Stolen Lives (The Alice Chronicles #3)

41

T he solar at the mansion is no place for the faint-hearted. Heated all day by the sun, the shutters open, the casements and door closed, it is a furnace that brings an involuntary gasp from Alice as she walks in. Martyn, sitting at his ease in a cushioned chair, feet on a footstool, turns his head. ‘Oh, hello. I suppose you came to see Helena,’ he says. ‘She’s not here.’

‘Truth to tell, I haven’t seen her since Master Devenish visited her,’ Alice says. ‘Has she had the good sense to run away with him?’

‘Oh, very amusing. You’ll be disappointed to know she hasn’t. So, what brings you here?’

‘Yourself, Master Sprag.’

‘Flattered, I’m sure. And what did you want to talk about? Not touching me for money for the little widow, are you?’ He laughs at his own jest. ‘I gather she’s planning to go off and play shepherdesses, or was it milkmaids?’

Alice ignores that. ‘You must be very busy with arrangements over your good fortune, so I shall not keep you.’

‘Well, shut the door then. Draughts are bad for me.’

Alice closes the door, moves a stool out of the blazing sunlight and sits.

‘I’ve seen a tailor this morning,’ Martyn tells her. ‘Some bumpkin Mistress Cazanove dug up from Charminster.’

‘I remember him,’ Alice says. ‘He had rooms in Dorchester until they were burned down in the great fire in ’thirteen. I believe Sir Thomas Harcourt uses him.’

‘Yes, well, he’s not a proper town tailor. I shall need to send to Exeter or Wells for the superior sort of man I need.’

‘Does that mean you will remain here for a while until you are adequately supplied?’ Alice tries to ask it without expression.

‘Happily not. The bumpkin has supplied one or two things I can be going on with.’

Happily not, indeed.

‘Helena has taken my old things to burn, and we shall be leaving very soon.’

‘Why burn them? Why not give them to the poor?’

‘Now that I can afford new, I am resolved to forget all past hardships.’

‘And has the tailor been able to supply you with a suitable hat? I am aware you are very nice in your selection of headwear.’

‘Something to tide me over for the time being.’

‘Of a Tyrian blue, perhaps?’

Martyn hesitates. Then, ‘Why would I want Tyrian blue?’

Alice says. ‘I recall you mentioned one in your box the day you arrived here.’

‘No, there was no such hat in my box.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Alice says. ‘Only, you asked me to fetch it for you when the manservant took your other one to dry and brush.’

‘No, you’re mistaken. I never had such a hat.’

‘Ah. I understand,’ Alice says. ‘Well, if I do not see you again before you leave, I hope your journey home will be more comfortable for you than your night at the Swan.’

‘Like a bad dream, that was,’ Martyn says. ‘I didn’t sleep a wink.’

‘Was Helena able to ease your insomnia?’

‘Helena? Huh! No chance of that.’

‘No?’

‘I mean, she was fast asleep. Snoring away. I couldn’t wake her when she was so tired, could I?’

‘Such thoughtfulness is noteworthy.’

Martyn regards her narrowly. ‘So what was it you came to see me about?’

‘I wondered if you had had any news about your cousin Goldwoode’s murderer.’

‘It’s not the man they thought it was, apparently. And that’s an interesting thing.’

‘What is?’

‘The man they thought it was. Name of Wat Meredith. “W M”. Remember the juicy lines on the windowpane? Even more juicy now. I wonder what Mistress Cazanove will say when she hears her manservant indulges in unnatural acts!’

‘I would suggest you spare her scurrilous gossip. You’re rather behind the rest of us on that score.’

‘Oh, but I shall relish watching her pious face when I tell her! White with shock, red with shame, a touch of black bile, perhaps!’ Martyn laughs heartily. ‘A veritable rainbow of humours!’

‘It’s already known for a lie. It’s known who wrote it. It’s known why. You’ll make yourself look foolish, Martyn.’

‘Says you.’ But he looks disappointed all the same.

Alice leans forward. ‘And what colour will you go, I wonder, when I tell the justices that it was Helena who dressed up in your clothes and your Tyrian blue hat and stole out of The Swan that night to murder your cousin?’

Martyn stares hard at her. ‘Nonsense!’

‘And at best you connived at it.’

‘You’ve no proof.’ He throws himself back in his chair, turning away. ‘It never happened so you have no proof.’

‘I know that her chamber was nowhere near yours, because they put you on the ground floor, which I know is the only private parlour they have at The Swan. So you could not have heard her snoring as you claim, because she’d have been on the nextfloor.’

‘I knew she was tired. I just made that up about the snoring.’

‘And your Tyrian blue hat was too large for her head. It slipped down over her eyes, which was ideal for her as she needed to conceal her face.’

‘I’ve no such hat, I tell you!’

‘I would guess she dragged Goldwoode into the bushes to strangle him without anyone seeing, then dumped his body by the hay loft to ensure he would be discovered well before the two of you arrived at the inn. In the struggle with the old man, the hat fell off her head, and in her panic to get away, she forgot it. Two local lads found it, and it is now in the possession of the justices.’

