The Chocolatier's Wife (44 page)

“So
,
m
y
gran
d
observatio
n
mean
s
naught
.
Mayb
e
the
y
wer
e
just thorough.
”

“No
t
a
s
thoroug
h
a
s
you,
”
h
e
said
,
tappin
g
hi
s
pocke
t
an
d
smiling
.
She returne
d
th
e
smile
,
feelin
g
quit
e
please
d
a
s
the
y
returne
d
t
o
Mrs
.
Hobbs
.
“
I
hav
e
on
e
las
t
question,
”
h
e
aske
d
he
r
gently
.
“Di
d
th
e
polic
e
searc
h
th
e
Bishop’
s
sleepin
g
cha
m
ber
s
a
s
well
,
o
r
di
d
the
y
concentrat
e
thei
r
effort
s
o
n
th
e
study?
”

“Just
the
study?”
she
asked, almost
derisively.
“Nay,
lad,
they
turned over
every
stone
in this
place.
Even
forced
me
out
of
my
own
room
so
they could
pick
through
my
things. And
that
man
...
their
head,
he
kept
asking me
if
there
were
any secret
compartments
or
hiding
places
where
Himself might
have kept
papers.
‘We
want
to
see
if
there
are
any
clues
that
might tell
us
who
would
kill
the
Bishop,’
and
I
said
no,
there
weren’t,
just
as
there weren’t
no
one
who’d
want
to
kill
poor
Edgar, him
being
the
only
decent Bishop we’ve ever had,
always worrying
about his people.”

“Indeed, Mrs.
Hobbs.
I
shall miss him,”
William
said kindly.

“I
hope that you will, sir.”

All
in
all,
Tasmin
was
glad
to
be
shut
of
the
place,
though
not
to
be
back in
the cold night air.
“Do you think
we gained anything?”

“Maybe.”
He
didn’t
sound
overly
pleased.
“We
do
have
one
of
the
suspect
chocolates; that will be a great help, I feel quite victorious.”

The
wind
had
fangs, and
she
tried
not
to
give
into
the
temptation
to snuggle a
little closer to him
for
his warmth.

“There’s a
public
house
ahead,
one
of
the
few
that
allows
ladies.
Shall we go in,
and
get some hot cider?”

“I
would be beyond grateful.”

I
n
th
e
North
,
wher
e
magi
c
wa
s
quit
e
mundane
,
th
e
taver
n
woul
d
b
e
li
t
b
y
col
d
light
,
an
d
th
e
mai
n
roo
m
woul
d
b
e
brightl
y
li
t
an
d
clean
.
Here
,
the
y
wer
e
afrai
d
o
f
usin
g
magi
c
to
o
often
,
an
d
sinc
e
th
e
coal
s
the
y
use
d
i
n
th
e
torches outdoor
s
ofte
n
burne
d
s
o
ho
t
the
y
wer
e
dangerous
,
the
y
wer
e
lef
t
wit
h
oi
l
lanterns
,
candles
,
o
r
f
ire
.
Oi
l
wa
s
wha
t
thi
s
plac
e
used
,
an
d
th
e
smok
y
smel
l
o
f
burnin
g
anima
l
fa
t
cloude
d
th
e
room
,
makin
g
i
t
a
dens
e
yellow
.
Willia
m
le
d
he
r
t
o
a
shadowe
d
corne
r
wher
e
the
y
huddle
d
togethe
r
fo
r
warmth.

The
maid
came
over,
took
their
order,
and
soon
they
were
sharing a mug
of
hot
c
i
der.
It
was
not
the
best.
In
fact,
Tasmin
wondered
what
it
was a
cider
of,
because
it
didn’t
taste
like
apples.
It
was
bitter
water,
but
it
was
hot
,
an
d
wit
h
William’
s
ar
m
aroun
d
he
r
an
d
he
r
f
inger
s
aroun
d
th
e
mu
g
sav
e
whe
n
sh
e
passe
d
i
t
t
o
hi
m
fo
r
a
sip
,
sh
e
fel
t
a
s
i
f
lif
e
wer
e
returnin
g
t
o
her.

There
was
a
group
gathered
around a
table
stretching
a
short
pace
to the
bar.
They
were
a
gossipy,
getting
drunk
sort
of
group,
comfortable
with each
other,
one
that
had
a
central
core
and
many
hangers
on.
“She
was
his lover, she
was,”
one
of
the
women
said
authoritatively.
“She
was
carrying his love child,
but he wouldn’t have
nothing to do with it.”

“Come
on,
now, the
Bishop
was
too
old
for
that
sort
of
going
on.
A child?
At
his
age?
His
heart
would
have
burst
from
the
effort
of
making it long before she knew she’d caught.”

“I
think
he
bloody
did
it.
The
Almsleys
are
rich
as
King
Krom. His daddy
could
have
set
up
everything.”
William
stiffened
at
this,
and
she
put the
cup
on the
table
so
she
could
better
burrow
under
his
arm,
settling
her own arm
around
his waist.