The Doublet Affair (Ursula Blanchard Mysteries) by Fiona Buckley Page A

figure, Dr. Crichton was not. The children, all well washed, padded, brocaded and ruffed, were considerably smarter than their tutor.
    Instead of answering Rob’s question himself, Mason looked to Crichton for a reply, and it came with some assurance.
    “Quite right, Mr. Henderson. The designer came from Florence. The draperies the family in the tapestry are wearing are in the style seen in many Florentine paintings.”
    I had turned to look closely at the panel nearest to me. “I think—” I began, but Leonard Mason broke in.
    “As a matter of fact, although he is too modest to say so, these tapestries actually belong to Nicholas Crichton here. An uncle left them to him as a legacy. Having nowhere of his own to hang them, he is kindly allowing me to decorate my walls with them. They are finer than anything I could afford. Such tapestries as I do own, I inherited from my father and I have lostsome of those through moth and mildew. I am grateful to Crichton for his loan.”
    “Well, I am grateful to have a place to put my legacy,” said Crichton. He had a flat, morose voice—no wonder he couldn’t command his pupils’ attention. “My uncle,” he said, “had had them for many years, but fortunately they are still in good condition. On these walls, they continue to give pleasure, and we can look at them and discuss the ins and outs of Italian design. And that, children, is partly why I wished you to share our mealtimes. By doing so, you not only learn how to behave in company, but you have a chance to enhance your education by hearing intelligent conversation. Penelope! ”
    Penelope had let out a shriek and punched Philip, who was sitting next to her. I gazed at them in bemusement.
    “He kicked me!” Penelope said. “Philip kicked me!”
    “I am thinking,” said Leonard Mason coldly, “of finding a school for you two boys. Dr. Crichton can continue to teach your sisters but I think it’s time that you boys were taught away from home, where, although I regret it, you may find yourselves subject to a harsher regime than I have ever let Crichton impose on you. Intelligent conversation, indeed! How can one have any conversation at all, if it is to be punctuated by this sort of thing?”
    Rob Henderson, however, had a decidedly mischievous streak in his nature. “Did you kick your sister?” he enquired of Philip. “If so, why?”
    Philip sulkily applied a spoon-edge to a dumpling and refused to answer.
    Penelope did it for him. “He doesn’t think there’s any point in girls listening to intelligent conversation so as to learn how to do it themselves, because he thinks we aren’t capable of it. He kicked me to remind me that he’d said that.”
    George emitted a snort of mirth, and Jane and Cathy giggled.
    Repressively, I said. “The Queen of England would not agree with Philip. Queen Elizabeth has the keenest wit I have ever come across and can follow every twist and turn of a debate between scholars.”
    “And I’m quite sure,” said Ann, “that Queen Elizabeth would not kick or punch anyone. Is that not so, Mrs. Blanchard?”
    “Certainly,” I said, with doubtful truth. Admittedly, I had never actually seen Elizabeth launch a kick or a punch, but she sometimes slapped her maids of honour, and I had once seen her snatch off a shoe and throw it at Lady Katherine Knollys, for venturing to remark that, considering his clouded reputation, Robert Dudley was being allowed into the Queen’s private rooms too often. Elizabeth was less of an example than one could wish, but I didn’t propose to say so.
    Penelope was impressed by this talk of the Queen. “Have you seen Queen Elizabeth, then, Mrs. Blanchard?” she asked.
    “Now, Penelope. You know that I explained to you all that Mrs. Blanchard is one of the Queen’s ladies, although she is taking a brief rest from the court and has come to help me meanwhile,” said Ann reprovingly. “Tell us something of court life, Mrs. Blanchard.You must meet