I sighed. ‘I thought so, from some of the tell-tale signs in his face. So, I’m certain, did Timothy Plummer. But I very much doubt that the poor fellow will get justice now. Master Plummer is on his way back to London, and the sheriff’s men won’t want to know. As far as they’re concerned, whether proven or not, the stranger was a Tudor spy and his murder not worth investigating. His death is an embarrassment to them, and they’ll be glad not to pursue the matter further.’
Cicely was horrified. ‘You mean his killer will be allowed to go free?’
‘I’m afraid so.’ I hesitated. ‘Unless I continue the investigation.’
She grasped and shook my arm. ‘You must, Roger. No one should be permitted to get away with murder.’ She frowned suddenly. ‘There was something,’ she said. ‘Something that I either saw or heard just as I was waking up. But I can’t recall exactly what it was.’
‘Think!’ I urged her excitedly. ‘Try to remember!’
After a minute or two’s agonized concentration, she finally shook her head. ‘No, it’s no use. And yet. .’
‘And yet?’ I pressed her.
‘All I can say is that I have a vague memory of a flurry of movement. A blur; just something seen out of the corner of one eye. I don’t think I was even awake properly. I think I may have fallen asleep again for a second or two, in the way one does when surfacing from a heavy sleep.’ She cradled her face between her hands. ‘Someone spoke. . there was a creaking sound. . No, it’s gone.’
‘Who spoke? It might be important. Did you recognize the voice?’
Cicely slumped despondently into the armchair. ‘I’m sorry, Roger, but that’s all I can tell you. The more I think about it, the less I can remember. I’m so, so sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ I smiled at her. ‘But if you should recollect anything else. .’
She smiled wanly in return. ‘Of course, I’ll let you know.’
I set down my empty beaker and picked up my pack. ‘I must be going home,’ I said reluctantly. ‘I’m late for supper.’ I grimaced. ‘If, that is, I get any.’
Cicely held out her hand. ‘What’s the matter, Roger? Something’s troubling you.’
So I set down my pack again, pulled forward the rickety stool, and unburdened myself of my grievances. I felt a traitor to Adela, but I badly needed a second opinion, and felt sure of a sympathetic hearing.
But I had ignored another of my golden rules: never be sure of anything where a woman is concerned. When I at last finished speaking, Cicely said coolly, ‘I agree with Adela. I shouldn’t care to put myself under any sort of obligation where Jane Overbecks is involved. Your wife rightly regards the safety of your little son as greater than her own or your comfort.’
‘Is-isn’t that being unfair to Mistress Overbecks?’ I stuttered.
Cicely shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t like to be unfair, but I don’t think so. Sister Jerome has talked to me about her sister. I know she considers Jane’s condition to be verging, at times, on madness. It’s not Jane’s fault, you understand. Something very terrible happened to both sisters when they were younger. In fact, Jane was not much more than a child.’
‘Yes, I know all about it,’ I said. Then, in response to Cicely’s startled look, I added, ‘Margaret Walker told me. Marion Baldock confessed everything to her not long after she and her sister arrived in Bristol. Margaret has kept quiet about it until now.’
Cicely failed to enquire why Margaret had suddenly decided to break the confidence: she was, I think, too busy feeling hurt that she was not, as she had been led to believe, the only other person in on the secret. She merely said quietly, ‘Then, if you know about Jane, I’m surprised you could even consider risking your baby son anywhere in her vicinity.’
‘She was raped,’ I answered. ‘The experience may have turned her brain a little, but it doesn’t make her dangerous.’
‘Roger!’ Cicely leaned forward in her chair. ‘You’re allowing your wishes to cloud your judgement. Any woman who can kill a man, whatever she might have suffered at his hands, who can calmly pick up a knife and plunge it in his heart, and laugh as she does it, is very dangerous. You mustn’t accept John Overbecks’s offer, however tempting it may be.’
Thirteen
‘Wait a moment!’ I exclaimed, holding up one hand.
‘The story I had from Margaret Walker, and the story she had from Marion Baldock, was that Marion had killed Jane’s attacker. And there was no suggestion that either of them took any pleasure in the deed. Afterwards, both sisters ran, and never stopped running until they reached Bristol.’
Cicely looked puzzled. ‘You must have made a mistake, Roger. Perhaps you didn’t understand what Mistress Walker was saying.’
I shook my head. ‘I didn’t misunderstand. I’m certain.’
‘Then maybe your mother-in-law misunderstood Sister Jerome.’
‘I don’t think so. Margaret is a good listener, and, if someone was talking about something as dramatic as a stabbing, it’s highly unlikely that she would confuse the words “I” and “my sister”. No, Marion Baldock was lying, either to Margaret or to you.’
Cicely thought about this for a moment or two, before coming to the conclusion that I had already reached.
‘She lied to Mistress Walker, then, to protect Jane. She needed to open her heart to someone, but balked at telling her the whole truth. But by the time she confessed the incident to me, she had taken her vows, and would have been ashamed to lie.’
I asked curiously, ‘When were you told the story?’
Cicely rubbed her forehead. ‘I can’t remember. A little while ago, not long after Sister Jerome entered the nunnery. I think Master Overbecks had brought his wife to see her, and Jane had behaved even more peculiarly than usual. Marion had begun to have serious doubts about her sister’s sanity, and wanted to talk to someone. I was here. She had come to the cottage on an errand for the Reverend Mother, and was obviously distressed and worried. I persuaded her to confide in me. But she has never mentioned the subject since, nor encouraged me to do so.’
‘Did she explain why she’s never told John Overbecks this story?’
‘Hasn’t she?’ Cicely pulled down the corners of her mouth. ‘I didn’t know that. As I say, we have only discussed the matter once, and afterwards, Sister Jerome may well have regretted telling me. But I should guess that she doesn’t want to prejudice his feelings against her sister. She thinks John a good man, someone who will provide for, and look after, Jane, someone who is devoted to her happiness and well-being. The knowledge that she had killed a man, for whatever reason, could make him uneasy.’
‘With good reason,’ I commented drily.
Cicely rose from her seat and came to stand beside me. ‘Roger,’ she said, taking one of my hands in hers, ‘I’ve told you this in order to make you see that Adela’s instincts are not misplaced. Whatever your own inclinations, you would do well to keep your distance from Jane Overbecks.’
I sighed deeply. ‘You’re right. I must go home and make my peace with Adela. She’s not a fanciful woman, and I should have listened to her point of view with greater sympathy. But I’ve always been selfish. And the cottage is so crowded now, it would have been heaven on earth to have had more space.’
‘Listen!’ Cicely gave my hand a little shake. ‘Under the terms of Edward’s will’ — this was Edward Herepath, her late guardian — ‘I inherited all his wealth and property, including the house in Small Street. Had I entered the nunnery, as I intended, it would have formed a part of my dowry, but when I decided to become merely a lay sister, I retained the house. Part of its rent is what I live on; the rest I give to the nuns. The house is occupied at present, but when the tenants leave, which I believe they have every intention of doing quite soon, would you and your family consider replacing them?’