Kate Sedley - Death and the Chapman

‘He had no reason to disbelieve her. There was nothing at all to suggest that Richard and Jacob Pender had come to harm. No bodies have ever been discovered.’ She raised her eyes suddenly and looked straight into mine. ‘They have simply disappeared, like your Clement Weaver, off the face of the earth.’

In the quiet which followed Lady Mallory’s last remark, Bess stirred uneasily on her stool in the corner, where she had retired to listen. It was as though for the first time some sense of evil or impending disaster had touched her consciousness. I suspected that until now Sir Richard’s disappearance had been something of a joke to her; a cause of prurient speculation that he might have absconded with a secret light-o’-love whom he had maintained in London. Suddenly, the seriousness of the situation, the very real possibility that harm could have befallen her master, had been borne in upon Bess, and she was frightened.

Her fear seemed to transmit itself to Lady Mallory, whose fingers began closing and unclosing convulsively around the arms of her chair. Perhaps she, too, had toyed with the idea that her husband could have left her for another woman; had not been totally convinced that anything dangerous had happened to him. Bess had assured me that Sir Richard and his wife were happy together, but who knows what really goes on beneath the surface of a marriage? What one partner truly feels for another? Lady Mallory might have had good reason for thinking herself deserted. Certainly she had abandoned her efforts at search with surprising speed, but, to be fair, the death of her father must have considerably occupied her thoughts and

time during the past few weeks.

The silence had grown uncomfortable. I nervously cleared my throat and said: ‘As I told your ladyship, I promised Alderman Weaver that on reaching London I would make what inquiries I could for his son, even though, at the time I thought it foolish. Now, however, I feel that there must be some link between both his and your husband’s disappearance and the Crossed Hands inn; enough, at any rate, to justify my taking an interest in the place. If I discover anything, I will inform you.’

With an effort, Lady Mallory stopped fidgeting, clasping her hands together in her lap. The firelight turned the silk of her robe from black to plum to amber.

‘I should be grateful for any news of Sir Richard.’ She spoke stiffly, and I could see that the idea of being obligated to a common chapman did not please her. But, like Alderman Weaver, she realized that I had advantages not enjoyed by her servants nor even by the Sergeant of the Watch. No one would suspect me of over-much intelligence nor of having any interest in her husband’s disappearance. I was in a position to make inquiries without actually seeming to do so, and might also pick up scraps of information which would give me a clue to his fate.

I rose from my stool and made her a bow. ‘That is agreed, then. And now, I must take my leave. It’s dark and I have a long walk back to Canterbury.’

She said reluctantly: ‘You must have food and drink before you go. Bess! Take your friend to Robert with instructions to feed him, then come straight back here. I want you to brush my hair before I go to bed. And you can find Matthew for me. I need him to sing to me before I sleep. ‘ Lady Mallory shivered suddenly, as though someone had walked over her grave. ‘I shall ride the nightmare, otherwise.’

Bess came across and curtseyed demurely, but it was obvious from her expression that she was disappointed by the command for her immediate return. She had had hopes, that girl, as I had, of a fond and protracted farewell. But it was not to be. With a pout of resignation, she inclined her head in my direction and said: ‘Come with me.’

The steward’s room was next to the buttery at the back of the house, and was furnished as befitted his exalted status among the household servants. A fire burned on the hearth beneath the carved stone mantelpiece, which was painted red and blue. The rushes covering the floor had obviously been fresh that morning: no stale odours arose from them, such as would have been noticeable after one or two days. A long table stood in the centre of the room, and, in addition to a couple of benches, there was also a single armchair, old and blackened, it was true, but carved from good, solid oak. Tallow candles flared in the iron wall-sconces, sending shadows across the scarlet and white painted walls. A comfortable room for a steward; perhaps just a little too comfortable. I recalled Bess’s words concerning Robert’s aspirations. Maybe they were founded on firmer ground than she had thought. Maybe Lady Mallory had given him reason.

Robert was none too pleased to be made personally responsible for my welfare. When Bess had delivered both me and her mistress’s instructions to him, he looked annoyed, giving me one of his high-bred stares, which he plainly copied from my lady.

‘Surely,’ he protested, ‘this… this person can be seen to in the kitchen.’

Bess turned on her heel with a provocative swing of her hips. ‘Those were my instructions. I am simply the messenger. But you would be unwise to disregard them.’

She sent me a farewell glance across her shoulder, fluttered the long dark eyelashes and then was gone. Robert and I were left facing one another.

‘You’d better sit down,’ he said at last, indicating one of the benches drawn up to the table. He went to the door, opened it and yelled a name into the draughty corridor. After a lapse of some moments, a young boy appeared, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. The steward cuffed him. ‘Dozing again, in front of the range? Tell Cook to prepare some food and ale for the chapman here. My lady’s orders. Bring it in here when it’s ready. Now, get along with you, and don’t be all night about it!’

The lad was clearly glad to escape and vanished swiftly. Robert seated himself in the armchair and tried to ignore my unwanted presence. He, too, I judged to be of some thirty to thirty-five summers; a little older, possibly, than his mistress. He had sandy hair, and was not unhandsome if one overlooked a tendency to baldness. His high-bridged, aquiline nose was the strongest feature of a thin, almost cadaverous face, giving his features a misleading strength of character. But vanity sat in the pale blue eyes and gave him his dominant expression.

There was silence between us until the boy returned, bearing a mazer of ale in one hand and a loaded platter in the other, both of which he set down on the table in front of me. Then he slithered quickly from the room before there was time to incur any more of the steward’s bile. I addressed myself eagerly to the food. It was some hours since I had last eaten and I had not realized just how hungry I was.

There were several slices of thick black bread, cheese and butter, wrapped in dock leaves. A small bowl containing blackberries sweetened with honey, and a slice of curd tart flavoured with ginger and saffron completed the meal, which I munched my way through with relish. The cook had done me proud, considering that I was only a common chapman who could hardly expect distinguished treatment. Robert stared doggedly into the fire while I ate, but as I lifted the mazer of ale to my lips, he finally condescended to address me.

‘What was your business with my lady?’

I toyed for a minute with the idea of misleading him; pretending that Lady Mallory had wanted to buy some of my wares. Then I recollected that I did not have my pack with me. I had left it in what I trusted were the safe hands of the Hospital Warden. After a few seconds more of deliberation, I decided to tell the truth. Robert would probably learn it from Bess, if not from Lady Mallory herself, eventually.