Wheel of Fate

SIX

There was an uncomfortable silence before Oswald gave an uncertain laugh. ‘You paint a bleak picture, Master Chapman,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure that I believe it.’

I smiled. ‘I’m not sure that I believe it, myself,’ I admitted.

‘Well, I believe it,’ Celia declared roundly. ‘I think Roger is in the right of it.’ She dimpled slightly as she called me by my Christian name, but sobered again almost immediately. ‘Three of our number are dead, two have nearly died. The only question in my mind is who is doing this dreadful thing, and why.’

‘That’s two questions,’ her half-brother pointed out pedantically, and I was surprised to note that this was no jocular correction, but seriously meant. I was reminded that Oswald was a lawyer and used to standing on points of order, but I guessed that, in any case, he was a man who valued precision. He went on, ‘But as you so rightly say, my dear Celia, who would instigate such a vendetta against our family, and for what reason?’

‘I should think the answer is obvious,’ Clemency put in. ‘It’s someone who has a grudge against Oswald because of one of his cases. We’ve said this before and I see no good reason to alter our opinion. And I should imagine that that is where anyone investigating on our behalf would start.’ Here, she looked directly at me. ‘Are we to understand, Roger, that you are willing to remain at the Arbour for the time being and help us with these enquiries?’

‘Of course he is!’ my wife interposed swiftly, at the same time kicking me smartly on the ankle.

‘Let your husband answer for himself, Adela,’ Clemency reproved her sternly. ‘If he is at all reluctant, if his heart is not in it, then it would be far better if he took you and the children home tomorrow and left us to our fate.’

All eyes were turned in my direction including the children’s, although they could have had no real idea of what was going on. But that didn’t prevent their gaze being as reproachful as their mother’s. As usual, my nearest and dearest were expecting the worst of me.

And I don’t say they were wrong in that respect: every instinct urged me to get out of London while the going was good. But the relationship of Reynold Makepeace to the Godsloves, and the possibility that his death had not been accident, but murder, made a difference. Reynold had been a friend. If I could bring the villain who had arranged for him to be killed to book, then it was my duty to do so.

‘Adela is right,’ I said, smiling at Clemency. ‘Of course I’ll stay for a while and do what I can to help.’

I did not add that there would be a self-imposed time limit on this offer of assistance. Indeed, I doubted if that would be necessary. The constant presence of three vigorous children would eventually take its toll on a normally childless household; and whereas Nicholas had probably been on his best behaviour until now, Elizabeth’s presence would inevitably alter that. Apart, they might be quiet and docile; together, they could put a cavalry charge to shame.

At my words, there were smiles from the women and even Oswald was unable to hide a satisfied twitch of the lips.

‘Good,’ said Clemency. ‘So let’s talk about something else for a while. Oswald, what’s the news in the city this morning? Is there any word yet as to when the duke will arrive?’

Her brother shook his head. ‘But there is a very strong rumour,’ he hastened on, forestalling his womenfolk’s groans of disappointment, ‘that the king and Earl Rivers will leave Ludlow tomorrow and rendezvous with His Grace of Gloucester some time next week, at Northampton.’

He gave a self-satisfied smile, so I forbore to mention that this information tallied with what I had heard the Abbot of Reading tell Bishop Stillington, realizing that it would be impolitic to steal Oswald’s thunder. He was a man with a very high opinion of himself, I could tell. And who could blame him, sated as he was with a lifelong diet of adulation from his sisters and also, nowadays, from his housekeeper? I did, however, contribute the fact that I had seen Sir Richard Grey riding along the Strand in the midst of a great bevy of retainers.

‘Oh, him!’ Oswald dismissed the queen’s younger first-marriage son with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘A troublemaker, that one. Indeed, all the Woodville faction are hell-bent on stirring the pot and making it boil. The lord chamberlain — or should I say the ex-lord chamberlain, for I doubt Hastings will continue in office under the new young king — is desperate for Gloucester’s arrival, even though it’s my impression that the two men have never liked one another above half. But their shared love and grief for Edward should draw them together. At least, that’s my opinion. For what it’s worth,’ he added with a self-conscious laugh as he waited for the expected reassurance.

It came at once and in a chorus.

‘You’re always right, my dear, you know that,’ proclaimed Clemency with a smile.

‘I have never known your judgement to be at fault yet, Oswald,’ Celia confirmed.

