Murder on the Downs (A Chance Inquiry Book 5) by Holly Newman

Author:Holly Newman [Newman, Holly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oliver Heber Books
Published: 2025-12-16T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

BEER AND ALE

James acknowledged that the few times he’d been in the Mortlake Brewery, he had not looked at its workings. After his conversation with Lord Mortlake, he was curious to learn more about its operation—and more about Haydon Vernon, the brewmaster, and his housekeeper’s nephew. Mr. Vernon had been one of the people who had been in Miss Inglewood’s orbit. He’d see whether he could learn more about their relationship.

Built of Kentish stone alongside the River Merton, a tributary of the River Medway, the three-story rectangular building commanded its location at the far end of the village. Tall, arched windows dominated the east end of the building, while on the west end, a wide stone chimney billowed smoke from fireplaces lit at various levels. Even if one did not know the building housed a brewery, the overwhelming smell of beer and barley in the air would reveal the building’s purpose.

When Sir James entered the building, he looked up. The building was open to the roof in the center, with the U-shaped floors above looking down to the ground floor. Open vats of liquid on the upper floors appeared in various stages of beer production, some with steam drifting up. Sluices and leather hoses connected the vats on the different levels to each other.

James stopped a man carrying a ladle attached to a long stick. “Is Mr. Vernon here today?”

The man jerked his head upward. “Top floor, checkin’ the grind, sar.” He used his ladle stick to point to a broad oak staircase. “You can go up that way if’n ya wants to see him.”

James thanked the man and climbed the stairs, stopping occasionally to look at the work of the men in the areas he passed. From behind him came the heavy tread of a broad-shouldered man carrying a large grain sack on his shoulder. James stepped to the side to let him pass by.

The stairs ended near one of the hearths in the massive chimney. A soot-streaked man shoveled hot coals from the hearth to under a vat to heat the water another man pumped in. He paused a moment to look over Sir James as he dragged the back of his arm across his sweating forehead.

“Mr. Vernon?” James asked.

“That way,” the man said, indicating a walkway on the left.

Sir James nodded and continued down that way. The top floor was hotter than the other floors, and made only bearable by the open roof windows. The man who’d passed him carrying the sack of grain came back the other way, touching his forelock as he passed him. James was struck with admiration that everywhere he looked, the men worked. No casual conversations or pausing to rest and lean against railings occurred. He mentioned that observation to Mr. Vernon when he came up to him by the barley grinder.

“Yes, sir. I wish I could say it were really a good work ethic, but in honesty, it’s a might more complicated than that,” Mr. Vernon said ruefully. He brushed a lock of his burnished dark-red hair off his forehead.

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