Deliverance: A Justice Belstrang Mystery by John Pilkington (books to read romance txt) 📕

said, with a smile that was close to a smirk. But at once, she appeared to regret her words: her husband’s glance was forbidding. Sensing an opening, I spoke up.

‘That’s most interesting – where are they situated? I hear the Weald of Kent is most abundant with regard to iron.’

‘Our family used to have interests there,’ Francis said, after a moment’s pause. ‘We have since transferred business to the Forest of Dean, down in Gloucestershire.’

‘It’s more discreet,’ Maris put in airily, which occasioned another disapproving glance from her husband.

‘Well, I know of the forestry down there,’ I said. ‘I thought the mines were the lesser industry.’

‘The new furnaces have brought great improvement,’ Francis replied. ‘But they need a lot of charcoal. The proximity of wood and iron ore serves the foundries well.’

‘And what do they produce, your foundries?’ I asked.

For a moment, however, no reply was forthcoming. I saw Francis catch his wife’s eye again. Finally, when the silence had grown somewhat long, he gave his answer.

‘Cannons, sir, for His Majesty’s armouries. Though it’s not something I normally discuss with guests. I would beg your discretion in the matter.’

I allowed my surprise to show. ‘Well now, I had no inkling that Sir Richard was involved in such activity.’

‘He’s one of the King’s Founders of Ordnance,’ Maria Mountford put in, with another smirk. It struck me that the lady had imbibed somewhat too liberally of the good Gascon wine we had enjoyed. Sensing her husband’s growing irritation at her loosening tongue, I was about to make some remark, when a notion sprang up unbidden.

‘Your uncle… John Mountford,’ I said, turning to Francis. ‘Was he too concerned with the casting of guns?’

This time a silence fell, which even the man’s spouse did not break. In a very short time, the atmosphere had grown taut. I waited, glancing from one to the other, until Francis chose to enlighten me.

‘He was. And the tragedy is, he died while engaged in that very activity, at our works at Lydney. An explosion… a terrible event.’ He put on a sombre look. ‘The work has always carried risks, as my uncle well knew. It seems harsh that he should have perished in such a manner.’

‘It does indeed,’ I said. ‘Please accept my sympathies.’ I drew a breath, and added: ‘And now I’m most eager to speak with Sir Richard, to offer him my sympathies.’

Francis nodded, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. ‘I will accompany you forthwith.’ He glanced at his wife, then: ‘There’s no need for you to come up, Madam.’

Maria Mountford had been about to speak, I saw, but at his words she merely pouted; it was another awkward moment. Somewhat wearied by her behaviour, I rose from my chair.

‘With your leave, I will await you by the staircase.’

Which I did, standing in the hallway until Francis came out. As we began to ascend the stairs together he spoke readily enough, with an attempt at levity which I found false.

‘I pray you’ll indulge my wife, sir - she is not quite herself. She is still unnerved by John’s death. It’s barely a fortnight since the burial… the body was sent upriver by boat, so broken and maimed that we were advised not to view it. I’m sure you understand.’

I gave a nod. ‘It must have been a distressing time for all of you. I remember how fond your father was of his brother.’

He said nothing further, but stopped outside a closed door. Unsure what to expect, I now found myself ill-at-ease, which Francis appeared not to notice. He knocked, then opened the door and entered, bidding me follow. The room was dim, heavy drapes covering most of the windows. As my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, I discerned a great four-poster bed, its curtains drawn. At our appearance, a figure rose abruptly from a stool nearby.

‘Is he awake?’ Francis asked.

‘I believe so, sir.’ The elderly servant bobbed quickly. ‘Shall I tell him you’re come?’

‘No, you may leave,’ came the terse reply.

In silence the woman walked past us, head lowered. As she went out, closing the door, Francis faced me.

‘I must beg your discretion, Master Belstrang,’ he said, speaking low. ‘We take every care not to alarm my father, nor trouble him in any way. Despite the efforts of his physician, he is weak – and, I might add, prone to delirium at times.’

I gave him no reply. My eyes were on the bed, from where I believed I heard a faint stirring of pillows.

‘And more…’ Francis leaned closer, obliging me to meet his eye. ‘We never speak of the accident. It distresses him.’

‘Yes, I understand.’ With some impatience, I gestured towards the four-poster. ‘Well, may I see him now?’

Still the man hesitated, seemingly unwilling to leave me alone. Why was that? But at last, he gave a nod and stepped back.

‘I ask you not to stay too long, for discourse tires him,’ were his final words. Then he turned and, to my relief, got himself outside. Whereupon, at the sound of the latch, there was a sudden flurry of movement, and the bed-curtains parted.

‘Has he gone?’ Came a voice, so familiar that it threw me back many years. And when, in mingled surprise and hope, I replied in the affirmative, there came an audible sigh.

‘Thanks be to God,’ Richard Mountford muttered, even as his head appeared through the gap. ‘Now come here, you old dog, and embrace me.’

THREE

It was an afternoon of surprises.

My first emotion was relief, that my old friend was not as sick as I had feared. He had aged, but no more than I expected for a man of his years. In truth, he appeared a somewhat unlikely invalid.

‘I rejoice to see you again,’ I told him, when we had done with