Stolen Lives (The Alice Chronicles #3)

22

L et us hope that Master Norrys is of a different stamp to his friend Kemp,’ Alice says to Robin and Jay as they walk away from the house down a steeply sloping track between houses. She finds that she is trembling, uncertain whether that is from shock or from anger at the late encounter, or perhaps a mixture of both. ‘Master Kemp strongly disapproves of the suggestion that Wat may be innocent. The idea that the prosecution he supported might be mistaken is abhorrent to him. If he concludes that I have read the account of the trial and know the name of Norrys, he may well send to warn Master Norrys to deny us admittance.’

‘We don’t know where Norrys lives anyway,’ Robin objects.

‘Ah, but we do, thanks to a hurried whisper with Mistress Kemp. There is an awkwardness in that household, and secrets are kept from the master, who likes to keep tight control. We need to get across the city quickly, and let us hope Master Norrys is at home.’

Jay says, ‘Then we should hire a coach to take us. Look for one with the leaves up.’

Alice has never been in a hired coach, but the one Jay hails is much the same as those she saw at inns on the journey from High Stoke. Its grubby seats are bare wood, the coach-leaves canvas rather than leather, and there are gaps between the floorboards. Alice grimaces and waves a hand in front of her face as the interior wafts the suggestion of recent use by overfed occupants. What if this is the miasma of infection? Of plague, even? She is struggling not to let the smells, the ordure, the unwashed bodies unnerve her. The sheer dirt of this city is sickening to one of her country upbringing.

The coachman says, ‘Your servants can run behind.’

‘Certainly not,’ Jay says. ‘My mistress has need of our protection.’

I’d almost rather run behind myself.

‘You two are not coming inside my coach!’

‘Ah, but we are,’ Jay insists. ‘With all these maggot-ridden appointments in here, we shall spend the journey squashing little white grubs. And you want money too!’

The coachman sighs and names his sum. ‘Payment in advance.’

She pulls Jay’s sleeve. ‘We could walk, it can’t be that far.’

Robin is slashing the price by a third, to the coachman’s vexation. ‘Never take the first price,’ he mutters to Alice, ‘and never pay in advance. Come mistress, don’t look so anxious. You’ll be fine with us.’ Between them they urge her gently enough into the coach.

‘Tell him, here’s half of that now, and the rest when we arrive at the correct place,’ Alice says, giving Robin a coin.

Grinning, Robin and Jay follow Alice into the coach, the man whips up his horse and they jolt along the streets. With the coach-leaves up, the breeze of movement soon clears the air inside. They join a wider way that drops down to river level where the buildings close in. A few shops and stalls are still trading as they traverse the main part of the city; rotted vegetables mix with meat offal in the gutters, dogs nose and gnaw, and Alice gags behind her hand. Soon they leave the noxious market behind and the coach halts at a terrace of houses. The coachman shouts down to them, pointing, ‘That one there.’ The fee settled, the coach pulls smartly away. Alice looks up at the tall narrow house, one in a terrace of similar houses, as they wait for their knock to be answered.

The door opens and a slim young man in neat blue jerkin and breeches regards them with bored eyes, his gaze momentarily pausing to take in Robin’s crooked stance, the empty forearm of his shirt. His moustache and neatly trimmed beard twitch as he purses his mouth. ‘Yes?’

Jay steps forward, leaning an arm on the door jamb. In a quiet voice, he addresses the manservant. ‘I believe you would like to improve your greeting, young fellow. You address Mistress Jerrard of Dorset, who is here for a few minutes’ speech with Master Norrys.’

‘Does she have an appointment?’

‘No.’

‘So? Many such come to our door. Why should I let you in?’

‘Mainly because if you do not,’ Jay says, still quietly relaxed, ‘Master Norrys might like to know of the little tips you accept to do private favours.’

For Alice, listening to this extraordinary exchange, there is nothing to do but await its outcome. How Jay so confidently accuses is beyond her. But it has struck home, and the manservant stands rooted, mouth open. Jay pokes the smart blue chest. ‘So offer my mistress a seat on that nice backstool there, churl, while you trot along to announce her.’

