Nine
Master Ford seemed a little disconcerted to be claimed as an acquaintance by Philip Lamprey for, as Philip bluntly informed him, he had not been in Master Ford’s shop above twice in his life, those being the only two occasions on which he had previously spoken to the apothecary.
‘But I’ve often seen you among the congregation here, and Mistress Ford, also, when she was alive.’ My friend’s tone was hearty as he pumped the other man’s hand up and down. Philip was doing his best for me, even if he did not wish to get involved.
Jeanne went one better. Put in the picture by my wife, she bewildered Master Ford still further by inviting him to take his dinner with us at the Voyager, where, in a whispered conversation during the service, I had invited the Lampreys to eat with Adela and myself. Quick to follow this lead, I added my entreaties to hers, but decided to be honest with the apothecary and give him a chance to decline should he wish to do so.
‘Hmmph,’ he grunted when I had finished a somewhat halting explanation. ‘I wondered how long Mistress Shore and her kinsfolk would be content to let the matter of poor Gideon’s murder rest, before trying to find out the truth.’ We began to move slowly towards the church porch, impelled forward by the crowd of people surrounding us. ‘It’s all very well the King bringing pressure to bear on the Sheriff’s officers to proceed no further with their enquiries but, in the end, it’s always unsatisfactory not knowing what really happened.’ The nostrils of his long, thin nose, set in the middle of his long, thin face, flared in disapproval.
We emerged into the Stock’s Market to discover that the day had grown brighter, the sun forcing its way through a break in the leaden clouds and diffusing sufficient warmth to dry the slimy cobbles.
I turned once again to my new acquaintance. ‘What’s your answer, then, Master Ford? Will you give us the pleasure of your company at dinner?’
He hesitated, but only for a second: Reynold Makepeace had a well-deserved reputation for serving some of the best food for streets around.
‘Thank you,’ he said in his courteous, rather stately fashion. ‘I should be pleased to accept your kind invitation.’
His tone was still a little wary, but who could be surprised at that? To be accosted by two complete strangers and two known to him only by sight, and, in addition, be pressed into dining with them, must have been a bewildering experience. But I suspected that dinner at the Voyager, even with four unknowns, was preferable to his own lonely table. Besides, it turned out that he was well acquainted with Reynold Makepeace, and the pair of them greeted each other with the easy familiarity of old friends.
By the time we had walked the length of Bucklersbury, it was past ten o’clock, and the long trestles and benches of the Voyager’s dining parlour were already filling up. In deference, however, to the fact that Adela and I were guests at the inn, and that I was known to have some connection with His Grace of Gloucester, the landlord ushered the five of us into a private room overlooking the main courtyard, and saw to it that we received the best and promptest of attention. (The look he gave Philip was a puzzled one, unable, probably, to reconcile this pock-marked, unsavoury-looking individual with my more noble connections.)
We ate boiled beef with buttered vegetables, a curd tart accompanied by a dish of raisins steeped in brandy, and a sweet cheese flan, all washed down with the Voyager’s best home-brewed ale. It was a dinner to remember, as, indeed, I have remembered it down through the years with pleasure and nostalgia. (Food today isn’t what it was. There’s no flavour to anything any more, although my children — quite wrongly, it goes without saying — attribute this fact more to my age and loss of taste than to the inferior quality of the viands.)
During the course of the meal, I was able to talk to Master Ford, who was seated next to me, about Gideon Bonifant and the murder.
‘Gideon was my assistant for only a year before he married Isolda Babcary and went to work for his father-in-law,’ the apothecary said, between mouthfuls of boiled beef and buttered vegetables. ‘The marriage was a great stroke of good fortune for him, and raised his prospects beyond anything he could otherwise have hoped for. Indeed, until Mistress Babcary took a fancy to him, Gideon had no prospects that I could see, and seemed destined to remain my assistant for the rest of his life. After all, it seemed highly unlikely that anyone in the local community of Isolda’s standing and expectations would ever glance in his direction.’
‘On the other hand,’ I interrupted, ‘is it not true that Isolda Babcary had met with no success in finding a husband before she met Gideon Bonifant? I’ve met the lady, and while I should be reluctant to describe her as ugly, she is certainly no beauty. Moreover, as her father was at pains to inform me, she is of a very independent disposition. And the combination of lack of good looks and strong-mindedness seems to have deterred the other men of her acquaintance from proposing matrimony, even though, or so I imagine, she was possessed of a substantial dowry.’
Master Ford, with great dignity, wiped a dribble of gravy from his chin and ladled another helping of boiled beef and vegetables on to his plate. He then turned his head slowly in my direction, staring reproachfully down that long, patrician nose of his.
‘Are you suggesting that Gideon was prepared to overlook these defects in Isolda Babcary in order to avail himself of her fortune?’ he demanded.
‘Well, he wouldn’t be the first man to have done so,’ Philip cut in, waving his knife and spoon excitedly in the air and saving me the trouble of replying. ‘There’s many a poor man who’s improved his lot by marrying for money. And no shame to him for doing so, either! It isn’t something I’d be happy to contemplate, but the poor must look out for themselves in any way they can. That’s my motto!’
‘I daresay!’ The apothecary’s expression grew even more disapproving. ‘But Gideon Bonifant was a very pious, very God-fearing man who told his rosary several times a day and always said his prayers before going to sleep at nights. He was not the sort of person to put financial considerations above all others.’
Philip grimaced. ‘Sounds like a bit of a dullard to me,’ he sniggered.
He was seated opposite me, next to his wife, and I kicked out with my foot in an effort to restrain him. Unfortunately, from the spasm of pain that contorted Jeanne’s features, I realised that I had missed my target. Turning back to Master Ford, I hastily changed the subject.
‘You say that Master Bonifant had worked as your assistant for only a year before he married Isolda Babcary, yet I recall Mistress Shore telling me that he was ten years older than her kinswoman at the time of the wedding. And Isolda herself was twenty. .?’
‘Twenty-four.’ Master Ford nodded. ‘Yes, you are quite correct. Gideon had turned thirty-four when they married. So you see,’ he added, directing a censorious glance at Philip, ‘he was not a youth to have his head turned by the prospect of wealth and social betterment. He did not marry Isolda Babcary for her money.’
Philip snorted and opened his mouth, doubtless to say what I felt inclined to say myself, that advancing years might have made Gideon more, rather than less, desperate to improve his lot. But I refrained and looked at my friend, silently imploring him to do the same. To my great relief, he got my message and addressed himself once more to his plate.
‘The point I am trying to make,’ I said, turning yet again to our guest, ‘is that Master Bonifant was not a young man when he first went to work for you. He must have been at least thirty-two or maybe thirty-three years of age. Do you know anything about his life before that date?’
The apothecary laid his spoon and knife together on his empty plate and, for a moment or two, allowed his attention to wander to the curd tart and sweet cheese flan that one of the inn servants had just placed on the table, together with the brandy-soaked raisins and a jug of fresh ale. Once having satisfied himself of their excellence, he politely gave me all his attention.