I promised faithfully that her secret was safe with me, and was still smiling and shaking my head, like some old greybeard, over the naivety of young girls, when the parlour door opened and Mistress Perle came in.
She was a good-looking, well-built woman with a broad, handsome face marred only by the fleshiness of her nose. It needed a second, possibly a third, glance to notice the network of fine wrinkles around the blue eyes, and to realise that she was not quite as young as she at first appeared. She was, I finally decided, in her middle fifties, just the right age for Master Babcary.
‘You must be Master Chapman,’ she said taking a seat at the table and motioning me to sit opposite her. ‘Miles sent to warn me you might be arriving sometime or another, and here you are! What is it you want to know?’ She evidently intended to waste no time on the usual courtesies.
I explained as briefly as I could the circumstances and reasons for my visit while she listened attentively, not revealing by so much as the flicker of an eyelid whether or not she was already in possession of these facts. Indeed, there was something unnatural about her general stillness, although I was conscious of the uneasy clasping and unclasping of her hands, as they rested on the table-top in front of her. But when she spoke, her voice was full and steady.
‘I repeat, what is it you want to know?’
‘Can you tell me what you remember about the afternoon of Master Bonifant’s death?’
She was silent for a while, staring into space, but at last she shrugged and nodded her acquiesence.
Her account of the events leading up to the moment when Gideon died was in substance the same as that told by everyone else.
‘When they had drunk my health,’ she said, ‘they all sat down. Oh, except Isolda, of course, who left the parlour in order to go down to the kitchen. That Meg of theirs can never be trusted to do anything properly by herself.’ The small, full mouth was pursed in disapproval. ‘Why Miles doesn’t get rid of her I cannot understand. I’ve spoken to him often enough on the subject.’
‘What happened next?’ I interrupted, afraid that she was about to wander from the point.
‘Oh, the men began talking — about the new tariffs on silver imported from Poitou, I think. They wouldn’t be happy unless they’d something to grumble about. Ginèvre started telling Nell Babcary some rigmarole concerning a length of velvet she’d bought just that morning and which, when she got it home, she’d found to be flawed.’
Mistress Perle paused in order to clear her throat, so I took the opportunity to say, ‘And Gideon Bonifant was talking to Christopher, or so Master Babcary informed me. Is that correct?’
My companion considered this. ‘I don’t recall that Gideon was actually speaking to Kit. It was more. . more that he was staring fixedly at him. I remember thinking later that perhaps Master Bonifant had already begun to feel ill.’
‘Was Christopher Babcary speaking to him?’
‘He might have been,’ she answered slowly. ‘I do recollect that Kit was looking puzzled. Almost-’
‘Almost?’ I prompted.
‘Almost as if something hadn’t happened that he was expecting to happen.’ She shrugged. ‘But maybe I’m talking nonsense.’
I made no answer, but privately considered that if Mistress Perle were right, then it was possible that Christopher Babcary had put the monkshood in Gideon’s cup, or known that Isolda had done so, and had been anxiously watching his victim for the first signs of the poison taking effect.
‘Pray continue,’ I begged.
Mistress Perle shivered. ‘You must know what happened next. Miles and Kit have surely told you. You don’t need a description from me.’
‘I should like to have one, all the same.’ I added with a flattering smile, ‘Women notice so much more than men.’
‘Oh — very well. Gideon suddenly staggered to his feet, clutching his throat. He was plainly choking and, at first, I thought that some of his wine had gone down the wrong way. Then I saw that his face was turning blue. I could also see that he was trying to swallow, but couldn’t. His throat appeared to be as stiff as a board. His lips, too, because when he tried to speak, he was unable to form the words.’ She hesitated, frowning a little. ‘And yet I thought at the time that I did hear something that sounded like “aconite”.’
‘So you think he realised immediately that he’d been poisoned?’
‘Perhaps,’ she conceded. ‘He was desperately afraid, I could see that. But also-’
‘But also?’
Mistress Perle put a hand to her forehead. ‘Oh. . I don’t know! It’s difficult to explain. There was an expression on his face that I can only describe as. . as outrage. It was as if he couldn’t really believe what was happening to him.’
‘I should imagine death, particularly violent death, would make us all feel like that,’ I replied gently. ‘But please continue.’
‘What? Oh. . very well! Ginèvre told Gregory to run for the nearest apothecary. That would be Jeremiah Page in Gudrun Lane. In the doorway he almost collided with Isolda and the girl. They’d just come up from the kitchen with the food.’
‘And what did they do?’
She snorted. ‘Meg behaved exactly as you would expect her to — she screamed and dropped her tray, the stupid creature! Isolda simply stood and stared. Then Gideon — I swear I’ll never forget it as long as I live — he raised his hand and pointed at her.’ Mistress Perle gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘It was obvious what he meant. He was accusing her of his murder.’
There was silence. My companion, lost in her own thoughts, continued to clasp and unclasp her hands, while I recollected Miles Babcary’s words. ‘Mistress Perle was almost fainting in horror, and I had to give her the better part of my attention.’ It occurred to me that for someone in such a distraught condition, Barbara Perle’s memory of events was remarkably detailed, and I wondered if her distress had been assumed for her lover’s benefit, or if Master Babcary had been mistaken in the nature of her agitation. Stealing another look at her while she was still lost in her reverie, it struck me anew that she was ill at ease, and had been ever since the beginning of our conversation. I noticed that there was a film of sweat across her forehead, and the constant restlessness of her hands implied an unquiet mind. Did she have something to conceal?
I asked suddenly and loudly, ‘Who do you think murdered Gideon Bonifant, Mistress?’
She jumped and glared at me for a moment as though I was some unknown intruder. Then she answered with an unnatural vehemence, ‘Isolda of course! There’s no doubt about it! Probably aided and abetted by that cousin of hers.’
‘Do you mean Christopher Babcary?’
‘Of course I mean Christopher Babcary! Who else? I’m not likely to be talking of Nell! Although come to think of it, she’s the sort who could be persuaded into anything. She hasn’t the brains of a goose. Hasn’t Miles told you what Gideon said to him about Kit and Isolda a short time before he was murdered? Yes, he has: I can see the answer in your face. Only Miles has probably persuaded you that it’s all a lot of nonsense. He won’t listen to anything against his precious daughter. But of course she did it! Who else had such opportunity, both to obtain the monkshood and put it in the wine, as she did?’
There was a false, slightly hysterical note to Mistress Perle’s anger, as though she were trying to convince herself, more than me, of Isolda’s guilt. But I nodded as if in agreement and thanked her for her time.
‘I have to call on your neighbours now,’ I said, rising. ‘Fortunately, Mistress Napier and I have met before, so we are not total strangers.’
My hostess gave me a look of startled enquiry, and I was forced, for politeness’s sake, to repeat the story of my previous encounter with Ginèvre. It did nothing to reassure Mistress Perle, however, who appeared even more agitated than before, demanding to know if it were really necessary that I visit the Napiers. And it was not until I had made it perfectly plain that I was not to be dissuaded, that she reluctantly summoned her servant to conduct me to the door.