The Goldsmith's Daughter

Thirteen

Yet again, my worst fears were not realised. It was Eleanor Babcary who entered the room, closely followed by Isolda. I breathed a sigh of relief, but, at the same time, wondered why my imagination was playing me such tricks.

It was plain that Eleanor had accompanied her cousin against her will. There was a pout to the soft lips, a sullen expression in the blue eyes that clearly indicated her reluctance, and I wondered what arguments Isolda had used to cajole her into talking to me. Perhaps she had pointed out that it would be wiser to submit to my questioning now and get it over with, than to wait in uneasy anticipation of the ordeal still to come.

‘I hope you’re feeling better, Mistress,’ I said with as much concern as I could muster, convinced in my own mind that there was nothing really wrong with the girl except for an irritation of nerves which I could not, at present, explain. ‘Won’t you sit down?’ And I pointed to the armchair nearest the fire.

She glanced over her shoulder at Isolda, who nodded encouragement.

‘Do as Master Chapman says, Nell. I’ll sit here, opposite you, and then you’ll have no need to be afraid.’

‘I hope Mistress Babcary knows better than to be afraid of me,’ I responded with some asperity. ‘I’ve done nothing that I’m aware of to inspire fear in any member of this household.’

‘You’re looking for the truth concerning a murder,’ Isolda answered drily. ‘That’s enough, surely, to frighten us all.’ She moved to the other armchair and sat down.

Her cousin followed suit, but held herself erect, fidgeting nervously, as she had done earlier, with the pendant around her neck. I drew forward a stool and seated myself midway between the two women.

‘Mistress Babcary,’ I invited, ‘tell me all you can — anything that you remember — about the evening that Master Bonifant died.’

Eleanor’s story, told haltingly, agreed with both her cousin’s and her uncle’s version of events, and was recounted with almost no prompting from the former, and with very few glances in her direction.

Eleanor had, she said, gone up to her bedchamber to change from her workaday into her best clothes at the same time as the other members of the family — excepting, of course, Isolda — and had returned here, to the parlour, to see Mistress Perle presented with her birthday gift and to drink her health.

‘Mistress Bonifant was late putting in an appearance because she had been delayed in the kitchen,’ I pointed out. ‘What did you all talk about while you were waiting for her arrival?’

The younger woman furrowed her brow. ‘I can’t remember. Mistress Napier spoke to me, but I have no recollection of what she said, because I wasn’t listening to her very closely. Toby was winking and mouthing something at me from behind her back, but I couldn’t make out what it was he was saying.’

I leant forward a little, my interest quickening. ‘Winking and mouthing, was he? And did you ever find out what it was that he’d been trying to tell you?’

Eleanor shook her head. ‘I never asked him.’ Her face grew bleak. ‘With everything that. . that happened afterwards, I’d forgotten all about it until now.’ She had at last stopped tugging at her pendant and was gripping the arms of her chair so hard that the knuckles of her hands gleamed white.

‘He wasn’t supposed to be here, was he? When your uncle entertains guests, Toby takes his meals in the kitchen.’

‘Yes, with Meggie.’ Eleanor raised her lovely eyes to mine. ‘I don’t know why he was in the parlour. He shouldn’t have been.’

I did not press the matter. I could winkle the truth out of young Toby later. Meantime, I had a more important question for Eleanor Babcary, but one which I was loath to put to her in Isolda’s presence. Fortunately, just at that moment, there was the sound of feet pounding up the stairs and, a second or two later, Toby himself put his head around the door. The sound of distant wailing reached our ears.

‘You’d best come, Mistress,’ he said to Isolda. ‘Meg’s dropped half a dozen eggs on the kitchen floor and is crying her eyes out. She won’t be comforted by anyone but you.’

My hostess stifled what could have been an unladylike curse as, with a better grace than I think I could have mustered in the circumstances, had I been in her shoes, she rose and accompanied the apprentice downstairs. She did falter as she reached the parlour door, but, to her credit, her hesitation was only momentary. A second later, I heard the click of the latch.

I turned back to Eleanor to find her eyeing me askance. It was almost as if she knew what I was going to ask her.

‘Mistress Babcary,’ I said, ‘what were your feelings for Gideon Bonifant?’

‘My feelings for him?’ Her eyes were warier still.

‘Yes. Did you like him? Were you. . Were you fond of him?’

I noticed with interest that at my reference to the murdered man, one of Eleanor’s slender white hands had risen, almost unconsciously, to finger yet again the pendant on its thin gold chain. Her voice, when she answered, was somewhat constricted.

‘He was Isolda’s husband. Of course I liked him, for her sake.’

