She stepped back to gaze at him, or perhaps to get a better swing. Her hand struck his cheek with such force that he teetered. He raised his hand to the welt and smiled. “I beg your pardon,” he said.
Her small lips curved. “Now we understand each other.”
Crispin continued to rub his cheek. “You have a strong hand, Madam.”
“I’m no weakling. I worked hard in this house. I carried water. I did the heavy cleaning. I did more than my share. It was natural that I should catch the master’s eye, though I never dreamed it would go so far.”
For the first time he noticed a servant in the far corner of the hall pretending to sweep a small square of the floor with a gorse broom. Crispin lowered his voice. “Shall we retire to the parlor?”
She folded her arms over her breasts. “Why? I have no wish to talk with you. You made it clear you would have nought to do with me.”
“This is a murder inquiry. If you’d rather speak to the sheriff…”
The sparkle in her eye dimmed. Glancing at the servant, Philippa nodded and led Crispin and Jack down a gallery to a warm chamber. She sat in the one large, ornate chair and gestured for Crispin to sit in the smaller one beside it.
Jack stood behind Crispin’s chair and wrung the hem of his tunic.
“Can your servant serve the wine?”
Crispin swiveled his gaze toward Jack. Amusement had not left his features since Philippa doled out her slap. “Can you serve wine, Jack?”
“Course I can!” Jack’s lower lip jutted forward and he narrowed his eyes at Philippa. He searched the room for the wine jug, and when he spied it, he stomped to the sideboard and sloppily poured two bowls. He eyed the silver before he offered a bowl to Crispin first. Crispin shook his head and nodded to the lady. Grumbling, Jack gave her the first bowl and Crispin the second. He retreated to the jug, no doubt wondering how he’d get himself a drink or slip the silver flagon under his cloak.
Philippa drank and studied Crispin over the rim of her bowl.
“So, you caught the master’s eye,” said Crispin.
She nodded. “A body only hears about such in songs. But I caught his fancy, and before I knew it, I was mistress of this household.”
“Did you love him?”
The wine bowl paused at her lips. “A strange question. What does it matter?”
Crispin shrugged. “It doesn’t. I merely wondered.”
“And I wonder why you wonder.”
“You forget.” He lowered his chin and ran his finger absently along the rim of the silver bowl. “I saw you at the Thistle.”
She angled her head to stare into the fire. A wisp of hair escaped from her meticulous coif and posed along her neck in a sinuous wave. “There is so much you’ll never understand.”
“Try me.”
“We must talk about the cloth.”
“Did Adam Becton hire you?”
She added a drowsy smile to her features and settled her head against the chair’s high back. “Very well. Aye, Adam did hire me. What of it?”
“He does not seem to approve of your current status.”
“Neither do you.”
“We weren’t talking about me.”
“Weren’t we?” Her smile brightened enough to cause a frown on Crispin’s lips. “No matter. No, he never approved of Nicholas and me. The fool’s in love with me.”
“That much I reckoned for myself. What I am uncertain of is how much he loves you.”
She laughed this time. “You think Adam killed Nicholas?”
“It is not beyond the realm of possibility.”
“You don’t know Adam.”
“And you, apparently, do not know what a man is capable of doing for love.”
She drank her wine and set the bowl aside. “Can’t we discuss the cloth?”
“Life as mistress of this house must have been difficult after being raised from a chambermaid.”
Her lids stayed in their languid pose while regarding him. “It was difficult. No one ever gave me a moment’s peace.”
“The servants?”
“The servants, the vendors, everyone. Until one day I told them all. I am mistress here, and if they didn’t like it they could shift for themselves. Nicholas did not care if I bought beef from another butcher or corn from a different merchant. He laughed at it. I think he enjoyed raising me to his place. He was not afraid to be unconventional.”
“And you rose to the occasion?”
“Oh, aye. I learned to enjoy it, too. Any servant who sneered at me got cuffed right well or dismissed. That’s the way in this house.”
“And even though your lord and master is dead?”
Her sensuous lips firmed to a tight line. “Aye, it will remain the same. After three years of wedded life, I have learned this business well.”
“Do you read, then?”
“Only a little. I do sums, too. Nicholas taught me. But I will learn more.”
He smiled into his wine bowl and sipped. He was beginning to like this Philippa Walcote in spite of her morals.
“Enough,” she snorted. “The cloth. We must speak of that.”
“Yes, and of fees.”
She smiled. “So you will take my money now?”
“I am a sensible man.”
She rose and reached into the delicate pouch at her embroidered belt. “Sixpence, did you say?”
“A day.”
“Aye. Here, take a week’s worth, then.”
She held out a small pouch too far away for Crispin to reach while sitting. He rose and looked her in the eye. Amusement played on her face, but money never amused him. He finally raised his hand to receive it, and without taking his eyes from hers, he lowered the pouch into his own purse and sat.
“Tell me about this damned cloth.”
“The Mandyllon.” She said the word and sobered. Sitting rigidly, she curled her free hand into a fist. “It is a veronica—”
“Yes, you said all that. What is this ‘curse’ you’re so afraid of?”
She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “When in its presence, a person is absolutely incapable of telling a lie. It forces the truth out of you.”
Crispin laughed. He set down his bowl before he spilled it. “And that is your curse? Yes, for women it must be so.”
“You think it amusing?” she said flatly. “Think of this: What if you were bartering with a wealthy client and must speak the truth? What if you were with your enemy? Your spouse? Or a woman you found appealing?”
Crispin’s laughter died.
“Still amusing, is it?”
“You mean to say, you must tell the absolute truth? What you’re thinking? What you are…feeling?”
“Aye.”
They gazed solemnly at one another.
“I concede your point,” he said soberly. “Where did your husband acquire such a thing?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere in the Holy Land, I think. I am uncertain.”
“What does it look like?”
“I only saw it once. So big,” she said, gesturing with her arms out. “Square. A simple cloth. But…with the face.”
“And where did you last see it? Was it in this house? Some other place?”
“In the house. In the solar.”
“And where did your husband keep it?”
She snapped to her feet. “If I knew I could find it for myself and destroy it!” Her skirts rippled wildly after her, desperate to keep step as she paced before the fire.
“Destroy such a valuable relic? The face of Christ? Blasphemy.”
“God forgive me.” She shook her head and crossed herself. “But I believe there is such a thing as too much honesty!”
Crispin rose and joined her by the fire. “Then why all the locks? Were they to keep thieves out, or something in?”
“I don’t know. Nicholas was”—she shrugged—“different from other men. Secretive. And wealthy.”