‘I didn’t ask her,’ I said austerely. ‘He’s my dog and I enjoy his company.’ Hercules, who was stretched out in front of the fire, opened one eye in acknowledgement of these sentiments, then closed it again. ‘Besides, she’d been left with Elizabeth to care for since your precipitate flight to London. And why you felt that to be necessary,’ I continued, working myself up into a pitch of righteous indignation, ‘I simply can’t imagine. Could you not have trusted me long enough to wait until you heard my side of the story? Yes, I was acquainted with Mistress Gerrish, but that was two years ago, so I could not possibly be the father of her child.’ Adela started to speak, but I held up my hand, the patriarch, a man in command of his household. ‘I know what you thought. Margaret told me. But I am now at liberty to reveal that my delay in coming home after returning from Scotland was because I was asked to undertake a special mission to Paris on behalf of Prince Richard. I was not in Gloucester, renewing my acquaintanceship with Juliette Gerrish.’
‘Paris!’ Adela echoed, astonished. ‘You were in Paris?’
I nodded. ‘I was. But mind, it’s not something to be discussed with other people. I can’t tell you what I was doing there, so you’ll just have to take my word for it that I was there. Now-’
‘Oh Roger, I’m so sorry for not trusting you,’ my wife said, putting her arms around my neck and kissing me. ‘I’ve no excuse except that you were away for so many months. And once the news reached us that the war in Scotland was over and Berwick retaken, I thought you’d be home much sooner than you were. And when you finally did turn up, you were so guarded about where you’d been and what you’d been doing. I was already feeling suspicious long before that woman arrived on the doorstep last month with her evil story. Whatever made her do it? When you knew her, did you anger or harm her in some way?’
‘I barely knew her,’ I lied, but was able to add truthfully, ‘Why she did what she did, I’ve no idea. And had I been at home, I should have been able to refute her claim straight away. But knowing my calling, she may have gambled on my absence.’ I returned Adela’s embrace. ‘Perhaps we shall never discover her motive. In any case, it’s in the past now. Let’s forget about it. We’re together again and all’s well. The only thing I want to do now is to take you and the children home. So let me have no more of this nonsense about staying here. I don’t see why you think their problem is anything I can solve. I don’t know these people. I’ve only just learned of their existence. We’ll leave this afternoon.’
Adela immediately became agitated, pulling herself out of my arms and saying, ‘No, Roger, we can’t. Two members of the family have already been killed and an attempt has been made on Sybilla’s life. We can’t just abandon them to their fate.’
FIVE
I stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending, before the sense of her words sank in.
‘Two of them have been killed?’ I repeated stupidly. ‘And an attempt on Sybilla’s life, as well?’
My wife nodded. ‘And now they are inclined to think that Clemency’s illness was more sinister than they all thought it at the time. You see-’
‘Wait!’ I said. ‘We’d better sit down while you explain this to me.’ And I drew her towards one of the settles beside the hearth. The three children had retired to sit around the table, Elizabeth and Nicholas catching up on one another’s news, Adam sucking his thumb, staring into space and contemplating heaven alone knew what mischief. Hercules was still stretched out in front of the meagre fire, asleep and snoring.
‘Now,’ I asked, ‘what is all this about?’
Before Adela could answer, however, the door in the far wall opened to admit a woman also dressed in funereal black, relieved by a white coif and apron, and with a bunch of keys dangling from her belt, which at once proclaimed her status as the housekeeper. She was a tall, handsome woman who carried herself as one with a sense of her own importance, and a pair of widely spaced grey eyes surveyed the world with a certain disdain. I judged her to be somewhere in her early forties or even perhaps a little younger.
‘I thought I heard Oswald’s voice,’ she said, addressing Adela and ignoring my presence.
Adela nodded. ‘Yes. He came in some minutes ago, but he’s taken Sybilla back to her room. She got out of bed, which was very foolish of her, and almost collapsed. I thought you must know that Oswald is home. Clemency went to find you, presumably to say that dinner could be served and to tell you about the new arrivals.’ My wife indicated Elizabeth and me. ‘Arbella, this is Roger, my husband who has brought his daughter with him. I am trying to persuade him to remain here for a while before taking the boys and me back to Bristol. He is very clever at unravelling mysteries and I’m hoping he may be able to solve this one. Roger, this is Mistress Rokeswood, Clemency’s and Sybilla’s housekeeper. They tell me she has been with them for a few years now and is almost like one of the family.’
I rose politely to my feet, but apart from a brief inclination of her head, Arbella Rokeswood accorded me no other acknowledgement.
‘Clemency and I must have missed each other,’ she muttered angrily. ‘I was out in the herb garden looking for some coriander, but there doesn’t seem to be any left. As you know, an infusion of the leaves is good for stomach cramp, and one of the maids is complaining of bellyache.’ She shrugged. ‘Oh well! It can’t be helped. But I do so hate not having dinner ready when Oswald comes in.’ Her rather austere features softened. ‘He works so hard and his sisters have never properly appreciated him.’
‘Oh, I’m sure they do,’ Adela remonstrated gently. ‘They’re all — I mean they’re both extremely fond of him.’ Her breath caught on a little sob, but she recovered her composure and went on, ‘They mother him to death.’
‘Smother him more like,’ was the embittered reply as the housekeeper stalked from the room.
‘Oh-ho! Blows the wind from that quarter?’ I said, as Mistress Rokeswood disappeared through the farther door.
‘Shush!’ Adela whispered. ‘She’ll hear you.’ But as the door closed, she nodded agreement. ‘Yes, you’re right. Poor Arbella is very much in love with Oswald, I’m afraid. Not that it will do her any good. Whatever she does for him — and she waits on him hand, foot and finger — as long as even one sister is alive she stands no chance with him whatsoever. I have never known such devoted siblings. At times, it seems positively unnatural. And I understand that when Charity was alive, it was worse. She was more maternal towards him than either Clemency or Sybilla. And that, my love, is saying something, believe me.’
I sought to put my thoughts in order.
‘This Charity,’ I said, cudgelling my brain to remember what Margaret Walker had told me, ‘was the third daughter of Morgan Godslove’s first marriage. Am I right? But now she’s dead? How did that happen?’
My wife clasped my arm. ‘That’s what I was trying to tell you when Arbella interrupted us. Charity died last year after eating mushrooms. One of them must have been poisonous. But the point is that she isn’t the only member of the family who has died. The year before that, one of the stepbrothers was killed in a tavern brawl, and in the October after Charity’s death, Martin Godslove — that’s their half-brother and Celia’s brother — was set upon by robbers late one night in Cheapside and stabbed to death. Moreover. .’ Adela paused a moment to take a breath and then continued, ‘Moreover, not long after her stepbrother was killed, Clemency became very ill and nearly died. Indeed, she was so ill that she was given the last rites, but by some miracle she recovered. No one thought anything more about it — nothing, that is, except that she had been extremely sick and that their prayers had been answered — until first Charity and then Martin died so unnaturally. Then the rest of them began to get frightened. Three deaths and one near death in just a couple of years began to make them believe that either there was a curse on the family or that someone was deliberately killing them off one by one. And now, only a few days ago, Sybilla was badly injured from a falling block of stone as she was walking by the city wall. (You must have noticed that it’s being repaired.) No one seemed to know how it happened. All the workmen swore they were nowhere near the particular stretch of scaffolding where the accident occurred. Except, of course, no one here really thinks it was an accident. And now they are in fear and trembling as to what will happen next. Oh, Roger, you will help them, won’t you? They have been so very kind to me that I feel I must do something.’