Yield Not To Misfortune (The Underwood Mysteries Book 5) Read Free

performing a task he either didn’t want or which he felt was beyond his powers, “My dear Verity, you know I’m far too idle to refuse or accept any assignment offered to me. I shall do as I always do and drift along as aimlessly as possible until forced into action.”
    And with this non-answer, which was entirely untrue in any case, since Underwood could never resist a challenge, Verity was obliged to be content.
     
    *
     
    Unfortunately for Underwood, he was forced into action far sooner than he had hoped for the very next morning he encountered Sir George Gratten in his hallway as he descended the stairs heading for a late breakfast – something which had become his habit since fatherhood had claimed him.  He found the sight and sound of young children eating was rather too gross for his early morning sensibilities and he invariably saved himself the bother by eating later and making up for his paternal deficiencies by enduring afternoon tea with his daughters, when he could better cope with spillages and ceaseless chatter.
    “Good morning, Sir George, what an unexpected ...” he hesitated over the word, and then added hastily, “pleasure. To what do we owe the honour of a morning call?” He spoke the words politely, but without real warmth all the while hoping that the call was not upon himself.
    “’Morning, Underwood,” said the older man, torn between his habitual gruffness and pride at the sound of his new title. Underwood was not his favourite person.  He admired the man, but he found his insouciance infuriating, especially when it involved the solving of a crime which had foxed everyone, but which Underwood unravelled with ease. However Underwood was also extremely mannerly and never failed to use the title which the Constable had so recently received. “Your maid just admitted me and has gone off to find her mistress. I’m here for another sitting with your wife. Damned fine job she’s making of my portrait. You have a treasure there, my dear fellow, did you but know it.”
    Underwood recalled when he heard this, that Sir George had commissioned Verity to paint his portrait as a gift to the town to remind them of their great good fortune in having a Knight of the Realm as their Constable.
    “Oh, I know it,” murmured Underwood, immensely relieved that he was not to be called upon just yet to discuss the Woodforde case with the Constable of Hanbury.
    Verity, however, had other ideas.  Having been told of Sir George’s advent, she came into the hall and spoke to both gentlemen at once, “Ah, good, you have found each other.  That saves me the trouble of bringing you together.  Sir George, Underwood has something he wishes to discuss with you, so why don’t you go into the dining room and take coffee together whilst I set up my easel, then we can begin work.”
    Sir George was never reluctant to take either food or drink so he obligingly preceded Underwood in through the door indicated by the younger man.
    “What’s this all about, Underwood?” he asked as he accepted a cup from his host and sniffed appreciatively at the fragrant brew within.
    Underwood, outwitted by his wife, gave one small sigh, then proceeded to tell Sir George the story he had heard outlined the evening before.
    The fact that the Constable listened in silence to the unfolding tale should have alerted Underwood to impending danger. Sir George was too fond of the sound of his own voice to avoid interruption unless he was gravely concerned. He was shaking his head firmly before Underwood had even finished speaking.
    “You seem dubious, my friend. Take my word on it; I do understand it is a complex case.”
    “Indeed it is, Underwood, and if you had the sense you were born with, you would leave it well alone.  Women are capricious creatures and they’ll turn on you in the wink of an eye if you don’t give them the answer they crave!”
    Underwood laughed softly, “Good God, George, you make the entire breed sound