C.J. Sansom - Revelation

AN HOUR LATER I was knocking on her door. I had stopped first at my house. Timothy was frightened to be questioned about Yarington again, and although he could not give me the name I was looking for he gave me a description, which if it did not prove my suspicions at least did not disprove them. It was enough to send me hurrying round to Dorothy's, barely pausing to ascertain from Joan that Barak had not yet returned.

Margaret the maid answered the door. 'Is Mistress Elliard in?' I asked.

'She has gone downstairs to have a word with Master Elliard's clerk about some payments due to his estate. Some clients have not paid because they know Master Elliard is dead. They think they can get away with it.' Her voice with its Irish lilt rose indignantly. 'And they say lawyers are wicked!'

Impatient though I was, I smiled at Margaret. She had been a tower of strength to Dorothy these last weeks, had probably helped her, been closer to her, than anyone. 'You feel much for your mistress, do you not?' I said.

'She was always good to me, patient of my clumsy ways when I started. And Master Elliard. It used to warm my heart to see how loving they were to each other.'

'Yes, they were.' It struck me that a week ago Dorothy would not have gone down to check on Roger's fees with the clerk, she would have sent me. The thought made me sad, and I chided myself for selfishness. 'She's coming back to herself,' I said.

'Yes, sir. Slowly. But it would help if she didn't have that wretched cuckoo in the nest.' She lowered her voice, inclining her head to the room Bealknap had taken over. 'He is running the servants ragged with his demands, and now he has rediscovered his appetite he is eating Mistress Elliard out of house and home. He is a guest, but the cost—'

'Then I will make an end to it,' I said grimly. I crossed the landing. The cloth of my shirt chafed against my raw back. Before this weekend I would have taken it to Guy to treat; but now there was no one, for I hated anyone else seeing my bent back. I took a deep breath, and shoved open the door of the chamber where Bealknap lay.

He was asleep, lying on his back and looking tranquil as a baby, a shock-'headed baby with a fuzz of yellow stubble on its cheeks. His face, I saw, had regained both colour and flesh. A tray with a plate, empty save for drops of gravy and some chicken bones, lay on the floor. I looked down on him, then kicked the bed violently.

Bealknap started awake and stared at me petulantly with his pale blue eyes. He clutched the coverlet with his bony hands. 'What do you mean, coming in here and kicking the bed:' he asked. 'I am a guest.'

'A guest who constantly troubles his hostess's servants, and runs up great bills for food.'

'Dr Malton said I must stay here another week,' he answered indignantly. 'I have been very ill, I am still recovering.'

'Rubbish. Guy would never say that without consulting Mistress Elliard. He has manners. He is a gentleman.' I kicked the bed again.

'Why are you so angry?' He thought for a moment, then frowned, his eyes sliding away. 'Was it because of that solicitor I told you about? I am sure he was only making enquiries for some client, about a case.' He struggled to sit up. 'You cannot report me for it. I told you about it while in fear of death, I was temporarily non compos mentis'

'I wonder if you have ever been anything else.' I looked at him. He was so caught up in himself he probably did not even see the effect he was having on this grieving household. I leaned over him, and said, 'Either you get yourself dressed and take yourself back to your own chambers this afternoon, or I will ask Mistress Elliard to come round to my house tomorrow, and while she is out I will send Barak here to turf you out in your nightshirt. Margaret will let him in and she will keep it quiet, do not doubt that.'

Bealknap gave a nasty smile. 'Oh yes, I see now. You would like to have Mistress Elliard to yourself. That is what this is all about.' He gave a wheezy laugh. 'She'd never be interested in an ugly old hunchback like you.'

'I'll tell Barak to roll you in some puddles when he kicks you out. And you make sure some money is sent over to Mistress Elliard from that great chest of gold you have.' At those words, he looked outraged. 'She is a poor widow now, you wretch. Two gold half- angels should cover it. I will ask her later if she has had it.'

'I am a guest, guests do not pay.' His voice thrilled with indignation now.

Outside, I heard the door open and close again. Dorothy had come back.

'Out, Bealknap,' I said. 'This afternoon. Or take the conse- quences.' I kicked the bed again, and left the room.

DOROTHY WAS in the parlour, not standing or sitting by the fireplace from which she had stirred so seldom since Roger died, but by the window looking out at the fountain. So she can do that now, I thought. I realized it was days since I had seen her, since that almost- kiss. I feared she might be out of sorts with me, but she only looked weary.

'Bealknap will be gone by this evening,' I said.

She looked relieved. 'Thank you. I do not wish to be uncharitable, but that man is unbearable.'

'I am sorry Guy suggested he stay here. I feel responsible—'

'No. It was me that let Master Bealknap in. Dr Malton came and saw him yesterday. Bealknap said he was told he should stay here another week—'

'Lies.' I shifted my position slightly, and a stab of pain went down my back. I winced.

'Matthew, what is the matter?' Dorothy stepped forward. 'Are you ill?’

'It is nothing. A slight burn. A house caught fire, up in Hertz fordshire.' I took a deep breath. 'We thought we had the killer, thought it was all over at last, but he escaped.'

'Will this never end?' she said quietly. 'Oh, I am sorry, I see you are tired, and hurt too. I am so selfish, caught up in my own troubles. A foolish and inconstant woman. Can you forgive me?'

'There is nothing to forgive.'

Dorothy had moved back to her favoured position, standing before the fire, the wooden frieze behind her. I studied it as she poured liquid from a bottle into two glasses and passed one to me.

'Aqua vitae,' she said with a smile. 'I think you need it.'

I sipped the burning liquid gratefully.

'You are so kind to me,' she said. She smiled, sadly, her pretty cheeks flushing. 'When we last met — I am sorry - my mind is all at sixes and sevens, my humours disturbed.' She looked at me. 'I need time, Matthew, much time before I can see what the future will be without Roger.'

'I understand. I am in your hands, Dorothy. I ask nothing.'

'You are not angry with me?'

'No.' I smiled. 'I thought you were angry with me, over Beal' knap.'

'Just irritated by him beyond measure. We women get cantankerous then.'

'You will never be that, if you live to eighty.'

Dorothy reddened again. The light from the window caught the frieze, showing up the different colour of the poor repair. 'It is a shame that discoloured patch draws the eye so,' she said, shifting the conversation to mundane matters. 'It used to annoy Roger terribly.'

'Yes.'

'The man who originally made it was such an expert. We contracted him again after that corner was damaged, but he was recently dead. His son came instead. He did a poor job.'

I took a deep breath, oddly reluctant to say what was in my mind.

'The carpenter and his son. Do you — do you remember their names?'

She gave me a sharp look. 'Why does that matter?'

'One of the killer's other victims also had a carpenter come to repair a damaged screen.'

Dorothy went pale. She clutched at her throat. 'What was their name? The father and son?'

'Cantrell,' she said. 'Their name was Cantrell.'