‘Master Godslove is a very clever man,’ Arbella Rokeswood said, addressing her words to me but keeping her eyes fixed on him and basking in the warmth of his approval.

I tried to look impressed, but Adela, who knew me better than her cousins, told me later that she knew exactly what I was thinking. (‘You’d do as well to try and keep your features under control, Roger,’ she warned me.)

The children were, by now, growing restless and Clemency, deciding that we had been sitting over our meal long enough, made to rise from the table.

‘One moment,’ I said as she did so. Everyone looked enquiringly in my direction. ‘You’ve mentioned having two stepbrothers. Landlord Makepeace had a brother, then. Is he still alive? If so, can I meet him? Does he live near here?’

‘Julian?’ Clemency looked faintly surprised as if this was something I should know already. ‘He’s an apothecary and he, too, lives in Bucklersbury. His shop is not far from the Voyager on the opposite side of the road. You’ll see his name over the door. There are a good many apothecaries’ shops in that street.’

I nodded. ‘So I’ve noticed. I’ll pay him a visit later on.’

‘Whatever for?’ Oswald asked, frankly puzzled. ‘I’m sure he won’t be able to tell you anything. Nothing to the purpose, at any rate. A good enough man among his herbs and simples, but of limited intelligence I’ve always thought him.’

‘His life might be in danger,’ I pointed out. ‘Besides, he may know something, have seen something, however small, that could help me solve this mystery. I must speak to your priest as well. Father Berowne I think you called him. But what would help me most of all, Master Godslove, would be if you could give me a list of any of the criminals you have successfully prosecuted lately who might have cause — or believe they have cause,’ I hastily amended, ‘to bear you a grudge.’

As he hesitated, Celia came round the table and laid a hand on Oswald’s arm. ‘Dearest, you must do this. Please. For all our sakes.’

There was a further pause. Then he patted her hand and gave her an indulgent smile.

‘Very well,’ he agreed. ‘But I doubt if Master Chapman, here, will get much joy from it. My cases are all fairly conducted. Scrupulously so. Very few with whom I have dealings have cause to complain.’

His half-sister rubbed her cheek against his.

‘We know that, my love. So do all your friends and acquaintances. But a felon wouldn’t. I’ve heard you say often that very few of them ever admit, even to themselves, that they are guilty, or at least that they were not justified in doing what they did.’

‘True,’ the lawyer admitted. ‘But in general they are a lazy, shiftless crowd who would find a sustained campaign of vengeance — if that is what this is — beyond the range of their limited powers. However, as you all seem to think it worthwhile, I’ll see if I can think of anyone who might consider that he-’

‘Or she,’ I reminded him.

He turned a cold eye towards me. He did not take kindly to interruption. ‘Very well! If you insist. Anyone who might consider that he or she has been unfairly treated at my hands. It will not,’ he added austerely, ‘be a long list.’

‘Of course not,’ I agreed suavely. ‘But I think your sisters are right in supposing it could be the answer to recent events. Female intuition is never to be despised, my dear sir.’

I saw Adela’s lips twitch in appreciation of this master stroke. The women were now solidly on my side.

We at last began to move, Nicholas and Elizabeth disappearing almost at once, presumably into the garden. The housekeeper made for the kitchens, to summon the maids to clear the table, while the rest of us returned to the great hall, where the fire had almost gone out. Celia gave an exclamation of impatience and put another log on the dying flames, Oswald announced his intention of returning shortly to the inns of court and Clemency suggested that I accompany Adela upstairs to inspect the bedchamber we were to share and to unpack my own and my daughter’s clothes. In the middle of all this, there was a loud knock on the outer door, and before anyone could answer it, the latch was lifted and a man came in.

He was heavily built, with a neat curly brown beard that echoed the curly brown hair showing beneath his flat velvet cap. He was nearly as tall as Oswald but far more muscular, giving an illusory impression of squatness which a second and third glance dispelled. A pair of hazel eyes regarded the assembled company with indifference until they came to rest on Celia. Then they glowed.

He hurried forward, ignoring both Clemency and Oswald, and, bowing low, raised one of her hands to his lips.

‘Celia, my dear! Lovely as ever and looking the picture of health, as always.’

Celia withdrew her hand, blushing slightly, but she did not return the greeting. Instead, she appeared embarrassed, casting a fleeting, half-apologetic glance at Oswald.

