The Prince in the Tower by Lydia M Sheridan

Author:Lydia M Sheridan [Sheridan, Lydia M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00AJ4K6SI
Publisher: Lydia M. Sheridan
Published: 2012-12-03T13:00:00+00:00

***

Kate stood at the roundhouse, looking in the barred window at her little brother. In the cold damp cell he looked younger than his age. Not almost a young man, he was the young boy she’d raised almost as her own child. Now, all her fault, he was small and scared and frightened, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. She held onto the bars as the hot tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. If Bertie saw her cry, she who never cried, he’d know the matter was as serious as it was.

Bertie covered her hands with his to comfort her. They were cold. Instantly, she fumbled in the pocket of her cloak, pulling out her gloves.

"Take these.”

Bertie shook his head. “No, Katie. I’m fine. You need your gloves.”

“I’ve got a spare pair,” she fibbed.

"No you don't." He gave her a jaunty grin, his eyes blazing with an excitement tinged by fear.. Kate put her gloves back in her pocket without further argument.

"You looked like Papa just now."

"He always joked that one of us would end up on the gallows someday."

A wrenching sob tore out of Kate's chest.

"Don't, Katie. It's going to be fine."

Bertie nodded. They both stood silently for a moment.

“I don’t want to die.”

"You're not going to die, I promise you." Kate gripped the bars tighter as if the force alone could save him.

“You can't make that promise--"

"That's enough!" Her voice echoed across the green. She took a deep breath. "I need to ask you some questions." Her brother nodded.

"Did you see anything or anyone when you were out tonight? Anything at all out of the ordinary?”

He paused to think, then shook his head. “No. It was just dark and we were playing in the river. Then Ethan and I decided to play on the platform, but his mother saw him and made him come in. It wasn’t much fun all by myself, so I went home.”

Kate frowned, her mind spinning in a dozen different directions. “And you didn’t see anyone?”

He shrugged. “No. Just the usual.”

Kate jumped on the morsel. “The usual? Any strangers? Any of the tourists?”

Bertie frowned in concentration. He didn’t need to be reminded of the gravity of his memories of the previous evening. Finally he sighed in frustration.

“No. Just the usual,” he repeated. “Lady Jeanne left from the Kendall’s. Mrs. Gordon left the Rectory really late. Miss Radish went to the church, I don't know why, because it was dark. There were some people taking the tour. That’s it Katie, that’s all there were.”

Kate bit her lip as if it would help her to think. Her mind ran over each person in turn, weighing, judging, discarding each in turn. “Lady Jeanne--Mrs. Gordon--Miss Radish--”

Nodding, Bertie added, “Yes, she was talking to Father Flannigan. I saw them in the graveyard.”

Something clicked in Kate's brain. “Miss Radish was talking to Father Flannery? At St. Agatha’s?”

He nodded again.

“Miss Radish is not a Catholic. Why would she be at church at that hour?”

“I’m sorry, Katie.

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