“Threatened?” Symond sounded puzzled. “His wardship, yes. Not threatened. No…I told her we’d agreed on it. That we meant…all of us…not to leave him…to her.”
He made a small lift of one hand’s fingers toward Jack as if bidding him to take over, and Jack said, “After Guy died, when we all talked together-my father and mother, Symond and his wife, and me-we all found that, one time and another we had all had Guy say to us he didn’t think Cecely should have the raising of Edward if anything happened to him. He hadn’t done anything about it before he died. There was a lot he didn’t do before he died. But none of us thinks she’s fit to raise a cat, let alone Edward, and we think Guy had come to know it, too.”
“Didn’t…” Symond started, paused to take several shallow breaths, then finished, “…I tell you that?”
“You didn’t,” Frevisse said. “You simply said she threatened to tell about Jack’s bill of obligation.”
Symond made an effort toward a smile. “Thank you for that, by the way. And for the deeds.”
“I told him,” said Jack.
“It means though…Cecely will hate you…as much as she hates us.”
That brought a sudden, startling new thought to Frevisse. She set it aside for later and said to Symond, holding steadily to the present point, “So it was decided among Guy’s kin that you were to have Edward.”
Symond made a small grunting sound of agreement, and Jack said, “Yes.”
“What happened was that you told Cecely you wanted Edward’s wardship, and she then countered with the threat of Jack’s debt.”
Symond made the barest nod, agreeing to that.
“One question more,” Frevisse said. “Then I’ll leave you to sleep again. Did you say anything to Cecely about knowing she was a nun? Or anything by which she might have guessed you knew it?”
“Nothing. To her or anyone,” Symond whispered. “Not until she had gone. Guy had me swear…it was only if there was…trouble. Otherwise…secret always. I swore…that to him.”
Frevisse straightened. “Thank you. I’ll leave you to your rest now.”
Only when she was out of the room did she find how greatly angry she was all over again. At this time yesterday Symond Hewet had been a hale man, fine in both wits and body. Today he was so ill and damaged that dying could come to him almost more easily than living, and if she was right about why this had been done to him, she was going to be even angrier than she already was.
There was momentary relief in seeing neither John Rowcliffe nor Mistress Lawsell as she passed through the hall. Just as when she had been going to Symond, only a few of the abbot’s men were sitting about, taking no interest in her. Meeting Rowcliffe would probably have been no great matter, but she was certain that encountering Mistress Lawsell would be anything but pleasant. At any other time, the trouble between the mother and daughter would have been the center of everyone’s heed. Now it was an aggravating distraction that Frevisse wished Abbot Gilberd would see to, rather than spending his time in long talks with his sister and far too little time, so far as Frevisse could tell, on the problem of Cecely. Unless-again that terrible thought-they were talking over at such length what was to be done with Cecely because Abbot Gilberd wanted to leave her here and Domina Elisabeth was resisting it.
If that was it, Frevisse prayed Domina Elisabeth held her ground at whatever cost.
That being a worry about which she could do nothing, Frevisse pushed it away from her. There were an irksome number of things in the world about which she could do nothing. Let her keep her heed on those that she maybe could. Even though that meant she had to talk to Cecely again and never mind that was least among things she wanted to do. With the question that had taken her to Symond Hewet still stark before her, she went grimly to do it.
Dame Perpetua looked up from the book she was reading to say as Frevisse neared her, “Whatever you did to her last time, don’t do it again, if you please. She has been pacing and angry ever since. If she kicks that stool across the floor one more time, I may hit her with it.”
“Has she said anything?”
“Said anything? Other than damning all of us and everyone else she can name to Hell? Only that man’s name-her paramour’s-over and over, angrily some of the time, crying the rest of it.” Dame Perpetua did not seem moved to pity by that.
From the shadows beyond the doorway, Cecely said bitterly, “I can hear you talking of me!”
“Then know I’ve been hearing you, too,” Dame Perpetua snapped back at her, “and not liking you any the better for it!”
Frevisse went in. Standing against the far wall, Cecely said, “Go away. I don’t have to talk to you. I don’t want to talk to you.”
As bluntly back, Frevisse asked, “How did you know it was Symond who told the rest of the Rowcliffes you were a nun and might be here?”
“What? Because…because he’s the one Guy told.”
“How did you know that? That Guy had told him?”
With the anger that seemed so often to serve her in place of thought, Cecely flung back, “Because Guy told me! How else would I know?”
Frevisse stared at her a long moment, then swung around and left her.
Dame Perpetua asked, “What was that between you?” but Frevisse only shook her head against answering and went away along the walk. She paused at the foot of the stairs to the prioress’ rooms but could not find it in herself to turn to Domina Elisabeth or Abbot Gilberd for help in this just yet, and she went on, out of the cloister and back to the guesthall, to the kitchen this time.
With a great many people to be fed at midday, Luce and Tom were bustling while Ela sat hunched on her stool well out of the way, ready to give orders if need be. There was pause when Frevisse came in, with Luce bobbing a quick curtsy from where she was slicing some pale vegetable at the worktable, and Tom giving a kind of bow without stopping stirring a large pot of something on the fire. Ela did not try to rise with her stiff knees but gave a respectful nod of her head while Frevisse came fully to a stop, taking a deep breath of the good smell with surprised pleasure before crossing to kneel down beside Ela and say, “Whatever is cooking, its smell is a delight.”
“Pease pottage with ham, and in a while there’ll be a bit of onion in it, too,” Ela said. “Master Rowcliffe talked with me, thank you much for that. He’s already sent a man off to Banbury, so we don’t need to eye everything we put into the pot with a question as to whether there’ll be anything left for tomorrow and who knows how many days. Besides that, Father Henry brought in two conies, and Luce is going to make a cony pie for tomorrow.”
All of that made for one less trouble off Frevisse’s mind, leaving only the greater ones, and she asked first, “How does Mistress Lawsell?”
“Last heard, she was demanding that Abbot Gilberd talk to her. He’s promised he’ll do so after Vespers. That didn’t make her happy. Doubt he’s looking forward to it. What’s toward with Domina Elisabeth? Is she so taken up with the whore’s trouble, she’s no heed to give to the Lawsells and be done with them? She’s ill, is she?”
Frevisse found answer to that came more slowly than she liked. Only after a pause did she say, “She’s not had Dame Claire to see her. That’s all I know of it.”
“Hm,” said Ela.
Before Ela could ask more, Frevisse went quickly to the question that had brought her here, saying, “I need you to tell me who from the cloister has been in here since Easter.”
“Here? In the kitchen? Malde has come twice or so to help since the abbot came with all his folk.”
“I mean in the hall itself, too. Anyone anywhere around here.”