Her half-brother said coldly, ‘Good morning, Roderick. Let me conduct you upstairs at once to see your patient. I think you’ll find Sybilla slightly improved since yesterday.’

The physician returned the other man’s look with barely concealed animosity and said, almost sneeringly, ‘I’m sure I shall. There’s nothing much wrong with her but a few bruises, which the salve I left for her should have eased. And the sleeping draught ought to have ensured her a restful night.’

‘Sybilla is still very much shocked by what happened to her,’ Clemency protested. ‘Her nerves are in a very poor state.’

‘She was always prone to hysterics,’ was the cool response. ‘I’ll bleed her again. It will quieten her. Don’t bother coming up with me, Clemency. I know my way.’

‘I’ll accompany you just the same,’ Clemency said firmly, and followed the doctor up the stairs.

Reaching halfway, he turned, looking down into the hall with a softened expression on his rather harsh features.

‘Will you stay to say goodbye to me, Celia?’ His lip curled. ‘Or have you some urgent business, as usual, that will necessitate your presence in some other part of the house?’

Once again, I thought that the younger woman seemed uncomfortable, but she answered composedly enough. ‘I will stay and speak to you with pleasure, Roderick, if you wish it. In any case, I shall want to know your opinion of Sybilla and how she goes on. My sister’s health is the important thing.’

‘Naturally.’ He laughed shortly. ‘Such a devoted family!’ He proceeded on his way, Clemency close at his heels.

‘Well, I must be going along,’ Oswald said. ‘I’m due in court this afternoon.’ He bent and kissed Celia’s cheek. ‘Don’t let Roderick Jeavons rile you, my dear. If he weren’t such a good doctor, and if he hadn’t tended our family for so long, I’d be tempted to find another physician.’

‘No, no! Don’t do that,’ Celia begged him quickly. ‘He doesn’t disturb me.’

Her half-brother patted her shoulder. ‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘The Godsloves have never been dependent upon other people. We know how to look after our own.’ He smiled fleetingly in my wife’s direction at the same time glancing warningly at me. Adela had obviously been accepted as one of the family, however remote the connection, and it was implied that I should do well to remember that fact or I might find myself asked to leave.

I gave a brief inclination of my head and watched Oswald march briskly out of the door. Then I turned to Adela.

‘Shall we go and unpack,’ I asked, ‘as Clemency suggested?’

Adela’s bedchamber was a large and very chilly room at one side of the house and reached by what seemed to me to be innumerable corridors and small flights of stairs, going both up and down.

‘You’ll get used to it,’ she laughed when I complained that I should never be able to find my way around such a rambling, topsy-turvy building. ‘It’s a very old house and I fancy bits have been added on as its former occupants decided to expand. That little room opening off this one — ’ she nodded towards a door in one corner — ‘is where the boys sleep. Elizabeth can share it with them.’

I agreed abstractedly. I was not much interested in the domestic arrangements except to notice with satisfaction that the adjacent room had a bolt on our side of the door, which could, and would, be employed in the interests of privacy. I lounged on the great four-poster bed, with its faded hangings depicting the story of Queen Esther and King Ahasuerus, and watched while my wife unpacked the linen sack I had brought with me, shaking out the clothes with exclamations of horror at the way they had been crammed in altogether, without being properly folded.

‘I’ll never get the creases out of this,’ she said, holding up one of Elizabeth’s gowns. She dived further down. ‘Mmm. I see you’ve brought your good new clothes with you.’ She looked suspicious. ‘Was there any particular reason?’

I shook my head impatiently. ‘I just took everything. Never mind that.’ I raised myself on my elbows. ‘Adela, what is there between Celia and the doctor? I’d swear there’s something. She seems to me to be most uneasy in his presence.’

‘Oh, there’s no great secret, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ my wife replied, clucking disparagingly over the state of Elizabeth’s shifts. ‘Clemency told me that some ten years ago, after the death of his first wife, Roderick Jeavons wanted to marry Celia. She must have been in her middle twenties then and very pretty. He’s a great deal older, but I imagine he was always a handsome man. He still is.’ There was a gleam in Adela’s eyes that I didn’t much care for, but I let it pass. ‘Celia,’ she went on, ‘seems to have been equally attracted to him and, without consulting the rest of the family, agreed to wed him.’

‘And when the others found out?’

