I thanked her and went over to my saddlebags to retrieve my razor. I knew it was at the bottom of one of them. In fact, it was in the first one I opened, underneath my blue hose and yellow tunic, but as I walked slowly back across the room to pour hot water into a second bowl, thoughtfully provided by the landlord, I had a distinct recollection of packing my yellow tunic on top of the hose. I told myself not to be silly, but I was certain that I could remember seeing yellow as I had fastened the saddlebag straps. Feeling that I was making something out of nothing, I kept quiet, leaving Eloise to prattle away and giving only random answers, but as soon as I had finished shaving, I went on my knees beside the other bag, unstrapped it and examined its contents.
My spare shirt lay on top of my second-best boots — much patched and mended — just as I had packed them, but my knife, which I had carefully placed within the folds of the shirt, was lying loose at the bottom of the bag, still sheathed but most definitely not where I had put it. Had it just worked free of its own accord? That was possible, considering the jolting the saddlebags had received yesterday. Or had someone gone through my belongings while I slept? Heaven knew, my sleep had been deep enough for me to miss the Last Trump had it sounded and I felt certain that anyone could have entered the bedchamber during the night without me hearing. Or Eloise could have got out of bed and examined the bags and I should have been none the wiser.
I went down to breakfast still wondering if I were not being unnecessarily suspicious, when I was brought up short by the sight of someone already seated at a table in the ale room, eating his porridge.
It was, once again, the smart young gent of the blue feather.
Ten
He glanced up as I entered, then rose, hand outstretched. ‘Master Chapman, I presume. Please allow me to introduce myself. William Lackpenny, at your service.’
Close to, he was a little older than I had thought him — somewhere around twenty-five would have been my guess, but I don’t believe I ever did learn his correct age. He was good-looking in a foxy kind of way, although his reddish hair and lean features might well have contributed to that impression. The eyes, now regarding me so limpidly, were hazel.
Taken completely aback, a dozen thoughts rioting through my head, I realized that I must be looking far more surprised — shocked, even — than the situation warranted. Hastily sketching a smile, I asked, ‘How-how do you know my name?’
‘I’m staying here myself. I saw you and your wife and servants come in last night and asked the landlord who you were. The fact is, I’m hoping you’ll grant me a favour.’
I heard the door behind me open and close again. The next second, Eloise was standing by my side, looking enquiringly, and with considerable interest, at our new acquaintance.
‘Master Lackpenny, my dear, who’s staying here. Master Lackpenny, my. . my wife.’
I was waiting for some start of recognition on Eloise’s part, and was readying myself to distract the young man’s attention, when I recollected that she would have no cause to recognize him. She had never set eyes on him until the evening before last, on the water-stairs, and even then, had he claimed her attention, which was extremely unlikely, my antics had diverted her.
‘Oh, please! Not Master Lackpenny,’ was the instant response. ‘Friends and acquaintances never call me anything but Will.’
‘And do you always make friends this quickly, Master Will?’ Eloise asked coyly, simpering in a way that made me want to slap her.
He laughed but, I thought, backed off a little at this open invitation to dalliance. ‘Ah, well, the truth is, Mistress Chapman, as I was saying to your husband when you came in, I’m hoping you and he will grant me a favour.’
‘Of course,’ she said.
‘As long as it’s within our power,’ I amended firmly.
‘Aha! A wise man!’ Will Lackpenny smiled ingratiatingly. ‘Your husband won’t commit himself, Mistress Chapman, until he knows the nature of my request.’
‘You’re right, sir. He’s a very careful man.’ Eloise gazed at me fondly and heaved a doting little sigh. ‘No woman could ask for a better husband.’
I was going to have trouble with her, I could see that.
‘What is it you want, Master Lackpenny?’ I demanded.
He smiled again. He smiled a lot. ‘The fact is, I’m travelling to Dover and thence to France on sudden business. Foolishly — very foolishly — because I wanted to take ship before the winter weather made the Channel crossing too hazardous, I set out alone. But there are too many dangers on the road to make travelling by oneself a comfortable experience, so when the landlord told me that you and your party are also bound for Dover, I wondered if you would allow me to journey with you.’
‘We shall be delighted,’ Eloise confirmed without giving me a chance to say anything. ‘Won’t we, sweetheart?’ Again she gave me that adoring smile.
‘Delighted,’ I agreed stiffly.
But what else could I have said in the circumstances? If, as I half suspected, he already knew who I was and why I was on my way to France, it was up to me to keep him guessing as much as possible. But if, which was equally possible, he was an innocent bystander who just happened to have aroused my wrongful suspicions, then not by word or look must I hint at being other than I seemed. One thing was certain, however: I must consult with John Bradshaw as soon as I could.
‘That’s settled, then.’ He beamed at us. ‘You’ll want to be setting out as soon as you’ve eaten, I daresay. I’ll go and make certain my horse is saddled and my gear packed. I’ll see you in about half an hour in the stables.’
I can’t pretend I was a scintillating breakfast companion: I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts. Eloise felt neglected.
‘Thank the good Lord I’m not really your wife,’ she remarked waspishly across the table, but remembering to lower her voice to a whisper, ‘if you’re as morose as this every morning.’
‘I usually have better company,’ I snapped back.
She turned white with anger, and her lips thinned in a most unattractive manner. We were heading for a major quarrel and I could well imagine John Bradshaw’s reaction to such a state of affairs.
I forced myself to smile and reached for her hand. ‘I’m sorry. Forgive me. Such rudeness was unpardonable. It’s just that. . I’ve a lot on my mind.’
She returned the pressure of my fingers. ‘Are you worried about this William Lackpenny travelling with us? Don’t be. As long as we all act naturally, he’ll be no trouble. I’ve met his sort before. All he’s really interested in is himself and other people being interested in him. A coxcomb. He won’t suspect a thing.’
‘Then stop trying to flirt with him,’ I said acidly, then kicked myself mentally for creating dissension again.
But to my surprise, this seemed to please her.
‘Roger, I do believe you’re jealous.’ She smiled.
Jealous? I was just about to make a stinging retort when honesty made me pause. Could she be right? Never! Or could she? She must have seen something in my face because she chuckled mischievously and rose from the table, smoothing down her skirt. Today she was wearing the garnet-coloured gown with the simple leather girdle and gold chain in which I had first seen her dressed as a woman. I had a sudden, vivid recollection of her in her boy’s clothing, travelling with the army in the summer, straight and slim as a young sapling. I felt a sudden urge to take her in my arms and kiss her, but fortunately the memory also reminded me that she could be treacherous. If for no other reason, it was as well not to let her get too close to me. Or me to her: it cut both ways.
There was a knock at the ale-room door and John Bradshaw came in, looking none too pleased.