‘I only sought to welcome my husband to his home.’
‘Where’s Martin?’ he demanded.
‘I’ve not seen him all afternoon.’
‘He must still be here. Martin! Martin!’ he yelled, walking around the ground floor of the house. ‘Where are you, man? Martin!’
‘Shall I look for him?’ she asked obligingly.
‘Out of my way, Rebecca.’ He pushed her aside and ascended the stairs with Paramore at his heels. ‘Martin! Martin, are you here? I’ve work for you.’ When he came to the counting house, he took out a key and inserted it into the lock. ‘I ordered him to stay here. Where is the fellow?’
As he opened the door, he almost tripped over the dead man. Sir Eliard gaped and Paramore gave a yell of surprise. It was obvious that Martin would never be able to serve his master again. Sir Eliard was the first to recover. Stepping over the corpse, he went to the table and scrabbled among his papers. He let out a cry of pain.
‘My ledger!’ he exclaimed. ‘Someone has taken my ledger!’
Henry Cleaton chortled his way through the ledger like a man who has just stumbled on a treasure chest. Names that meant nothing to Nicholas Bracewell drew a chuckle of recognition from the lawyer. He pointed with a stubby finger.
‘This name may be the most damning indictment of all,’ he said.
Nicholas read it out. ‘Archibald Froggatt? I do not know the man.’
‘Count yourself lucky, then. Justice Froggatt was one of the most bloodthirsty judges ever to preside at a trial. He was the man who sent Gerard Quilter to his death. That is why this payment from Sir Eliard Slaney is so revealing.’
‘Five hundred pounds!’
‘To abuse the law costs a high price,’ said Cleaton, ‘and Justice Froggatt abused it mightily. He not only sent an innocent man to the gallows, he added more agony by having him hanged at Smithfield in the company of a witch. I’ll wager that it was Adam Haygarth who was the interlocutor here. He dangled the money before the judge.’ He indicated another amount on the page. ‘Justice Haygarth was well-rewarded for his work, as you see.’ Cleaton slapped the ledger. ‘By all, this is wonderful! We’ve evidence enough to put a dozen men behind bars. How did you come by the book?’
‘Let us just say that it fell into my hands,’ said Nicholas discreetly.
‘Frank Quilter will be overjoyed at this.’
‘He never believed that his father could be guilty.’
‘No more did I,’ said Cleaton. ‘This ledger vindicates him completely.’
They were in the lawyer’s office. Cleaton had examined the entries in the ledger with painstaking care. It was a written confession of the sins and stratagems of Sir Eliard Slaney. The evidence that the lawyer himself had gathered was given full confirmation. Picking up the ledger, he rose to his feet.
‘I need to show this to someone else,’ he said.
‘Make sure that he is not one of Sir Eliard’s creatures.’
‘This ledger will go to a higher authority than anyone listed here. Even the bribes of Sir Eliard could not corrupt this man. When the evidence is scrutinised, there’ll be sudden justice. I would expect arrests to be made within days.’
‘I’ll not wait until that long,’ said Nicholas. ‘Nor will Frank. He’ll meet me as soon as the performance is over. We mean to call the first of the villains to account this very afternoon. We’ll attack Sir Eliard at his weakest point.’
‘And where is that?’
‘Bevis Millburne.’
Edmund Hoode was in a state of ambivalence. Exhilarated by the performance that afternoon, he was having regrets about the way that he had altered his play. There was no doubting its success. Time and again, the target had been hit with unerring accuracy. If his contribution helped to salvage the future of Westfield’s Men, he would be happy. Yet an act of betrayal was involved and that left him feeling pangs of guilt. In order to aid his fellows, he had disobeyed Avice Radley’s decree and done so without forewarning her. It was a double blow for her since she would have been there to watch her favourite play. Expecting to take pleasure in it, she would have been jolted by the changes made and shocked to see Hoode impersonating a man whom she had expressly banned from appearing as a character in the play. Conflicting emotions troubled Hoode as he arrived at her house. When he knocked the door, it was with great trepidation.
The maidservant invited him in and conducted him to the parlour. Avice Radley was seated at the table, composing a letter. She did not even look up as he entered. Hoode studied her in profile, admiring once again the sculptured beauty and the natural poise. He was overwhelmed with remorse at having upset her and wanted to fling himself abjectly at her feet. But something held him back. When he cleared his throat, she put her quill aside and turned to look at him.
‘So, Edmund,’ she said, her voice icily calm. ‘It is you.’
‘I told you that I would come as soon as I could.’
‘The wonder is that you dared to come at all.’
‘Avice!’ he protested. ‘You promised that I could treat this house as my own.’
‘I am glad that you raise the subject of promises,’ she rejoined. ‘Was it not in this very room that you promised to abide by my wishes? I asked you to let Westfield’s Men fight their own battles, you agreed. You gave me your solemn word.’
‘I know.’
‘Yet the promise carried no weight.’
‘It did, it did.’
‘I see none.’
‘Permit me to explain,’ he begged.
‘I saw your explanation at the Queen’s Head this afternoon,’ she said. ‘You dragged me there to enforce my discomfiture.’
‘No, Avice!’
‘It was degrading. You did not even have the courtesy to warn me in advance.’
‘Had I done that, you would have talked me out of it.’
‘I thought that I already had done so, Edmund.’
‘So did I,’ he admitted.
‘What, then, changed your mind?’
‘I do not know.’
‘Was it sheer malice? Or rebellion against me?’
‘Neither of those things, Avice.’
‘Were you telling me that your love had gone away?’ she pressed. ‘Is that the reason you turned on me so? I did not think you could be so fickle, Edmund.’
‘But I am not fickle. I remain as constant as ever.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘As constant as you were this afternoon?’
‘Forgive me. It was not intended as an insult to you.’
‘That is how it was received.’
‘I shower you with my apologies, Avice,’ he said effusively, ‘and I will do anything to get myself into your good graces again.’
‘Then do so by leaving me.’
He shuddered. ‘Leaving you? Am I to be given no right of appeal?’
‘You gave me none, Edmund. Had I known what mischief you planned upon that stage today, I would have appealed with all my might. I did not take you for a vengeful man but I see that I was mistaken.’
‘The only vengeance was directed at Sir Eliard Slaney.’
‘It is time to bid farewell,’ she said levelly.
‘No,’ he cried, moving across to her. ‘You do not understand. At least, let me tell you how it came about. For the sake of the love you once bore me, hear me out.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Very well, sir. Be brief.’
‘I did bow to your wishes, Avice, it is true. When I saw your strength of purpose, I sent Nick Bracewell away from here with a cracked heart. He, of all, men had the right to call on my friendship yet I turned my back on him. It made me sad to do so.’
‘There was no sadness when you consented to quit the company.’
‘No, there was only joy and relief.’
‘Did it so quickly vanish?’
‘It is still there,’ he insisted. ‘My feelings for you have not altered in any degree. But you must allow for other claims upon my time. Westfield’s Men nurtured me, taught me, made me what I am. Those long years could not so easily be forgotten, Avice. When I left here on Sunday, I was fired with the notion of penning another sonnet in praise of you. My mind was filled with sweet phrases and pretty conceits.’