The Murders of Richard III - Elizabeth Peters [77]
“Balderdash,” Kent interrupted. “The boys were dead by then. Buckingham killed ’em. The Lord Bastard must be Richard’s illegitimate son John.”
“Who was not a lord,” Weldon snapped.
“As a king’s son he may have been given a courtesy title—”
Thomas took Jacqueline’s arm and removed her. “What were you doing out there with the general?” he asked. It was not what he had meant to say.
“Distracting him,” Jacqueline said coolly. “He was heading for Mr. Strangways’s room. He’s quite drunk, and spoiling for a fight.”
“But Strangways is locked in, isn’t he?”
“So far.” Jacqueline was clearly worried. “Thomas, Sir Richard doesn’t have anyone guarding his prisoners. The locks are clumsy old things; I’m sure they could be picked.”
“My dear, don’t you think you had better tell me what is worrying you?”
“I may be wrong,” Jacqueline said rapidly, “But I don’t think so. Thomas, surely you must see it too; it’s so obvious! I’d be much more confident if you arrived at the same conclusion.”
Thomas shook his head. “I told you my idea. You haven’t told me a damned thing that makes any sense.”
“Oh, dear. Well, then, there are three people whose movements during the next couple of hours are of crucial importance. If we can keep them under observation, we should be all right.”
“Who?”
“Percy, Sir Richard, and Frank.”
“Frank?” Thomas repeated, in surprise. He turned.
The others had gathered in a group around the refreshment table. Ricardian debate raged, scarcely interrupted by sandwiches and coffee. Weldon stood a little apart, watching…. It was Frank he was watching.
Thomas had suspected that Weldon was in love with his young cousin, but the corollary had not struck his essentially law-abiding mind until that moment. The look on Weldon’s face…Thomas saw a possible motive for murder, as well as explanations for the other mystifying events of the past few days.
“I can’t believe it,” he whispered. But unwilling conviction showed in his eyes, and Jacqueline let out a little breath of satisfaction.
“At least you see the possibility. That’s a relief.”
“But it doesn’t make sense. Frank was the first victim—”
“Forget the Ricardian lists. Forget the whole Ricardian mess, it doesn’t have anything to do with the problem. Or rather,” Jacqueline amended, “it does in a way, but not in the way you mean.”
“Wait a minute,” Thomas said, his head spinning. “I’m not sure I do see what you’re aiming at. Where does Percy come into it?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes,” said Jacqueline in ladylike exasperation. “I’ll have to spell it out. As soon as Percy gets out of that room—which he will do, you can count on that—then—”
“Here comes the rector,” said Thomas huskily. “Let’s—”
It was too late. Mr. Ellis, smiling and refreshed, was upon them.
“The moment approaches,” he said cheerfully. “I confess my agitation is mounting.”
“If my agitation mounts any higher I’ll have a stroke,” Thomas muttered. “Oh, my God—there goes Frank. Jacqueline…”
“Go with him.” Jacqueline was just as disturbed. “Don’t let him go alone, Thomas.”
Thomas darted off, leaving Jacqueline to make excuses to Mr. Ellis, who was staring at them in understandable confusion. He collided with Frank in the doorway and caught his arm in a steely grip.
“Ouch,” Frank said. “Thomas, what are you—”
Thomas could think of nothing to say except the simple truth.
“Jacqueline thinks we shouldn’t wander around alone.”
“Oh? Perhaps she’s right.”
Thomas sagged with relief. It was a pleasure to deal with someone reasonable. “I was going upstairs to have a look at the prisoners,” Frank said. “Come along if you like.”
They went to Strangways’s room first, since it was nearest. The upper halls were strangely deserted. Thomas glanced uneasily over his shoulder.
“Where are the servants?”
“Gawking at the telly,” Frank said briefly. “The place is in an uproar.”
Thomas knocked on the door. After a moment Strangways answered.
“Who is it?”
“Thomas. Are you all right?”
There was