I grasped my shovel in one hand and picked up the iron pot full of frozen snow with the other. ‘It would explain a good deal,’ I admitted. ‘I didn’t know William Burnett was a gambler.’
‘Always has been, like his father and grandfather before him,’ said Jack Nym. ‘They were rich men and could afford it, and so can William. It’s just that he has this mean streak which makes him reluctant to discharge his debts until forced to do so. He’s the same with his taxes, by all accounts. Mind you, he’s generous to himself; never stints on any item of his dress or comfort for his home. Keeps a good table.’
‘Simply doesn’t like paying out money for anything that doesn’t show a return,’ added Nick Brimble.
I returned to the cottage, where my mother-in-law was waiting impatiently for the pot of snow, which she immediately placed on the fire. I retired to a corner, out of the women’s way and until Margaret was ready to dole me out a measure of hot water for shaving, to mull over the information just imparted by Nick Brimble and Jack Nym. I had no doubt that what they had told me about William Burnett was true, for Bristol was their city and they were more attuned to its gossip than I was; for although I had lived there now for over three years, I was absent for long periods and had not the interest of a native in my neighbours. All the same, I had the temerity to question their judgement. On the face of it, it explained satisfactorily all that had happened; it made sense of my conviction that William Burnett knew his attacker — or at least understood the reason for the attack — and was therefore anxious to divert his wife’s suspicion into a different channel. And yet, I could not bring myself to believe that this was really the answer. I felt there was a deeper mystery that I had not yet fathomed.
My mother-in-law’s voice cut imperiously across my reverie. ‘Roger! Here’s some hot water and your razor. Get shaving, for heaven’s sake! If you want to see Adela settled in during the best of the morning’s daylight, you’ll have to bestir yourself.’
Her words recalled me to my more immediate duty and I hastened to comply. Adela sent me a small, half-apologetic smile, which Margaret intercepted.
‘I hope you’re happy with what you’re doing, Cousin,’ she scolded, ladling oatmeal into the remains of the boiling water, ‘taking a child of Nicholas’s tender years to a cottage where there’s been a murder only three days since.’
‘Why should that bother me?’ Adela enquired placidly, setting spoons and bowls on the table. ‘Nick is too young to know what happened there, or to be disturbed by it if he did. As for myself, I can see no danger. Lightning rarely strikes in the same place twice, and I shall be very careful to bolt and bar the door and window at night.’
And with this, my mother-in-law had to be content. No doubt, she felt, virtuously, that she had done all in her power to persuade her cousin to stay, and was secretly pleased that her efforts had been resisted, provided that the two households remained in close touch. The one thing she obviously feared was that Adela and I would foil her plans for our marriage.
‘You mustn’t be afraid to call upon Roger whenever necessary,’ she insisted at parting. ‘And the children must spend some time together each day. They’re fond of one another.’ This was so indisputably true as to require no answer. My mother-in-law continued, ‘I shall speak to Alderman Weaver about finding you work as a spinner this very morning.’ She turned to me. ‘Roger, it will be your job to purchase a spinning wheel for Adela, which will be our gift to you, my dear, in your new home.’ And as her cousin started to protest, she lifted an admonitory finger. ‘We shan’t be denied, shall we, Roger?’
As we walked up High Street some twenty minutes later, Adela carrying her bundle of worldly possessions, I with Nicholas in my arms and both of us struggling to keep our feet on the hard-packed snow, my companion said quietly, ‘You need not think that I’m unaware of Margaret’s hopes and plans for us. Indeed, I think I guessed them before ever we reached Bristol, your manner was so distant and cautious towards me. And why else, I asked myself, had she sent you now, instead of waiting for Jack Nym to fetch us in the warmer weather?’ Adela drew a deep breath. ‘What I’m trying to say is that these schemes for our future are no more welcome to me than they must be to you, so please have no fear that I expect anything other than friendship between us.’
I turned my head and smiled at her. ‘Thank you for being so frank. It clears away all constraint, and I hope that from now on, we shall indeed be good friends.’
She made no reply, but none was needed. We understood one another.
We made our way first to Saint James’s Priory, and afterwards to the cottage in Lewin’s Mead. One of the Brothers accompanied us as far as the door, his presence putting the seal of authority on our right to enter, in case any zealous neighbour should challenge it. No one did, however, although I had the impression of being watched by half a dozen or more curious pairs of eyes.
‘Are the Sheriff’s men any nearer to discovering Mistress Bracegirdle’s murderer?’ I asked the Brother.
He shook his head. ‘The Sergeant is as certain as he can be that it was a passing thief, who tried the door, found it open and chanced his arm. When Mistress Bracegirdle confronted him, he killed her.’
‘I can see you find it hard to accept that explanation,’ Adela remarked when our escort had departed in the direction of the Priory, huddled into his cloak against the bitter cold. ‘May I know why?’
‘Because,’ I answered, ushering my charges into the cottage, ‘it seems far more probable to me that a thief would have turned tail and run. Or if he were determined on violence, he would have used his fists or a stool to bludgeon her to death. Or even a knife to stab her, if one had happened to be lying handy on the table. But strangle her? No! It doesn’t make sense. To do that, he must have taken her from behind, and surely she would never have turned her back on an intruder.’
‘Maybe you’re right,’ Adela answered thoughtfully, and began to inspect her new home.
All was much as it had been, except that a three days’ coating of dust now covered everything, and the remains of the murdered woman’s last meal were beginning to smell. The dead ashes of Imelda’s fire still lay on the hearth, and the cooking utensils that stood on a long shelf just inside the front door, proved, on inspection, to be none too clean. There was much to be done before the place could be rendered truly habitable. ‘What do you wish me to do first?’ I asked.
Before she could answer, however, there was a knock on the door and, being nearest, I opened it. Richard Manifold stood on the threshold.
Chapter Ten
‘I’ve come to pay my respects, Mistress Juett,’ he said, remaining outside the door, as though unsure of his reception. ‘I heard that the tenancy of the cottage has been granted to you, and I want to say how pleased I am. Welcome home.’
Adela went forward, hands outstretched. ‘Richard Manifold! I’m happy to see you again after all these years.’
I had never see her so animated, not even when greeting my mother-in-law, and I felt a small stab of irritation. Surely her cousin deserved a warmer response than a mere friend, however close to one another Adela and the Sheriff’s Officer might have been in the past.
‘Come in,’ she invited, ‘and shut the door. The weather’s bitter.’
‘I can’t stop but a moment or two,’ Richard Manifold protested, but doing as he was bidden. ‘I’m on my way to Master Burnett’s house. It seems he was attacked last night.’
Adela nodded, pushing forward one of the chairs, which she dusted with a corner of her cloak, and seating herself on the other. ‘I know. It was Roger, here, and a man of Alderman Weaver’s who found him and helped carry him home.’
Richard Manifold turned his head to look properly at me for the first time since his arrival and gave me a nod of recognition. ‘You found him, eh? Did Master Burnett give any indication who he thought might be responsible for the assault? Did he mention a name?’