Murder by Misrule: A Francis Bacon Mystery (The Francis Bacon Mystery Series Book 1) by Anna Castle

than waxing under his new tutelage."

CHAPTER 9
     
    Francis Bacon watched Benjamin Whitt stalk stiff-backed and red-faced out of the hall. He sympathized with the man. It wasn't fair for the ancients to play out their conflicts through the students. Whitt had borne himself well in the face of Welbeck's unjust attack. He may not have proved his case, but he'd shown himself to be a man of character.
    Later, when Francis went up to his chambers, he found Thomas Clarady and Allen Trumpington struggling up the stairs, their arms heaped with pillows, blankets, a sack of sweet buns, and a basket of quills and commonplace books. Clarady had a lute slung over one shoulder and a large jug hanging from the other.
    Francis greeted them with a raised eyebrow.
    Clarady said, "Ben refuses to leave the library until he constructs an argument to answer Mr. Welbeck. We're going to help him."
    Francis surveyed their supplies. "Why the lute?"
    "He'll have to sleep sometime. I thought music would help."
    Francis applauded their devotion to their friend and admired Whitt's dedication to study. He felt a surge of pride in his pupils and hoped they would succeed. He would enjoy watching Whitt put Welbeck's nose out of joint.
    It wasn't until after he had settled at his desk to peruse his list of investigatory tasks that he realized his whole team of under-investigators was now firmly encamped in the library.
     
    ***
     
    The first puzzle Francis had to solve was how to request an interview with Lady Rich for his pupils without writing her a letter. She wouldn't speak directly to his servant and he had little faith in the fidelity of a message passed through a chain of underlings.
    He drummed his fingers on the desk. It was just his luck that the only two threads he had to follow ran through prominent courtiers! Why couldn't the witnesses be oyster-sellers or wherrymen? Asking lords for favors was ticklish enough in the best of circumstances. Asking them without being seen to ask was nigh impossible.
    Was it an accident that his threads led to this particular brother and sister? Francis fervently hoped so. If he turned up evidence that either the Earl of Essex or Lady Rich were involved in Smythson's murder, he resolved to drop his partial results in his uncle's lap without further ado and retire to his mother's house in Gorhambury. He was in no position to prosecute the nobility.
    That thought raised his temperature in spite of the cool of his fireless chamber. He fanned himself with a sheet of paper. Their involvement was unlikely after all. The Devereux were society's darlings. Odds were high that they would make an appearance in any matter of importance, sooner or later.
    Francis closed his eyes and calmed himself by willing his mind to think about nothing. He heard birds twittering nearby and the crunch of gravel as men strode across the yard below. He smelled the bitter tang of his ink and a soft undersmell of ashes from the hearth. He inhaled deeply then exhaled and opened his eyes.
    He had his solution. The muddling of messages as they passed through many mouths would serve him well in this instance. It was best that Lady Rich know as little as possible about the true errand of his emissaries, lest she refuse to see them. She would know, of course, about his exile from court. He hoped that she would find an oblique request arriving by way of her stable boy intriguing enough to grant.
     
    ***
     
    When Francis next emerged from his chambers, he learned that Whitt's heroic study session had become the main topic of the Society. Bets were being placed on the outcome. Every day, one of the senior barristers dropped by the library to see how the lads were coming along. Some, like Treasurer Fogg, leaned in the doorway recounting rambling anecdotes about past victories in court. Others, like James Shiveley, brought apples and cheese and explanations so elementary even the privateer's son rolled his eyes.
    It occurred to Francis that he might be