‘There’s better ways to make money without having to daily deal with people who dislike you,“ Elena returned as bluntly. And laughed as if suddenly, truly pleased. ”My husband said I’d likely find talking with you more challenge than I’d expect.“
It was one thing for her to remember Gilbey Dunn and another to find that he remembered her, Frevisse found. Somewhat discomfited, she asked, “Why did he say that?”
‘Because unlike most women, he said, you see further than the flutter of your veil.“
And so did his wife, Frevisse judged; but Anne came out then, with a cup for Elena and a stool for herself. As she poured Elena ale after Frevisse refused more, she said, “So. You’ve kept in talk?”
‘I was about to set to persuading Dame Frevisse that she should put in good word for my husband when the matter of Matthew Woderove’s holding comes up,“ Elena said easily.
‘Matthew might still come back,“ Anne answered, a little stiffly.
‘He might,“ Elena allowed. ”But if he doesn’t…“
‘I think your husband has done Matthew enough harm without being the one to take his holding, too,“ Anne said, more stiffly.
‘The only person who’s harmed Matthew Woderove is himself,“ Elena said, unangrily but giving no ground.
Anne began an answer but Lucy called from inside and instead she rose with, “I pray you excuse me.”
When she was inside, Elena rose, too, not outwardly bothered, and said smilingly to Frevisse, “I’ll go, too, I think. By your leave.” What could have been regret tinged her smile and voice as she added, “Anne will be more comfortable if I’m not here.”
To Frevisse’s granting she could go, she made a low curtsy of farewell and went, leaving the plate and the remaining cakes on the bench. Anne was in time, coming out, to see her leaving and could have called farewell, or Elena might have looked back and waved, but neither did, and Anne, sitting down on the bench again, said while watching her out of sight, “I’ll say for her she never overstays her welcome.”
Frevisse almost asked how much welcome Elena had ever had but changed to, “Is she freeborn? Your husband said she’s from Banbury.” The nearest market town.
‘Aye, she’s freeborn. Her father is a baker there, with property and a likelihood of being mayor. What she was thinking of, to marry Gilbey and come here, I don’t know.“ Anne broke off a corner of one of the cakes and crumbled it between her fingers. ”She’s too young for him by far and… well, you’ve seen her. Men can’t help but look at her, and they want to do more than look, too, that’s sure. That Tom Hulcote that works for Gilbey, for one. Gilbey’d do well to watch him.“ It sounded a well-worn theme, with more to be said about it, just as with Matthew Woderove’s wife, but Anne broke off, turning a little pink across the cheeks, probably at such tale-telling to a nun, and changed course with, ”It’s that Gilbey’s not given to doing fool things. It was years since his first wife and their daughter died, and he seemed content enough. Then, next thing we knew, he’d married her and built a bigger house and started a family all over again. At his age! What was either of them thinking?“
‘There’s children then?“
‘Oh, yes. Two sweet little boys.“
‘Are they villein or free?“
‘Free. When she nears her birthing time, Elena goes to Gilbey’s sister. She bought herself free years ago and married and lives in Banbury. Both boys were born there.“
And so were free, like their mother, instead of villein like their father.
‘Gilbey isn’t well liked, is he?“ Frevisse asked.
Anne sniffed. “He’s too lucky, making money at everything he turns his hand to, and keeps what he has to himself, no fear, while letting you know he has it.” She waxed openly indignant. “You know he bought a lease away from Matthew Woderove this past Midsummer’s court? It’s for a stretch of rough pasturage gone to scrub and not worth the bother of clearing it again, everyone thought, but he’s bought half a dozen cows in milk from somewhere and turned them out on it, hired two girls and set them to be his milkmaids, making cheese as fast as can be to sell in Banbury, and the word is that come autumn, he won’t try to overwinter the cows but slaughter them and salt the beef down to sell. You see how he goes about things?”
What Frevisse saw was that Gilbey Dunn had a skill for turning money into more money and, covering her interest, asked, “Why didn’t Matthew Woderove use it that way?”
‘Matthew has only the one cow and no skill at making money enough to have more. He never had the chance, did he?“
But he had had the land and let it waste. Gilbey had seen its possibility and taken it, able to because of what he had not wasted through the years in the way of money and other chances, Frevisse guessed.
‘For all he’s so clever, though,“ Anne said, nibbling crumbs from one of the cakes as if grudging they tasted so good but unable to help herself, ”I’d keep an eye on Elena and that Tom Hulcote together if I were him.“
Perryn came into sight at that moment, long-striding up the street, his hand raised in greeting and an apology started as he crossed the plank bridge into the yard. Frevisse and Anne stood up and moved to meet him, but the boys were quicker, tumbling up like a rout of puppies from a game they had been scratching in the dust beside the byre, to pelt across the yard with happy shouts and cluster around him, jostling each other to be the first to tell him something while he tousled their hair and told them, “You wait on a moment. I’ll hear it all later. Right now there’s strangers by the alehouse if you want to go and have a stare at them.”
They did, and in a flurry of bare legs and yells they dashed away, leaving Perryn abruptly deserted and sharing a smile warm with affection with his wife as she came toward him. It was a smile full of so many things understood between them past the need of saying that Frevisse understood far more about them both-beginning with how glad they were of each other and how much they loved their sons-than words would have sufficed for.
But Perryn was already saying, “I pray your pardon, my lady. It was something more than I thought it would be. There’s men of the crowner come with questions about a body.”
‘Here?“ Frevisse asked, unlikely though that was. The village would know of any body before the crowner would, surely.
‘Nay. Over Wroxton way. Seems there’s been one found near there, with no one knowing who he was. The crowner’s sent these men out on rounds with some of what was found with him in hopes someone can say who he was after all.“
‘Poor man,“ Anne said.
‘The trouble is,“ Perryn went on, ”they don’t want to spend long over it, so I’ve had to send to bring everyone in from the fields, and when they’re done, I’ll have to see to them all going out again or they’ll likely stand about talking the rest of the day away.“
‘And you’d rather I came back tomorrow to finish our business,“ Frevisse said.
‘If it’d not be too much trouble, my lady.“
‘None. Or not compared to what you have on your hands now.“ Not that it would not have mattered if it had been too much trouble, because the crowner and his men were charged, as officers of the king, with looking into any uncertain deaths, to find if there was guilt or only happenstance involved, and whether or no the matter should be given over to the county sheriff. Therefore their business had precedence over hers. But then, neither did she mind the excuse it gave her to have done with manor business for today.
While she thanked Anne for her hospitality and beckoned for Sister Thomasine to join her, Perryn left them, returning down the street toward the alehouse, where Frevisse could now see the five horsemen waiting near a widespread oak on the green. A scattering of village folk not out to the fields today for one reason or another were already gathering to them and, grateful she needed have no part in it, she turned with Sister Thomasine to go the other way, back to St. Frideswide’s.