‘Not my hat.’ Martyn’s eyes are blank, bored.

‘And she had scratches on her hands. On the backs of her hands, Martyn. Master Goldwoode would have clawed at her as she garrotted him. He must have fought hard for his life. For how long do you think she held that cord tight, waiting for him to die? Did you know it was so tight that it was buried in his neck? Remember how you described Helena to me? Strong as an ox, you said. No doubt as a result of carting your lazy form from pillar to post for years on end.’

Martin is silent, staring ahead, blank-eyed. Then, ‘Whatever scratches she might have had have healed. Anyway, she had no motive to kill Goldwoode. She wasn’t going to inherit, and I’ve always known he would leave everything to me.’

‘Her motive was that she is desperate to marry Roger Devenish, but she desires money before she takes the leap. The sooner you inherited, the sooner she could look forward to some sort of riches, even from her tightfisted brother. But Goldwoode might have lived another decade. And with a daughter already arrived, Helena could work out as well as the next person that he might father a son. The death-knell for your inheritance. And if she could work that out, so could you. For all I know, you encouraged these thoughts to take shape in Helena’s head.’

‘Just wild fancies. No proof at all.’

‘You’re in this up to your neck Martyn, you are an accessory.’

‘I’ll sue you for slander if you breathe a syllable of this.’

Alice says, ‘I suggest there is enough there to cause you lasting shame in front of all those wealthy new acquaintances you anticipate, to say nothing of what the justices would make of it. And Martyn, if you broadcast that libel scratched on the windowpane, I promise you I shall lay all I know before them.’

‘Martyn’s right, I have no proof,’ Alice tells Ursula later. The two women sit on the window seat enjoying the afternoon sun flooding Ursula’s parlour with light, the garden outside shimmering in summer heat and colour, the scents drifting in through the open casements. ‘But he was so cock-a-hoop over his new riches, I wanted him to know that my suspicions are not without foundation.’

‘And you think he and Helena planned this between them?’

‘Possibly. I think it likely he planted his thoughts on her and her own thoughts were not so different. It must have occurred to both of them that Luella might produce a son. The day they arrived, he was very vocal in blaming Helena that they stopped at the Swan. I thought he would have kept quiet if he had been in the plot. But it could be a clever double bluff, especially as he could fall back on that later if suspicion fell on them. It would only have taken a question to the landlord to find out that Hillbury is close by, but neither of them did that. By not arriving at Nick Patten’s until a day later, no one suspected them.’

‘But she alone murdered Goldwoode?’

‘Well, he couldn’t have, so it had to be Helena,’ Alice says. ‘If Martyn didn’t already know, my guess is, he’s worked it out while they have been staying here.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Martyn’s hat, which he called “my Tyrian blue hat”. He was very proud of his high-ranking hat; he would have made sure such a hat was packed for a journey to meet his rich cousin. In fact when Helena said it wasn’t in their box, he said he watched her pack it. But she had worn it the night before and lost it in the tussle with Goldwoode, so today he says he doesn’t own such a hat. Somewhere between those two events, Martyn has realised Helena wore the hat that night. Whether they planned the murder together or he has found her out since, he has to suppress any suggestion he owned the hat. That hat is the one Bart Johnson found.’

‘I hear what you say,’ Ursula says, ‘but forgive me if I say the case is thin at best.’

Wryly, Alice smiles. ‘You’re right. There is no proof any more, but I saw those scratches on the back of her hands when they arrived. It never occurred to me to look for blood under Goldwoode’s nails when I went to inspect his body. I wasn’t expecting to be involved in the examination of a crime.’

‘He was buried here while you were away,’ Ursula says. ‘It was unthinkable to return his body sixty miles to Bristol in the hot weather. And all that remains of his family were here anyway.’

‘All these slight pointers lead to Helena every time,’ Alice says, ‘and no one suspects Martyn because he cannot walk without assistance. Martyn’s clever. He stays in the background, needling and prodding without ever taking an active part. But he likes to sail close to the wind. I remember one day Helena tried to stop him talking of what he called “a great wrongdoing” and I have since thought, in her guilt she was terrified he was about to betray her. I think if suspicion approached them, he had laid the groundwork to ensure she took the blame and he would remain unscathed.’

‘She seems such a quiet, modest sort of woman. I liked her well enough.’

‘And I have felt sorry for her from the first,’ Alice says, remembering the patience and forbearance Helena exercises towards her demanding brother.

‘So it was she you saw wearing Martyn’s hat and clothes at the inn?’

‘I couldn’t swear to who it was, as I said to Sir Thomas, but she is of that strong, slight build, and the hat that was made for Martyn’s head had slipped down covering her face. The hat has now been denied, the clothes that might have identified her have been burned, and the scratches have healed.’

‘What are you going to do Alice?’

