She had a point — two points — I was bound to agree, and without divulging what I already knew about William Lackpenny, any argument I could offer would crumble before the force of her logic. In any case, we were here now, in this pleasant inn, in the warm and the dry, and there was nothing I could do to change the situation. When I had unburdened myself to John Bradshaw tonight, I must discuss with him the advisability of also taking Eloise into my confidence.
And who were these people my smart young gent was meeting in Canterbury? They must surely be local, I reasoned, or he would have journeyed with them from the start, instead of by himself. Or, then again, had his solitary ride from London been just part of a well-laid plan? Had he been waiting there, at Rochester, ready to insinuate himself into our company with the plea of being on his own? My head was bursting with unanswered questions, but at least Eloise had relieved me of one worry and the prospect of sleeping on the floor for the next few nights.
It was a brief respite, however. When, after washing and changing our travel-stained clothes, Eloise and I — one of us a treat in blue and yellow, she in green — descended to the parlour for supper, we found Will Lackpenny already there, talking to a tall, thin, bearded man with a slight stoop and his much younger — his very much younger — very attractive, round-faced, blue-eyed wife. I felt Eloise’s grip tighten on my arm. You could, as the saying goes, have cut her animosity towards this seductive young creature with a knife.
I don’t know if Will Lackpenny noticed it or not: he certainly gave no sign of being aware of any tension.
‘Allow me,’ he said sunnily, ‘to introduce my good friends Master Robert Armiger and his wife, Jane. They have been here since midday.’
As I extended my hand and uttered the usual platitudes of greeting, it struck me that Master Armiger was probably a good thirty years older than his spouse. His hair, brown, threaded with grey, like his beard, was thinning at the temples, and the stoop became more pronounced when he stood up. But there was an undoubted air of affluence about him, not to mention arrogance, and the way he spoke to, and about, the pretty little thing at his elbow suggested that he knew he had married beneath him. Jane Armiger, for her part, seemed in awe of her husband, as well she might be — admiring but resentful at one and the same time.
‘You’ve come far, Master Armiger?’ I asked, as the five of us took our places around the long table and waited for the landlord to bring in our meal.
‘London, like yourselves. Or so I’m told by Will here.’
His answer took me by surprise, and I turned an enquiring look on our travelling companion. He understood it perfectly.
‘Master and Mistress Armiger left London a day ahead of me,’ he explained eagerly. ‘I. . er. . It was impossible for me to leave on Wednesday. There was business I had to see to that evening.’
And little do you know that I know what it was, I thought to myself. You had to attend Edward Woodville to Baynard’s Castle. I merely inclined my head.
‘You have business in France, Master Armiger?’ Eloise enquired, as bowls of leek soup were brought to the table by the landlord’s wife. She was followed by her husband, bearing a lordly dish on which sat one of the fattest capons I have ever seen. This he placed reverently on the sideboard and began carving it into succulent slices. The smell of the gravy alone made my mouth water.
Robert Armiger puffed out his thin chest and shook his head. The smile he gave Eloise was appreciative but condescending. I could amost hear her gritting her teeth. I chuckled silently. ‘I have no need to work, Mistress Chapman.’ It still gave me a shock to hear her called by that name. ‘I am a man of substance. No, we go to France to visit my wife’s French relatives.’
Eloise turned impulsively towards Jane Armiger, her manner, until now notably frosty, immediately thawing. ‘My mother was French!’ she exclaimed. ‘Was yours?’
The other woman shook her head. ‘No, my grandmother, my father’s mother. She was one of Duchess Cicely’s sewing-women in Rouen, and by the time the Duke and Duchess of York returned to England, she had married my grandfather and so came with him.’
‘Not a seamstress, you silly little goose,’ her husband reproved her. His words were indulgent, but there was more than a hint of annoyance in his tone. ‘A tiring-woman. Maybe even a lady-in-waiting. According to your dear mama, your grandmother tended to be vague about such things. Like you.’
Oh, yes, Robert Armiger certainly had his fair share of pride, but I suppose with a name like that, perhaps he had a right to be. One of his ancestors must have been the carrier of arms for a knight and may eventually have been entitled to bear his own. It was more than any of the rest of us could boast. Meantime, my interest in Mistress Armiger had increased fourfold. Was there any possibility, I wondered, of her grandmother ever having spoken to her about the York household in Rouen? Had any scandal concerning the duchess been mentioned? I must try to get her on her own and find out.
As we started on the capon, Robert Armiger asked the inevitable question: ‘And what is your business in France, Master Chapman?’
Now for it. ‘I’m a haberdasher,’ I answered blandly, and hoped it sounded convincing. ‘I’m hoping to sell some wares as well as buy new stock while I’m in Paris. My wife also hopes to see at least one of her French relations.’ Which was true enough.
‘A haberdasher.’ There was something in the way Master Armiger repeated the word that told me he thought little of my occupation. Not that it worried me. The less I saw of him, the better. His airs and graces could give one the bellyache if one was exposed to them too long.
But it suddenly seemed that this could well be the case.
‘I’ve asked Master Armiger and his fair wife to honour us by joining our party for the rest of the trip to France,’ Will Lackpenny announced, delicately wiping gravy from his chin with the cuff of one sleeve. ‘In any case, they and I were going to travel together once we had met up here, but I can’t just abandon you and Mistress Chapman. Therefore the solution is for us all to ride together.’ He turned to Robert Armiger. ‘If that would be your wish, sir.’ (Unctuous little bastard!)
‘Oh, by all means!’ Armiger waved his spoon nonchalantly in the air. ‘As you say, Lackpenny, you can’t just abandon these people.’
Eloise choked over a sliver of capon and hastily swallowed some wine. I didn’t trust myself to speak. There was no need, however, for either of us to say anything. Will Lackpenny was prattling happily on, dispensing information regarding his friends.
‘Master and Mistress Armiger have been staying this past week in Baynard’s Castle as the guests of Mistress Armiger’s brother.’
My head came up at that, and I pressed Eloise’s foot warningly under the table with one of mine. Say nothing: we haven’t been there, my eyes signalled to her. But I needn’t have bothered. She was no fooclass="underline" she had beauty and brains in equal measure.
‘Baynard’s Castle,’ she breathed reverently. ‘Did you by any chance see my lord of Gloucester? Or his mother?’
Robert Armiger gestured again with his spoon. ‘My brother-in-law is a member of the Duchess of York’s household,’ he said grandly, and left us to draw our own conclusions.
Eloise and I both tried to look impressed and, judging by the gratified expression on our new companion’s face, succeeded.
The capon had, by this time, been supplanted by an apple tart, flavoured with cloves and cinnamon, and thick cream filled an earthenwere pitcher. Eloise sighed, obviously thinking of her figure, but couldn’t resist a second helping. Indeed, none of us could, and we finally rose from the table a good deal heavier than when we sat down. I concealed a grin as I remembered the fat purse Timothy had given me, with strict instructions not to spend a groat more than I had to. ‘This amount is just in case of emergencies, Roger! I want most of it back, if possible. My budget is limited.’ It looked as if he were going to be disappointed.