The Murders of Richard III - Elizabeth Peters [39]
“That,” said Liz, “I can do.”
II
Earlier, Thomas had found the Ricardians exasperatingly emotional. He now found himself in the inconsistent position of deploring a demonstration of British phlegm. The afternoon meeting was proceeding according to schedule, and so far no one had referred to the unfortunate tricks.
However, as he glanced around the room, Thomas saw that the mystery had left its marks. The effect showed in flushed faces and glittering eyes, in the rector’s troubled frown and in Rawdon’s sickly pallor. It showed most plainly in Philip. The hard, handsome face was calm as he followed Weldon’s introductory remarks. The actor’s long, flexible hands were relaxed. But one foot tapped in a restless rhythm on the carpeted floor.
They were meeting in the library, since the Great Hall was being decorated for the evening’s festivities. Nervously Thomas rehearsed in his mind the steps of the dance he had been practicing. Then he forced himself to pay attention to the proceedings.
Weldon looked more like his hero than ever. There was only one sign of nervousness, and that was a gesture he might have borrowed from Richard III, whose portrait showed him fingering a ring on one hand—a habit mentioned by historians. In the portrait Richard wore three rings on his right hand—a modest collection for a man of his clothes-conscious era. Weldon wore only one; he kept twisting it and pushing it up and down as he talked.
His remarks included a welcome to the distinguished American visitor, who squeaked an acknowledgment, and a hint of the joys in store for the evening. Weldon ended by introducing the first speaker, and Frank walked up to the temporary rostrum.
Thomas had not expected to do so, but he found Frank’s talk fairly interesting. The young man had a logical mind, in spite of his legal training. Even the bruises on his unhandsome face did not detract from his poise, and his low voice, with its beautifully modulated vowels, was a pleasure to hear.
Thomas glanced at Jacqueline. He suspected she was more sympathetic to Richard than she admitted; but it would be like her to take the negative side out of sheer perversity. And she knew quite a bit about the subject. That was another of her irritating qualities, Thomas thought, trying to harden his heart against the effect of the elegant profile framed in ruddy hair. If she would just admit she knew, instead of pretending girlish ignorance and then walloping the unwitting victim with a cartload of specialized data….
Frank took the conventional—among Ricardians—view that the real murderer of the princes was Henry VII. He recalled Henry’s inexplicable failure to discover the fate of the boys after he entered London, and summarized the inconsistencies in More’s story of the confession. He pointed out that Richard’s behavior was equally illogical if he was guilty of the crime. As England’s grim history proved, a deposed monarch was often as good as dead; but the bodies of the other murdered kings had been publicly displayed so that there could be no doubt of their deaths. If Richard wanted to prevent rebellions in favor of his nephews, he had to make sure they were known to be dead.
As Frank went on, Thomas found his attention straying from the speaker to Sir Richard. Weldon’s hands were not still for a moment, the ring moved up and down, around and around. There was a queer little smile on his face as he listened to the lecture.
With a sudden thrill Thomas remembered the letter. The fantastic events of the past twenty-four hours had put it out of his mind, and yet it was the raison d’être of the whole weekend. What was in that letter? Was it the cause of Weldon’s secretive smile?
If so, the rector did not share Weldon’s feelings; he was sober and preoccupied, nodding absently from time to time as Frank made a point. So far as Thomas knew, Ellis was the only other member of the group who had seen the letter. That wasn’t right. The committee should have its chance before the public fanfare began. Wasn’t that why they were here? Thomas wondered if the others, like himself,