brother could be pardoned by judges bribed with stolen gold, or false coin. She took a deep breath to still her whirling thoughts.
“Do you understand?”
"Yes."
Kate turned, scrubbing the tears from her face with the back of her hand.
"I'm going now."
"Where? ”
She gave him the same grin the Cavalier used with such success in his various robberies.
“I’m going to find the killer."
"You know who it is?"
"Yes, I do," she said grimly, and strode off into the night.
***
Major Goodwillie had had a difficult day made more difficult and utterly frustrating by the blatant lawless antics of Oaksley. The major called a spade a spade and a thief a thief, and if there was one thing which would make his tenure at Oaksley somewhat bearable, it would be the capture of the Gray Cavalier. In this respect, the major and Mr. Weilmunster had a great deal in common indeed, and would have had a great deal more if Adam Weilmunster had not been firstly a dead bore, and secondly, dead.
But i f truth be told, Kate was having a slightly worse time than even Major Goodwillie, but definitely better than the good Father Flannigan, even now watching as his comfortable home was being tossed by Edmund in a desperate search for proof. It turned out that Father Flannery was unaccountably knowledgeable about English law, especially where it concerned proof.
She’d gone to Miss Radish’ s cottage, directly behind the Brigands and Buns Coffee Shoppe, but Miss Radish, thanks to the comings and goings on the green, had been alert to danger. When Kate interrupted her packing, she asked no questions, proclaimed no innocence. She simply greeted Kate warmly, which threw her off balance, considering her errand. How does one ask an upright member of the community if she is a thief, murderer, counterfeiter, and guilty of treason to boot, when she was busy putting the kettle on for tea?
It was a social dilemma of such magnitude that Kate wished that Lucy or Lady Alice was with her. It was all so terribly tatty and awkward.
But it was not so for Miss Radish. She picked up the kitchen poker and whacked her uninvited guest over the head. It was a story of poor manners which far eclipsed Kate’s and would linger long in the minds of mothers of the village, serving for many years as the ultimate Do Not Do This rule in lectures of etiquette to hopeful offspring.
But Kate, decided Miss Radish, observing her visitor out cold on the cobblestone floor, blood trickling from her hair, must bear some of the blame. Was it really Too Much To Ask that a person have a modicum of privacy in her own home? She hadn’t had a moment’s peace since the stupid Cavalier started his shenanigans that spring. It was difficult enough to sustain a viable career in counterfeiting, what with dragoons, blackmailers, and do-gooders poking their noses where they didn’t belong without Lady Katherine’s butting in, too.
Miss Radish looked about her cottage with satisfaction. Everything packed in two trunks, the cottage neat as a pin. In less than an hour she was supposed to be on her way to a new and better life, but no.
She sighed. Was anyone ever so put upon but her? Now she had to take care of her unwanted guest. Luckily the gig was hitched, so she loaded her trunks and tied Lady Katherine’s hands together. With a great deal of grunting, for the lady was no light weight, Miss Radish managed to half carry, half drag her captive out and heave her up on the trunks in the gig. She paused, wondering if she should put Lady Katherine under the trunks, but she had not time and her valuables were quite safely packed, thank you, so she straightened her hat, chirruped to the horse, and set off on her journey. She’d just make a quick side-trip to the Castle to pick up her share of the ill-gotten gains, kill Lady Katherine, and be on her merry way.
Life was good indeed.
***
Kate’s head throbbed. S he shivered from the
“Do you understand?”
"Yes."
Kate turned, scrubbing the tears from her face with the back of her hand.
"I'm going now."
"Where? ”
She gave him the same grin the Cavalier used with such success in his various robberies.
“I’m going to find the killer."
"You know who it is?"
"Yes, I do," she said grimly, and strode off into the night.
***
Major Goodwillie had had a difficult day made more difficult and utterly frustrating by the blatant lawless antics of Oaksley. The major called a spade a spade and a thief a thief, and if there was one thing which would make his tenure at Oaksley somewhat bearable, it would be the capture of the Gray Cavalier. In this respect, the major and Mr. Weilmunster had a great deal in common indeed, and would have had a great deal more if Adam Weilmunster had not been firstly a dead bore, and secondly, dead.
But i f truth be told, Kate was having a slightly worse time than even Major Goodwillie, but definitely better than the good Father Flannigan, even now watching as his comfortable home was being tossed by Edmund in a desperate search for proof. It turned out that Father Flannery was unaccountably knowledgeable about English law, especially where it concerned proof.
She’d gone to Miss Radish’ s cottage, directly behind the Brigands and Buns Coffee Shoppe, but Miss Radish, thanks to the comings and goings on the green, had been alert to danger. When Kate interrupted her packing, she asked no questions, proclaimed no innocence. She simply greeted Kate warmly, which threw her off balance, considering her errand. How does one ask an upright member of the community if she is a thief, murderer, counterfeiter, and guilty of treason to boot, when she was busy putting the kettle on for tea?
It was a social dilemma of such magnitude that Kate wished that Lucy or Lady Alice was with her. It was all so terribly tatty and awkward.
But it was not so for Miss Radish. She picked up the kitchen poker and whacked her uninvited guest over the head. It was a story of poor manners which far eclipsed Kate’s and would linger long in the minds of mothers of the village, serving for many years as the ultimate Do Not Do This rule in lectures of etiquette to hopeful offspring.
But Kate, decided Miss Radish, observing her visitor out cold on the cobblestone floor, blood trickling from her hair, must bear some of the blame. Was it really Too Much To Ask that a person have a modicum of privacy in her own home? She hadn’t had a moment’s peace since the stupid Cavalier started his shenanigans that spring. It was difficult enough to sustain a viable career in counterfeiting, what with dragoons, blackmailers, and do-gooders poking their noses where they didn’t belong without Lady Katherine’s butting in, too.
Miss Radish looked about her cottage with satisfaction. Everything packed in two trunks, the cottage neat as a pin. In less than an hour she was supposed to be on her way to a new and better life, but no.
She sighed. Was anyone ever so put upon but her? Now she had to take care of her unwanted guest. Luckily the gig was hitched, so she loaded her trunks and tied Lady Katherine’s hands together. With a great deal of grunting, for the lady was no light weight, Miss Radish managed to half carry, half drag her captive out and heave her up on the trunks in the gig. She paused, wondering if she should put Lady Katherine under the trunks, but she had not time and her valuables were quite safely packed, thank you, so she straightened her hat, chirruped to the horse, and set off on her journey. She’d just make a quick side-trip to the Castle to pick up her share of the ill-gotten gains, kill Lady Katherine, and be on her merry way.
Life was good indeed.
***
Kate’s head throbbed. S he shivered from the
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