Berenice Gifford — eighteen years old at the time she lost her father — and her brother were now almost entirely dependent on their Great-Uncle Oliver for the luxuries, and even, on occasions, the necessities, of everyday life.
‘And Master Capstick was only too willing to supply them with what he thought was right and proper,’ Mistress Trenowth said, getting up to close the inner shutters, for the October morning had suddenly clouded over. She returned to her chair and went on, ‘He felt it to be his duty, you understand, for having more or less forced his niece into marriage with Cornelius Gifford.’
‘But was that the only reason?’ I interrupted. ‘Wasn’t he fond of his great-niece and — nephew?’
Mistress Trenowth frowned. ‘He didn’t dislike them,’ she answered cautiously, ‘but he was old and they are young, and they didn’t pay him the attention that he thought was his due. The elderly grow exacting, Master Chapman, as you probably know. They get lonelier than they’ll admit to. It happened with the Master. Oh, his neighbours would have visited him as often as he could have wished, but there again, old people never want what they can have, only what’s not on offer.’
‘You mean that Beric and Berenice Gifford were neglectful of him?’
‘No, no! I wouldn’t say that. One or the other of them visited Master Capstick at least once or twice a month, and sometimes they rode over together. But very often the reason for their visit was because they wanted more money.’
‘And their uncle objected to giving it to them?’
‘It depended what it was for. If they said it was to mend the roof of some leaking outbuilding, or to rebuild a wall, or simply to keep them in clothes, he’d part with the amount in full without a murmur. But it’s what I said to you just now. They’re young, and the young need to have their moments of fun and extravagance. The master kept them on too short a rein because he was so afraid that they were going to prove profligate like their father. If Beric spent more than he thought he should have done on a horse or a hawk, or if Berenice bought silk and satin when he considered that she only had need of wool or linen, or if she purchased some extravagant jewel for her personal adornment, then Master Capstick would absolutely refuse to reimburse them by so much as a groat. “If they get into debt for such fripperies, that’s their look out,” he used to say to me.’
‘And did they? Get into debt, I mean.’
Mistress Trenowth sighed. ‘Almost certainly, because in the final year of his life, Master Capstick stopped giving them any financial help whatsoever, after he found out that most of the money they’d had from him for repairs to the manor had not been used for that purpose at all.’
‘And how did he happen to make the discovery?’ I wanted to know.
‘One day, he took it into his head to pay them a surprise visit. No one who knew him would ever have expected him to do such a thing, for he hadn’t been out of the house for years except to visit his man of business, down by the Dominican Friary. I was amazed when he told me to go to the livery stable and hire a wagon and horses.’
‘And did this refusal to lend them any more money lead to bad blood between Master Capstick and his great-niece and — nephew?’
‘He was very angry when he returned home,’ Mistress Trenowth admitted. ‘I do remember that. What had passed between the three of them, I could only guess at from the fact that they didn’t come to visit the Master for quite a long time afterwards. But then, towards the end of the April just past, Berenice arrived in Bilbury Street, all smiles, just as though nothing had happened, to tell her uncle that she was betrothed to Bartholomew Champernowne, a young relation — although how distant I’m not quite sure — of the Champernowne family.’
‘And did this news please Master Capstick?’
‘There was a sort of reconciliation between them,’ nodded Mistress Trenowth, ‘and the Master promised her a handsome dowry when the marriage should eventually take place. But he told me after she’d gone — and he admitted saying this to her face — that he wasn’t parting with any money beforehand in case her story was a trick, or in case this Bartholomew Champernowne should prove to be as impoverished and feckless as Cornelius Gifford had been. “Once bitten, twice shy,” I remember him saying.’
‘And Berenice wasn’t angry at such plain speaking?’
‘She didn’t seem to be. Indeed, I don’t recall ever having seen her look so happy.’ A little smile lifted the corners of my companion’s mouth, and she heaved a romantic sigh. ‘She was obviously very much in love, and I believe that Master Capstick himself was half-persuaded that there was no foundation for his suspicions. But experience had taught him caution.’
A day or so later, however, all thoughts of his great-niece’s betrothal were temporarily driven from Oliver Capstick’s mind by the return to Plymouth of an old friend of his youth, a certain Edwin Haygarth, who had made his fortune in London, in the glass-making trade. This Master Haygarth had a granddaughter of marriageable age, his only remaining family, and almost as soon as he had renewed acquaintance with Oliver, he had proposed a union between this granddaughter and Beric Gifford.
‘The Master was delighted with the idea,’ Mistress Trenowth continued. ‘His early mistake with his niece had convinced him that, after all, money was of far more importance than breeding. And marriage to this Jenny Haygarth would have made Beric rich for life.’
Beric, now a handsome, self-willed youth of eighteen, was summoned to his great-uncle’s house and the proposition put to him.
‘Well, to be honest, it wasn’t so much put to him,’ my companion said, ‘as that the lad was told what was expected of him. Jenny Haygarth was rich and pretty. I don’t think it so much as crossed Master Capstick’s mind that Beric would refuse to do as he wished.’
Chapter Four
‘But he did refuse?’ I asked, although it was more a statement than a query.
‘He refused point-blank,’ Mistress Trenowth confirmed. ‘He told his uncle to his face that when he took a bride, it would be one of his own choosing.’
‘And what did Master Capstick say to that?’
My companion shrugged. ‘He didn’t take Beric seriously at first. He thought he was just being awkward and asserting his independence, so he told him not to be a fool.’
‘You heard all this?’
Mistress Trenowth coloured faintly. ‘They were in the parlour and took no trouble to lower their voices. The door was standing wide and so was the door to the kitchen. I couldn’t choose but hear. Indeed, it became impossible not to, when they began to shout.’
‘Master Gifford proved adamant, then, in refusing to accept this Jenny Haygarth as his bride?’
Miss Trenowth sighed. ‘More than adamant! He abused his great-uncle roundly for trying, as he put it, to dictate whom he should marry. He called him a tyrant and other worse names. For a little while, the master still tried to reason with him — I was in the counting-house by this time. Dusting,’ she added defensively.
I inclined my head. ‘These chores have to be done.’
She looked suspiciously at me, but I kept a straight face, which seemed to satisfy her. ‘Indeed, they do. Well, as I say, Master Capstick attempted to reason with his nephew, extolling the young lady’s virtues; her beauty and docility and wealth, and impressing upon him that once he met her, he would be only too happy to take her for his wife. And that’s when Beric really lost his temper. He said he was already promised, and that nothing and no one on this earth would persuade him to change his mind or to give up his betrothed.’
‘Did he say who this young woman is?’ I asked, as Mistress Trenowth paused to draw breath. But, of course, I knew the answer. My companion had already named her.
‘He did. It was his sister’s maid, Katherine Glover.’