We were fortunate in finding the Armigers in sole possession, Jane’s French kinfolk having, so we were told, gone to visit yet another relative who was ailing and had sent that morning, demanding their immediate assistance.
‘Tante Louise is rather demanding,’ Jane said, obviously feeling the need to excuse her relations’ absence.
‘A miserable, exigent old harridan,’ Robert snorted in his usual forthright fashion. ‘But I don’t suppose Master and Mistress Chapman are worried whether your cousins are here or not, my dear.’
He was right, of course, but his brutal way of expressing himself only upset his wife further. Her eyes were constantly full of unshed tears, which she surreptitiously wiped away before they could provoke another outburst from her husband. I saw Eloise compress her lips and guessed that she was, most unwisely, on the verge of giving Master Armiger a piece of her mind, but the arrival of Will Lackpenny averted what might have turned into an unpleasant situation.
It struck me that Robert was not as happy to see his fellow traveller as he had once been, and I wondered if his suspicions were at last aroused or if he had simply tired of Will’s company. But the visit could not have served my purpose better because Eloise, in a spirit of sheer mischief, immediately set out to monopolize Will’s attention, preventing him from getting close to Jane and bombarding him with a series of questions that he was too polite too ignore.
I seized my opportunity and drew my stool nearer to where Mistress Armiger was sitting, a little removed from the rest of us, by the window. After ascertaining that there was no more news of her brother, and sympathetically patting her hand when she showed signs of breaking down, I asked swiftly, ‘What exactly did you mean, that morning in Calais, when you said, “Yes”?’ She stared at me uncomprehendingly, and I went on, ‘I’d asked you if your grandmother — the French one, the seamstress — had ever mentioned any scandal regarding the Duchess of York and one of her bodyguard of archers. You didn’t answer at once, but just as I was leaving, you said, “Yes.” Do you remember?’ She gave me a watery smile and nodded. ‘You haven’t mentioned my enquiry to anyone else, have you? Your husband or. . or Master Lackpenny?’
‘No.’ She added apologetically, ‘I haven’t really thought about it since,’ and gave a little sob. ‘There. . there have been. .’
‘Other things on your mind. Of course. I understand that. And I don’t want you to say anything to either of them. To anyone at all. I ought not to have asked you what I did. But. . well. . as I did, what made you say, “Yes”?’
‘Because I did once overhear my grandmother tell my mother that there had been some scandal concerning the duchess and an archer while she was in Rouen.’
I was glad to note that she had lowered her voice almost to a whisper and I couldn’t resist glancing over my shoulder. Eloise still held Will Lackpenny in thrall, while Robert Armiger was looking at them both, distinctly bored.
‘Did your grandmother happen to mention the name of the archer concerned?’
Jane Armiger shook her head. ‘No. I think, from what I can recollect, that she didn’t know much. There had been some talk among the women, but that was all. In fact, young as I was, I can clearly recall her saying that the duchess was far too proud a woman to take a common archer to her bed. She didn’t believe it, she said.’ Jane nodded again. ‘Yes, I can remember her saying that.’
I sighed. I was no further forward. But there had been a rumour; that was something, I supposed. I still needed to find Robin Gaunt, however. I leaned a little closer to Jane. ‘Will you promise to say nothing to anyone about this conversation? I. . I’m sorry. I can’t explain, but it is important.’
‘I shan’t say anything.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I don’t talk to my husband much anyway.’
‘And. . Master Lackpenny?’
The smile deepened and grew tender. ‘Oh,’ she murmured shyly, ‘we. . we have other things to talk about.’
We were interrupted by Eloise, who had grown tired of flirting with Will and now wanted to reclaim my attention.
‘What are you two talking about so cosily over here?’
‘I was asking Mistress Armiger if she had received any more news of her brother,’ I answered, getting to my feet. ‘And commiserating with her concerning his loss.’
‘I keep telling her Oliver’s dead,’ Robert Armiger said bluntly. ‘And she might as well make up her mind to it.’
There was an awkward silence; then, not surprisingly, Jane Armiger burst into noisy tears. ‘Oh, Robin, how can you be s-so cruel?’ she gasped and fled from the room.
Her husband had the grace to look uncomfortable, but he brazened it out. ‘Women!’ he exclaimed disdainfully. ‘What unaccountable creatures they are! There’s no reasoning with them.’
Eloise had her mouth open to refute this statement. I could see that she was fuming and caught her by the arm, giving it a little nip with my fingers.
‘We must be going,’ I said, and extended my hand to Robert Armiger. ‘Please convey our farewells to your wife and say we perfectly understand how she feels. I don’t know if we shall see one another again — it depends how long we stay in Paris — but if we do, I trust you may have happier news to give us.’
He snorted sceptically, making no effort to detain us, and we were barely clear of the house before Eloise, unable any longer to contain herself, forcibly and loudly expressed her opinion of Master Armiger’s manners.
‘Hush,’ I reprimanded her. ‘He might hear you.’
‘I don’t care if he does,’ was the spirited retort. ‘He’s a great brute! An unfeeling bully! He. . he. . He’s a man!’
‘Oh, Mistress Chapman, you mustn’t judge us all by Robert Armiger,’ came a voice from behind, and we spun round to find William Lackpenny close on our heels. ‘I just couldn’t stay another instant in the same room with that man,’ he added by way of explanation. ‘If I had, I wouldn’t have been responsible for my actions.’ He fell into step beside us. ‘Did I understand you to say that you would be leaving Paris soon? You’ve finished your business already, Roger? In so short a time?’
This interest in my affairs immediately reanimated my suspicions regarding my smart young gent. Why did he want to know?
‘Oh, nothing’s decided,’ I replied airily. ‘I shall see how things go. We may bump into one another again, I daresay, but for now, we’ll say goodbye.’
He smiled slightly, but took what was virtually a dismissal very well. He was, in any case, close to the Place de Grève, where he was lodging.
‘And God be with you, too,’ he answered, bowing low over Eloise’s hand. ‘Mistress Chapman, your humble servant.’
‘You weren’t very polite to him,’ Eloise chided me as we crossed back to the Île de la Cité by the Pont aux Meuniers and entered the Rue de la Barillerie, but it was a gentle reproach, not at all like her usual abrasive self. Indeed, she didn’t pursue the subject, not even waiting for me to justify myself or think up an excuse to satisfy her. Instead, she gave my arm a squeeze. ‘I’m beginning to like it,’ she went on seriously, ‘when people call me Mistress Chapman.’ She glanced up at me. ‘Do you feel the same way, Roger?’
I was struck dumb. What could I possibly say? I was a married man. I had children. I loved my family, but at the moment, they seemed a very dim memory and very far away. I hadn’t seen any of them for months, and in the meantime I had been to Scotland. Now I was in France. And I couldn’t deny that, over the past two weeks, I had, against my will, grown fond of Eloise. No, more than that if I were honest. And it was this need to suppress my feelings that had led to many of the quarrels and most of the tension between us.
She was expecting an answer; I could see it in her face. She was not going to turn it into a joke, as she had done once or twice before. She had caught me on her hook and this time she was not going to free me.