Rosamund by Bertrice Small Read Free Book Online Page B

chamber. I then came here and discovered my husband dead.”
    Edmund bent down and carefully inspected the stiffening body of his old friend. There were absolutely no marks of violence on Hugh. There was even a faint smile upon his thin blue lips. Looking up at his niece Edmund said, “Rosamund, he has died a natural death. We were expecting it.” He put his arm about his distraught niece. “You are in shock, my child. It came quicker than we anticipated.”
    “Henry Bolton is involved,” Rosamund said stonily. “I do not know how, but in my heart I sense it, Edmund. Hugh was fine when I left him. Now he is dead. What else am I to think?”
    “Even if your intuition is correct, Rosamund, there is no proof. Hugh was ill unto death. Everyone knew it. However, since Henry does not know he has died, or wants us to believe he does not know that Hugh has died, we will say naught until morning. Where is my half-brother now?”
    “In the hall, swilling wine. I doubt he has changed, which means he will drink himself to sleep,” Rosamund said bitterly. Then she sighed deeply and straightened her shoulders. “Maybel and I will prepare myhusband’s body for burial.” She looked up at Edmund. “Have you discovered our informant?”
    Edmund shook his head in the negative. “It may have been just a careless word on someone’s part,” he suggested. “And that gossip was picked up and traveled on the wind as gossip is wont to do.”
    “My husband is to be laid out in the hall so he may be honored,” Rosamund answered. “I will pray by his bier tonight. It is unlikely that my uncle will even notice in his drunken stupor.” She looked at Edmund Bolton. “Hugh said he had made provision to protect me from Uncle Henry. He said you would know what he had done.”
    “I do,” Edmund admitted; then he chuckled softly. “My half-brother could not have known the day he married you to Hugh Cabot that it would be a fatal misstep in his plan to gain Friarsgate for himself. Rest assured, niece, that I will not let Henry override your husband’s last wishes for your safety and well-being. Someone is coming, Rosamund. Hugh had hoped it would be before he died, but that someone will be here shortly, and then all will be revealed. We need the authority of our expected guest. Will you trust me?”
    “Always, uncle!” she replied, her amber eyes meeting his.
    Maybel swiftly crossed herself reverently. Then she enfolded Rosamund to her ample bosom, clucking with sympathy.
    To her great surprise the girl began to cry, the sorrow pent up within her pouring forth. Neither Maybel nor Edmund uttered a word as Rosamund vented her anguish. Then finally she ceased, wiping her face with her sleeve, feeling relief and peace overwhelming her very soul. She had never been a girl to weep. Her amber gaze met those of her companions. She drew herself up straight, saying as she did so, “Let us begin. My husband’s body must be washed preparatory to being sewn into his shroud. Edmund, see that the coffin is brought here to his chamber.”
    “At once, my lady,” Edmund Bolton said, and hurried off.
    “Henry Bolton has had a hand in this death tonight,” Rosamund insisted to Maybel. “Edmund says he can find no sign of such a thing, but I know it to be so. One day I shall have my revenge on him for it.”
    “If Edmund could find no sign, then there is none,” Maybel respondedthoughtfully, “which is not to say you’re not correct. A pillow held to the head of a weak man could kill him.”
    Rosamund nodded slowly. “Whatever he did he will regret,” she said. “I will not let Hugh die unavenged. He was a good friend to me. As his wife I owe him that duty.”
    Rosamund and her nursemaid set about preparing the corpse for his coffin. They stripped the nightshirt from the body and gently washed the stiffening limbs with warm water from a pitcher in the fireplace coals. Maybel went to the chest at the bed’s foot and drew out a piece of linen.