Kate Sedley - The Weaver's inheritance

Her lips curled. ‘I have no intention of wasting my time on the creature. As William says, I should demean myself by giving even the slightest hint that I take his claim seriously.’

It was not for me to point out that such blind prejudice had already done her and her husband a great disservice in her father’s eyes, probably costing them the remaining half of Alison’s inheritance. I also suspected that the greater intransigence they displayed, the more entrenched became the Alderman’s belief that Clement had been miraculously restored to him. The Burnetts had mismanaged a delicate situation from the start, with William goading his stubborn wife into direct opposition to her obstinate father, when a little sympathy and understanding might have given them ascendancy over the old man’s mind.

‘Are you quite sure,’ Alison asked me, ‘that you never saw Clement’s body?’

‘As certain as I’m sitting here now.’ I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees, and stared earnestly into her face. ‘I could only guess at the fate of your brother and all the others who had disappeared from that inn, by what happened to myself. But that doesn’t mean, of course, that one of the victims couldn’t have survived. And this young man, so my mother-in-law tells me, says that a blow to his head robbed him of his memory for the next six years. I suppose that could be possible. I’m not a physician, but the Infirmarian at Glastonbury Abbey did once tell me the Greek word for such forgetfulness. I can’t recall it at the moment, but it shows that the condition exists.’

I might as well have talked to the wall: Alison Burnett remained totally unconvinced.

‘You found Clement’s tunic,’ she accused me. ‘Some beggar was wearing it. If my brother wasn’t dead, how did this man get hold of it?’

I sighed. ‘Your brother could have been stripped while he lay unconscious and his clothes sold some time or other to Bertha Mendip…’

‘Bertha Mendip?’ Alison demanded as my voice tailed off. ‘Who’s she?’

I shook my head. ‘It’s a long story. I can’t go into all the details now.’ I straightened my back. ‘Mistress Burnett, why have you asked me here? What is it you really require of me?’

It was her turn to lean forward, the hazel eyes with their distinctive green flecks suddenly blazing into life, the light from the fire reflected in their depths.

‘I want you to work for me,’ she said. ‘I’ll pay you well, never fear. I want you to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that this man who says he’s Clement is really an impostor. I want him revealed for the rogue that he is. And above all, I want to know the name of his partner in this crime.’

One half of me longed to accept her offer, but the other urged circumspection. I hedged a little while trying to make up my mind.

‘Mistress Burnett,’ I said, ‘I’m only a chapman. What makes you think I could be of any use to you in this matter?’

She regarded me scornfully. ‘Oh, come! Apart from the service you rendered my father, when you discovered the truth about Clement’s murder, there have been other instances when you have successfully employed this talent of yours as a solver of mysteries and puzzles. Do you think it remains unknown? Do you seriously believe that you can nose out the would-be assassin of the Duke of Gloucester without a single word of your success being noised abroad? William heard it talked of when he was in London last October, on business; and that was more than a year after the event, if I’m not mistaken. And goodness knows what you’ve been up to in the meantime.’

‘Fr-from whom did Master Burnett get this information?’ I stammered.

Alison shrugged. ‘He has a friend who has a friend at court, so from him, I would imagine. Is it of any importance?’

‘No … No, not at all!’ I assured her.

But I was astounded by this revelation that what I had done was of sufficient consequence to be a topic of conversation over a twelvemonth later. It also made me uneasy, for I have always valued my privacy as much as my freedom, and even at that comparatively young age, I had discovered that privacy’s greatest ally is anonymity. At the same time, I experienced a surge of pride and knew I could be in danger of getting a swollen head. I sent up a hasty, although admittedly half-hearted, prayer for humility.

‘Say something, man!’ Alison demanded, obviously annoyed by my silence. ‘Will you do this for me, or not?’

‘On one condition,’ I answered, raising my head and holding her eyes with mine. ‘That I am employed by you to seek out the truth, whatever that may be, even if it’s something you would prefer not to hear.’

Relief made her laugh. ‘Oh, is that all? You’re thinking what if you should discover that this man calling himself Clement really is my brother?’ I nodded and she continued, ‘You won’t. I’ve already told you that. I wish I could convince you. However, it’s of no moment if you’re willing to accept my offer. You’ll find out for yourself soon enough. So, that’s that.’

‘Not quite,’ I protested. ‘There are some questions I want to ask.’

The door opened and William Burnett entered the parlour. ‘Is everything settled?’ he enquired.

His wife turned towards him, seemingly apprehensive at this unlooked-for intrusion, and said, ‘Master Chapman has agreed to help us.’

‘I’ve agreed to try to discover the truth,’ I amended. ‘With respect, Mistress, it’s not quite the same thing.’

I had half-risen from my seat as I spoke, but Master Burnett waved at me to sit down again and began pacing restlessly to and fro.

‘Do you mean you believe this man might be my brother-in-law?’ he asked incredulously.

‘I mean I’ve no prejudice either way.’ I thought about this for a moment or two, before honesty forced me to add, ‘But I have to admit that I’d rather he was not Clement. Otherwise, I shall always feel guilty that, six years ago, I made a wrong assumption.’

‘Oh, it’s your peace of mind we should be worried about, is it?’ William sneered. ‘ Ours is unimportant!’

His attitude was becoming objectionable, and I had a sudden desire to wash my hands of both him and his wife. This thought must have shown in my face for Alison said quickly, ‘Hush, William! Your ill-humour has already cost us dear. Master Chapman — ’ she turned back to me — ‘you said you had some questions you wanted to ask me.’

I hesitated for a few seconds longer, but recognized that even if I walked away now, my curiosity would, in the end, get the better of me. I might as well commit myself and be done with it.

‘Very well,’ I said. ‘Mistress Burnett, how like your brother in appearance is this man?’

‘Not at all like,’ snapped her husband.

Alison drew a deep breath and closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds, before turning them reproachfully in his direction. ‘That’s not true, my dear, and you know it.’ She looked at me again. ‘Yes, there is a similarity of feature between Clement and this creature. It would be foolish to deny it, or why should my father have accepted him so readily? Hair and eyes are also of the right colour, and when I first saw him, even I had a qualm of doubt.’

‘But not for long?’ I suggested.

‘Indeed no! Almost at once I knew him for a cheat.’

‘May I ask why?’

Alison Burnett frowned as she sought for words to express her innermost feelings. ‘I was very close to my brother,’ she said at last. ‘Clement would … would have behaved differently towards me; been more pleased to see me. This man is hostile. His only concern is to worm himself into my father’s favour. It … It’s difficult to explain. It’s just something I feel instinctively.’