‘There’s nothing I can do. They’re rich now. Helena will marry poor Mr Devenish, and Martyn will be as unpleasant as he can to as many servants as he chooses to engage. But I have left Martyn with enough doubt that he fears my saying something. Nevertheless, they’re going to get away with it, Ursula.’

‘It will be with her, though probably not him, for the rest of her life.’

‘That family,’ Alice says. ‘All three thought only of self-interest. Martyn thinks only of himself and takes pleasure in cruelty and manipulation, Helena killed for personal gain, and Goldwoode himself connived at the plot against Wat, in order to get Luella into his bed. Not one of them was acting to help others or prevent a greater wrong.’

‘Helena of all has some small excuse,’ Ursula says. ‘A life spent caring for a brother like Martyn would be enough to sour anyone.’

Silence falls between them for several minutes until, ‘Talking of self-interest,’ Ursula says, ‘reminds me that I have something for you.’ She reaches into her work basket and brings out a small draw-string purse which she hands to Alice. ‘Personal profit does not always pay, I’m glad to say. This is yours. Chalcedony, isn’t it?’

Alice opens the top. Within, the worked stone winks sky-blue from its nest of fine muslin. For a moment she is speechless, hand to her mouth. Frederick, dear Frederick, who gifted her the book that saved Wat’s life, whom she would have married in a heartbeat, who lies with all the other plague dead in the Hillbury churchyard. ‘How glad I am to have this back,’ she whispers, halfway to tears. ‘I cannot find the words to thank you! How did you know?’

‘Jay told me,’ Ursula says, as though to say, what else would Jay do. ‘It should never have been taken from you for any reason at all.’

‘At the time I felt I had to give Keeper Sparrow what he demanded.’

‘Of course you did. When Sparrow had you with your backs to the sea, literally in this case, there was nothing else for it. But you should have come to me afterwards, Alice.’

‘I cannot pass my obligations on to you,’ Alice objects.

‘You should have passed this one. How many times do I have to say that Wat is my man?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Alice says. She is uncomfortably aware of having offended Ursula’s delicate sense of honour. She hauls up a smile from somewhere. ‘I seem to spend my life doing things I shouldn’t, or not doing things I should.’

‘Dearest Alice,’ Ursula says, taking her hands. ‘I must tell you.’ There is an unaccustomed twinkle in her eye as she goes on, ‘I summoned Sparrow here, he was my caller the other day when you went to sit with Wat. I wish you could have been with me. I worded my invitation such that he thought he was coming to be rewarded for helping to save Wat’s life.’

‘You didn’t pay him, surely?’

‘Not money, no. His payment was two pieces of information. One, that Sir Thomas has been apprised that he not only extorted a fee from you, he purposely omitted to tell you of the rope across the Smallmouth Passage. Two, that the Justices may decide to deprive him of his position at the prison. Jay, however, did mention in Sparrow’s defence that he took you by the correct route as far as the crossing.’

‘That in itself was worth a lot. We’d have gone astray without his help.’

‘When I asked for your ring he swore he had no ring. I gave him the choice either to return your ring here forthwith, or to have Sir Thomas apprised of the value of the extortion, for which I could summon two witnesses. Considering the ring’s likely worth, he knew he would hang for it.’

‘I wish I had been there indeed. I thank you for this, and for all your generous trouble on my behalf. Strange, I had planned to offer him a couple of crowns for guiding us to Wat.’

‘I too would have considered that a sum well spent in Wat’s interest.’

Alice slips the ring on her finger, gazing at the worked figure. ‘I don’t know who she is, one of the Muses, I suppose.’

‘I thought Hygieia, myself,’ Ursula says. ‘See the serpent she bears?’

‘A serpent? I thought it was the curves of her drapery.’

‘The snake is the symbol of Asclepius, God of healing. Hygieia was his right hand, Goddess of wellbeing. Blue chalcedony is said to restore calm. Appropriate. Whoever gave you that ring recognised your talents, it seems. Though I doubt Hygieia herself would have predicted your using them in the way you did. Slank and Messer will think twice before offering violence to anyone again.’

‘So you know who attacked Wat.’

‘Something else Jay told me,’ Ursula says. ‘You remember I walked into Wat’s chamber just as Jay finished speaking. I recognised the words Messer had used about accidents when you rightly told him to Shut up. I would have dismissed both Slank and Messer instantly, but they have families. I see no reason why wives and children should suffer for their husbands’ wrongdoing. I summoned Slank and Messer and have spoken with them.’

She leaves it at that. If Ursula’s words were as effective as when she castigated Constable Nutley for questioning Luella, Alice thinks, Slank and Messer will certainly think twice.

‘Going back to speaking of wellbeing,’ Ursula says, ‘Wat is much stronger today, and able to talk a little.’

‘Is it true he plans to leave your service when he and Luella marry? You will be sorry for that, I think, Ursula?’

Ursula nods ruefully. ‘I shall miss him sorely but this has been a house of misery for him. If you know anyone amongst your Surrey acquaintance, who would be a good master to a man of Wat’s excellence, I hope you will let me know.’

‘Well…’ Alice begins, ‘there might be someone…’