Wishing to conceal the fact that I had already confided in Anne Fettiplace, I prevaricated.
‘I wasn’t the only person involved, Mistress, as I’ve told you. But I assure you I have no intention of approaching any officer of the law.’
She mulled this over for a moment or two, before asking, ‘What do you know of this man in whose cottage you were staying? This … This…’
‘Jack Golightly,’ I supplied.
Berenice nodded. ‘This Jack Golightly. Is he likely, do you think, to make a report to the Sheriff’s officers next time he visits Exeter or Plymouth?’
I shook my head. ‘I should deem it highly improbable. The truth is that although, in general, he bears a grudge against all Champernownes, and wouldn’t be averse to doing one of them a serious mischief if he could, he would be far happier committing that mischief himself. If you wish to keep your betrothed safe from harm, you’d do well to advise him to steer clear of Jack Golightly.’
‘I shall certainly do so,’ she answered. ‘And I shall make it plain to him how exceptionally foolish his behaviour has been. Thank you for telling me.’ Unexpectedly, she held out her hand. ‘Will you come to visit us at Valletort Manor? Katherine and I are always ready to spend our money on ribbons and combs and all other such aids to vanity as I’m sure you carry in your pack.’ The deep brown eyes were alight once more with mockery. ‘And you can satisfy yourself that my brother is not in hiding there, which is what, I’m sure, you and half the rest of the world believes.’
I was taken aback by this frankness, and also by the fact that her proffered hand seemed to indicate that Berenice Gifford was prepared to treat me almost as a friend. But I did not trust her. She was laughing at me, secure in the knowledge of her ability to protect Beric from all prying eyes such as mine. Even Katherine Glover had shown no agitation at her mistress’s invitation; and their confidence was a challenge that I could not refuse.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I shall be happy to visit you sometime within the next few days. I won’t trouble you for directions, as I’m sure there must be someone who can tell me how to find Valletort Manor.’
Berenice Gifford threw back her head and laughed, this time seeming genuinely amused.
‘Dozens,’ she said. ‘If our whereabouts were unknown to people in the past, you may be certain that there’s not a person in Modbury and the surrounding countryside who doesn’t know where to find us nowadays. Isn’t that so, Kate?’
Katherine Glover grimaced sourly, pulling awry that little, flower-like face.
‘Oh, they all come poking around,’ she sneered, ‘hoping to find Beric and claim the reward. None of our assurances that he’s safely in Britanny manages to persuade them that he’s not in hiding somewhere close at hand.’
‘Nor,’ added Berenice warmly, can they be persuaded that Katherine and I are not protecting him in this imagined concealment. And a few make it plain that they believe I egged my brother on to commit that heinous crime, so that I could inherit Great-Uncle Oliver’s money.’ She shuddered eloquently. ‘It’s true that we’d had our differences, the old man and I, but beneath that crusty manner, he was a kindly soul who’d been good both to me and to my brother. I had no reason to wish him dead: he was pleased with the news of my betrothal to Bartholomew and would have treated me well when the time comes for us to marry.’ She sighed deeply and pushed back a lock of almost jet-black hair that had strayed from beneath her hood. ‘Neither Kate nor I had any idea what Beric was plotting when he left home on May Day morning.’ She turned to her companion for confirmation. ‘Isn’t that so, Kate?’
Katherine Glover nodded. ‘Quite true. If we had had so much as an inkling, we should naturally have tried to prevent him, to reason with him, to discover the cause of his murderous rage. We should even have attempted to confine him to the house if persuasion had failed.’
‘You don’t think, then,’ I suggested, ‘that Master Gifford’s anger had the same cause as his rage of the previous day, when he tried to strangle his uncle? You don’t believe that he was still incensed by Master Capstick’s refusal to contemplate you as his nephew’s wife?’
She flushed uncomfortably and her look of resentment palpably increased.
‘If you want the truth, yes, I think it did. But, given a chance, I might have been able to convince Beric that the old man’s opinion was of no concern to me. That I was not offended by it.’
The tone of her voice was so sincere that I couldn’t help wondering why I didn’t believe her. I tried not to let my doubt show in my face, however; and, as her mistress was at last displaying some signs of wishing to be on her way, I bade both women good day and moved off in the direction of the churchyard gate, where their horses were tethered. The palfrey I recognized. The bay, with the two white front stockings, must therefore belong to Berenice.
Just at that moment, the lady herself called after me, ‘Don’t forget! We shall expect to see you soon, when you’ve finished selling your wares here in Modbury.’
I stopped and waved my acknowledgement, before walking on down the hill.
* * *
I did not return at once to Anne Fettiplace’s cottage, but waited until I was certain that I had not been followed. I had no clear idea why I felt this to be necessary, but for some reason I did not wish to draw the attention of either Berenice Gifford or Katherine Glover to my hostess, even though common sense suggested that I was being overcautious. On the other hand, although both women appeared to have been open and frank in their dealings with me, I knew for a fact that they were lying; that one of them, at least, had had recent contact with Beric Gifford, and that he was not in Brittany, but very much closer to home.
When I described the encounter to Anne Fettiplace and told her of my invitation to visit Valletort Manor, she looked worried.
‘Will you go?’ she enquired, serving me up a dinner of bacon collops and gravy, followed by apple fritters and goat’s-milk cheese.
‘Of course,’ I answered, clearing my mouth with a swig of her home-brewed ale. ‘I would have gone, in any case. To be asked can only be a bonus.’
‘Then you must take great care,’ she advised me. ‘Will you go straight away?’
I shook my head. ‘No. I’ve told Mistress Gifford to expect me within a day or two, but not immediately. She thinks the reason is because I wish to do some trading here, in Modbury, before setting out for Valletort Manor. But, in reality, I want to visit Burrow Island and the fishing villages along the coast.’
My hostess looked even more anxious, if possible, than she had done before.
‘Then don’t go asking too many questions,’ she admonished me. ‘Keep your eyes and ears open by all means, but stick to selling your wares. They’re queer folk, the fishers, and don’t take kindly to interference from the outside world. They protect their own, and Katherine Glover’s one of them. Don’t forget that!’
‘I shan’t forget,’ I promised. ‘I’ve had experience of what they’re like. I had dealings with them once before, some years ago.’
‘Well, remember that there are monks living on the island,’ Mistress Fettiplace reminded me. ‘They’re Cistercians from Buckfast Abbey, and Abbot Kyng, so they say, is strict with his flock. If you do run your head into trouble, they’ll protect you.’
I was dubious about this. Although I did not say so, it was my experience that monks separated from the Mother House tended to grow lax after a while, and disliked interfering in the entrenched ways and customs of the local community. But I had no intention of doing anything foolish. I was a married man now, with responsibilities, and I hoped that God would remember that as well as I did.