Adela sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Well, you can imagine! You’ve seen for yourself how they are. Clemency, of course, said no more than that Celia had later changed her mind having realized she had made a mistake. But I don’t suppose for a single moment that that is the real story. My guess would be that she was overwhelmed by the others’ tears and reproaches. Told she was breaking up the family. How would they manage without her? And so on. Maybe there were even threats — or implied threats — that she would be cast off completely; that they would never see or speak to her again.’

‘But surely,’ I protested, ‘a woman in love wouldn’t be swayed by that. A normal woman of twenty-odd must want a home of her own and children.’

‘Not necessarily,’ my wife answered abruptly, getting off the bed and turning the linen sack inside out to make sure that nothing had been overlooked. ‘Some women might prefer their freedom.’ She hurried on before I had time to digest this cryptic utterance. ‘As I said just now, you must have noticed for yourself, even in this short time, how matters stand in this family. They mean everything to one another. There’s something unnatural about it. If I were less charitable, I’d say that Celia, and indeed Clemency, are more than a little in love with Oswald. And from what I have gathered from Arbella, Charity was worse than either of them. Oswald’s likes, dislikes, preferences were — still are for that matter — the hub on which the whole house turned. Turns.’

I lowered myself back against the pillows, my arms folded behind my head, wondering what I had let myself in for. The Arbour seemed to be a seething cauldron of suppressed emotions, largely incestuous. Arbella Rokeswood was plainly in love with Oswald, who was probably secretly in love with his half-sister, although that, I guessed, was something he would never admit, even to himself. And what of Clemency, Sybilla, and Charity who had died? There was more, surely, than sibling affection between them. I sighed. I felt I ought to insist on taking Adela and the children home at once, away from this unwholesome atmosphere. But, in spite of myself, my interest had been aroused, as well as an instinct that the Godsloves might be right in thinking that they could have an enemy bent on their extinction. Besides which, there was Reynold Makepeace to avenge.

Reynold. How had such a plain, straightforward, ordinary man fitted into this rarefied atmosphere? And why had he never mentioned to me that he had lived near Bristol, near enough for him, surely, to have known the city reasonably well? I must see and talk to his brother, the apothecary. Also, I must seek out the priest, Father Berowne, and make enquiries at the Bishop’s Gate. Someone there could have seen or heard something suspicious relating to the attempt on Sybilla’s life. Moreover, there were two potential avengers in the family’s midst; the housekeeper, whose plan might be to remove Oswald’s siblings one by one until he alone remained, bereft of all those he held dear and ready to throw himself into the comfort of Arbella’s embrace. Or there was the physician with a similar scheme, hoping that once Celia was alone, and free of the influence of the rest, she would be glad to marry him. Or, yet again, Roderick Jeavons could simply be out for vengeance on the lot of them, Celia included.

Adela paused in her task of carefully placing my clothes in a cedar wood chest which stood against one wall.

‘You’re looking broody,’ she said. But when I told her my thoughts, she was aghast. ‘You can’t possibly suspect Arbella or the doctor,’ she protested.

‘Why not? They both have sound reasons for murder.’

‘Because. . Because you just can’t,’ she said, woman’s logic taking over from common sense. ‘They’re nice people.’

‘And have nice people never been known to commit a crime?’ I asked in exasperation. ‘Some very good people have killed in their time, and no doubt will do so again.’ (For some reason or other I suddenly found myself thinking of Duke Richard, but for the life of me I couldn’t make out why.)

‘I won’t listen to such talk,’ my wife said firmly, closing the chest with a bang. ‘The killer, as Clemency says, is far more likely to be someone who has a grudge against Oswald. Surely that makes more sense, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘No,’ I answered bluntly, meeting her outraged glance steadily. ‘In my experience, felons, once they’ve been caught and sentenced, don’t waste their energies on thoughts of revenge. Most have enough to do just surviving in prison. Furthermore, a lot of them have an innate sense of justice that acknowledges the fact that they have done wrong and are being punished.’

Adela came and sat on the edge of the bed for a second time. ‘And what of those who don’t believe they have done wrong — or those who really are innocent — and are being unjustly treated?’

I rolled on to my side. ‘I still don’t think they would resort to killing off a whole family as a means of retribution,’ I said. ‘Oswald maybe. But not his brothers and sisters. And certainly not a stepbrother who didn’t even live with him. No! My guess would be a person with a much more personal grudge against the lot of them.’

