‘Alone and forlorn. That’s what persuaded me of her sincerity.’
‘How?’
‘The way she responded to the man’s death,’ said Nicholas. ‘She was deeply moved. Their friendship was clearly of great moment to her. What girl would mourn the passing of a mere acquaintance, who paid for her favours now and then? She loved him, Anne. That’s what disturbed Frank most.’
‘Most sons would feel uneasy in such a situation.’
It was mid-evening when Nicholas Bracewell returned to the house in Bankside. Anne welcomed him home then gave him an account of her visit to Lady Slaney. He was grateful for all the information she had garnered in the course of her visit. The details of Sir Eliard Slaney’s domestic life accorded very much with his expectations, and Nicholas had been pleased to get confirmation of the fact that Slaney had been at Smithfield to watch the last minutes of Gerard’s Quilter’s life. It strengthened the link between him and the two witnesses at the murder trial. Nicholas’s own tidings, however, could not wait. Before Anne could relate everything she had heard from the busy lips of Lady Slaney, he told her of the fortuitous arrival of Moll Comfrey. She was impressed.
‘You have vindicated Frank’s father in the space of a single day.’
‘It is not as easy as that, I fear.’
‘Moll Comfrey’s testimony will stand up in court, will it not?’
‘If we can find a judge to open the case once more.’
‘But you must, Nick. In the name of justice.’
‘Judges and justice do not always go together,’ he pointed out. ‘If they did, then Gerard Quilter would not have met such an ignominious death. Our first task was to let Moll Comfrey make a sworn statement in front of a magistrate.’
‘And did she?’
‘Willingly.’
‘What did the magistrate say?’
‘He was not sanguine, Anne,’ he confessed. ‘He did not think we could overturn the verdict in a murder trial on the strength of a deposition from an ignorant girl. That was not the way he described her to me in private,’ he recalled with irritation. ‘His language was more contemptuous.’
‘He took her for a bawdy basket as well, then?’ she said.
Nicholas grew angry. ‘It does not matter what she is or how she makes her living. Moll Comfrey only came forward because she has testimony that will absolve a man she cared for from the charge of murder. It took courage on her part. The girl can neither read nor write, Anne. The magistrate bullied her until she was utterly confused.’
‘Will she hold up under examination, Nick?’
‘I think so. Moll was confused but never browbeaten.’
‘What happens next?’
‘The magistrate promised to look into the matter,’ said Nicholas with a sigh, ‘but he warned us that it would take time before any decision was made. The law is quick enough to condemn a man to death but it moves like a snail when a miscarriage of justice has occurred.’
‘How did Frank Quilter react to all this?’
‘Sadly. He expected too much, too soon.’
‘Will you need more than Moll Comfrey’s word?’ she asked.
‘Much more, Anne. The magistrate made that clear.’
‘Not a helpful man, then, it would appear.’
‘No, said Nicholas. ‘At times, the fellow was all but obstructive.’
‘What is his name?’
‘Justice Haygarth.’
Adam Haygarth rode through the peopled streets at a steady trot. A big, fleshy, round-shouldered man in his fifties, he had grey hair and a wispy grey beard that looked as if it had been blown on to his chin by a strong wind instead of actually growing there. Ordinarily, he moved through London with an air of condescension, looking down in disdain at the citizens he passed from his elevated position as a justice of the peace. This time, however, he put his self-importance aside in the interests of speed. All that he could think about was reaching his destination. When the crowds thinned slightly, he was able to kick his horse into a canter. It was a warm evening, still light. By the time he reached Bishopsgate, there were thick beads of sweat on his face. He dismounted, tethered his horse and hurried to the front door of the house. After licking his lips nervously, he knocked hard.
Sir Eliard Slaney was at home. A servant conducted the visitor into the parlour, where Sir Eliard was being forced to admire his wife’s latest purchase from her milliner. Wearing the new hat, Lady Slaney was parading up and down so that her husband could view her from different angles. When she saw Haygarth, she insisted that he, too, should tell her how remarkable she looked in the hat. With an effort, he duly obliged. Haygarth signalled the importance of his visit with a glance at Slaney, who immediately ushered his wife towards the door.
‘The hat is a triumph, Rebecca,’ he said, easing her out of the room. ‘But you must excuse me while I talk to Justice Haygarth.’
‘When shall I wear it in public, Eliard?’
‘As soon as you wish, my dear.’
He closed the door behind her and gave a world-weary sigh.
‘My wife has a strange passion for hats,’ he explained.
‘I have always admired the way that she dresses herself, Sir Eliard.’
‘That is her only fault, alas. Rebecca demands rather too much admiration. Still,’ he went on, ‘I doubt if you came to discuss the skills of her milliner. What means this unexpected visit, Adam? You look as if you have been running.’
‘Riding hard,’ said Haygarth.
‘You were wont to move more leisurely when you are in the saddle.’
‘Urgency required speed, Sir Eliard.’
‘Urgency?’
‘I had enquiries to make elsewhere at first,’ said Haygarth, taking a paper from inside his doublet. ‘Once they were completed, I came here as fast as I could.’
‘You sound as if you had good reason.’
‘The best, Sir Eliard. Disaster is in the air. I thought the problem was solved when Gerard Quilter was hanged yesterday, but it is not to be.’
‘What do you mean?’
Haygarth offered him the paper. ‘First, read this. It is a frightening document.’
‘Nothing frightens me,’ said Sir Eliard, taking the paper from him to glance at it. His expression changed at once. His eyes bulged in alarm. ‘Can this be true?’
‘The girl gave her statement earlier this evening, Sir Eliard.’
‘She claims to have been with Master Quilter on the very day he was alleged to have committed the murder. Does this have any substance? If it does,’ he continued, ‘then we are all in serious danger.’
‘That’s why I brought you the news post-haste.’
‘Who is this creature called Moll Comfrey?’
‘A bawdy basket, arrived in the city for Bartholomew Fair.’
Sir Eliard grinned slyly. ‘Then we are surely safe,’ he said, relaxing. ‘No judge would take the word of some common prostitute against that of worthy fellows like Cyril Paramore and Bevis Millburne.’
‘The girl has solid support, alas.’
‘Support?’
‘Two men came with her, Sir Eliard. One is Master Quilter’s son.’
‘An actor with Westfield’s Men, as I hear.’
‘And a most determined young fellow,’ warned Haygarth. ‘Had the girl come alone, I could have dismissed her story out of hand, but Francis Quilter is not so easily swept aside. His friend is just as resolute.’
‘Friend?’
‘One Nicholas Bracewell, as stubborn a fellow as I’ve ever met. With two such people at her back, the girl is prepared to take her Bible oath that Gerard Quilter was unjustly convicted of murder.’
‘A pox on Moll Comfrey!’
‘We are all like to catch it from her, Sir Eliard,’ whined the other. ‘If the truth can be established in court, all four of us face the wrath of the law. As a justice of the peace, I will be especially humiliated.’
‘Cease this snivelling, man!’ ordered Sir Eliard. ‘Let me think.’
He paced the room and read the statement through once again before slapping it down angrily on the oak table. It took him a full minute to reach his decision. He rounded on Haygarth with such menace that the magistrate took a step backwards.