She turned a searching gaze upon Nicholas Bracewell.
‘You are not happy, I think.’
‘Our visit has been a most pleasant event,’ he said.
‘Yet it has left you feeling disappointed.’
‘No!’ said Hoode gallantly. ‘There is no disappointment on my side. I was never more content in my life.’
Her eyes never left Nicholas. ‘Your friend does not share your contentment, I fear. Do you, sir?’
Nicholas felt oddly discomfited by her inspection. He wished that his face were not so bruised and found himself wanting to appear before her at his best rather than in such a battered condition. At the same time, he noted an interest on her part that went beyond mere curiosity. She was sitting with one man who loved her and another who adored her on sight yet her attention was fixed solely on Nicholas.
‘Something is puzzling you, is it not?’ she said.
‘No, Emilia,’ said Chaloner, trying to seize the initiative once more. ‘We have been through every aspect of the case. There is nothing left to discuss. Let me show our visitors the spot where the hideous deed took place, then they can make their way back to London.’
‘Do not rush our guests away so fast, Simon.’
‘But Edmund is eager to resume work on the play.’
‘Indeed, I am,’ said Hoode willingly.
‘We must not detain them, Emilia.’
‘Something must first be resolved,’ she said, her gaze still on Nicholas. ‘I still await your answer.’
‘You are right,’ he said. ‘Many things puzzle me.’
‘Tell me what they are.’ Her hand shot up as Chaloner sought to intervene. ‘Leave this to me, Simon. I do not need your protection. I have nothing to hide.’
‘Why do you not appear in the play?’ said Nicholas.
‘Because I was not involved in the murder.’
‘Indirectly, you were. Through Sir John Tarker.’
‘That was a distressing episode that I have tried to forget. My brother was not killed because of me. Other reasons prompted his death. If the play brings the real villain to light, we shall learn what those reasons were.’
‘Emilia Brinklow should still be a character in the action,’ insisted Nicholas. ‘Thomas would then have someone in whom he could confide his worries about his wife. I am sure that Edmund could write some touching scenes between brother and sister.’
‘It would be an honour!’ said the playwright.
‘But it would also confuse the audience,’ rejoined Emilia. ‘Their sympathy must be wholly with Thomas. He must command the stage. If I am dragged into the story, I will draw away attention that rightly belongs to my brother. They will feel sorry for me when they should be saving all their pity and compassion for Thomas.’
Hoode purred with admiration. ‘A sound reason!’
‘And one that I accept,’ said Nicholas graciously, not wishing to pursue an argument he could never win. ‘We will keep Emilia Brinklow in our minds but out of the play.’
‘Thank you.’ She got to her feet. ‘Come with me.’
‘Where are you going, Emilia?’ said Chaloner anxiously.
‘To show him something.’
‘I can conduct them both to the place.’
‘We will go alone. I wish for private conference.’
Chaloner was bewildered by her decision but he did not contest it further. Seeing his distress, she put a consoling hand on his shoulder before leading Nicholas up the garden in the direction of the house.
‘Simon watches over me too closely,’ she explained.
‘Why?’
‘He fears for my safety.’ She turned to look up into his face. ‘You have seen for yourself how dangerous is our situation. I am truly sorry that you suffered a beating.’ Her voice faltered slightly. ‘You have such a kind face. It reminds me of Thomas. I hate to see such injuries on it.’
‘You know of the attack, then?’
‘Simon tells me everything. He has spoken well of you and holds you in high esteem. That is a compliment.’
‘I am duly flattered by it,’ said Nicholas, ‘and even more so by your trust in me. Master Chaloner is indeed fortunate to be betrothed to such a lady.’
She gave him an enigmatic smile, then led him along the path through the trees. They came around the angle of a hawthorn hedge and were confronted by the rear of the house. Nicholas stopped in surprise when he saw the fire damage.
‘What was that building?’
‘My brother’s laboratory and workshop. Thomas virtually lived there. There never was a man so wedded to his work.’
‘When was it burned down?’
‘The same night that he was killed.’
‘Who started the fire?’
‘We do not know,’ she said. ‘The villains who murdered him, we believe. His life’s work was in that laboratory. It was destroyed as cruelly as he himself.’
‘Why?’
‘They were vindictive men.’
‘Then why not burn down the whole house?’
‘We can only guess.’
Nicholas looked down at her and inhaled her fragrance. Seated in the arbour, she was handsome and composed. Seen in close proximity, however, her beauty was far more striking. He felt a distant envy of Simon Chaloner. There was something about Emilia Brinklow which set her apart from the common run and he could not quite decide what it was. All he knew was that it made her infinitely appealing. When he had parted company with his beloved Anne Hendrik, he feared that he would never meet her like again yet Emilia Brinklow had many of Anne’s qualities, allied to features that were all her own. Both of them, he reflected, had been devastated by the loss of a loved one and forced to rebuild their lives. It gave Emilia the same subdued but steely resolve.
Determination made her eyes glint and her jaw tighten.
‘This play gives purpose to my life,’ she said. ‘Simon is a dear man but he is only involved because of his devotion to me. I am the moving spirit here. The Roaring Boy has become my obsession. Can you understand that?’
‘I think so.’
Her voice took on a new intensity. ‘I lost a brother and a sister-in-law in this business. One was murdered by hired killers, the other by judicial process. Cecily was no saint, it is true, but neither was she a murderer. In her own way, I believe, she cared for Thomas.’
‘But it was an unhappy marriage.’
‘They were simply not suited.’
‘Why, then, did they wed?’
Emilia shrugged. ‘It seemed the natural thing to do. Cecily was fond of him and Thomas had great respect for her. Other people kept saying that they were an ideal couple.’
‘Marriage needs more than fondness and respect.’
‘Yes,’ she said sadly. ‘You have a wife yourself?’
‘Alas, no.’
‘Thomas was a kind husband but Cecily loved another.’
‘Walter Dunne. They paid dearly for their passion.’ He looked at the debris in front of him. ‘What sort of work did your brother do in his laboratory?’
‘Anything and everything,’ she said proudly. ‘Thomas loved all the sciences but his abiding interest was in mathematics. That workshop was his private sanctum. His finest inventions were conceived within those walls.’
‘Inventions?’
‘Thomas had a questing mind. He was always looking for new solutions to old problems. When he was retained by the royal dockyards at Deptford, he designed a compass that was far more reliable than any of its predecessors. An astrolabe, too, if you know what that is.’
‘Most certainly,’ said Nicholas. ‘I sailed with Drake around the world, so I learned all there is to learn about navigation. An astrolabe is an instrument for measuring the altitude of heavenly bodies, from which latitude and time may be calculated. Your brother invented one, you say?’
‘The best of its kind.’
‘I would dearly like to see that.’