3 A Surfeit of Guns: A Sir Robert Carey Mystery (39 page)
Read 3 A Surfeit of Guns: A Sir Robert Carey Mystery Online
Authors: P. F. Chisholm
Tags: #rt, #Mystery & Detective, #amberlyth, #Historical, #Fiction
“Yes, true. And of course, if he didn’t, he would be very annoyed with Lowther for selling him bad weapons, so Lowther would be weakened as well.”
“So why in God’s name did Scrope send me into Scotland without telling me any of this so I could protect myself?”
Philly smiled crookedly at him. “The silly idiot doesn’t trust anyone and he didn’t think you’d work it out. And I couldn’t send Young Hutchin to you because the silly boy had disappeared. Scrope knew you’d want to go. You were the mechanism for King James to return the good guns to us in the end.”
Carey laughed a little hollowly. “So I’ve been rooked,” he said.
“You knew all this, didn’t you?” Philly said intently. “Or you guessed?”
Carey nodded and rubbed the heel of his right palm into his eyes, yawning mightily. “I guessed,” he said. “I guessed because of the way Scrope kept me away from the firearms; not at the time, unfortunately, but later, on the way back. Oh God, Philly, why does everything have to be so complicated?”
“Well,” said Philly judiciously, “I suppose to Scrope it wasn’t a lot different from King James borrowing our cannon to reduce some noble’s fortress, which he does occasionally; it was just on a private basis, instead of officially.”
“Yes. That wasn’t what I meant.”
“He didn’t know Lord Spynie would do that to you.”
“No. Did he know Sir Henry Widdrington would be there, trying to curry favour with King James in readiness for when the Queen dies?”
Philadelphia shrugged. “I don’t think so. And you were eager enough to go and curry favour too.”
“So I was.”
“How’s Elizabeth?”
“Her husband beat her black and blue for lending me his horses last month, and I think he beat her again after she dared to look at me across a street in Dumfries,” said Carey bleakly.
Philadelphia nodded, unsurprised. “She told me she thought he might,” she said. “About the horses, I mean. I’m not surprised he did it again either. For all his gout, he’s very jealous of her.”
“How long does it take an old man to die of the gout?”
“Too long.”
Neither of them said anything for a while. At last, mercifully without a word, she undid his doublet buttons and laces for him, gave him the goblet of spiced wine and kissed him on the cheek when he had drunk some.
“I’ll send Barnabus in to see to you,” she said.
“Philly,” Carey’s voice was remote. “You don’t think he’ll kill her, do you?”
She considered gravely. “He might. But there’s no point challenging him to a duel because he’d be bound to appoint a champion, so the whole thing would be a waste of time.”
Carey smiled wanly. “I thought of that. When I talked to him in Dumfries, after King James had arrested him, I told him that whatever way he hurt his wife, I would infallibly do the same to him twice over and be damned to my honour.”
“Well, you’d have to catch him first and beat off his surname, but I don’t think he will kill her. He’s old and he’s sick and he needs her to nurse him when he’s having an attack. In a way, I feel sorry for him despite what he does to Elizabeth.”
“I don’t,” said Carey.
Philly smiled. “Sleep well, my dear,” she said and shut the door softly.
By the time Barnabus went in to help him undress, he was snoring.
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Table of Contents
- Contents
- Dedication
- Author Note
- R Is For....Extraordinary
- A Surfeit of Guns
- More from this Author
- Contact Us
Table of Contents