‘That is my affair,’ she said with a note of gentle reprimand. ‘As it happens, there is nobody here at the moment, but that situation may change.’ She looked at him with a cautious affection. ‘Why did you come?’
‘To see you.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘My own pleasure. Do I need a larger reason?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Not when that pleasure is mutual.’
She met his gaze and Nicholas thought of a dozen compliments he wished to pay. All of them had to be held back because there was now an obstacle between them. Until the intrusive figure of Ambrose Robinson were removed, he did not feel able to express his true feelings to her.
‘A peculiar visitor called on me this morning,’ he said.
‘Who might that be?’
‘Raphael Parsons.’
‘Peculiar, indeed! Why did he come?’
‘To ascertain the facts about the discovery of Cyril Fulbeck’s corpse. Master Parsons had already questioned James Ingram on the matter. This morning, it was my turn.’
‘Is he the beast that he is reputed to be?’
‘Far from it, Anne.’
‘Maligned by report, then?’
‘Not entirely,’ said Nicholas. ‘He is a lawyer by training. He knows what to hide and what to show. Like most lawyers, he has the touch of an actor about him. I found him pleasant enough and remarkably candid. The Chapel Children no doubt see aspects of him that were concealed from me.’
‘They loathe him.’
‘So I am told.’
‘You saw the letters written by Philip Robinson.’
‘I did, Anne.’
‘They speak of a cruel master, who makes them work hard and who beats them into submission if they try to disobey. Philip is more or less a prisoner there.’
‘That is not what Master Parsons says.’
‘Oh?’
‘He claims that the boy is very happy at Blackfriars.’
‘Happy? It is one long ordeal for Philip!’
‘So his father alleges.’
‘You read the boy’s own testimony.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Nicholas. ‘That is why I found Master Parsons’s denial surprising. Why does it contradict the lad’s version of events so completely?’
‘The man must be lying.’
‘That was not my impression.’
‘What other explanation can there be?’
Nicholas let her question hang in the air for a moment.
‘How well do you know Philip?’ he said at length.
‘Reasonably well. He lived but a step away from here.’
‘Did you see much of him?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘He was a quiet boy. Always polite but rather diffident. And very lonely after his mother’s sad death. Philip was almost invisible. Until Sundays, that is.’
‘Sundays?’
‘When he sang in the choir. He came alive then. I have never seen a child take such a delight in singing the praises of God. His little face would light up with joy.’
‘Does he not have that same joy in the Chapel Royal?’
‘I fear not.’
‘What chorister would not relish the opportunity of singing before Her Majesty?’
‘His pleasure is marred by the misery he endures at the Blackfriars Theatre, where he is forced to be an actor.’
‘By Raphael Parsons.’
‘Even so. Philip’s father has told you all.’
‘Has he?’
She grew defensive. ‘Of course. Do you doubt Ambrose?’
‘Not if you can vouch for him.’
‘I can, Nick.’
‘I see.’ He felt a flicker of jealousy. ‘You and he seem well acquainted.’
‘He is a neighbour and a friend.’
‘Does he have no closer hold on you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Nathan Curtis has observed you in church together.’
‘So that is it!’ she said, stiffening. ‘You have set your carpenter to spy on us.’
‘Not at all, Anne. He vouchsafed the information.’
‘In answer to your prompting.’
‘I simply wondered if he knew Ambrose Robinson.’
‘This is unworthy of you, Nick.’
‘If I am engaged to help the man, I am entitled to know as much about him as I can. Nathan’s opinion of your friend was helpful. It confirms my own impression.’
‘You do not like Ambrose, I know that.’
‘My concern is that you do, Anne. Sufficient to walk to church with him on a Sunday and to kneel beside him.’
‘That is my choice.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes!’ she said, rising angrily from her seat. ‘If you have come to turn me against Ambrose, you have come in vain. I live my own life, Nick, and you are no longer part of it. I am grateful to you for the help you have offered, but it does not give you the right to meddle in my private affairs.’
‘I do it out of affection.’
‘Then express that affection in a more seemly way.’
‘Anne…’
He got up and reached out for her, but she moved away. There was an awkward pause. Before he could frame an apology into words, there was a loud knock on the door. The servant answered it and Ambrose Robinson came blundering in. His face was puce with indignation.
‘Fresh tidings from Blackfriars? Why was I not called?’
‘I came to speak with Anne,’ explained Nicholas.
‘Philip is my son. I have prior claim on any news.’
‘How did you know that I was here?’
‘I met with Preben van Loew in the street,’ said the butcher. ‘He told me that you were here. What has happened? I demand to know.’
‘Can you not first offer my guest a polite greeting?’ chided Anne. ‘You burst in here with improper haste, Ambrose. Remember where you are.’
‘I do, I do,’ he whined, instantly repentant. ‘Forgive my unmannerly behaviour, Anne. My anxiety over Philip robs me of my wits yet again.’ He took a deep breath and turned back to Nicholas. ‘Please allay my concern. What has happened?’
‘I spoke with Raphael Parsons.’
‘Did you insist on the release of my son?’
‘I raised the topic with him.’
‘What was his answer? How did that snake reply?’
‘He told me that your son was content to perform on the stage at the Blackfriars Theatre. The boy has talent as an actor. He is keen to develop it.’
‘Lies! Deception! Trickery!’
‘That is all Master Parsons would say on the subject.’
‘Falsehood!’
‘Lower your voice!’ urged Anne.
‘Why did you not take hold of the rogue and beat the truth out of him?’
‘He came to discuss the murder of Cyril Fulbeck,’ said Nicholas firmly. ‘It weighs heavily upon him. Set against the death of the Master of the Chapel, the fate of one chorister was an irrelevance.’
‘It is not an irrelevance to me, sir!’
‘I will try to pursue the matter with him.’
‘Parsons is an arrant knave,’ said Robinson. ‘I should have done what a father’s love told me to do at the very start. Attend a performance at Blackfriars and snatch Philip off the stage.’
‘That would be madness,’ argued Anne.
‘I want my son back home with me.’
‘Then achieve that end by peaceful means. Take him away by force and the law will descend on you with such severity that you’d lose both Philip and your own freedom.’
‘Anne counsels well,’ added Nicholas. ‘What use are you to the boy if you’re fretting away in prison? I’ll speak with Master Parsons again and use what persuasion I may. In the meantime, you must learn patience.’
Robinson’s fury seemed to drain away. Face ashen and shoulders dropping, he stood there in silent bewilderment. He looked so wounded and defenceless that Anne lay a hand on his arm, like a mother comforting a hurt child. The gesture annoyed Nicholas but it had a different effect on the butcher.
It only served to ignite the spirit of vengeance until it glinted in his eyes. Taking her by the hand, Robinson led Anne gently out of the room and closed the door behind her so that he could speak to Nicholas alone. There was no ranting this time, no bluster and arm-waving, only a quiet and quite eerie intensity.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Try once more, Nick. Work within the law. Use reason and supplication to restore my son to me.’ His jaw tightened. ‘But if you fail, if they keep Philip locked up, if they continue to spread malicious lies about him wanting to stay there, I’ll seek Raphael Parsons out and play a part for him myself.’