The Widows Guild: A Francis Bacon Mystery (The Francis Bacon Mystery Series Book 3) by Castle Anna

Author:Castle, Anna [Castle, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Publisher: Anna Castle
Published: 2015-10-09T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Tom and Ben spent the whole afternoon prowling pawnshops along the waterfront from the Strand to London Bridge. They were footsore and weary and almost ready to give up, although they still wanted to check the shops on the bridge. They’d learned nothing other than that London was overstocked with household oddments. People were pawning whatever they had to buy food and medicines to send to their menfolk on ships or in militias. Many of these men were stranded in Margate now, sick and hungry. The queen’s treasure chests had already been emptied into the sea in the form of shot and powder, and the Privy Council clutched what little remained for fear the Spanish would regroup in Scotland and march down from the north or sail back around Ireland to try again.

It had been three weeks since the last reliable sighting of the Spanish fleet. Meanwhile, English soldiers and sailors lay starving all along the coast. Even Lord Admiral Howard had pawned the family plate to feed his men.

Tom and Ben hadn’t expected to find incense burners and chalices laid out on shutters to entice the passersby, but they had hoped to catch a flicker of guilty knowledge in some pawnbroker’s eyes. No joy. Some shopmen fairly pushed them back out the door. “If you’re not here to buy, I can’t help you. I’m all tapped out.”

Now they stood in a goldsmith’s shop on the bridge, waiting for the clerk to finish whispering across the counter to a woman draped in a gray veil. Tom had been here once or twice, searching for gifts to send home to his sisters. The shop had a specialty in stylish trinkets, catering to women who pawned gifts from one admirer to enjoy the cash until their next suitor redeemed them.

Tom elbowed Ben and whispered, “See? Trumpet could have helped out. That could be her now, for all we know. Those veils render a woman nearly invisible.”

The woman raised her veil to examine a piece of jewelry more closely. She was twice Trumpet’s age and nothing like as pretty.

“Not invisible enough.” Ben shook his finger at Tom. “And I do hope she has sense enough not to try. Lady Surdeval, pawning her husband’s valuables mere days after his death? We’d never see the end of this scandal.”

“But it’s all right for me, is it? The one accused of doing the actual thieving?”

“Don’t be obtuse. You’re a nob —” He stopped abruptly, then tried again. “No one knows you, not by sight.”

You’re a nobody, he’d meant to say. Tom chose not to take offense. It was true enough and not a bad thing under the current circumstances. But one of these days, everyone in London would know the name Clarady. With his wits and his father’s wealth, he couldn’t help but rise.

Tom spotted a pendant crafted of a band of gold around a disk of jade precisely two shades darker than Trumpet’s eyes. A profile etched into the stone resembled Tom; at least it had a nose, a chin, and a crown of curly hair.

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