‘Was that the only reason? Did you not like him for his own sake?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ She sounded slightly breathless. ‘I–I didn’t think much about him. He was years older than I was. He was ten years older than Isolda. Gideon always seemed to me to be more of Uncle Miles’s generation, although I suppose he wasn’t really.’ She blinked unhappily. ‘Kit and I had only been here a year when he and Isolda were married and he came to live here, too. So. . Well, I was used to him, you see. He was just another member of the household.’

I reflected for the second time that while this had probably once been true of Eleanor’s attitude towards her cousin’s husband, it was possible that her feelings for him might have undergone a change. I don’t know what put this idea into my head, except that she refused to meet my eyes when speaking of Gideon, and continued, in the same restless, nervous way, to fiddle with her pendant. There was also the memory of her earlier tears.

I said, ‘According to Mistress Bonifant, that jewel of yours was a birthday gift from all of them — herself, your uncle, your brother and Master Bonifant. Everyone had a hand in making it, is that not so?’

Eleanor looked bewildered by this change of subject, and for a second or two could do nothing more than nod her head. Finally, however, she answered, ‘Yes. Uncle Miles was responsible for most of the work because he insisted that it must be done properly, that it had to be perfect for me. But they all had a hand somewhere in the fashioning of it.’

‘And what was Master Bonifant’s contribution, do you know?’

I heard the breath catch in her throat and her eyes suddenly widened with an emotion whose nature still eluded me.

‘I–I was told he set the sapphires in the lover’s knot.’

‘And who told you that?’ I queried gently.

‘What?’ She had been temporarily lost in some dream world of her own and I had to repeat my question. ‘Oh,’ she replied, once she understood, ‘I can’t remember. Uncle Miles, I expect. Or Kit perhaps. Or maybe even Isolda.’

‘But not Master Bonifant himself?’

The door opened and Isolda returned to seat herself again in the chair opposite her cousin’s.

‘What a mess!’ she exclaimed, torn between annoyance and laughter. ‘Six eggs running everywhere among the rushes, and a bowl broken into the bargain. That’s Meggie’s second accident today. She cracked an earthenware cooking pot earlier on. Those are the sort of accidents that so infuriated Gideon.’ Isolda grimaced and shrugged resignedly. ‘Well, Master Chapman, and have you finished questioning Eleanor yet?’ She cast one shrewd look at her cousin’s face and continued, ‘Nell, dearest, you look tired. I think you should lie down until suppertime. Come along!’ She got up, holding out an imperious hand. ‘I’ll help you up to bed.’

Eleanor rose obediently and, I fancied, with relief. Isolda addressed me over her shoulder.

‘I’ve told Toby to come up here to see you. He shouldn’t be long; only a minute or two, or until he’s finished whatever task it is that Father has set him.’

‘And Master Christopher?’ I murmured. ‘I still haven’t spoken to him.’

She heaved another sigh. ‘Don’t worry! I’ll make certain that you do. You might as well finish your enquiries here all in one day.’ She didn’t add, ‘And then you won’t have to come back,’ but I could hear the unspoken comment in her voice.

When the two women had gone upstairs, I waited several minutes before deciding to go in search of young Toby for myself. I wished to speak to Miles again, as well as to Christopher Babcary and the apprentice, and guessed that I should find them all together in the shop, which indeed I did.

The three men were busy and looked none too pleased at my uninvited appearance amongst them.

‘Toby was just coming up to the parlour,’ Miles said testily. He was bent over his workbench, putting the finishing touches to the coronet of gold and silver ivy leaves for Mistress Shore.

I ignored this remark and asked him why he had failed to mention the scene between his son-in-law and Meg Spendlove only some five weeks before the murder.

He answered sourly, ‘Because I’d forgotten about it, that’s why. I told you, I have too many calls upon my time to take much notice of such domestic squabbles. But yes, I do recall the occasion now that you jog my memory. Gideon indulged himself in a display of bad temper that was quite unnecessary in my opinion.’

‘In everyone’s opinion,’ his nephew put in, looking up from the other end of the bench, where he was sorting and grading a bag of pearls.

‘And you don’t think that maybe Meg bore Master Bonifant a grudge for this unwarranted dressing-down?’

It was Toby’s turn to abandon the tray of wax, in which he was drawing a pattern of leaves and flowers, and come forward to stand in front of me, his lower lip jutting aggressively.

‘Meg wouldn’t harm a fly,’ he said. ‘You let her alone.’

‘That will do,’ his master reproved him. ‘Get back to your work.’

‘No, no!’ I said, putting a detaining hand on the apprentice’s shoulder. ‘I want to know, Toby, why you were in the parlour on the evening of the murder. I understand that when there are guests, you eat in the kitchen. So what were you doing upstairs? Both Mistress Bonifant and Master Babcary, here, have testified to your presence, as I’m sure Master Christopher could also do, if asked.’

