The Peacock Throne Read Online Free PDF Page B

day he was murdered. My valet found it stuffed into one of my boots. Here.” He pulled a couple of pages from the pile and handed them to her. Once again he sat quietly while Lydia read.
    My Dearest Son,
    It is with a heavy heart and much misgiving that I write to you. If, as I hope, the cause of this narrative is merely the delusion of an old man, then please forgive the fancies of age. I received by the evening post a letter which disturbed me a great deal.
    The Centaur was my first command. When I took it, I was younger than you are now, though I thought myself very experienced. I have made a great many mistakes in my life, son, but none I regret more than the one I made on that journey. Iacted outside the scope of my orders and my crew and I paid dearly.
    I have no defence for my actions. I can say only that I was in the grip of a terrible conceit.
    Worse than my faulty judgment is that I involved my crew in the matter, and in doing so cost several of them their lives. I have tried by the rest of my life to atone for my actions of so long ago.
    Son, I do not have the time to recount all the details, but I beg you to find my old boatswain, Rudolph Wolfe. Give him my best compliments and pray him to tell you the tale.
    Of all the things I have done right in my life, you and your mother were the best and brightest. I have ever been proud of you and I know you will carry out this last wish. Thank you, son. Do not grieve over much; we will see one another again.
    Father
    Lydia glanced from the letter to his Lordship and back again, trying to wrap her mind around the information. He had been forthright. It was time to offer him some of what she knew. “I found Mr Wolfe in the kitchen.” Lydia could almost see and smell his corpse again. She forced herself to speak, though an acrid taste fouled her tongue. “I’m always the first to get up in the mornings, to stoke the fires and begin the morning chores. He had been stabbed.”
    She raised her eyes to meet Lord Danbury’s and the force of his gaze made the words shrivel and stick to the roof of her mouth. She swallowed hard and tried again. “The oddest thing I noticed was that the murderer left behind a fine knife with a carved ivory handle. It was more valuable than anything a thief could have possibly hoped to cart away from the coffee house. The magistrate confiscated it as evidence, of course.”
    â€œWhat was the carving?”
    â€œA peacock.”
    Her interrogator leaned closer, his attention fixed on her as if she were the only person in the world. “Was he stabbed from the front or the back?”
    â€œThe back. There were two wounds.” Poor, poor Mr Wolfe. They had stood together so long against the petty cruelties of Mrs Wolfe and the misbegotten Fenn. She shut her eyes against the tide of sorrow. The Earl must think her an utter ninny. She had done little but weep and snivel since she had met him. If only she could think clearly.
    â€œSo he either turned his back on his attacker, or did not know he was there. Did you notice anything else out of place?”
    Lydia fought back the distress that threatened to choke her. Her head ached, her throat burned with the effort of stifling her nausea. “The door was off the latch. The magistrate declared that someone must have neglected to secure it. He thought thieves happened on the unlocked door and came in to rob us—a simple crime of opportunity.”
    â€œAnd the murder?”
    â€œWhen Mr Wolfe caught them, they killed him, then fled in horror at what they had done.” She rubbed at her temples. “No one had the slightest interest in listening to my protestations.”
    Lydia’s head swam. Thumping, throbbing pain coursed throughout her frame, making it difficult to hear above her own pulse. She dabbed at the blood oozing from her split lip, determined not to mar the elegantly upholstered chair in which she sat.
    The gentleman seemed to notice