The young man steps back, a flush spreading over his face. ‘Madam,’ he croaks and waves Alice to the chair. Jay stations himself at her shoulder and Robin follows, closing the door.

‘There, that was easy, wasn’t it?’ Jay asks.

‘If you will kindly wait one moment, Mistress, er…’

‘Jerrard.’

‘Yes… Mistress Jerrard, I shall apprise my master of your request.’ He scuttles away down the passage. A door opens and closes.

Alice screws round to Jay. ‘How on earth did you know?’

‘Even if his fine garments are bought for him, those shoes were never from a jobbing cobbler,’ Jay tells her. ‘I wish I could afford such. And I could smell the scent on his moustache, it gives him away.’

‘I saw the expensive house and disregarded the expensive manservant,’ Alice says, admiring. ‘You’re right, even Ursula’s house men don’t wear such fine shoes.’

‘And they certainly can’t afford to scent their moustaches,’ Jay adds.

The door down the passage opens again and a man in shirtsleeves and straight-cut, calf-length canion hose emerges. ‘Mistress Jerrard? I am Norrys, I believe you wish words with me?’

‘Perhaps my companions here may also be present?’ Alice suggests, indicating Robin and Jay.

He looks a little surprised, but, ‘As you wish,’ he says, and waves all three in. Jay smiles brightly at the manservant and closes the door on him.

The room is probably the principal room of the house, panelled with honey-coloured wood and boasting a handsome carved stone fireplace. Clearly it serves both for family dining and as an office for his business. Shelves along one wall are filled with ledgers, rolls and sheaves of documents. A small-paned casement is open wide and overlooks a little garden.

‘Forgive my working garb,’ Norrys says, indicating his shirt. ‘The weather continues warm.’

‘It does indeed, sir,’ Alice agrees, and privately wishes she could walk around in just her chemise and skirts, no bodice, sleeves, doublet, partlet, cap. ‘I thank you for agreeing to see me.’

‘I am at your service, madam,’ he says, offering her a chair and seating himself at a table littered with bills, documents, ink well, quills. Alice takes an instant liking to this man, unpretentious and business-like. He reminds her of Oliver Sanderson, the grain merchant in Guildford, a friend of her late husband. It is a jolt to realise that she has not thought about Henry since leaving the mansion two days ago.

Perhaps her silence has lasted a shade too long, for he turns where she is gazing out at the garden walled on all sides, planted with herbs and with a small tree casting a pool of shade. ‘My children play out there when they are not at their lessons,’ he says, as though to put her at her ease. ‘I sometimes suspect I am left to nursemaid them while their mother has friends to her closet.’

Alice smiles. ‘They are fortunate to have a pretty garden for their leisure, sir,’ she answers. ‘And now to my matter, for I am sure you are busy.’ She watches him carefully as she asks, ‘Firstly, does the name Cazanove mean anything to you?’

He frowns a moment in thought. ‘Certainly not in a business sense. Are we talking business or a personal acquaintance?’

‘Either. One Rupert Cazanove.’

He shakes his head. ‘It’s an unusual name. My wife would know if he were amongst our acquaintance, but even so, I would remember it, I feel sure.’

‘Or one Turner of this city?’

‘Ah, yes, I know a Turner.’

Alice sits up. ‘You do?’

‘In Wine Street, just a step from here. You seek this gentleman?’

‘He’s a pointmaker?’

‘Pointmaker?’ Norrys chuckles. ‘The Turner I know is a vintner, he imports wines. No, mistress, I know no pointmakers. They are usually women, I believe.’

‘Oh.’ A stupid mistake. She smiles to cover her embarrassment. ‘I suppose there are many Turners in this city.’

‘It’s a common enough name, unlike that other. What is this pointmaker to the purpose?’

‘He was a witness at the trial of the man who was formerly Master Kemp’s man of business.’

‘Meredith? I remember him. A sad story.’

‘He was tried last year for stealing and horse theft and convicted, sentenced to hang. The man Turner was a key witness. He said his money and his horse were stolen by Wat Meredith.’

Master Norrys frowns in puzzlement. ‘A pointmaker owing a horse, do you say? Are you sure? They must be very expensive points he’s making, if so.’