‘That’s true enough,’ Christopher confirmed. He glanced curiously at the apprentice. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but what were you doing skulking about in the parlour, when you should have been down in the kitchen with Meg?’

Toby glared defiantly at the three of us. ‘I just went in to have a look at the table,’ he said. ‘At the goblets, really. They’re so beautiful. I like to touch them. I like to feel the carving round the rims.’

Miles Babcary mellowed visibly in the face of this unlooked-for tribute. ‘The boy has a natural eye for craftsmanship. I’ll make a goldsmith of him yet.’

Toby simpered virtuously.

‘And was that the only reason you went into the parlour?’ I asked.

His eyes met mine for a fleeting moment before his glance slid sideways. ‘Yes,’ was the truculent reply.

‘And did anyone else enter the room while you were there?’

This was an easier question to answer.

‘Master came in with Mistress Perle and the other lady and gentleman, a few minutes after Master Bonifant and Kit and Nell. Mistress arrived last of all, and then I went downstairs.’

I noted that while Christopher and Eleanor were referred to with familiarity, Gideon had evidently remained on more distant terms with a lowly apprentice.

Toby, feeling that he had satisfied my curiosity, would, at this point, have squirmed free of my hand and returned to his task, had I not tightened my grip on his shoulder.

‘Just a minute! According to Mistress Babcary, something else happened before you left the parlour. What was it that you were trying to tell her behind Mistress Napier’s back? She says you were mouthing words at her and making signs.’

There was a tell-tale pause before Toby retorted defiantly, ‘I was not!’

‘She says you were, and I don’t see why she should tell me a lie.’

‘No, indeed,’ Christopher cut in. ‘My sister’s a very truthful person.’

Toby went a guilty red. ‘I’m not saying she lied,’ he protested. ‘I’m just saying she must have been mistaken.’

‘How could she possibly be mistaken about such a thing?’ I asked severely.

He then changed tack, claiming that his memory was at fault, and that he could remember nothing of the matter. But that, he conceded generously, didn’t mean to say it wasn’t true. And in spite of all my perserverance and the derision of uncle and nephew, we could not persuade him to alter his story. It was obvious, to me at least, that he was lying but there was nothing I could do against his obstinate persistence that he was unable to recollect the incident, and that, therefore, whatever it was that he had been trying to convey to Eleanor had been of no importance. Eventually, I gave up and released him, whereupon he retired again to his workbench with a heartfelt sigh of relief.

I turned my attention to Christopher.

‘Master Babcary,’ I said, ‘perhaps you would tell me what you remember of that evening.’

He shrugged his broad shoulders and continued deftly sorting the pearls, assembling them into three different groups by size.

‘I expect I’m only telling you what you have already heard,’ he said, without looking up. ‘We shut the shop early that evening and then went upstairs to change into our Sunday clothes, it being Mistress Perle’s birthday feast.’

‘Did you all leave the shop together?’ I asked.

Christopher glanced at the older man, frowning. ‘You went first, I think, Uncle Miles. If I remember rightly, you wanted to be sure that you were ready before Mistress Perle and her friends arrived.’

‘That’s true,’ Master Babcary confirmed. ‘And as well that I did. I went straight to my room but, even so, I was barely dressed before I heard Barbara’s knock.’

‘And then?’ I prompted. ‘Who was the next to leave?’

Once again, Christopher shrugged and grimaced, implying that he was unable to remember. ‘Is it of any importance?’ he sneered.

‘It might be,’ I replied, trying to keep my temper. ‘In any case, I should be interested to know the answer. Was it you or Master Bonifant or young Toby, here?’

‘It was Master Bonifant,’ Toby said, giving me a winning smile in order to make up for his former intransigence.

‘Are you sure of that?’ I asked.

‘Of course I’m sure. He’d been applying some gilding to that silver chalice Master had made for Saint Pancras’s church, and I remember him saying, “I’ve had enough of this! I’m off upstairs. I’ll finish it in the morning.” Only of course he never did. Master finished it himself a week or so later.’

There was an uneasy silence while Christopher, Miles Babcary and Toby avoided one another’s eyes and I looked thoughtfully at the three of them. Finally, I enquired of Christopher, ‘Is that your recollection, too? Was Master Bonifant the next to go upstairs?’

He nodded. ‘Yes. Now I think back, I can recall Gideon using precisely those words. He’d been in a bad mood all day, more than usually grumpy and taciturn, although his temper seemed to have improved a bit by the time we were all assembled in the parlour.’

‘And did you or Toby go upstairs next?’

Christopher glowered at me, irritated by my persistence. Once more, it was the apprentice who answered for him.

‘I did. I knew Master would want me to look tidy, even if I wasn’t eating with the family.’

‘And how long after Master Bonifant’s departure was that?’

