Murder at the Fair: An utterly gripping historical murder mystery (A Lady Eleanor Swift Mystery Book 6) by Verity Bright

Author:Verity Bright [Bright, Verity]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781800194199
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2021-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Nine

Once outside, they made their way towards the path leading from the tradesmen’s entrance to the kitchen. The gangly lad she’d met earlier who was sweet on Polly was hovering near the door with a shorter, less well-dressed boy. Hardly overrun with urchins, Ellie! There’s only two of them!

She gave a friendly wave, ignoring Clifford’s muted tut of disapproval.

‘Hello again. Jack, wasn’t it?’

The lad swallowed hard. ‘Yes, ’tis, m’lady. Ta for remembering.’ He stared at his feet.

She looked to Clifford for help. Clifford regarded the two boys sternly.

‘Now, boys, do I need to remind you that Henley Hall estate is not a place for unexpected visitors, especially during the staff’s working hours?’

They both shook their heads violently.

‘No, Mr Clifford, sir,’ Jack said, wringing the life out the cap he twisted in his hands. ‘I didn’t come to see Pol… to visit, sir. ’Tis about what we spoke on afore.’ He glanced at his friend. ‘We thought as it might be helpful like.’

Eleanor’s ears pricked up. Ellie! Could they really have something useful that might give us a lead in the case? We could so do with that!

Clifford looked at the newcomer. ‘And you are young Matthew, I believe, Mr Mayhew’s son?’

‘Matthew Mayhew, Mr Clifford, sir,’ the smaller lad said in barely more than a whisper. ‘But folks call me Mew.’

Clifford nodded. ‘What a great timesaver. Now, is it you that has some news?’

The boy took his courage in his hands. ‘Sir, yes, sir. ’Bout the race when Solemn Jon died.’ His small jaw clenched. ‘I wants to help if I can.’

‘Wonderful. Are you able to tell her ladyship what you saw or heard?’

As Jack nudged Mew forward, Eleanor gave them both a warm smile. ‘Don’t be nervous, boys, it’s fine. Now, what did you see, Mew?’

‘A fisherman, m’lady,’ said Mew. ‘On the bank where the raft race was. On the day of the fair. Just afore jam ’n fold time.’

‘And what was the fisherman doing that caused you to notice him?’ She would ask Clifford the meaning of that mysterious term later.

‘Not fishing, m’lady.’

Eleanor glanced at Clifford, whose expression made it clear she needed to dig further. ‘Could you be more, er… precise, Mew?’

‘What’s I mean is, m’lady, rummy thing is he had all the fancy stuff. I watched him a good while, hoping he would, you know…’ He shuffled his feet.

‘No, I don’t quite.’

Clifford threw her a knowing look. She nodded discreetly and turned back to the boy. ‘Carry on, Mew.’

‘Yes, m’lady. Thing is, it took me a while to work out he was pretending, see? Kept casting his line but staring down the river all the while he did. That’s no way to catch nothing.’

‘Indeed.’ Clifford coughed gently. ‘And I’m guessing that you watch the fishermen regularly?’ As the boy’s cheeks paled, Clifford held up a hand. ‘It’s alright. For the purposes of this talk, your reasons are safe. I shan’t ask any more about that.’

‘Thank you, Mr Clifford, sir,’ Mew muttered as he scuffed the hole in the toe of his shoe on the path.

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