I was at a loss how to break the silence, for the purpose of my visit — to see and talk to Baldwin Lightfoot — had been accomplished; and I thought it unlikely, were he the instigator of the plot, that he would give anything away. He was a much shrewder man, with a much sharper mind, than first impressions had led me to believe, and he had obviously seen better days. It was a combination to make me pause and wonder if he were indeed our man — always provided, of course, that Irwin Peto really was a fraud.
Baldwin’s voice, cutting across my thoughts, echoed them uncannily. ‘Has my cousin considered,’ he asked, tapping the letter, ‘that this man may, after all, really be her brother? As far as I can tell from your story, while there’s no proof that he is Clement, there’s no proof either that he isn’t. And you haven’t answered my other question yet. What help does Alison imagine that I can be to her? And why does she feel it necessary to write to me with this news when we’ve neither seen nor communicated with one another for years!’
I feigned ignorance. ‘Mistress Burnett didn’t confide in me, sir. She knew I was visiting an acquaintance in Keyford and merely asked me to deliver the letter.’
It was a mistake. Baldwin shot upright in his chair, fixing me with those pale grey eyes, which were now as cold as steel.
‘Do you seriously expect me to believe that? According to what you’ve just told me, you’ve been a part of this business from the very beginning. Alfred himself, you say, has turned to you for assurance that this Irwin Peto’s story could be true. And you want me to believe that you’re not deep in Alison’s confidence?’ He gave a mirthless smile. ‘Do you think me so stupid?’
There was nothing left of his earlier geniality, no trace of the bonhomie with which he had treated me in the beginning. The flint-like eyes were brimming with hostility, and I cursed myself for having made such a silly mistake.
He went on, leaning forward and stabbing the air with his forefinger, ‘I know why my cousin sent you! So that you could probe and pry into my doings in the hope that I might reveal myself as the instigator of this plot to defraud her of half her fortune. Well, I’ll tell you something, Chapman! Even if I’d met someone who resembled Clement, and even if I’d recognized the likeness after all these years, I doubt if I have sufficient cunning to have seen how to turn the opportunity to my advantage. I may be poor, but I’m not a rogue.’
His scorn was lacerating, but although it made me uneasy, I was not convinced by it. My feelings about Baldwin Lightfoot was that he was perfectly capable of concocting such a plot, and that if he was not the culprit, then his anger was directed more against a fate which had denied him the challenge than against me for suggesting it. But I had handled the matter badly and should get no more from him now.
I stood up. ‘I’m sorry to have offended you, Master Lightfoot, and I assure you that Mistress Burnett had no thought but to apprise you of what had happened. She felt that as a kinsman you had a right to know.’ This was to a certain extent true, for Alison had never seriously regarded Baldwin as a villain, and would have dissuaded me from wasting precious time visiting him if she could. She would have preferred, once the warmer weather came, that I should set out straight away for London, being convinced that that was where I was most likely to discover the truth. ‘I must be going now, if you’ll forgive me. I’ll see myself out.’ And I picked up my pack and cudgel from the floor.
He heaved himself to his feet, but his aggression seemed to have abated. ‘I daresay I’ve been over-hasty,’ he said. ‘If so, I must apologize. The day’s events — ’ he waved a hand towards the window — ‘have been most upsetting. Widow Twynyho was an excellent neighbour.’ Tears welled up, and I had no doubt that his distress for her was genuine.
But that didn’t mean he was incapable of trying to cheat his cousin. I asked abruptly, ‘Were you in London, sir, at any time last autumn?’
I half-expected another spurt of anger, but although his eyes regained their steely expression, he answered mildly enough, ‘I haven’t been to London for nearly four years. The last time I was there the Archbishop of York had just been arrested, and there was a great deal of speculation as to what would happen because the Earl of Oxford had landed on the Essex coast. So you can tell what a time it’s been.’ He added, in a bid for my sympathy, ‘I don’t get about as much as I did once. Old age, you know. I’m not as spry as I used to be.’ He smiled ingratiatingly, showing the gaps in his teeth.
I found myself wondering about this abrupt change of mood. Why was he so anxious to placate me all of a sudden? I let my glance stray to my surroundings. Baldwin Lightfoot could certainly do with money. I asked as casually as I could, ‘When did you last see your Cousin Clement?’
He answered, equally casual, ‘Not for a decade or more. He may have been — oh, let me see! — fourteen, fifteen years of age when I last clapped eyes on him. Alfred brought Clement with him when he attended my mother’s funeral. I used to see a lot of both children when they were young, but after my mother died we somehow lost touch. The Alderman and I never cared greatly for one another. So, I repeat, I doubt very much that I should have recognized Clement, even at the time of his disappearance. Boys can alter a lot between fifteen and twenty. I heard that he’d vanished, of course, but only by roundabout means. There was no word from Alfred. Later, it was reported to me by an itinerant friar from Bristol that Clement had been murdered, and that the rogues responsible had been brought to justice. Since then, there has been little news. I was told that Alison had married, and the name of her husband, but again, not because of any direct communication from Alfred. You can understand, therefore,’ he added with a mocking smile, ‘how surprised I am to receive a letter from my Cousin Alison now.’
His version of events tallied with what Mistress Burnett had told me, and I felt that there was nothing more to be gained by staying longer. But I had at least met Baldwin Lightfoot for myself, and was able to form some sort of judgement concerning his character and circumstances; and I thought him quite capable of alleviating his poverty by underhand methods should the chance present itself. But had that opportunity occurred?
I took my leave of him, promising to convey his spurious condolences to his ‘dearest cousin’ and to assure her of his constant goodwill. He would pray, he said unctuously, for a happy outcome to her present dilemma. I thanked him, tongue in cheek, on behalf of Mistress Burnett and hastened on my way, free at last to seek out that other dwelling where lived the most beautiful creature on earth.
People were still standing around in little groups, their heads turning every now and then in the direction of the Twynyho house with its shattered door. But I hurried past them, intent only on reaching a cottage at the end of the street which I remembered from my visit the previous autumn. I could see it. I was almost at the gate in the paling which surrounded its modest plot. I was there and, miracle of miracles, a girl with brilliant blue eyes and a thick mass of fair hair was walking down the path from the cottage door towards me. My heart gave a great leap — before I suddenly realized that she was not alone.
Chapter Thirteen
The young man who accompanied Rowena was a mere half a head taller than she was, stockily built, brown-haired and freckle-faced. His skin had the leathery appearance of the countryman who is out in all weathers, and his clothes were made of grey homespun. He had broad, placid features, blue eyes and a grin which spread almost from ear to ear. Place him, I thought bitterly, among a crowd of other country yokels, and he would never stand out from the ruck. As far as I could tell, seething as I was with jealous disappointment, he had nothing whatsoever to recommend him to a beauty such as Rowena Honeyman, yet twice, before they even reached the gate, she lifted her face for his kiss.