Cowardly Witness by Ayr Bray
Matthew Poe is the only witness in a case of murder and corruption in the lead mining industry. After an attempt is made on his life, he seeks refuge at Pemberley.
Mr. Darcy, bound by honour and duty to his King and country, agrees to take him in, though his presence puts everyone at Pemberley in danger—including Darcy’s new bride, Elizabeth.
When Mr. Poe’s secret is revealed with disastrous consequences, will Darcy succeed in protecting his loved ones and the witness, or will he be forced to choose between family and honour?
In Cowardly Witness, Ayr Bray masterfully creates a world around Pemberley electrified with the excitement and intrigue of a riveting suspense story.
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“From an early age I have always been fascinated by the written word and the mood and atmosphere it creates for a reader, especially those books that affect me and transport me to some far-off place. These are the elements I strive to create in my books. My books in many ways record what most affects me: my feelings and experiences with family, friends and those I have run into on my life’s journey. My hope is that in my books you will find something that touches you, something which will resonate in your soul and remind you that you are strong and can overcome anything, especially if you have the support of loving friends and family.” – Ayr Bray
Ayr Bray is from the Pacific Northwest, but travels as much as possible so she doesn’t have to deal with the cold.
Q and A With the Author
A lot of authors I have noticed have music as a way to help with their writing. Is this something that you have used as well? If not what are some things you have used?
Noise canceling headphones so the only thing I can hear are the voices in my head.
Is there a message you would like readers to get out of this book? What is it?
I hope readers know that I stand up for right and think the noblest people are those who stand up for people who cannot stand up for themselves. That is why I love Mr. Darcy in the Pemberley series. He helps those who cannot help themselves.
The information that Mr. Poe was dead and soon to be buried in the Masson Cemetery was just what Lord Sharpson and his associates most wanted to know. Freddy scrawled a nearly illegible note on a dirty scrap of paper. He was just folding it when he espied the inquisitor and Mrs Poe leaving together.
Seeing a boy of about eleven years old, Freddy motioned for him to approach. He was a regular at Freddy’s stall. He was a smart and steady lad who liked the wooden soldiers and horses best, and, to Freddy’s despair and delight, he could not read a jot.
“Want to earn a farthing?” Freddy asked, holding up a coin in front of the boy.
“Yes, sir,” The boy answered, his eyes wide with anticipation.
“Take this message to the two-story brick house on the corner of Main and Broad. Can you do that?”
“Course I can.”
Freddy handed over the note and the farthing. “You make sure it gets there. I’ll not be pleased if I find out you were lax on the job.”
“You can rely on me,” the boy said, throwing a mock salute before he took off running in the direction instructed.
The lad reminded Freddy of himself at that age. Always ready to run an errand for a coin or two. That was before his experiences in the Secret Service mad him suspicious of everyone. More than a few men in his former profession, himself included, had been raised more by the cold streets than by a mother’s gentle hand. Such an upbringing better prepared them for a life in the Service. To excel required a certain finesse. Finesse with a pistol, or a dagger, or with information.
The latter was Freddy’s speciality. He knew things, and if he did not, he had the means to discover them.
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