Kate Sedley: The Goldsmith's daughter

‘Gideon did what ?’ thundered Miles, springing to his feet. ‘He dared to enter my niece’s bedchamber, while she was sleeping! Isolda, did you know about this?’

‘No, certainly not, Father. I knew Gideon was restless and had taken to wandering around the house at night, but I thought he was ill. I had no idea that he was playing such a trick on Nell, and I’m hurt and angry that you could think otherwise.’

Miles had the grace to apologise, and resumed his seat looking shamefaced. ‘Pray continue,’ he muttered, glancing at me.

I inclined my head. ‘Gideon’s next step was to put about the story that Isolda was cuckolding him with her cousin. He told you, Master Babcary, he told his former master, Apothecary Ford, and he told Gregory Napier. There may have been others, also, to whom he talked in confidence, tavern acquaintances and the like. And as people have pointed out to me, a man doesn’t willingly admit to being a cuckold unless he is both sure of his ground and deeply shocked and hurt by his wife’s conduct. Gideon counted on this fact to command his listeners’ belief in the tale. Everyone knew that Mistress Bonifant was not really the sort of woman preferred by Master Kit’ — Christopher shifted uncomfortably on his stool — ‘but, with the exception of you, sir,’ I nodded at Miles, ‘they all accepted the truth of the story.’

I paused to clear my throat again, and a chorus of impatient voices urged me to continue. I was only too willing to oblige.

‘Having prepared the ground,’ I went on, ‘fate then played into Gideon’s hands when, at Mistress Eleanor’s birthday feast, last October, Meg mixed up the two goblets belonging to him and Master Christopher. As Mistress Bonifant once pointed out to me, the initials G.B. and C.B. look very much alike amid all that elaborate carving around the rims.’

Meg Spendlove rose like an avenging fury from where she was crouching in front of the fire.

‘I did not mix them up!’ she screamed, seizing my arm and shaking it violently.

‘Meg, behave yourself!’ Isolda exclaimed wrathfully. ‘Release Master Chapman this minute! As he has so kindly reminded us, it’s very easy to confuse those two sets of initials.’

‘But I didn’t!’

‘Wait,’ I said, removing Meg’s hand from my sleeve and holding it soothingly between both of mine. ‘She could be telling the truth, you know. Why shouldn’t Gideon have switched the goblets himself? Yes, yes! The more I think of it, the more I wonder that I didn’t consider the possibility earlier. It established in your minds a precedent for such a mistake being made.’ I heard the girl’s sharp intake of breath as she prepared to make further protest, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. ‘No, Meg, no one’s blaming you. Master Gideon switched the cups himself, I feel almost certain of it. Go and sit down by the fire again.’ When, somewhat sullenly, she had complied, I leant forward excitedly. ‘You all said that Gideon’s explosion of anger was unusual, that, normally, he didn’t indulge himself with such displays of rage. But on the occasion of Mistress Eleanor’s birthday feast, it was necessary for him to do so in order to impress upon you all what had happened, and to ensure that you wouldn’t be surprised if the same error was repeated.’

Miles Babcary nodded, a grim expression on his face. ‘I’m beginning to understand what you’re getting at, Roger, lad.’ He sucked in his breath. ‘To think that all those years we were harbouring a cold-blooded killer in our midst and didn’t know it — a killer with such an evil, devious mind.’

‘Well, I don’t understand,’ Isolda protested defiantly. ‘You’ll have to explain matters more clearly for me, Master Chapman.’

I answered as gently as I could, ‘It’s as I said just now, Mistress. Your husband planned to poison your cousin and lay the blame on you, admitting to the Sheriff’s officer — with the greatest reluctance, I’m sure — that you must really have intended to murder him. I can only guess, but I feel as certain as it’s possible to do in the circumstances, that he would have claimed you put the poison in his cup, but that Meg had somehow muddled it up with Master Kit’s when she was helping to set the table.’

‘When, in fact,’ Christopher interrupted, also beginning to see the light, ‘it was Gideon himself who put the poison in his own goblet and then switched it with mine. That’s what he was doing after he left the shop and why he took so long to reach his bedchamber.’

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘Something delayed him.’

‘Wait a minute!’ Miles exclaimed peremptorily, holding up a hand. ‘Aren’t you forgetting that it was Gideon who was poisoned? If he’d switched his own goblet with Kit’s, someone must have switched them back again.’

I nodded and looked across the table at the apprentice, whose cheeks had suddenly flamed with colour.

‘I think it’s time you owned up, Toby. Don’t be frightened. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in what you did. You simply thought that you were helping a friend, isn’t that so?’

All eyes swivelled in his direction. He had now grown very pale, and I repeated my assurance that he had done nothing wrong. Eventually he seemed to accept my word.

‘I came up to take a look at the table, like I told you. I know I’m not supposed to be in here when there’s company coming, but those goblets are so beautiful, real craftsman’s work, and I don’t get the chance to see them very often.’ I could guess that Miles was ready to forgive the boy anything after that paeon of praise, even if Toby admitted to murdering Gideon himself — which, in a way, he had. The apprentice went on, ‘While I was admiring everything, I remembered the awful fuss Master Bonifant had made at Mistress Nell’s birthday feast, just because Meg had mixed up the cups.’

‘And what did you do, Toby?’ I asked hurriedly, before Meg could proclaim her innocence afresh.

‘I examined the rims of all the goblets carefully, and, sure enough, I discovered that Meg had made the same mistake again. She’d given Christopher Master Bonifant’s cup and Master Bonifant Christopher’s. So I changed the two over. It was difficult to do without spilling the wine, but I managed it — and only just in time. Next moment, Master Bonifant appeared. Then the master came in with Mistress Perle and Master and Mistress Napier, followed by Christopher and Mistress Nell.’

I glanced anxiously at Meg to see how she had taken Toby’s assumption that it was her carelessness that had caused the mix-up, but she was staring at him open-mouthed, an expression of adoration on her small, pointed face. For a moment, I was at a loss to interpret it, but then I understood. Toby had cared enough for her welfare to risk getting into trouble himself, for if he had spilled the wine and ruined all Isolda’s careful table arrangements, he would probably have received a thrashing. But he had been willing to take that chance for her sake. From now on, he would be a hero in her eyes.

I turned my attention back to Toby, now basking in the approval of both Miles Babcary and Meg Spendlove, and said, more as a statement of fact than a question, ‘And that is what you were trying to tell Mistress Eleanor while she was talking to Ginèvre Napier, that you had averted another unpleasant scene between Meg and Master Bonifant.’

‘Yes.’ Toby’s tone was unusually subdued for one in such high favour. ‘I killed Master Bonifant, didn’t I?’ he asked unhappily.

‘He killed himself,’ Christopher answered warmly. ‘You saved my life, Toby, and I shan’t forget it. Next time I’m tempted to berate you for some stupidity or other, I must try to curb my tongue.’