Edward Marston - The Vagabond Clown

Elias was shocked. ‘Only one name answers all that.’

‘Then it must be him.’

‘But he’s a friend of Westfield’s Men.’

‘Is he?’ said Nicholas. ‘I begin to wonder. It was he who encouraged our suspicion of Conway’s Men in order to throw us off the scent. And he who got close enough to know our innermost thoughts. Let’s go and find him, Owen,’ he decided. ‘It’s high time that we learnt if Sebastian Frant is the friend that we thought him.’

It took them some time to find the house. All that they knew was that Sebastian Frant lived close to Dover, along the Folkestone road, and they set off in that direction. The first people they encountered on the way were unable to help them. Though they had lived in the area for many years, and could recite the names of every village and hamlet for miles around, they had never heard of anyone called Frant. It was almost as if the former scrivener was in hiding. Nicholas Bracewell and Owen Elias rode on until they eventually found someone who gave them some guidance. The man was a local farmer, tending his cattle.

‘Frant?’ he repeated, shaking his head. ‘That name means nothing to me, sirs.’

‘He’s a tall man,’ said Nicholas, ‘with fifty years or more on his back. A slim, well-dressed fellow whom some would account handsome.’

‘Do not forget his daughter,’ added Elias with a grin. ‘Thomasina is an angel in human form. A fresh, fair virgin of eighteen or nineteen years at most.’

‘Ah,’ said the farmer. ‘I think I know who you mean.’

‘Once seen, Thomasina is not easily forgotten.’

‘Do they live far away?’ asked Nicholas.

The farmer nodded. ‘Little over a mile, sir, but the house is difficult to find. I’ve seen the pair of them from time to time but never exchanged more than a friendly wave. I did not know their names. They like their privacy.’

Taking careful note of the directions, the two men set off again. They soon reached the wood that the farmer had mentioned and picked their way along a track that twisted and turned for hundreds of yards until it brought them out into open country. The house was not at first visible. Shaded by trees, it was set in a hollow in the middle distance. It was only when they got much closer that they had their first glimpse of it. Elias was astounded.

‘Is that where Sebastian lives?’ he exclaimed.

‘It’s much bigger than I imagined, Owen.’

‘We are in the wrong profession. If this is what a scrivener can afford, I’ll quit the stage tomorrow and take up a pen.’

‘Sebastian did not buy this place with what he earned from us,’ said Nicholas. ‘I know what fees he charged because I handed the money over to him. No matter how diligent his pen, he’d not have amassed enough to afford such a house.’

‘He must have had private wealth, Nick.’

‘Then why did he need to work as a scrivener?’

‘Let’s ask him.’

They cantered down towards the house, a large, low, rambling structure with a thatched roof that gleamed in the sunshine and walls that had been painted white. It was set in several acres of land, some of it cultivated but most kept for horses to graze. To the side of the house were a stable block and a run of outbuildings, all of which appeared to be in good repair. Sebastian Frant clearly maintained his home well. Tethering their horses at the front of the house, they went up to a door that was made of solid oak and fortified with iron spikes. In response to a knock, a servant opened the door. He was a sturdy young man with darting eyes.

‘Is your master at home?’ asked Nicholas.

‘No, sir.’

‘Can you tell us where he is?’

‘No, sir,’ said the man bluntly.

‘In that case, we’ll wait until he returns.’

‘My orders are to let nobody in the house.’

‘Is Thomasina here, by any chance?’ asked Elias. A flicker of the servant’s eyes betrayed him. ‘Ah, in that case, we’ll speak with her instead.’

‘She may not wish to see you.’

‘Tell her that we insist,’ said Nicholas. ‘We come from Westfield’s Men.’

‘Yes,’ said Elias. ‘Thomasina and her father watched us perform this afternoon. I want to give her the chance to congratulate me properly.’

‘Wait here,’ grunted the man, about to shut the door in their faces.

‘Let them in, Daniel,’ said a voice behind him. The servant stood back to reveal Thomasina Frant. She looked at them in surprise. ‘What brings you here?’

‘We need to speak with you,’ said Nicholas.

‘Then you had better come in.’

Her manner was pleasant, if not welcoming. She led them into the parlour, a spacious room with low beams, a huge fireplace and some expensive furniture. Nicholas took particular note of an ornate oak chest and a high backed chair that had been exquisitely carved. He was also aware of the fact that the servant was lurking protectively outside the door. Thomasina invited them to sit down but remained standing.

‘Father is not here,’ she explained, looking from one to the other. ‘He’s visiting friends and may be away for some days.’

‘Let’s talk about a friend of yours first,’ suggested Nicholas. ‘When I met you at the harbour the other day, you said that you’d been bidding farewell to someone who was sailing to Calais.’

‘And so I was.’

‘No ship left Dover that afternoon.’

‘Then the vessel must have been delayed.’

‘I begin to wonder if it existed,’ said Nicholas, ‘along with your friend.’

‘Do you doubt my word?’ she said with indignation. ‘Have you ridden all this way to accuse me of telling lies? I’ll call Margaret, if you wish. She’ll vouch for me.’

‘I’m sure that she will. Margaret is well-trained, like that other servant who is standing out in the passageway as a guard dog. They’ll only say what they’ve been told to say. I’d rather hear the truth from you.’

‘You’ve already done so.’

‘We took you for an honest girl, Thomasina,’ said Elias.

‘This is intolerable,’ she retorted with a rare flash of anger. ‘What I do when I’m in Dover is my business. I’ll not be interrogated like this. Daniel will show you out.’

Nicholas was determined. ‘Not until we’ve discussed a few other things.’

‘Other things?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Such as our visit to Arden’s house in Faversham. Or the performance of The Foolish Friar that upset you so much.’

‘I was not upset at all,’ she said, folding her arms. ‘I liked the play.’

‘What did you think of me as a friar?’ asked Elias, fishing for a compliment.

‘Very little, Owen,’ said Nicholas, ‘and I suspect that Thomasina thought even less of Barnaby Gill in a habit. She and her father were appalled.’

‘Why?’

‘Let her tell us.’

She was perfectly calm. ‘There’s nothing to tell.’

‘I believe that there is.’

‘You can believe what you wish, Master Bracewell. It’s of no concern to me. What does trouble me is that you and Master Elias are guests in our house yet all that you can do is to try to browbeat me. I took you for gentlemen. I can see that I was mistaken.’

‘We thought you were a friend,’ said Nicholas, ‘but we were also mistaken.’

‘How can you say that? Father has the fondest memories of Westfield’s Men. Did we not come to watch you play out of friendship? We saw Cupid’s Folly in Maidstone and, this very afternoon, we admired Master Elias in A Trick To Catch A Chaste Lady .’

Elias beamed. ‘Thank you.’

‘My interest is in The Foolish Friar ,’ said Nicholas. ‘And in that visit we made to a certain house in Faversham. Now I know why that particular place made you cry.’