‘I won’t have it!’ my wife exclaimed. ‘I won’t have you pointing the finger at Arbella or Dr Jeavons. If you must suspect someone unconnected with Oswald’s work why not pick on Adrian Jollifant? Now, there’s a man I do not like.’

‘Who in the Virgin’s name is Adrian Jollifant?’ I demanded, once more heaving myself into a sitting position.

Adela waved an airy hand. ‘Oh, he’s a silversmith who has a shop in Cheapside. At least, I believe Clemency said it’s really his father’s shop, but the old man has retired and leaves his son to run the business for him.’

‘And what has this silversmith to do with the Godsloves?’ I asked.

‘He wants to purchase the Arbour. Apparently, a long time ago, fifty years or so, it belonged to his family, and now he wants to buy it back again. He seems to think he has a right to it and that Oswald is under some sort of obligation to sell it to him. He’s called twice since I’ve been here, and was most offensive to Clemency and Sybilla on both occasions. Oswald was from home. The second time, he swore he’d have it by hook or by crook and stumped out of the house in a fury.’

This was interesting. ‘What’s he like? Old? Young? Fat? Thin? Cross-eyed?’

That made Adela laugh. ‘There’s nothing special about him. No distinguishing features. Forty or so I should guess. Solidly built, but not fat. A round face, fair hair starting to go grey. I can’t recall the colour of his eyes, but I think they were blue. Well dressed. Expensive clothes. If not downright wealthy, then I should say he has sufficient money and more for all his needs.’

‘And he used threatening language towards Clemency and Sybilla?’

‘Not threatening exactly. He was just rude in the same way Adam is when he can’t get his own way.’

‘Which reminds me,’ I said, looking around, ‘where is he?’

‘Adam?’ Adela smiled with the fond indulgence of a mother speaking of her favourite. (Not that wild horses would ever have got her to admit that she had a favourite.) ‘I persuaded Nicholas and Elizabeth to let him play with them in the garden.’

‘They’ll be sorry,’ I prophesied before returning to the subject of Adrian Jollifant. ‘I must certainly see this silversmith for myself. I must ask Clemency if she knows his address in the city. If what you say is true, he might well be the person we are looking for. He would be a suspect at the very least. But,’ I added, holding up a warning finger, ‘that doesn’t mean I’ve exonerated Mistress Rokeswood or Dr Jeavons. They both have equally good motives for wanting some, if not all, of the family members out of the way.’

‘No,’ Adela said ‘I won’t have it, Roger. It’s preposterous.’

I ignored this. She knew perfectly well that I followed my own path; that I took advice from no one when solving one of my mysteries. And I had to own to myself that I was becoming intrigued by what I had at first thought to be little more than a couple of hysterical women reading more than they should have done into a string of natural accidents.

‘Never mind,’ my wife remarked. ‘God will guide you.’

God! Of course! He was playing His tricks on me again. Why hadn’t I realized that? He had guided Adela to London, knowing I would follow. Moreover, I decided, chewing my thumbnail, I wouldn’t put it past Him to have put it into Juliette Gerrish’s head to try and saddle me with her by-blow and thus start this whole chain of events. I had a good mind to pack up immediately and go to find Jack Nym at the Boar’s Head in East Cheap. I toyed with the idea for a full minute before doing what I always did where God was concerned. I gave in, albeit ungraciously. Peace of mind returned.

I drew a deep breath. I was committed now, but I had no intention of rushing into anything. There were more important things in life and God would just have to be patient.

‘Are you sure the children are in the garden?’ I asked.

‘Yes, of course,’ Adela answered, surprised. ‘If you open that window, you can see them. Why do you want to know?’

I twisted around to look to my left. ‘And is that a bolt I can see on the main bedchamber door?’

‘Yes.’ She was frankly puzzled now.

I got off the bed and slid the bolt home.

‘What are you doing?’ Adela was either being deliberately slow on the uptake or we had been parted for far too long. I rather hoped it was the latter. I didn’t care to imagine any reluctance on her part.

I got back on the bed and reached for her hands. ‘I thought,’ I said primly, ‘that you might wish to give me a warmer welcome now that we are at last alone.’ Then I grinned. ‘I thought you might want to demonstrate how very pleased you are to see me.’

‘If I am,’ she answered severely, trying not to laugh.

I took no notice of this and pulled her into my arms.