Toby pulled a face and raised his eyebrows at Christopher. ‘Ten minutes, would you say?’ And when the other man did not answer, he went on, ‘Yes, about ten minutes. Maybe a little longer.’

‘Your bedchamber’s on the top floor, so I’ve been told.’

Toby nodded. ‘Next to Kit’s.’

‘You went straight up there from the shop?’ Again he nodded. ‘And did you see anyone else on the stairs?’

‘No. Well,’ he amended, ‘I saw Master Bonifant when I reached the second landing. He was just going into his room. He said he’d been to the kitchen to have a word with Mistress Bonifant, which was why he’d been delayed.’

‘And did you believe him?’

Toby blinked in surprise. ‘Why shouldn’t I believe him when he said so? Where else could he have been?’

For some reason that I was unable to explain to my own satisfaction, the delicate, flower-like features of Eleanor Babcary swam before my mind’s eye. Had there been a brief, secret lovers’ tryst between her and Gideon? Or was I, as ever, letting my imagination run ahead of common sense? I had no evidence — at least, not so far — to suppose that either was in love with the other. All the same, I would check with both Meg and Isolda to discover if this statement of Gideon’s was true.

I turned back to the apprentice. ‘And it was after you had made yourself fit to be seen in company that you sneaked down to the parlour?’

‘Yes. I told you, I went to look at the goblets. I always do, when they’re taken out for feast days and holidays.’

My host looked even more gratified than before.

‘Master Babcary,’ I asked abruptly, ‘did you know that your son-in-law had been married previously? That your daughter was his second wife?’

He raised his eyes from Mistress Shore’s coronet and looked both astonished and indignant that I could suppose him ignorant in this matter.

‘Of course I knew. It’s not the sort of circumstance a man would conceal.’

I bowed my head in agreement. ‘So I should suppose. But I was curious as neither you nor Mistress Bonifant had mentioned the fact.’

He threw up his hands in exasperation. ‘Why should we? It can have no bearing on his murder. The lady herself died many years ago, and can hardly have had anything to do with his death. Who told you about her?’

‘Master Ford, the apothecary, Master Bonifant’s old master.’ I shifted my gaze to the nephew. ‘Master Babcary, did you know, before Gideon’s death, of the stories he was spreading concerning you and Mistress Bonifant?’

Christopher’s fingers were suddenly stilled amongst the pearls that he had been so busily sorting. A tide of blood suffused his face. Miles Babcary nervously adjusted his spectacles.

‘Of course I didn’t,’ the younger man answered with a menacing quietness. ‘Had I done so, I should have made it my business to refute such an evil slander.’

I plucked up courage to ask, ‘There was, then, not the slightest vestige of truth in the rumour?’

‘None whatsoever!’ His tone was venomous, and his eyes, now fixed on my face, dared me to pursue the subject.

I braved his wrath and said, as apologetically as I could, ‘Master Bonifant also claimed to have overheard you boasting to your sister of being in love with an older woman, and of being almost certain that your love was requited. Was this true?’

Never, in my estimation, was guilt written more plainly on a man’s face than it was at that moment on Christopher Babcary’s but, having denied the charge in the past, and, presumably, having persuaded his sister to lie for him, he could do no other than refute it now, even though it was doubtful that he would wish to.

‘Whatever Gideon thought he heard, he was mistaken.’

‘I see. And do you know of any other man whose’ — my tongue fumbled for a word — ‘whose friendship with your cousin might have misled Master Bonifant into imagining that you were his betrayer? Or convinced him that he was indeed being betrayed?’

‘I know of no one!’ came the furious response.

‘No one! No one!’ echoed Miles Babcary, equally angry.

‘But Master Bonifant must have got this idea from somewhere!’ I cried despairingly. ‘Something must have made him suspect that his wife was being unfaithful to him.’

Two mouths shut like traps; the looks from two pairs of eyes would have struck me down if they could. But I was there at the instigation of the King’s mistress and of the Duke of Gloucester, and neither man dared to send me packing from the house, as I had not the smallest doubt he wished to do.

I swung round and faced the apprentice, who had given up all pretence of working and was staring at me, goggle-eyed.

‘Do you know of anyone, Toby?’

Toby pulled himself together and gave my question his gravest consideration. But after some long, hard thought, he slowly shook his head.

‘No,’ he said, ‘there’s no one I can think of. Mistress was always a loyal wife as far as I could see. Besides,’ he added with all the candour of youth, ‘men just don’t fancy her, do they? Not like Mistress Nell. But,’ he added, his eyes suddenly sly, ‘I did think, at one time, as how Master Kit was partial to Mistress Napier. I used to see the way he mooned at her whenever she visited the shop. And once, I caught him trying to kiss her.’