The Murders of Richard III - Elizabeth Peters [73]
“And how do you happen to know that?”
“I looked in on her before I came down.” The young lawyer looked her squarely in the eye. “And on Percy. I intend to continue looking in on them, all day.”
“An excellent idea,” said a voice from the doorway. “But it won’t be necessary, Frank.”
Weldon was wearing the standard uniform of the weekending old-fashioned Englishman—shabby, well-cut tweeds. Only his shoulder-length hair reminded them of the Plantagenet monarch—the hair and the grim expression. Weldon had changed. He was no longer the lighthearted host, but a man deeply involved in a cause.
He had collected his two young relatives and stood between them. Percy looked sulky and reluctant, but his face brightened at the sight of food. Pulling himself free of Weldon’s grasp, he shambled toward the chafing dishes and began heaping his plate.
Liz wore a pants suit of a shade of ash rose that set off her exquisite complexion. The knit fabric fit like a glove from shoulder to hips. Thomas noted that although Sir Richard had had an arm around Percy’s shoulders, he did not touch Liz.
Liz drifted toward the table. Her eyes had a blank, unfocused look, as if she were still feeling the effects of the drug. Frank got quickly to his feet and guided her to a chair.
Sir Richard remained standing. Even without the help of crown and royal robes, he was an imposing figure. “I hope you all enjoyed the banquet,” he asked genially.
There was an unconvincing murmur of agreement.
“Splendid. We’ll have an even better meeting this afternoon.”
Thomas happened to be looking at the rector. He saw that ingenuous gentleman’s face fall. Had Ellis hoped Weldon would cancel the meeting? If so, he didn’t know his host. Thomas did. He had little hope of success, but felt he had to make the attempt.
“Dick,” he said, “I really think you ought to call off the meeting today. Or if you insist on going ahead with it—do the whole thing yourself. Get everyone out of here—the lot of us.”
“An excellent suggestion.” Lady Ponsonby-Jones nodded her head. “Of course your family will not desert you at such a time, Richard, never fear. But the others—”
“I resent the implication,” said the doctor angrily. “Good Lord, you can’t suspect me, Dick? We’ve known one another for—”
His was not the only dissenting voice. Thomas caught Jacqueline’s eye and was encouraged by its expression. She had decided to forgive him for the dastardly sin of being male.
“Just a moment,” she said, her voice cutting through the rising chorus of complaints. “Thomas is right, and you are acting like a group of spoiled children. Do you enjoy being knocked around, humiliated, frightened? If Sir Richard has any sense, he’ll throw us all out.”
Weldon’s smile only touched one side of his mouth.
He’s getting to look more and more like that damned portrait, Thomas thought in alarm. It’s not a hobby any longer, it’s an obsession. Was it possible that Sir Richard had come to believe…
The sudden suspicion was obscene; yet Thomas couldn’t get it out of his mind, even when Weldon spoke in the familiar, gentle voice. The timbre of the voice had not changed, but its tone had. Where had he acquired that unmistakable voice of command?
“My dear Jacqueline, I appreciate your concern, but I cannot accept your suggestion. In any case, it is too late for the course of action you suggest. The television people have arrived.”
In the silence Thomas heard vague sounds outside. Loud voices muffled by distance, the rumble of vehicles…
“They are now beginning to set up their equipment,” Weldon said. He was still smiling that disturbing, distorted half-smile. “But believe me, all reasonable precautions have been taken. Two of my stoutest young servants are guarding the doors of the Hall; no outsider can penetrate into the rest of the house.” His steady eyes swept the assembled group. “I have taken another precaution. Mr. Strangways is locked in his room. No”—he was addressing Kent, who had started to rise, his ugly little face set—“no, General, you are not to go near Mr. Strangways. I am not sure he is guilty;