I said gently, ‘Don’t you think that her reluctance to see you might be the result of your fierce protestations concerning your daughter’s innocence? As Master Christopher was saying to you a short time ago: if Mistress Bonifant didn’t commit the murder, then someone else who was in the house that evening did. It follows, therefore, that Mistress Perle may feel herself to be the object of your suspicion.’
Master Babcary’s florid countenance turned pale. ‘She couldn’t possibly think such a thing! She couldn’t!’ But a moment’s consideration showed him the truth of my words. He grabbed my arm and shook it. ‘Master Chapman, you must find out what really happened! Come! Draw closer to the fire and I’ll tell you about the events of that evening.’
Six
The two women left us, Eleanor allowing herself to be led away by Isolda without once questioning the older woman’s decision. Yet again, I wondered if she were always this docile; and if so, did she resent the fact that uncle and cousin seemed to treat her as though she were still a child?
‘Now,’ said Miles Babcary as the door closed behind them, ‘you’ve met all the members of my household, Master Chapman — all those who remain, that is. But I don’t need to remind you that until the evening of the Feast of Saint Barbara, last December, there was another, my son-in-law, Gideon Bonifant. He-’
‘Did you like him?’ I asked, interrupting my companion’s flow of words and thus flustering him. I have often found this a useful tactic for getting at the truth.
‘What?’ Miles stared at me, mentally thrown off balance. ‘I. . He was. . Why should I not like Gideon?’ was the belligerent response. He fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment or two before adding, ‘To be honest, he was not someone you could like or dislike with any great fervour. He was not a man anyone could get to know very well. His emotions were always kept strictly in check, and what sort of a husband he made I have no idea. But he seemed to make Isolda happy, and that was all that mattered to me.’
‘Mistress Shore hinted that perhaps Gideon was not a good enough match for your daughter. An apothecary’s assistant, so she said, from Bucklersbury.’
‘Well, well, and what if he was?’ Miles let his irritation show at this second interruption. ‘You’ve seen Isolda. As you can guess, she didn’t attract men easily, even when young. You know that she’s. . that she’s not a handsome woman. To be truthful, she’s plain. She’s very plain. Added to which, she has an independent turn of mind, which is not surprising when you consider that she has been sole mistress of this house since the age of sixteen. That was when my last housekeeper left me because, she said, she and Isolda could no longer share the same roof without falling out every day.’
I asked curiously, ‘And yet — forgive me if I am being too bold — you are thinking of marrying again?’
This time, Miles’s annoyance was palpable. ‘Master Chapman, it is only just over two weeks since I celebrated my fifty-eighth birthday. I am not yet in my dotage. I am still a virile and active man. A comfortable and well-run home is not the only consideration for someone of my age and appetites. I must admit that until Mistress Perle was widowed two and a half years ago, the thought of remarriage had not entered my head. But I have known and been fond of Barbara for a very long time; and once her period of mourning was over and she was able to take up the threads of her life again, I realised that my liking for her had turned into something stronger. And from one or two very broad hints that she dropped, I had every reason, until recently, to believe that she was entertaining similar thoughts about me. I talked the matter over with my daughter and Gideon, and told them that if Mistress Perle should do me the honour of agreeing to become my wife, I would buy her house in Paternoster Row and give it to them to live in. They seemed agreeable enough. I think Isolda, particularly, was beginning to feel it time that she had an establishment of her own.’
‘Mistress Perle and her husband had no children?’ I enquired, although I had already guessed the answer.
‘No, none.’ Miles’s irritation increased still further. ‘But why am I telling you all this? What has it to do with Gideon’s death?’
‘In a case of murder,’ I assured him apologetically, ‘there is no saying what might eventually prove to be of importance in solving the crime. Please forgive me if I have probed too deeply into matters that you feel do not concern me.’
He appeared somewhat mollified by this explanation, although a little resentment still lingered.
‘Very well! Very well! Let us now return to the evening of Gideon’s death. As I have already told you, it was Mistress Perle’s birthday, December the fourth, the Feast of Saint Barbara, and I had invited her to celebrate the occasion here, with my family; the family that I hoped would also soon be hers. She was only too happy to agree, provided that she could bring with her her two great friends and neighbours, Gregory and Ginèvre Napier.’
‘Ginèvre Napier!’ I exclaimed. ‘And she lives in Paternoster Row? Then I know the lady. Or perhaps I should rather say that I met her once, some years ago, when I was enquiring into the disappearance of two children from their home in Devon. I came to London to speak to Mistress Napier, who had been a friend of the children’s mother.’
‘Well, well! Goodness me! Upon my soul! Upon my soul! Here’s a coincidence!’ Master Babcary exclaimed. ‘If it is indeed the same person.’
‘A lady,’ I replied, selecting my words carefully so as not to give offence, ‘past the first flush of youth, but determined to hold the ravages of time at bay.’
‘That’s her! That’s her!’ my host declared. He added, not bothering to pick and choose his words, ‘A painted hussy I’ve always thought her, no better than she should be. And so I’ve often told Mistress Perle, for it troubles me that Barbara should make a companion of such a woman, although I believe the Napiers were very kind to her during Edgar Perle’s last illness. But Barbara is unpersuadable in the matter, and continues to be close friends with the couple. It’s the only subject on which we don’t see eye to eye, so I suppose I can’t complain. Man and wife will never agree on everything — if, that is, we ever become man and wife,’ he finished gloomily.
‘Tell me about the evening of the murder,’ I invited.
‘That’s just what I’ve been trying to do for the last ten minutes,’ he retorted indignantly, ‘only you keep on interrupting me, Chapman.’
I said I was sorry, hoping that he would not detect the insincerity in my tone. ‘Pray continue, sir.’
‘Very well! Very well! Mistress Perle, Ginèvre and Gregory Napier were to share our supper with us, and the shop was shuttered and locked before they arrived. Being December, it was almost dark by four o’clock, and I felt that I should lose very little custom by closing an hour or so earlier than usual. It was, in any case, very nearly time for the curfew bell.’ He took a breath and then continued, ‘The meal had been laid here, in this room, with the best napery and cutlery and the set of silver plates that I made for my poor wife when first we were married. The very finest silver, you understand, from the mines at Kuttenberg, which lie somewhere between Prague and the borders of Muscovy, or so I’m told. And, as on all festive occasions, each member of the family had his or her especial goblet.’
‘Especial goblet?’ I queried.
For answer, my companion got to his feet, went to the door and opened it. ‘Isolda!’ he shouted. ‘Come here, if you please. I want you!’
There was a short delay, then I heard the patter of feet descending the second flight of stairs from the floor above. Isolda’s voice asked, ‘What’s the matter, Father?’
‘The key, girl! The key to the corner cupboard, let me have it.’