The Silent Woman by Edward Marston Read Free Book Online Page A

up with Westfield’s Men at your leisure.’ Firethorn pulled him close. ‘Both of us are satisfied in this. Tell me now, does not this offer please you?’
    ‘It tempts me greatly.’
    ‘Then you will accept the commission?’
    Nicholas gave an affirmative nod and Firethorn replied with a hug of gratitude. The actor-manager furnished him with all the necessary details then walked him back out tohis horse. The sight of the roan jolted them and brought the murder victim back to the forefront of their minds. A young woman had gone to extraordinary lengths to bring a message all the way from Barnstaple to London, and her fortitude had cost her a high price. Her murder was already having severe repercussions on the life of Nicholas Bracewell. As he recalled the image of her tormented body on the floor of his bedchamber, his determination to track down the killer was reinforced. The Devil had indeed ridden through London that day to seize his prey. A girl who had never been inside a tavern before would never do so again.
    Like a true actor, Lawrence Firethorn drew the shroud of a quotation across the anonymous corpse.
    ‘My foulest poison can never compete
    With Marwood’s ale in Gracechurch Street.’

Chapter Three
    A harrowing afternoon shaded into a long evening then turned imperceptibly into a restive night. Anne Hendrik was sorely perplexed. The home that she prized so much, and within whose walls she felt so secure, had been invaded. A dying girl, who refused to divulge her message, had splintered the ordered calm of her life in Bankside and the assumptions on which it was based. Anne had been taught just how much she loved Nicholas Bracewell but just how little she knew of him. What she had always admired as restraint and discretion she now saw as secretiveness. He had been hiding something from her all this while and it had now emerged into the light of day like a long-buried mole to threaten the whole future of their friendship. Pleasant memories have no need of suppression. Only murkier secrets have to be concealed.
    Anne paced anxiously up and down, at once longing for his return and praying that he would not come back. Herheart wanted Nicholas to sweep into the house and smother all her hostile thoughts beneath a pillow of explanation, but her head knew that he could never do that. His behaviour had been an open admission of guilt. What dread secret had he tried to outrun when he left his home in Barnstaple? What fearful consignment was the girl carrying to him? Who had sent the grim message and why was it transported in such a strange manner? She speculated on the possibilities and found none that brought comfort. As the night wore on, her nerves became even more frayed, and she was thoroughly jangled by the time she heard him arrive back and stable the horse. Anne quickly took a seat and tried to muster her composure. When Nicholas let himself into the house, he moved with a wary fatigue. Clearly, he did not expect his usual hospitable welcome.
    ‘You are late,’ she said crisply.
    ‘There was much to do, Anne.’
    ‘It draws toward midnight.’
    ‘You should have retired to your bed.’
    ‘I feared that you might join me there.’
    She blurted it out before she could stop herself and the force of the rebuff made him flinch. A mutual code of conduct was immediately ruptured. Whenever Nicholas and Anne had serious disagreements – and they arose often between two strong-willed personalities – they always resolved them as soon as possible in each other’s arms. That source of reconciliation had been summarily closed off to him.
    ‘We leave for Oxford in the morning.’
    She stiffened. ‘I had thought you would ride post haste to Barnstaple,’ she said sharply. ‘Someone has sent for you. Do not let
me
detain you here.’
    ‘Anne—’
    ‘More important business calls you away.’
    ‘Do but hear me—’
    ‘I listened to that girl instead. Her silence was all too eloquent. It spoke of another