Alice glances at Robin and Jay. They look as surprised as she. ‘I hadn’t thought about it, it’s a valid point. But no one at the trial seemed to comment on it.’

‘What about the other one? Cazanove?’

‘His name is connected subsequently with Wat Meredith.’

‘What do you mean, “subsequently” ? You know he was hanged?’

‘No, he was reprieved at Rupert Cazanove’s instigation and taken into his service.’

‘I hadn’t heard that.’ A thought strikes him. ‘Of course, this was the Winter Assizes, wasn’t it? I was away on business for some weeks around that season. By the time I returned it would long since have blown over. So it seems Meredith was a fortunate fellow, then?’

Alice passes over Wat’s fortunes as Cazanove’s body servant. ‘I believe Master Meredith was sent to transact business with you on the day he was taken, but found you from home.’

‘No.’ Norrys shakes his head. ‘He didn’t call. I was here all that day and no one called. I remember it because my children were playing out there in the courtyard, and I was minding them because I was here.’

‘We are talking of the same day, are we, sir?’ Alice asks, struggling to keep the disappointment from her voice.

‘No doubt about it. Kemp sent to advise me the day Meredith would call. It was the culmination of an important contract and there were papers to sign and monies to be paid. That young man of mine, he stationed himself at the door to watch. I remember I was vexed with Meredith at the waste of my time.’

‘Master Kemp would not by any chance have given Wat Meredith confusing instructions, would he?’ Alice asks him. I’m grasping at straws, she thinks.

‘Not a chance,’ Norrys replies. ‘Kemp’s a rod-of-iron man, you’re never in any doubt. Ask him. Have you met him?’

‘I have, sir, though he did not welcome the approach. I also met Mistress Kemp, who seems to me a lady of a more yielding stamp.’

‘Kemp’s as honest and upright as they come, but he should have married a termagant,’ Norrys comments. ‘She’d have knocked some corners off.’

Behind Alice, Robin says, ‘Sir, had Wat Meredith carried out commissions between Master Kemp and yourself on previous occasions?’

‘Several times,’ Norrys answers. ‘So he knew where to come, if that’s what you’re thinking. And if you’re still in doubt, my constable came to see me the next day to ask the same questions. Was I here? Were there any callers? I’m sorry, mistress, I applaud your efforts on Meredith’s behalf, but there is no doubt.’

The crushing disappointment as each doubt is demolished leaves Alice hard put to conceal her frustration. Either that, or the heat of the day, is giving rise to a fresh bout of nausea. The sooner we are out of this city-stink, she thinks, the better pleased I shall be. Nothing has been gained by these visits. Master Norrys, she is certain, is an upright man with no reason to wage war on a clerk he barely knew. He had an important contract to ratify and as a merchant did not appreciate the delay caused by Wat’s non-appearance. There is nothing here to suggest the broadsheet story is very far from the truth. Nothing that will save Wat from Sir Thomas and the coroner back at Hillbury.

‘Just one more question, sir,’ she says. ‘They did not call you as witness at the trial?’

‘No need. It was Kemp’s money he stole. He did me no harm as such. Kemp got his money back and we simply completed the contract a couple of days later. Now,’ he goes on, eyeing her keenly, ‘I have a question for you, Mistress Jerrard. I’ve given you information. I have the right to ask what is your interest in this matter?’

‘You have the right indeed, sir,’ she says. ‘I am slightly acquainted with Wat Meredith. I heard of his trial, and neither I nor his friends can believe him dishonest. I feel there may have been some error and I am come to Bristol to see if I can discover it.’

‘And have his friends shown equal zeal in Meredith’s defence?’

‘Two of his friends are in this room today, sir.’

‘You two?’ Norrys nods his understanding. ‘Before last year, I would have shared your view that Meredith was an honest fellow. He had a gentle manner of address. Felon he may have been, but somehow I am glad to know he is still of this world.’ He looks towards Robin and Jay. ‘May his friends help him keep out of trouble.’ As Alice rises, he also gets to his feet. ‘I’m sorry I cannot help you, mistress; I was assuredly here and waiting for him that day.’