Sword and Song Read Free Page B

that
stopped up at my door, drawn by glossy black horses, the bodywork of the carriage polished to shining perfection, and notable by the lack of a coat of arms on the door, though Heron was perfectly
entitled to bear one.
    I was watching for him from the window of my room and hurried down with my bags, battling through crowds of children to the carriage. One footman took the bags from me, another flung open the
door and let down the steps; I went up them in a hurry and the carriage was in motion almost as soon as I was in it. I jolted back in my seat and caught a glimpse of the cheesemonger’s
disapproving face as the carriage passed.
    Heron, in the opposite seat, was dressed in his usual pale colours, and the noon sunshine glinted on his fair hair. A man in his early forties, he considers himself immune to fashion but even
his practical travelling clothes were several degrees smarter than my best coat. I saw his gaze flicker over me with a gleam of amusement.
    “New clothes, Patterson?”
    “I felt nothing else would do.”
    The amusement turned a little sour. “Yes, I hear our host is always well turned out.”
    I’d never met the gentleman whose house I was about to visit but I did know that Edward Edmund Alyson was barely twenty-three, four years younger than myself – I’d just passed
my twenty-seventh birthday. He had very recently inherited his uncle’s estates and was celebrating his good fortune with a summer houseparty for his friends. My part in providing the
entertainment would earn me fifteen guineas – about as much as I got for an entire year’s playing as deputy organist of All Hallows church.
    “Am I to thank you for a recommendation to Mr Alyson?” I asked Heron.
    He shook his head. “Lawyer Armstrong has arranged it all. Alyson apparently wrote to him from London asking him to hire new servants and draw up a guest list.”
    I stared. “Does that mean Alyson knows none of his guests?”
    “Apparently not. But he is eager to make a place for himself and his wife in Newcastle society and wants to meet all the local notables. And of course few people are going to turn down the
chance to eat and drink at someone else’s expense for an entire month.”
    Heron’s cynicism is familiar to me; I nodded and reserved judgement.
    “His uncle and I had part shares in three ships,” he went on. “I have been deputed by my fellow shareholders to ascertain Alyson’s views on the management of the vessels.
And he has inherited at least two mines – there is the question of how he intends to transport the coal.”
    “Did you know his uncle well?”
    Heron nodded. “A very decent man. Very strict – he would not tolerate the least dishonesty, or immoral behaviour.”
    In my experience, that usually means maids turned off the moment they’re seen to be with child.
    “He was sadly reduced at the end,” Heron said. “Not entirely sure what was going on around him. The nephew I don’t know at all. His parents lived in London and on the
continent in his early years. I fancy they were not on particularly good terms with the old man.”
    We looked out at the passing streets. Heron nodded to one or two acquaintances, made light conversation, commented on the pleasures of travelling in such good weather. But as we moved north,
into the countryside around Barras Bridge, I could not drag my thoughts away from Nell. She’d been a mere girl, but in Bedwalters she’d found a man who would protect and care for her,
and whom she could respect. And he’d found a refuge from a shrewish wife and the burden of everyday cares. What would he do now?
    “You’re thinking of the constable,” Heron said quietly.
    Startled, I said: “You’ve heard what happened?”
    “The servants were all talking of it this morning.” He looked out into the warm sunshine, on haystacks and shorn fields. “Is there any hint who did it?”
    “A customer. Of medium height and build, medium dark. We’re hoping Nell’s