Murder in the Monastery (Libby Sarjeant Murder Mystery series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

looked at each other and grinned.
    ‘On the trail again!’ said Libby.

Chapter Five
    F ran called Libby the following morning. ‘How about a day out at the seaside?’
    ‘Do you want me to do something?’ asked Libby warily.
    ‘Yes, go through the research on our relic. I thought we could do it together. It’s a lovely day, and we could have lunch outside The Sloop.’
    ‘Oh.’ Libby brightened. ‘OK, be with you in about an hour.’
    It was indeed a lovely day, the road to Nethergate from Steeple Martin was thickly bordered by a mass of green hawthorn, blackthorn and alder. The sea came into view sparkling like cheap sequins as the car crested a rise, with the long, dark shape of Dragon Rock hunkered down in the middle of the bay. Libby smiled with pleasure.
    She managed to find a parking spot in Harbour Street not too far from Coastguard Cottage and met Fran leaning over the sea wall contemplating the beach.
    ‘Nice ’ere, innit?’ she said.
    Fran turned and smiled. ‘I’m lucky aren’t I?’
    ‘The cottage, the sea, Guy and me. Yes, you are.’
    Fran punched her lightly on the arm. ‘Come on, see what I’ve found. Or would you like an ice cream from Lizzie’s first?’
    Lizzie had a small booth selling indescribably beautiful ice cream just along from Guy’s gallery.
    ‘Oh, go on, then.’
    Returning to the sea wall with their cones, Libby said, ‘So what have you found out, then?’
    ‘Believe it or not, there’s the whole story on the estate website. I suppose it was concealed at the time and only got publicised with the advent of public openings and so on.’
    ‘So the church belongs to the castle estate?’
    ‘No, the estate of a stately home called Maidenhaye. It seems to be a sort of Chatsworth or Castle Howard set up – you know, villages still part owned by the estate, farm shop, all sorts of events going on.’
    Libby sucked the last dollop of ice cream out of the soggy end of the cornet. ‘Come on then, let’s go and have a look.’
    Maidenhaye was beautiful. The house, smaller than either of those to which Fran had compared it, still contained the sort of paintings and treasures associated with the British stately home, and within the estate boundaries there were villages, shops selling only produce from the estate, estate farms, woodyards and craft shops, not to mention several properties available for holiday lets.
    That, of course, was quite apart from the archaeological digs that seemed to be an ongoing process.
    ‘Here we are,’ said Fran. ‘Dissolution.’
    An early monastic house had been excavated, after the excavation of the supposedly 12th century monastery, the ruins of which had stood in the grounds for as long as anyone could remember. And with the excavation had come the examination of accompanying documents held in the family’s archives.
    And there was Eldreda.
    ‘No mention of Tredega, though,’ said Libby.
    ‘No, but it tells the story. How her relic was brought back to the monastery and the reliquary was designed to hold it. Miracles were supposed to happen if the faithful came and prayed to it. And then how this monk – what’s his name?’
    ‘Brother Thomas.’ Libby peered at the screen.
    ‘Yes, him. Fled from the monastery when he knew Henry’s thugs were on their way and gave it into the family’s safekeeping.’
    ‘It even explains what happens next,’ exclaimed Libby. ‘It’s not even a secret.’
    ‘Yes, the family lost everything – or nearly – and sold the relic after the South Sea Bubble burst. And there they lose sight of it.’
    ‘Right.’ Libby sat back. ‘So who are the family who lived at Maidenhaye? Does it say?’
    ‘The family are still there. It was entailed, and somehow they repaired their fortunes and hung on, even after the last war.’
    Libby scrolled back through the pages. ‘The Beaumonts. That sounds Norman-ish. Were they the family who brought back the reliquary?’
    ‘I should think the original Anglo-Saxon