К Сэнсом - Heartstone

‘That is right. If Dyrick was acting for Hobbey in the wardship, he could not act against him in the same matter.’

‘It was more than that, sir. There was anger in Michael’s voice.’

I sensed a new stillness in the room, and glanced over to the windows. The maids-in-waiting had stopped sewing, and were listening as intently as the Queen and I.

‘It occurred to me that on the way back home from Dorset Michael might have visited Hugh. I asked him outright, and he admitted it was true. He had not made an appointment because he feared Master Hobbey might not receive him. He said when he arrived he found that something frightful had been done. He had to find a lawyer whom he could trust, and if he could not he would file the case in court himself.’

‘I wish you had come to me, Bess,’ the Queen said. ‘You could have.’

‘Your majesty, I feared my son was losing his reason. I could not see anything that could have happened to Hugh that would drive Michael to such a state. Shortly afterwards Michael said he had found a lodging of his own. He said he was not going back to Dorset. He –’At last she broke down, burying her head in her hands and weeping. The Queen leaned over and held Bess close against her breast.

At length she regained her composure. The Queen had given her a handkerchief, which she twisted and squeezed in her hands. She spoke, but with her head bowed so low I was looking at the top of her white coif.

‘Michael moved into lodgings down by the river. He visited me most days. He told me he had filed papers in the Court of Wards by himself and paid the fee. I fancied he looked a little easier then, but in the days that followed that old, drawn look returned. Then several days passed when he did not visit. The following morning the local constable came.’ She looked up, eyes bereft. ‘He told me my son had been found dead in his room, he had hanged himself from a roof beam. He left me a note – I have it. Master Warner said I should bring it with me for you to see.’

‘May I?’

Bess produced a folded scrap of dirty paper from her dress. She passed it to me with a trembling hand. I opened it. Forgive me, Mother , was scrawled on it. I looked up at her. ‘This is Michael’s writing?’ I asked.

‘You think I do not know my own son’s hand?’ she asked angrily. ‘He wrote this, as I told the coroner at the inquest, before the jury and all the curious public.’

‘Come, Bess,’ the Queen said gently. ‘Master Shardlake needs to ask these questions.’

‘I know, your majesty, but it is hard.’ She looked at me. ‘I apologize, sir.’

‘I understand. Was the hearing before the London coroner?’

‘Yes, Master Grice. A hard, stupid man.’

I smiled sadly. ‘That he is.’

‘The coroner asked me if my son had seemed unwell and I said yes, his behaviour had been strange lately. They brought in a verdict of suicide. I did not say anything about Hampshire.’

‘Why not?’

She raised her head and looked at me again, defiantly. ‘Because I had decided to bring that matter to the Queen. And now I have come for justice, by the Queen’s good grace.’ She sat back. I realized there was a thread of steel under Bess’s pain.

I asked quietly, ‘What do you think your son found in Hampshire that could have driven him to kill himself?’

‘God rest and quiet his soul, I do not know, but I believe it was something terrible.’

I did not answer. I wondered if Bess needed to believe that now, had turned pain outwards into anger.

‘Show Master Shardlake the summons from the court,’ the Queen said.

Bess reached into her dress and pulled out a large paper, folded many times, and handed it to me. It was a summons from the Court of Wards, ordering all parties with business in the matter of the wardship of Hugh William Curteys to attend the court on the twenty-ninth of June, in five days’ time. It was addressed to Michael Calfhill as petitioner – they would not know he was dead – and I noted a copy had also been delivered to Vincent Dyrick at the Inner Temple. It was dated near three weeks before.

‘It reached me only last week,’ Bess said. ‘It arrived at my son’s lodgings, was taken to the coroner, then he sent it to me as Michael’s next of kin.’

‘Have you seen a copy of Michael’s actual application? It is called a Bill of Information. I need to know what he said.’

‘No, sir. I know only what I have told you.’

I looked at Bess and the Queen. I decided to be direct. ‘Whatever the application says, it is Michael’s, based on facts within his knowledge. But Michael is dead, and the court might not hear the case without Michael there to give evidence.’

‘I know nothing of the law,’ Bess said, ‘only what happened to my son.’

The Queen said, ‘I did not think the courts were sitting, I heard they were dissolved early because of the war.’

‘Wards and Augmentations are still sitting.’ The courts that brought revenue to the King, they would sit all summer. The judges there were hard men. I turned to the Queen. ‘Sir William Paulet is Master of the Court of Wards. I wonder if he is sitting himself, or has other duties connected with the war. He is a senior councillor.’

‘I asked Master Warner. Sir William goes to Portsmouth soon as governor, but he will be sitting in court next week.’

‘Will they make Master Hobbey come?’ Bess asked.

‘I imagine Dyrick will attend on his behalf at the first hearing. What the court will make of Michael’s application will depend on what it says and whether any witnesses can be found to help us. You mentioned that when Master Hobbey applied for the wardship Michael sought the help of the Curteyses’ vicar.’

‘Yes. Master Broughton. Michael said he was a good man.’

‘Do you know whether Michael saw him recently?’

She shook her head. ‘I asked him that. He said not.’

‘Did anyone else know about this application?’ I asked. ‘A friend of Michael’s perhaps.’

‘He was a stranger in London. He had no friends here. Apart from me,’ she added sadly.

‘Can you find out?’ the Queen asked. ‘Can you take the case? On Bess’s behalf?’

I hesitated. All I could see here was a bundle of intense emotional connections. Between the Queen and Bess, Bess and Michael, Michael and those children. No facts, no evidence, maybe no case at all. I looked at the Queen. She wanted me to help her old servant. I thought of the boy Hugh who was at the centre of it all, only a name to me, but alone and unprotected.

‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘I will do the best I can.’

I LEFT THE QUEEN an hour later, with the suicide note and the summons in my pocket. I had arranged with Mistress Calfhill for her to call on me later in the week so that I could take a full statement.

Warner was waiting in the presence chamber. He led me up a flight of winding steps to his office, a cramped room with shelves of papers and parchments tied in pink ribbon.

‘So you will take the case,’ he said.

I smiled. ‘I cannot refuse the Queen.’

‘Nor I. She has asked me to write to John Sewster, the Court of Wards attorney. I will say next Monday’s hearing should go forward, even though Calfhill is dead. I will say the Queen wishes it, in the interests of justice. He will tell Sir William so, and that should stop him from throwing the case out. Paulet is a man for whom political advantage is all – he would not wish to upset her.’ Warner looked at me seriously, fingering his long beard. ‘But that is as far as we can go, Brother Shardlake. I do not want to press the connection to the Queen too far. We do not know what lies at the bottom of this case. Maybe nothing, but if Michael Calfhill did find something serious, it may be a matter the Queen should not be publicly involved in.’