Justin had the answer he needed, if not the one he wanted. He'd never truly expected to find clues to Gervase's killing in the man's own home. And yet he could not deny that Jonet and Miles had a convincing motive for murder.
They had turned onto Calpe Street when Edwin gave a sudden exclamation. "Up ahead, that is Mistress Ella and Edith!" He lengthened his stride and Justin had to hasten to keep pace. Hearing the hurrying footsteps behind her, Ella Fitz Randolph looked over her shoulder. At the sight of her groom, she halted, waiting for them to catch up.
Justin had cast Gervase's widow in a matronly mold, assuming that a longtime wife and mother would naturally be plump and pleasant in appearance, comforting in manner. Had he given it much thought, he'd have seen the error of his assumptions, for Queen Eleanor was a wife and mother, too, and she was about as maternal and nurturing as Cleopatra. He did not realize how his limited experience with motherhood had led him astray until he found himself face-to-face with Ella Fitz Randolph.
By his calculations, she had to be past forty, for Edwin had told him she and Gervase had been wed more than twenty years, but if she was losing the war with age, she was not yet ready to concede defeat. In her youth, she had probably been as striking as her daughter. She was still slender, almost gaunt, for now it was the result of willpower, not nature. She had Jonet's blue eyes and the same fair skin, stretched too tightly across her cheekbones. Her mouth was carefully rouged, but the corners were kissed by shadows, while her cares were etched like cobwebs across the high, white brow. She was a handsome woman, but hers was a fading, brittle beauty, as fragile as finely spun glass, to be admired safely only from a distance. She aroused Justin's protective instincts at the same time that she made him feel vaguely uncomfortable, for she seemed both vulnerable and aloof, and he did not know which signal to heed.
"Why are you not at the stable, Edwin?"
Ella was questioning, not accusing. Even after encountering her groom roaming about the town, she would not judge him until she'd heard his explanation, and Justin liked her for that. He remembered Edwin saying that Master Gervase had been fair. So, it seemed, was his widow, which was more, Justin thought, than could be said for his daughter.
"We've come from the shop, Mistress Ella. This is the man I told you about, the one who tried to save Master Gervase on the Alresford Road!"
Ella swung around to stare at Justin, then reached out and took his hands in hers. "I am glad you've come back, glad I have this opportunity to express my gratitude for what you did for my husband."
"If only I could have gotten there in time," Justin said, with such heartfelt regret that she gave him a sad smile.
"The Almighty chose to call him home, and even if we do not understand, we must accept. Now… I hope you will stay with us whilst you are in Winchester."
"Mistress Fitz Randolph, that is most kind, but — "
"I insist," she said firmly, and it was as easy as that for Justin to gain access to the Fitz Randolph home. But his triumph was short-lived. The serving maid, Edith, now joined her mistress, the sight of the bolts of black cloth in her basket robbed him any satisfaction in his success, reminding him that he'd be a household in mourning.
~~
Supper that evening was not an enjoyable meal. The Friday fish menu would have tempted only the starving, and the tension in the hall was oppressive. Justin detested salted herring and he pushed the fish around on his trencher to be polite, then filled up on a thick pottage of onions and cabbage. While both Thomas and Jonet were eating heartily, neither Gervase's widow nor his brother seemed to have an appetite. She was gazing off into space, while Guy confined himself to an occasional swallow from the wine cup at his elbow.
Reaching for a chunk of bread, Justin studied Guy covertly. He was much younger than Gervase, for he appeared to be no more than thirty-five. He had his brother's brown hair and beard; the resemblance was pronounced. Whether he also had Gervase's dark eyes, Justin could not tell, for Guy had yet to meet his gaze. Justin would not have needed to be told that he was ailing. His skin had a greyish cast, and a vein was throbbing in his temple. Nor were his hands all that steady. He had a solicitous young wife, a baby daughter in her cradle, and a far greater voice now in the running of the family business. But to Justin, he looked haunted.
Guy was not the only one on edge. As the meal progressed, Thomas was growing increasingly restless, fidgeting in his seat, glancing surreptitiously at his mother whenever she wasn't looking. But Justin thought he seemed more expectant than anxious, like a child eager to share a secret. Absently crumbling his bread, Justin regarded Thomas critically. His curly fair hair and delicate bone structure made him seem younger than his nineteen years, but his appearance was deceptive. He may have looked almost angelic, but throughout supper, he'd been displaying a prickly disposition and a waspish tongue, snapping at the serving maid, sparring with his sister, interrogating Justin with a brusqueness that bordered on rudeness. Was he always so belligerent? Justin had been prepared to sympathize fully with Gervase Fitz Randolph's bereaved children. It was disconcerting to find himself disliking them instead.
The conversation was flagging again. Becoming aware of the silence, Ella roused herself from her lassitude. "I saw Sir Hamon's steward in town today, Jonet. He said that Sir Hamon will be in Winchester next week. I think we ought to invite him to dinner whilst he is here."
Jonet did not reply, but she did not need to; she had an expressive face. In their world, women were given no voice in deciding their own destinies, and few would have sympathized with Jonet's plight. Justin did, though, for he had a foundling's instinctive sympathy for the powerless and downtrodden. He might not like Jonet, but he did not think it fair that she would have been compelled to wed the man of her father's choosing, despite the fact that she'd given her heart — and probably her maidenhead — to Miles. Watching Jonet squirming at the mere mention of Sir Hamon's name, Justin could not help identifying with her rebellious spirit. If only her clandestine love affair did not give her such an excellent motive for murder!
Oblivious to her daughter's discomfort, Ella was continuing to speak glowingly of Jonet's wellborn suitor: his piety, his honesty, his standing in the community. By now, Justin was squirming, too, burdened by his knowledge of Jonet's guilty secret. He was almost as grateful as Jonet when Guy finally intervened.
"I know you want to see Jonet wed to Sir Hamon, Ella. But I think we'd best face facts. Gervase's death changes everything."
Jonet gave her uncle a look of wholehearted devotion, Ella gave him one of reproach. "No," she insisted, "we must still find the money for her marriage portion, for that was what Gervase would have wanted."
Guy and Jonet exchanged glances, and he shook his head, almost imperceptibly. Justin observed their byplay with extreme interest; so they were allies as well as kin? This household was awash in undercurrents. Who knew what else was going on beneath the surface?
Thomas speared a piece of herring. "Do not give up hope yet, Mama. Mayhap Sir Hamon would be willing to accept a smaller marriage portion."
That did seem to cheer Ella, but Jonet looked as if she yearned to impale her brother on his own eating knife. She did not strike back at once, though. Helping herself to more bread, she nibbled daintily around the crust before saying sweetly, "I stopped by the shop to see you this afternoon, Thomas, and was so surprised to find you gone. I waited and waited, but you never did come back. Where did you go?"