‘She was poisoned.’
‘Lord in heaven — no!’
She trembled on the edge of hysteria again and he kept his arm around her, but Mary Whetcombe did not collapse again. Guilt and sadness consumed her. Her voice was a faraway murmur of pain.
‘I killed that girl,’ she said.
‘No, Mary.’
‘She went to London because of me.’
‘You did not send her.’
‘Susan wanted to do all that she could. She was a headstrong girl and would not be ruled by anyone.’ Mary raised her shoulders in a shrug of remorse. ‘I was sorely troubled. I needed help. Susan thought she could find it in London.’
‘But why did she come to me?’ asked Nicholas.
‘There was nobody else.’
‘The girl did not even know me.’
‘Your name was often spoken in this house.’
Mary detached herself from him and walked a few paces away before standing beside a small table. She wrestled with a vestigial fidelity to her husband and then glanced down at the documents that Barnard Sweete had left for her. Matthew Whetcombe had shown her no loyalty and she owed none to him now. He had cut her completely adrift.
‘Matthew and I often argued,’ she said, tossing a look towards the other bedchamber. ‘Your name was much used by him in those arguments. He spoke it with great bitterness and always in a raised voice. You are known here, Nick. To every servant in the household, Susan among them.’ She turned away from him. ‘Then there was your father.’
It brought him to his feet. ‘My father?’
‘He often came here at one time.’
‘Why?’
‘Matthew and he did business together.’
‘You let my father come here, Mary?’ he accused.
‘Only at my husband’s invitation,’ she said. ‘The name of Bracewell is familiar in this house. Your father never talked about you. He wanted to believe you had died at sea.’ She turned to face him. ‘He looked so much like you, Nick.’
‘How did you know I was in London?’
‘From my husband.’
‘Matthew?’
‘He prospered, Nick. He made a fortune. But the more Matthew had, the more he wanted, and he set up a company in London. He went there last September. They took him to all the theatres.’
‘The Queen’s Head was amongst them, I’ll wager.’
‘He saw Westfield’s Men three times. The last time …’
‘He saw me.’ She nodded then bit her tongue. ‘There is more to come, Mary. Do not spare my feelings. What did your husband say about me?’
‘Matthew could be very cruel.’ She took a deep breath and blurted it out. ‘If I had married you, he said, I would be the wife of a vagabond in a theatre company. He gave me all this — you could offer me nothing!’
‘In some sense, that is true,’ admitted Nicholas sadly. ‘You were better off with Matthew Whetcombe, after all.’
‘I was not!’ she retorted vehemently. ‘I was married to a man I despised instead of to one I loved. Matthew may have given me all this — but he has taken it away again now!’
The force of her outburst had distracted them from the noise of the opening door. Lucy stood there watching them with anxiety. Mary recovered quickly and went across to close the door after drawing the child in. Lucy was carrying her collection of dolls. She set the bundle down in front of Nicholas and unrolled it with great care. One by one, she stood the dolls in a line. When Lucy picked up the last one, she offered it to Nicholas.
‘Take it,’ said Mary. ‘I think it is you.’
‘Me?’
‘Susan and Lucy made the dolls between them. Matthew would have beaten them again if he had known. That is you.’
Nicholas took the doll and looked at its fair hair.
‘But they had no idea what I looked like.’
‘They saw your father.’
‘This is me?’ he said with surprise, and Lucy nodded vigorously as she read his lips. He thanked her with a smile then looked at Mary. ‘Am I so important in Lucy’s life?’
‘Yes, Nick.’
The girl was down on her knees, moving the other dolls about and placing them into little groups. Nicholas looked over her and asked a question with his eyes. The idea had almost become a certainty in his mind, but Mary replied with glistening tears and a shake of the head.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Lucy is not yours.’
‘Can you be sure?’
‘She was Matthew’s child. I should know! He spent most of his time blaming me for her. That is why he’s struck back at me now. Because of Lucy and because of …’ Her voice trailed away.
Nicholas watched Lucy happily at play, at once disappointed and relieved by the news. Mary ran an affectionate hand through the girl’s hair, but Lucy did not look up. Her mother turned back to her visitor.
‘Susan was Lucy’s closest friend,’ she said. ‘Her only real friend in some ways. I can never tell her that Susan has been …’ She put a hand to her face. ‘Lucy would be heartbroken.’
‘Why did Susan Deakin come for me?’ he asked.
‘She knew that I needed help.’
‘How?’
Mary picked up the documents from the table and handed them to Nicholas. He read the first page of the will and understood the nature of the crisis at once.
‘Your husband made this will?’
‘They say that he did.’
‘It cuts you right out of the estate. Apart from a house to live in and a small income, you get nothing. It all goes to Gideon Livermore.’ Nicholas knew the name and spoke it with contempt. ‘Livermore takes precedence over a man’s wife and child. This will is an insult. It is obscene!’
‘The lawyer assures me it is legal.’
‘He even inherits the Mary.’
‘That was Matthew’s pride and joy.’
‘It should be yours now,’ said Nicholas. ‘You are being abused here, Mary. This will must be contested.’
‘I have no means to do that,’ she complained. ‘They are all against me here. The lawyer, his partner, Gideon Livermore and even the vicar. Who can hold up against all those?’
‘We can,’ he said. ‘Together.’
‘This is not your fight, Nick.’
‘It is, Mary. Susan Deakin taught me that.’ He held up the document. ‘This is a nuncupative will. Did Matthew not write out a will of his own?’
‘Yes, but this second one rescinds it.’
‘Where is the first?’
‘It was lodged with the lawyer but destroyed when this new will was made.’ She sighed helplessly. ‘Matthew had a copy of the first will but we do not know where he kept it.’
‘Who were the witnesses?’
‘Why?’
‘They will know what was in it.’
‘Barnard Sweete was one. He is Matthew’s lawyer. He swears the second will is almost a replica of the first.’
‘Then why need to make it?’ asked Nicholas. ‘Can the other witnesses support what this lawyer says?’
‘I fear they will, Nick. They are mostly the same men who witnessed the second will. There is but one exception.’
‘Is he an honest man?’
‘Only you will know that.’
‘Tell me who he is and I will go to him at once. This will turns Gideon Livermore into the master here. You would be thrown out of your own house.’
Mary lowered her head. ‘He wants me to stay.’
Nicholas understood and his anger soared. The will was not just being used as a way to deprive Mary Whetcombe of her rightful inheritance. It was a crude lever to get her into the bed of an ambitious merchant. Susan Deakin had not understood the details of her employer’s plight but she knew enough to summon Nicholas. She had been killed in an attempt to cover deceit and gross malpractice. A legal will did not need a professional killer to enforce its terms. The document was rigged for the benefit of others and it needed to be contested. A huge fortune was at stake. One honest man might guide it into the right hands. If Nicholas could have some indication of the contents of the first will, he could carry the fight forward. But he desperately needed the other witness.
‘Who was the man, Mary?’ he said.