer and there came a single proud nod. She didn’t mean to, but her eyes locked on Lady Hume’s. Lady Hume could choose to send her away once she had the clothes, but she hoped…She really hoped she wouldn’t. She had liked Jamie Burn; he was a good man, perhaps a little hot-tempered, perhaps a little intolerant, but he had started a school for the children of the village and his sermons were only an hour