Dark Fire

‘I saw. I did not tear it.’ For the first time I saw a look of fear in her eyes.

‘I know. That was the formula. The Gristwoods kept it back.’ Somewhere over the river lightning flashed. Another crack of thunder sounded, making us both start. Lady Honor’s mouth was tight with worry. She looked at me earnestly. ‘Master Shardlake, will you have to tell Lord Cromwell I looked at the papers?’ She swallowed.

‘I must, Lady Honor. I am sorry.’

She swallowed. ‘Will you ask him to deal with me kindly?’

‘If you truly told no one, no harm has been done.’

‘I didn’t, I swear.’

‘Then I will tell him you admitted frankly that you read the papers.’ But I doubted she would have done so had I not told her I recognized her scent.

She let out a sigh of relief. ‘Tell him I am sorry for what I did. I confess I have been worried I would be found out.’

‘You must have been afraid when Serjeant Marchamount told you the Gristwoods were dead.’

‘Yes, I was shocked when I heard they had been killed. I have been so foolish,’ she added with sudden passion.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘foolishness may be forgiven.’ I hoped Cromwell would agree.

She looked at me curiously. ‘You have a bloody trade, sir. Two murders to investigate.’

‘Believe it or not, my specialism is property law.’

‘Did that old shrew Lady Mirfyn tell you anything useful about the Wentworths? I saw you talking to her.’

Truly she missed little. ‘Not much. All still depends on getting Elizabeth to talk. And I have been neglecting that matter.’

‘You care about her.’ She had recovered her composure quickly; her tone was light again.

‘She is my client.’

She nodded, the pearls in her hood catching the light from the window. ‘Perhaps you are a man of too gentle feeling to deal with blood and death.’ She smiled softly.

‘As I told you last week, I am a mere jobbing lawyer.’

She shook her head, smiling. ‘No, you are more than that. I thought so when I first saw you.’ She inclined her head, then said, ‘I felt your whole being resound with sadness.’

I stared at her in astonishment; I felt tears prick suddenly at the corners of my eyes and blinked them away.

She shook her head. ‘Forgive me. I say too much. If I were a common woman, I would be called malapert.’

‘You are certainly out of the common run, Lady Honor.’

She looked over the courtyard. There was another rumble of thunder after a flash of lightning, which showed sadness in her face. ‘I miss my husband still, though it has been three years. People say I married him for his money, but I loved him. And we were friends.’

‘That is a fine thing in a marriage.’

She inclined her head and smiled. ‘But he left me the memories of our time together and also a widow’s status. I am an independent woman, Master Shardlake, I have much to be grateful for.’

‘I am sure you are worthy of that status, my lady.’

‘Not all men would agree.’ She moved away a little and stood by the fountain, facing me in the gloom.

‘Serjeant Marchamount admires you,’ I ventured.

‘Yes, he does.’ She smiled. ‘I was born a Vaughan, as you know. My early life was spent learning deportment, embroidery, just enough reading to make good conversation. The education of a woman of good birth is very dull. I wanted to scream with the boredom of it, though most girls seem happy enough.’ She smiled. ‘There, now you will think me a malapert. But I could never help nosing into men’s affairs.’

‘Not at all. I agree with you.’ The Wentworth girls came into my mind. ‘I too find conventionally accomplished girls dull.’ As soon as I had said the words I wished I had not, for they could be taken as flirtatious. I found Lady Honor fascinating, but did not wish her to know that. She was, after all, still a suspect.

‘Lady Honor,’ I said, ‘I have Lord Cromwell’s commission. If—if anyone is putting pressure on you to give information about those papers, he will afford you his protection.’

She gave me a direct look. ‘There are those who say he will soon have no protection to afford anyone. If he cannot resolve the king’s marriage problems.’

‘Those are rumours. The protection he can give now is real.’

I saw her hesitate, then she smiled, but tightly. ‘Thank you for your care, but I have no need of protection.’ She turned away a moment, then looked back at me, her smile warm again. ‘Why are you unmarried, Master Shardlake? Is it because all these ordinary women bore you?’

‘Perhaps. Though - I am not an attractive proposition.’

‘In some dull eyes, perhaps. But some women prize intelligence and sensitivity. That is why I try to bring good company round my table.’ She was looking at me keenly.

‘Though sometimes the mixture turns explosive,’ I said, turning the conversation into a jest.

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