Isolda gave me a quick, sidelong glance. ‘You’re thinking of Barbara Perle and the Napiers. But what motive could one of those three possibly have had for wishing my husband dead?’
‘That I don’t know at present, but there may have been a reason. And now, if you’ll allow me to carry that tray downstairs for you, I’ll speak to Meg Spendlove.’
Isolda shook her head. ‘You’d do better to let me come with you and introduce you properly as a friend. Besides,’ she added, picking up the heavy wooden tray, loaded with its stacks of dirty dishes, as though it were a featherweight, ‘I don’t trust you with your hands full on that twisting stair. You’re more than liable to drop the lot. In domestic matters, men are clumsy creatures — or, at least, so they pretend.’
On which slightly sour note, she led the way down to the kitchen where Meg Spendlove was already scouring out the cooking pots ready for the preparation of the evening meal.
The maid’s eyes had widened with fright as soon as she saw me, and she retreated to the opposite side of the stone bench on which she was working when Isolda explained that I wished to talk to her about the murder.
‘I don’t know anything, Missus,’ she muttered. ‘I wasn’t there.’
Isolda lowered her burden on to one end of the bench and put water to heat over the fire in order to wash the dirty plates.
‘No one’s accusing you of anything, Meggie,’ she said soothingly, adding, with a significant glance in my direction, ‘Master Chapman knows that you had nothing to do with Master Bonifant’s death. He just wants to ask you a question or two. Now, sit down quietly on that stool and listen to what he has to say. Don’t be afraid. I shall be right here, beside you.’
I would far rather have spoken to Meg alone, but I had enough sense to realise that without Isolda’s comforting presence I should probably get nothing out of her at all. It was therefore the lesser of two evils, and I resigned myself to putting up with a certain amount of interference from my hostess.
‘Meg,’ I said gently, not quite sure where I should begin, ‘what. . what were your feelings about Master Bonifant?’ She stared at me blankly. ‘Did you like him?’ I asked.
I had expected prevarication, and was unprepared for her blunt, ‘No! I didn’t. I hated him.’
‘Now, Meggie dear!’ Isolda interrupted hurriedly. ‘You know that’s not true. You didn’t always get on well with him, I agree, but you didn’t hate him.’
‘Yes, I did,’ was the uncompromising retort. The little face was suddenly filled with loathing. ‘I’m glad he’s dead. I thank God every night for it when I say my prayers.’
There was no arguing with such conviction, and Isolda stood, irresolute, not knowing what to say for the best, nor how to put Meg on her guard for what she probably guessed would be my next question.
‘Did you know that the liniment used by Master Babcary to ease his aches and pains is poisonous?’
Meg nodded vigorously, a belligerent gleam in the brown eyes.
‘Yes, ’cause Missus Isolda told us all when the ’pothecary first brought it to the house. And I know where it’s kept, and where the key to the cupboard is.’ Having made this admission, however, all her bravado seemed to desert her and she burst into noisy sobs. ‘But I didn’t kill Master Gideon. I didn’t! I didn’t!’
Isolda flew to her side, putting a protective arm around her shoulders.
‘Of course you didn’t, Meggie! Nobody would ever accuse you of such a thing, would he, Master Chapman?’ And she stared at me defiantly, daring me to contradict her.
This assurance seemed to have the opposite effect on Meg to the one intended, and the sobs grew louder. I had to wait several minutes for the noise to abate, but the delay afforded me an opportunity to ignore Isolda’s question without her realising it.
‘Meg,’ I said, even more gently, when the fit of crying had eventually subsided, ‘I know that you and Mistress Bonifant spent most of the day in the kitchen, preparing the food for Mistress Perle’s birthday feast but did you, for any reason, go up to the parlour after the table had been laid?’
‘I’ve already told you that she didn’t,’ Isolda put in quickly.
I tried to recollect whether she had done so or not, but I need not have worried. Meg Spendlove was too simple to take a hint.
‘I didn’t go up after the table was laid,’ she answered, frowning slightly. ‘But I did go up with the Missus aforehand. She said if I was good, she’d let me put the special cups on the table. Missus told me where to put them, so I shouldn’t get ’em mixed up again.’
Isolda sighed resignedly. ‘She loves those goblets. She likes to look at the carving around the rims, the clusters of grapes and vine leaves, the nymphs and shepherds dancing.’ She glanced at the girl and shook her head. ‘Why did you have to go and blurt that out, Meggie? No one need have known you were there.’
Meg seemed puzzled. ‘Toby knew,’ she said. ‘He peeped round the door while you were telling me where to put the things on the table.’
It was Isolda’s turn to frown. ‘I didn’t know that. I didn’t see him.’
‘You wouldn’t. You had your back to him,’ Meg answered. ‘But I saw him and he saw me. He winked at me, then went away again.’
‘Was he there for long?’ I asked. ‘Long enough, say, to overhear what Mistress Bonifant was saying and to watch where you placed the goblets?’
‘I dunno. I suppose so.’ Meg had stopped being frightened and was beginning to grow surly at all this questioning.
But I hadn’t quite finished with her yet.
‘Later on,’ I said, ‘after Mistress Perle and her friends had arrived, Toby came down to the kitchen to have his supper with you, as he always did when there were guests. Mistress Bonifant has told me that when she entered the kitchen, you and he were whispering together. Toby was laughing. What were you talking about?’
The colour surged into her face. ‘Nothing!’ she exclaimed fiercely. ‘Anyway, I can’t remember.’
‘Then how do you know that it was nothing? Something must have amused Toby,’ I urged. ‘What was it?’
Meg’s face, from which the tide of red had now receded, became expressionless. ‘Can’t remember,’ she repeated.
‘Try,’ I pleaded.
Meg simply shrugged her thin shoulders and looked away.
Isolda smiled mockingly. ‘Master Chapman, you might as well save your breath. You’ll get no more out of her now that she’s made up her mind not to tell you. She can be as obstinate as a mule.’
I had no doubt that she was right. I have invariably found that simple people, like Meg Spendlove, possess tremendous strength of will and determination.
‘Did you poison Master Bonifant, Meg?’ I asked abruptly, hoping to catch her off her guard.
She thrust out her underlip and her eyes sparked with anger. ‘No! But I wish I had,’ she answered.
There seemed nothing more to be said. Meg was in a thoroughly recalcitrant mood and I should get no more from her. I could have persisted, but it would have done no good. I glanced at Isolda, who gave an almost imperceptible, discouraging shake of her head.
‘We’ll leave you alone then, Meggie,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll come back later and give you a hand with the dirty dishes.’
‘No need to,’ Meg replied, her tone surly. ‘I can do them on my own.’
‘Well, at least she isn’t frightened of you any longer,’ Isolda smiled as we left the kitchen. There was a crash from somewhere behind us as an iron cooking pot was carelessly dropped on the stone-flagged floor and we both laughed. ‘Now, what do you want to do next? Do you wish to speak to Toby Maybury? If you’ll return upstairs, to the parlour, I’ll see if Father can spare him from the workshop.’
‘I do want to speak to him,’ I agreed, ‘but I also need to speak to both your cousins.’
Isolda pursed her lips. ‘I suppose Nell might be feeling well enough to answer a few questions by now,’ she said doubtfully. ‘I’ll ask her if you like. But don’t be surprised if she declines. She’s not very strong, you know. She has always suffered from delicate health.’