Kate Sedley: The Christmas Wassail

It was less than half an hour later that the Marvell family returned from Mass, and as soon as the steward indicated my presence, James hurried to greet me.

‘Master Chapman, have you heard the terrible news?’

I lowered my voice. ‘That’s why I’ve come. I’ve had a visit from Baker Cleghorn.’

He drew a sharp breath. ‘And?’

‘I can’t tell you here.’ I glanced over his shoulder to where the other family members were regarding us, openly curious. ‘We must be private.’

He took my arm and marched me out into the street, offering no explanation to his indignant relatives. It was very cold and trying to snow again. I shivered and pulled my hood well down about my ears.

I gave him my news, including Sergeant Merryweather’s theory that someone other than Dick Hodge had been the intended victim.

‘With which I agree,’ I said, and gave him the history of the two cloaks.

‘Dear sweet Jesus,’ James breathed. ‘You mean you think the murderer thought young Hodge was you?’

‘Yes.’

‘But why?’

‘Because our killer thinks I’m getting too close to the truth.’

‘Miles Deakin?’

‘That is what we have to find out.’

James turned towards Drusilla’s door, outside which we were standing. ‘Then there’s no time like the present,’ he said and, raising his hand, rapped smartly on the big iron knocker. And when his knock was not immediately answered, he rapped again, even louder.

An indignant porter opened the door. ‘Impatience! Impatience! Oh, it’s you, Master James. You can’t see the mistress now. She’s just about to eat her dinner.’

My companion pushed the man aside and indicated that I should follow.

‘My aunt’s dinner can wait,’ he replied brusquely. ‘Where is she? In her usual room?’

He was heading for the stairs but the porter said tetchily, ‘Dame Drusilla’s in the little solar at the back of the house. It’s warmer there. But she won’t want to see you, my young master, I’ll tell you that. I’ll be standing ready to show you out again.’

James ignored the man and brushed past him to open a door on his left. ‘This way, Master Chapman.’

The little solar was indeed warm. It was a small, cosy room, its walls hung with tapestries depicting the story of Esther and Mordecai, and a great fire blazing on the hearth. A table was drawn up close to this and spread with a fine white cloth, silver dishes winking in the firelight. Dame Drusilla was seated at the head of it, knife in hand, but no food had as yet been served.

She glanced towards the door expectantly as we entered, then frowned. Today, she had again abandoned her colourful garb and was dressed all in black, but with a great ruby cross hung about her neck on a golden chain, and with sapphires and emeralds studding her girdle.

She stared angrily at her great-nephew. ‘James, what is the meaning of this intrusion? Who let you in? Don’t you know it’s my dinnertime? Go away and come back later.’ She noticed me and her frown deepened. ‘And take your friend with you.’

‘Where’s Miles Deakin, Aunt?’ James asked.

The old lady froze in her seat. Only her eyes seemed alive in the wrinkled face. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said as soon as she could command her voice.

James strode up to the table and stood over her. ‘Don’t lie. He’s been seen coming out of this house by someone who knows him well.’

‘Who?’

‘Never mind that,’ snapped her undutiful great-nephew. ‘He’s here, isn’t he? Living secretly under your roof.’

For a moment I thought she was going to continue denying it, but her temper got the better of her. ‘And what if he is? What’s that got to do with you? Or with your father, if he’s the person who’s sent you? My dear brother’s dead now, and good riddance! He can’t interfere with my life any more. And neither can you or Cyprian.’

James lowered his head towards hers. ‘But the law can,’ he hissed, ‘if your precious Miles is the man who’s been committing these dreadful murders.’

There was a sudden silence so profound that the crackling of the logs on the hearth sounded like the raging of some great forest fire. Dame Drusilla stared open-mouthed at James, every bone of her emaciated face showing clearly beneath her parchment-like skin. I found I was holding my breath, waiting for her furious denial …

Instead, she leant back in her chair and began to laugh, not defiantly nor in a forced kind of way, but with genuine merriment.

‘Oh dear, oh dear!’ she gasped as soon as she could speak. ‘Whoever put that ridiculous notion into your head?’

‘Why ridiculous?’ James demanded. ‘Miles Deakin had cause enough to hate Grandfather and Alderman Trefusis, if anyone did.’

Dame Drusilla stopped laughing and her face twisted viciously. ‘Oh, I’ll grant you that,’ she spat. ‘More than enough. If I’d been a younger and fitter woman, I might have done the murders myself. But I didn’t. And neither did Miles.’

James gripped the old lady’s shoulder. ‘What makes you so sure of that? He’s here, in Bristol, isn’t he? How long have you been giving him shelter?’

She looked up at him defiantly, her mouth set in a thin, bitter line. ‘I should tell you to keep your nose out of my affairs. But since you’ve made this ridiculous allegation against the poor man, I’ll make you free of the truth.’ Here there was an interruption caused by a servant with her dinner dishes on a tray trying to enter the room. Drusilla waved him away impatiently, saying, ‘Later!’ and turned back to James. ‘Miles Deakin has been sheltering in this house for six months or so, long before George and the rest of you moved down from Clifton. He came to me in the summer in a terrible state, ill, diseased and in rags. I took him in and my people have nursed him back to health.’

‘Why didn’t he go home to Nibley, to his parents?’ James asked contemptuously. ‘Or is it that the living’s softer where there’s plenty of money?’

The old lady seized hold of the stick leaning against her chair, and for a moment I thought she was going to strike him. Then, with an obvious effort, she controlled herself.

‘He stayed at my request,’ she said. ‘I’ve always been fond of him.’ She hesitated. ‘I’ve always loved him,’ she amended. ‘People like you and your grandfather think that people of my age are incapable of those sort of emotions, or that they are indecent in someone over eighty.’ Dame Drusilla’s hand shot out and she grasped her great-nephew’s wrist. I saw him wince. ‘Well, one day, if you live as long as I have, you’ll find out your mistake.’ She released him and sank back in her chair, breathing heavily. ‘Miles stayed because I asked him to, and because he was happy to oblige me.’

‘Of course he was,’ sneered James. He indicated the luxury around him. ‘Who wouldn’t prefer such riches to his parents’ poor hovel?’ He took a deep breath. ‘And while he was lying low here, Deakin plotted his revenge. He must have been overjoyed when Grandfather came to live next door. It must have made things so much easier. He could get to know the old man’s habits. Follow him around.’

Dame Drusilla made no answer to this except to jerk herself forward and ring the little silver bell which stood on the table next to her plate.

The servant who had entered before must have been lingering within earshot, waiting for the summons, for he appeared immediately, again bearing the tray in his hands.

‘No, no!’ his mistress exclaimed irritably, once more confusing the poor man. ‘Take the food back to the kitchen and tell the cook to keep it hot. Then find Master Deakin and bring him to me.’