But plausible as his words sounded, and much as they chimed with my own ideas on the subject, I wasn’t entirely convinced. A nagging worry was beginning to eat away at my common sense.
‘Can you recollect anything at all about this man?’ I persisted.
The priest sighed and shook his head. ‘No, nothing,’ he said, ‘except that he wasn’t young and was smartly dressed.’
My thoughts went at once to Adrian Jollifant, but after a moment’s consideration, I rejected the possibility. Coming from Cheapside, he would hardly have travelled on foot. And the same reasoning applied to the doctor. Indeed, we knew for certain that Roderick Jeavons had been on horseback, so where would he have stabled his mount? And why would he have left it behind? No, the whole idea was ridiculous. No one had been following Celia, who was about some business of her own.
I smiled wanly and clapped Sir Berowne on the shoulder. ‘Just one last question, Father. Can you tell me the names of any persons hereabouts who might ask for Celia’s help if they were in trouble of any sort? Mistress Rokeswood did mention that Celia occasionally took food to one or two of the families near the Gate.’
The priest seemed vaguely surprised to hear this and said austerely he was unaware that the Godslove family had ever assisted any of the poor in the vicinity. I think it was the first time I realized that, taken as a whole, he did not like them very much. Until then, I had thought him their friend — and no doubt there were some members he preferred to the others — but his tone of voice was suddenly cool and even a little hostile. He must have been aware of it himself because he became anxious to make amends.
‘I’m not saying that they don’t,’ he added hurriedly. ‘It’s just that I’ve never heard it mentioned.’
I wanted to reassure him that I didn’t care for the Godsloves myself and could hardly blame him if he didn’t either. They were not, in my estimation, a lovable family, but somehow I was unable to say the words. I was a guest in their house and they were, however tenuously, related to my wife. So I thanked him for his help and said I would make enquiries in the cottages and at the Bedlam and St Mary’s Hospital before returning to the Arbour to tell them what he had told me.
As I turned away, I heard my name shouted yet again and saw Oswald Godslove riding like a madman towards me. He drew rein and fairly fell out of the saddle, his face white, his limbs shaking. He clutched at my sleeve.
‘Celia,’ he croaked. ‘One of the girls came to find me at the courts. Says she’s missing.’ He could barely get the words out. ‘S-say it’s not true!’
‘I’m afraid it is,’ I said, supporting him about the waist. ‘She hasn’t been seen since this morning, but we don’t know for certain that any harm has befallen her. Indeed,’ I went on bracingly, ‘it’s more than probable she’ll turn up again soon, alive and well.’
Oswald made no answer, and, with a little moan, burst into tears.
The priest aimed an ineffectual pat at his back, missed, then stood looking at me, faintly embarrassed. I tightened my grip on Oswald and urged him to complete his journey.
‘Your sisters will be glad to see you,’ I said. ‘They’ll tell you all that’s happened. Meantime, I’m going to make a few enquiries of my own, but I’ll join you at the Arbour just as soon as I’ve done so. Pull yourself together, man.’ Oswald’s noisy sobs were beginning to attract unwelcome attention. ‘Father Berowne and I are both agreed that there is probably nothing to worry about. Celia may have gone on an errand of mercy and will return of her own accord shortly. But, as I said, Clemency and Sybilla will explain everything to you.’
Oswald knuckled his eyes like a child and, also like a child, turned on me viciously, transmuting his fear into anger and venting it on my innocent head.
‘Of course you’re not worried! What’s Celia to you? Or him?’
He flung out a hand, catching the priest a painful blow on the side of his jaw. I wondered if it were as accidental as it appeared to be, and I saw the same thought flicker at the back of Father Berowne’s eyes, but his expression of concern didn’t alter, nor did he raise a hand to rub his face.
‘You’re overwrought, Master Godslove. Go home,’ he said, adding his voice to mine. ‘While Master Chapman, here, knocks on a door or two, allow me to walk as far as the Arbour with you. I’ll lead the horse. Short as the distance is, you’re in no fit state to ride.’
This kindly offer was spurned, not in words but in action. Oswald flung himself back into the saddle and galloped off up the track, at a pace which forced all oncoming traffic out of his path, with a total disregard for anyone else’s convenience.
The priest sighed. ‘We must make allowances for a very frightened man,’ he said magnanimously, at the same time tenderly feeling his jaw. ‘Now, away you go, my son, and make your enquiries. And God grant that you discover something useful as to where Mistress Celia might have gone, or even where she is, and put her poor family out of their misery.’
An hour later, footsore and weary, hoarse from asking the same question over and over again, and depressed from receiving the same negative answer each and every time, I returned to the Arbour no wiser as to Celia’s whereabouts than when I set out. I did not see Father Berowne, but I heard vespers being sung as I passed St Botolph’s church, a reminder that I had been lax in my attendance of late. I couldn’t remember the last occasion on which I had been to confession.
As I passed the almshouses, I overtook a small, weary figure trudging up the road and recognized it as one of the Godsloves’ kitchen maids; the one, presumably, who had been sent to Westminster to fetch Oswald home. I offered her my arm to which she clung gratefully.
‘Couldn’t your master have taken you up behind him?’ I asked indignantly.
The girl looked shocked. ‘Oh, no, sir! He’d never do that. He would never overburden his horses, and besides-’
‘Besides what?’
‘Well, he wouldn’t want to be seen with the likes of me, now would he, sir? Him a smart lawyer and all.’ She turned her head to look at me, taking in my brown hose and green tunic with its silver gilt buttons, and finally my hat with its fake jewel on the upturned brim. ‘And you’re looking very fine, sir. Are you sure you don’t mind being seen with me?’
‘Of course not! You’re a very pretty girl.’ I felt suddenly angry with Oswald and was made sharply aware of how much I disliked the man. Perhaps, after all, it was not impossible that someone, somewhere, wanted to harm him and his.
‘Is there any news of Mistress Celia?’ my companion asked as we left the houses behind and rounded the bend into open countryside, the Arbour, set in its rambling garden, coming into view.
‘No, nothing, I’m afraid. I’ve been making enquiries around the Bishop’s Gate in the hope that she was visiting one of the cottages there, but no one’s seen her. I even asked at the hospital and the Bedlam, but to no avail. Everybody knows her by sight, of course, but very few know her to speak to. Mistress Rokeswood said she took soup and bread to the poorer families, but I don’t think it was true.’
The girl shook her head. ‘I’ve never seen her do so. Master Godslove wouldn’t let her, for one thing. He’d be too frightened she’d catch something nasty off one of ’em. He’s that fond of Mistress Celia, you wouldn’t believe.’ There was nothing in her tone to suggest she found this circumstance in any way odd, and she went on, ‘I suppose it’s because of that terrible secret they all share.’
I caught my breath. ‘What secret?’ I asked, my voice coming out as a croak.
Our feet had been dragging for the past few yards, and now we both came to a halt. The girl turned her head and regarded me with concern.