In this excerpt, Amelia and Julian’s Aunt Augusta search his library for clues about the Mainwaring curse and pull books from the shelves to donate to a charity sale. It introduces a possible avenue for lifting the family curse.
***
Despite hours of work, Amelia and Augusta had found nothing helpful about the Mainwaring curse. Now they were having tea before going back to the books Julian had left for them. Fighting frustration, Amelia savored the warm liquid going down her throat. At least she and Augusta had found several volumes of poetry and an old copy of Edward Gibbon’s multi-volume The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire for the charity box.
She glanced to the side, at the secret room that held the oldest books and those about magic. Usually concealed by a bookshelf, it stood exposed today. A touch of Augusta’s hand and a bit of magic had caused that shelf to slide behind the one on the left and revealed Julian’s sanctuary.
Having such a collection of books about magic to read whenever one wished would be divine.
Augusta took a bite of caraway biscuit. “You know, Julian can introduce you to a number of Gifted antiquaries and historians who might be able to help you. In the meantime, you’ll continue with your research here and sort a few books from time to time.”
“That sounds lovely. Thank you.”
“Are you ready to resume our hunt?”
Reading old-style type, with f for s, was fatiguing, but it was necessary. “Of course.”
The two women settled back into their chairs by the hearth. If they could find a clue—even something to trigger a vision or a scrying—that could lead them to proof Richard III hadn’t murdered his nephews, surely that would satisfy the curse.
Amelia had tried again to See or scry any link between king and the armor she’d Seen a few nights ago. Images of a sturdy figure wearing it on the battlefield and others of it packed into a chest had offered no clue. The figure bulged oddly in the upper torso, but that could’ve been an ill-fitting surcoat. The French emblem in the vision posed another puzzle. King Richard had been an enemy of France. Did the flag mean someone he’d fought held the answer she needed?
For now, best to attend to her research and not worry about this mystery.
Amelia picked up the next book on her stack. She and her hostess read in silence.
The delicate chiming of six by the mantel clock drew Amelia out of her book. “This is interesting,” she said. “Many more people than I realized defended King Richard’s honor, no matter how subtly and carefully they had to do it. It’s no wonder they waited until the Tudor dynasty ended.”
Augusta’s mouth turned up in a wry smile. “The more insecure a dynasty, the more likely they are to kill even a remote threat.” She fished a book from her stack. “You should read this one, Horace Walpole’s Historic Doubts on the Life and Reign of King Richard the Third. Take it home with you if you like.”
“We’re having a quiet evening for once, so I would like to have it.” Amelia accepted the book. “I should go, though. Mama and Aunt Louisa will be wondering where I am.”
“I’ll have James send for the carriage and bring your maid from the kitchen.”
They left the library without closing the secret room. With the Gifted footman away, calling for the carriage, was that wise? Before Amelia could think of a tactful way to ask, Augusta laid her fingertips on the doorknob. Faint silver flared around them, and she smiled. “Just a little ward until I return. Anyone who tries that door will find it stuck. Or so they’ll think.”
They strolled down the corridor to the stairs.
Descending, Augusta sighed. “One cannot help pitying Richard III when he learned his admired elder brother was perhaps not so admirable. Or feeling for poor Lady Eleanor Butler. Years before he met his future queen, King Edward secretly wed her, only to disavow the marriage when it suited him. She thought she’d won the heart of the most charismatic nobleman of the age, that she was Edward IV’s wife and would be his queen.”
“It must’ve seemed too good to be true.”
“As it proved to be.” In a voice as dry as earth in a drought, the older woman added, “She never married again, likely because she believed she would be committing bigamy. Julian says that in those days, a betrothal followed by a bedding made a marriage, with or without the ceremony. According to that book in your hand, a bishop married her to the king, albeit secretly. Of course she believed they were wed.”
“If Edward IV did that to her and later secretly married Elizabeth Woodville, his queen, how many others did he treat the same way between them?”
“We’ll never know. After King Edward died, the bishop told Richard of Gloucester, as King Richard was then, and showed his proofs to Parliament. Proofs that have gone missing. If Edward’s marriage to Eleanor was valid, as Julian and I believe, then his later marriage to his queen was bigamous. That made their children, including the two boys who’re still known as the Princes in the Tower, illegitimate and thus ineligible to inherit the crown.”
Amelia’s heart kicked. “If they had no right to the throne, King Richard had no reason to kill them. That would point to his innocence, perhaps even clear his name.”
Why had Buckingham seen them as a threat? Did he fear the nobility would prefer the sons of Edward IV, illegitimate or not, to him? King Richard would not have shared that fear. He’d acceded to the throne after being asked to do so by the nobility, and he’d subsequently received oaths of allegiance from the higher clergy, the lords, and officials of the City of London. His nephews posed no threat to him.
“If we could find that proof,” Augusta replied.
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