When Maidens Mourn Read Online Free PDF Page B

earlier, but the wet spring delayed things.”
    “Find anything interesting?”
    “Far more than I’d anticipated, certainly. Foundations of stone walls five feet thick. Remnants of a forty-foot drawbridge. Even an underground dungeon complete with chains still hanging on the walls.”
    “Dating to when?”
    “Judging from the coins and painted tiles we’ve come across, probably the thirteenth or fourteenth century, for most of it.”
    “I was under the impression King Arthur was supposed to have lived in the fifth or sixth century, after the Roman withdrawal from Britain—that is, if he lived at all.”
    “True.” Winthrop turned away to reach for something, then held it out. “But look at this.”
    Sebastian found himself holding a corroded metal blade. “What is it?”
    “A Roman dagger.” Winthrop set aside his wine and went to open a large flat glass case framed in walnut that stood on its own table near the door. “And look at this.” He pointed with one blunt, long finger. “These pottery vessels are third- or fourth-century Roman. So is the glass vial. And see that coin? It’s from the time of Claudius.”
    Sebastian studied the artifacts proudly displayed against a black velvet background. “You found all this at Camlet Moat?”
    “We did. The drawbridge and dungeon probably date to the time of the de Mandevilles and their descendants, who held the castle for the Crown in the late Middle Ages. But the site itself is older—much older. There was obviously a fort or villa there inRoman times, which means that in all probability there was still something there during the days of Arthur, after the Romans pulled out.”
    Sebastian regarded the other man’s flushed face and shining eyes. “Will you continue digging, now that Miss Tennyson is dead?”
    All the excitement and animation seemed to drain out of Winthrop, leaving him pensive. “I don’t see how we can. She’s the one who knew what she was doing—and how to interpret what we were finding.”
    “You couldn’t simply hire an antiquary through the British Museum?”
    The banker gave a soft laugh. “Given that they all thought Miss Tennyson mad to be working with me on this, I can’t see anyone of stature being willing to risk his reputation by following in her footsteps. And with harvesttime upon us, we were about to quit anyway.”
    “Any chance she could have come up yesterday to have a quiet look around the site by herself for some reason? Or perhaps to show it to someone?”
    Sir Stanley appeared thoughtful. “I suppose it’s possible, although she generally devoted her Sundays to activities with the boys.”
    Sebastian shook his head, not understanding. “What boys?”
    “George and Alfred—sons of one of her cousins. I understand the mother’s having a difficult confinement and the father isn’t well himself, so Miss Tennyson invited the lads to spend the summer with her in London. They generally stayed home with their nurse when she came up to the island, but she liked to spend several days a week showing them around London. The Tower of London and the beasts at the Exchange—that sort of thing.”
    “So she didn’t come every day when you were digging?”
    “Not every day, no; she had some other research she was also pursuing. But she generally came three or four times a week, yes.”
    “How would she get here?”
    “Sometimes in her brother’s carriage, although she would frequently take the stage to Enfield and get someone at the livery there to drive her out to the moat. In that case, I always insisted she allow me to have one of the men drive her back to London in the afternoon.”
    It wasn’t exactly unheard of for a gentlewoman to take the stage, especially for such a short, local trip. Maintaining a carriage, horses, and groom in London was prodigiously expensive; most families kept only one, if that.
    “Her brother begrudged her the use of his carriage?”
    “Quite the opposite, actually. It irked him