‘What are you doing here?’ I demanded rudely.
‘I’ve been sent for. Why are you here?’
‘I’ve also been sent for. The message was delivered to Adela while I was with you, earlier this morning.’
He grunted. ‘My summons arrived just after you’d left.’ We eyed one another uneasily. ‘Why do you think Mayor Foster wants to see us both?’
I had no more idea than he had, but one thing was clear: I could postpone my declaration of failure until another occasion. Similarly, my offer to repay John Foster the money he had given me could also be delayed.
Our host did not keep us waiting long, but came downstairs in full mayoral robes and insignia a minute or so after my arrival. He was plainly on his way to a meeting of the Council, so, I guessed, would not wish to keep us long. Whatever he had to say to Richard and myself would be brief. We bowed and waited for him to speak.
Horses and I have never got on.
To me, they are creatures with a leg at each corner and wild, staring eyes that mean nothing but mischief. Probably they sense my nervousness and despise me for it. Certainly the one I was riding, hired for me from the livery stables in Bell Lane, was not the docile animal I had been led to believe by the groom. It sidled and bucked unnervingly whenever it had the chance to do so, and made heavy going over every patch of rough ground.
My companion, who sat upon a horse with greater ease, and handled the beast with greater skill than I would have expected, laughed openly at my attempts to quieten my mount.
‘We should be at Hambrook Manor well before suppertime,’ Richard consoled me, ‘and home again before dark.’
‘I cannot see why I should have been asked to accompany you,’ I complained petulantly. ‘I’m not an officer of the law. Why not Jack Gload or Pete Littleman?’
Richard shrugged, turning his head to look at the city now far below us as we reached the open spaces of the downs.
‘You heard what Mayor Foster said. He and other members of the Council feel that Lady Claypole should be warned about her possession of this bed of hers — or at least made aware that it is no longer her secret. You know which bed it is. There need be no searching of the house should she choose to deny its existence. Indeed, she would be foolish to do so with you standing beside me.’
I felt angry. This woman had tried to kill me; or if that had not been her intention (and I was inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt) at least to give me a nasty fright. I had realized by now of course, that she had been afraid of my investigations leading me to her brother, Ralph Mynott — which suggested that she either knew something that could implicate him in Isabella’s murder or else that she was unsure of his innocence; most probably the latter. But what angered me was that she was not to be charged with trying to harm a respectable citizen going about his lawful business, but instead to be warned politely that, in future, any strange disappearances in the vicinity of Hambrook Manor would bring her under immediate suspicion. Had she been poor or without the protection of a title, I doubted if she would have been treated with such consideration.
I said as much to Dick Manifold, but he told me not to be such a fooclass="underline" it was the way of the world. This I knew already. But injustice was something I found difficult to reconcile myself to with any degree of equanimity. However, I said no more on the subject and we rode on in silence. I wondered if Richard were thinking of Isabella, remembering his meetings with her, here on the uplands, desolate in winter but beautiful, as now, in late spring with the trees and shrubs of burgeoning green.
Hambrook Manor eventually came into view as we trotted over a rise and began to descend a slight declivity set with brakes of foaming hawthorn blossom. Another brief canter and we were approaching the outer gate, where the porter let us in without demur, obviously impressed by Richard’s air of authority and his badge of office. We were handed over to the Steward, who gave me a leery glance, but again put no rub in our way, merely remarking that he would ascertain if his mistress would be pleased to receive us.
He returned within a very few minutes and bade us both follow him to my lady’s solar. As we mounted the shallow flight of stairs leading to this room, Richard hissed in my ear, ‘Leave the talking to me. Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.’
I felt my gorge rising and made no answer, but my anger was short-lived. As we entered the solar, it became apparent that Lady Claypole was not alone. At the sight of me, Juliette Gerrish rose to her feet and, ignoring Richard, came towards me, holding out both her hands.
‘Roger!’ she exclaimed, smiling broadly. ‘How very unexpected, but how very nice to see you again.’
Nineteen
‘Your visit to my uncle reminded him of obligations to an old friend,’ Juliette said. ‘It made him feel guilty that he had allowed so much time to elapse without seeking word of someone he once knew so well. But as he himself has been sick again these past few days, he requested me to come and obtain news of Lady Claypole for him.’ She smiled that engaging smile of hers. ‘So here I am.’
Lady Claypole had admitted frankly to her possession of the collapsing bed — her husband, the late Sir Peter, had brought it back with him after a tour to the Rhineland and remoter parts of Europe, further east, towards Muscovy — but apart from some pranks played on very close friends soon after his return (which, of course, she hadn’t approved of) the bed had never been used, as far as she knew. What had happened to me, she insisted, was totally unaccountable; a servant must have accidentally touched a hidden switch, or perhaps the mechanism was now so old and rusty that it had set itself off. Whatever the reason, my unfortunate experience had nothing to do with her, nor, intentionally, with any member of her household, I could be certain of that. However, it accounted for my hitherto inexplicable nocturnal flight, and she tendered me her heartfelt apologies.
I have no idea if Richard believed her or not. I know I didn’t. But he had achieved the object of his mission — to let our reluctant hostess know that Authority knew of the bed’s existence — without any need to search the house or unpleasantness of any kind. Indeed, we had both been invited to stay to supper with my lady and to remain for the night.
‘And you can be sure that this time your bed will not try to swallow you,’ Lady Claypole had added with a thin-lipped smile that seemed to me to cost her something of an effort. But maybe I was mistaken. ‘And,’ she added, addressing me in particular, ‘Mistress Gerrish has also agreed to give me her company until tomorrow. She still has a lot to tell me about my old friend, Robert.’
But Lady Claypole’s anxiety to hear news of Master Moresby was not great enough to keep Juliette beside her while she talked to Richard Manifold. And her simpering looks when she spoke to him made me realize, with a sudden stab of jealousy, that he was in fact a handsomer man than I ever gave him credit for. Our hostess plainly found him more attractive than she found me. (But, I consoled myself, he was somewhat nearer to her in age.)
‘I’ll see that the horses have been stabled,’ I offered, and left the house, only to be followed almost immediately by Juliette.
She grinned a little ruefully at the wary expression on my face.
‘It’s all right, Roger,’ she said, linking an arm through one of mine. ‘I promise I won’t seduce you again.’ And it was then she told me how she came to be at Hambrook Manor. ‘My uncle confessed the whole thing to me,’ she finished. ‘The reason you went to see him was not simply to apprise him of the death of a woman he had once loved, but because you suspected that he might have been her killer.’ She added, suddenly sharp and withdrawing her hand from my arm, ‘I’m not so sure I’d have let you make love to me if I’d known you thought my uncle capable of murder.’