Кейт Седли - The Goldsmith’s Daughter

Ginèvre Napier, too, was true to my recollection of her, except that time had not dealt kindly with her. The lines around the grey-green eyes were more obvious, the brown spots on the backs of her hands more numerous. The plucked eyebrows and shaven forehead only emphasised her age, just as the many gold chains encircling her neck showed up the scrawniness of her throat.

She was seated near the window, busy with a piece of embroidery, but the heavy, almond-shaped eyelids were opened to their fullest extent as I entered the room, so that she could scrutinise me better.

‘I know you,’ she said in her husky voice. ‘We’ve met before.’

‘Some time ago,’ I answered. ‘You were so gracious as to answer some questions for me about Lady Skelton and her second husband, Eudo Colet. Her two children had been murdered.’

‘Of course! Now I remember! And did you ever get at the truth of the matter? Sit down and tell me all about it.’

So, at her bidding, I pulled up one of the other armchairs and regaled her with a brief account of the events in Devon three years previously. Happily, she was not a woman given to exclamations of dismay or demands for repetition, merely remarking, when I had finished my tale, ‘Rosamund always was a fool.’ She added, looking me up and down, ‘You’ve put on weight since last we met. You have the appearance of a contented man. You had a wife and little girl, as I recall.’

‘I was in fact a widower at the time, but I’ve married again since then. I now have a stepson and another child of my own on the way.’

Ginèvre laid aside her embroidery and leant back in her chair. She regarded me from beneath the heavy, half-closed lids.

‘I do hate people who are happily married,’ she mocked. ‘They’re so horribly smug. But then, a big, virile fellow like you could keep any woman happy between the sheets, I’ll be bound.’ I felt myself beginning to blush and she laughed. ‘All right, Master Chapman, I’ll spare you further embarrassment. I know why you’re here, although until you walked in, I’d no idea that you were the same chapman whom I’d met before. Barbara Perle heard from Miles Babcary that you were asking questions about the death of Gideon Bonifant, and warned me in her turn.’ She frowned. ‘These enquiries are on behalf of the Duke of Gloucester, as I understand it. Now why on earth should His Grace be interesting himself in the matter?’

I explained and Mistress Napier sniffed derisively.

‘If you want my opinion,’ she said, ‘the man’s deluding himself if he thinks that Mistress Shore or anyone else can influence his elder brother on this score. Clarence has been making a nuisance of himself for years, and I think King Edward will now grasp any opportunity to rid himself of Duke George once and for all. However, let us return to our sheep, as our French cousins so quaintly put it. What do you want to know about Gideon Bonifant’s murder?’

‘Anything that you can tell me,’ I answered. ‘Everything that you can recall.’

Savoury smells were beginning to emanate from the Napiers’ kitchen, reminding me not only that it was nearly dinnertime, but also that I had had no breakfast that morning. My empty stomach was starting to rumble.

‘Are you hungry?’ Ginèvre asked abruptly, and when I nodded, went on, ‘Then you can eat with me.’ She picked up a small silver handbell and rang it. ‘Lay another place in the dining parlour,’ she ordered when her maid answered the summons, and rose to her feet. ‘Come along,’ she said briskly. ‘Gregory’s at the shop and won’t be home until this evening. I dislike eating alone.’

I followed her to a room at the back of the house and within easy reach of the kitchen, so that the food came hot to table, an arrangement many other households would do well to emulate.

‘We can eat while we talk,’ my hostess remarked, sitting down and indicating that I should do likewise. ‘So! You want to know anything and everything about the afternoon that Gideon Bonifant died.’

A rich pottage of beef and vegetables was set before us and Ginèvre picked up her spoon. She did not, however, immediately fall to, but sat absent-mindedly stirring the contents round and round in the bowl, obviously immersed in her own thoughts. I waited in silence. Indeed, I was so busy cramming my mouth with lumps of bread soaked in this delicious broth that I doubt if I could have spoken even if I’d tried.

Arriving at a decision, Ginèvre suddenly raised her head and looked at me across the table. I was surprised to see an ugly, vindictive twist to the thin, heavily painted lips.

‘Who have you talked to?’ she asked, and when I named them, nodded. ‘In that case, I don’t suppose there’s anything I could add about the events of that afternoon that you haven’t been told already. But something I can tell you is that, even supposing Isolda did have a lover, as Gideon claimed, she wasn’t the only one present at Barbara’s birthday feast who had a reason for wanting to dispose of Master Bonifant.’

I paused in the act of conveying yet another hunk of bread to my gaping mouth, and stared at her. ‘If you mean Christopher Babcary or Meg Spendlove,’ I began thickly, but was allowed to get no further, being interrupted by a scornful laugh.

‘Kit Babcary! And who’s Meg Spendlove, pray?’ My hostess didn’t wait for a reply, but continued, ‘No, I’m referring to my husband and the woman I foolishly, trustingly, thought was my bosom friend, Barbara Perle.’

My mind turned somersaults. ‘Are you saying that … that Master Napier and … and Mistress Perle were … were–?’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake don’t be so mealy-mouthed,’ Ginèvre snapped, slamming one hand down on the table so hard that her spoon jumped out of her bowl. ‘Gregory and Barbara have been lovers this past year or more.’ She yelled for her maid and, when the girl appeared, ordered her to remove the broth. ‘Bring us something we can get our teeth into,’ she said.

‘Why are you telling me this?’ I asked slowly. ‘What does it have to do with the death of Master Bonifant?’

Ginèvre laughed. ‘He found out about them. I don’t know how, and I haven’t bothered to enquire. But he had a long nose and a mean mind. He threatened to tell both Miles Babcary and me about their liaison. Liaison,’ she repeated, smiling mirthlessly. ‘What a splendid word that is. What respectability it bestows on something that is merely the adulterous humping around in a seamy, sweaty bed. However, let us once again return to our sheep. Gregory immediately told Gideon that he would confess to me himself.’ Her lip curled. ‘He knew he had little to fear. There had been too many other women in the past. They meant nothing to him, as Barbara Perle meant nothing. He’ll never leave me, nor do I wish him to. He’s a good provider. I bawled him out and called him all the names I could lay my tongue to, and that, as far as I was concerned, was the end of the matter.’

‘But it was different for Mistress Perle?’

Venison steaks, stewed in red wine and peppercorns, were set before us, and then the maid slipped quietly from the room.

‘Of course it was different for Barbara. Gideon Bonifant was threatening to tell Miles, and that would have meant the end of all her hopes to become the second Mistress Babcary.’

‘What did Gideon want? Money?’ I asked, before filling my mouth with the deliciously tender meat.

‘No. He wanted Barbara’s promise to refuse Miles’s offer of marriage, should he make one.’

I could see that such a demand made sense to a man wishing to protect his wife’s inheritance and his own place in the Babcary household. His father-in-law’s proposal to buy the house in Paternoster Row and give it to him and Isolda, generous as it was, had no appeal for Gideon. He wanted no outsider, in the shape of Barbara Perle, influencing any of Miles’s future decisions. For who could tell what he might or might not be persuaded to do if neither his daughter nor his son-in-law was present to restrain him?