The Murders of Richard III by Elizabeth Peters Read Free Book Online

friend, whom he beheaded one morning between elevenses and lunch.”
    â€œAfter he had treacherously plotted against Richard,” squeaked Lady Isobel indignantly.
    â€œAnd conspired with the Woodvilles,” added Weldon. “It is difficult to explain Hastings’ change of loyalty. No doubt he was seduced by—”
    â€œYou sound like one of your own articles,” Liz interrupted. “Do be quiet, darling Uncle Dickon, and let Jacqueline have some tea.”
    â€œShe’d much rather have a drink,” said Philip. “Wouldn’t you, darling?”
    â€œNo,” said Jacqueline. With Philip’s assistance she removed her jacket, displaying a sleeveless green jersey top. Looking cool and relaxed, she settled on one of the sofas and smiled at Weldon. “Tea would be splendid.”
    For a time no one spoke. The silence was unusual and, to Thomas, slightly disturbing. It was as if they were all wary in the presence of a stranger—afraid of giving something away.
    â€œWhy all the cops and robbers about our arrival, Dick?” he asked, to break the silence.
    â€œI meant to ask if you had had any difficulty,” Weldon said.
    â€œDifficulty? Why should we?”
    â€œThe wolves are gathering,” said Mrs. Ponsonby-Jones melodramatically. “We are virtually besieged, Thomas.”
    â€œI did notice the village was unusually crowded. You mean those people are—”
    â€œNewspaper persons,” said Lady Isobel, as one might say “burglars.” “Frightful people! One of them actually tried to creep into the house.”
    â€œBut you’re going to admit the press on Sunday,” Thomas objected. “What’s all the fuss about?”
    It was Kent who answered, with his barking laugh.
    â€œThey want to catch us—what’s your popular phrase?—with our pants down. Attired in ludicrous costumes, playing childish games—drunken and lecherous, hopefully. Fleet Street is quiet this week; no crises, only the same boring old wars.”
    â€œThe silly season,” Jacqueline said. “You must admit you make good copy. Many of you are famous in your own fields.”
    â€œAnd some of us simply adore being good copy,” said Liz. Her eyes moved from Lady Isobel, who pretended not to notice, to Philip, who laughed aloud.
    â€œI’ve no objection to being photographed,” he said, striking a pose.
    â€œWell, the rest of us do object,” said Mrs. Ponsonby-Jones vigorously. “I cannot imagine why people are so ill-bred!”
    â€œPiltdown man,” said Jacqueline unexpectedly. They all stared at her; most of them looked blank, but a few got the point. The vicar chuckled, and Philip’s mouth widened in a cynical smile.
    â€œThe disclosure of the Piltdown hoax made headlines,” Jacqueline went on. “People love to see the experts deflated. You have publicized your find extensively. If, after the publicity, it should turn out to be another hoax…”
    â€œImpossible,” cried Lady Isobel.
    â€œI only wish we could be certain.”
    It was the rector who spoke. Ruffled white hair framed his rosy face like a halo, but the cherubic features were worried.
    â€œBut you were the one who found the letter,” Weldon said.
    â€œI did not find it,” said Mr. Ellis irritably. Thomas sensed that he had tried to make this point before, without convincing his fanatical audience of its importance. “It was sent to me anonymously, and if that is not significant….” He glanced at Jacqueline, who was watching him steadily, and smiled. “Yes. Mrs. Kirby sees my point, if the rest of you do not. Now, Mrs. Kirby, I have stated the fact somewhat baldly. The letterenclosed with the manuscript gives adequate reasons for the sender’s wishing to remain unknown at present. It also provides a plausible history for the manuscript, which was last seen by Buck, in the