‘Are you getting the rheum, sir? You really ought to be careful. You only got up out o’ your sickbed yesterday. You shouldn’t be running about like this.’
‘No, no! I’m quite all right,’ I answered hurriedly. ‘What terrible secret do they all share?’
‘Sir?’
‘You just said that Master Godslove and his family share a terrible secret. What secret?’
She laughed, taking my arm once more as we slowly resumed our walk.
‘Lord, sir, if I knew that it wouldn’t be a secret, now would it?’
‘Well, then-’ I was beginning impatiently, but she interrupted me.
‘It was just something I overheard once when nobody knew I was by. Mistress Rokeswood had sent me to fetch a bowl she needed from the big cupboard in the dining parlour, and the window was open into the garden. Master Oswald and Mistress Clemency were outside, talking about the attack on Master Martin. Him that was killed when he was set on by footpads,’ she added by way of explanation.
‘Yes, yes! I know about that! Go on, girl! Go on!’
She eyed me curiously, and I could see her wondering if she ought to say anything further. But she continued, ‘Well, Mistress Clemency was saying she thought the attack hadn’t been footpads at all. Leastways, not real ones. She thought they were people who’d been paid to murder Master Martin, and that someone was trying to kill the lot of them, one at a time. Master Oswald wouldn’t have it. Said she was talking nonsense. Who’d want to do such a thing, he said. And why?’
We had stopped again, outside the Arbour garden wall, close to the gate. ‘Go on,’ I urged my companion as she paused for breath.
‘Well, then Mistress Clemency said something about the terrible secret they all shared, but the master told her not to be so foolish. No one knew about it except themselves. He said, sort of sharpish, “You haven’t told Arbella, have you?” That’s Mistress Rokeswood.’ I nodded and she went on, ‘Mistress Clemency said she’d never breathed a word to anyone, ever, and Master Oswald said that was all right, then.’ The girl’s forehead puckered momentarily. ‘But he did say something rather odd.’
‘What?’
‘He said something like, “After all, they never knew themselves, did they? So we’re quite safe.” And he laughed. After that he and Mistress Clemency moved away and I didn’t hear any more. I took the bowl and went back to the kitchen and got a right telling-off from Mistress Rokeswood for having been so long.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Have you ever told anyone else about this?’ I asked. ‘About what you overheard?’
The girl shook her head. ‘I never give it another thought, really. Not until this minute. I didn’t understand it prop’ly, so I forgot it. Should I have done?’
‘No, by no means. You’re sure you didn’t even tell your little workmate?’
The girl snorted. ‘And have her snitching on me that I’d been eavesdropping on the master and his sister? I’d have lost my place as quick as winking. Same if I’d told Mistress Rokeswood. I just forgot about it.’ A sudden doubt shook her. ‘You won’t go telling on me, will you, sir? I didn’t mean to say anything to you. It just popped out somehow, when we were talking.’
‘I won’t say anything,’ I promised her, ‘not to anyone. Not even my wife.’
But I shan’t forget it, either, I thought as we entered the Arbour garden and approached the house, my companion to drag her weary limbs round to the back door and thence into the kitchen — where she would doubtless receive scant sympathy for her long, dusty walk to Westminster and back — and I to join Adela and the remaining Godsloves in the hall.
As I entered, four pairs of eyes swivelled in my direction.
‘Roger!’ Adela exclaimed, starting towards me. ‘Have you any news of Celia?’
I sank down thankfully on to one of the settles, easing my legs out before me. ‘No, nothing I’m afraid. At least, not this side of the Bishop’s Gate. I didn’t go further. Father Berowne is the only person who thinks he might have caught a glimpse of her sometime this morning. But even he isn’t sure. He thinks there might have been someone with her, but again, he can’t be certain.’
Sybilla burst into noisy sobbing, but while Adela and Clemency went to comfort her, a white-faced Oswald, who seemed to have regained a precarious control over his emotions, announced savagely, ‘Your efforts were a total waste of time, my dear Roger. Any fool could have told you that. It’s as plain as the nose on your face that Roderick Jeavons is the villain of this affair. I’ve heard how he accosted Celia in the garden and inflicted his unwelcome attentions on her.’
‘But according to Elizabeth and Nicholas, he went away again,’ I pointed out. ‘He didn’t force Celia to go with him.’
‘Not then, no. But your other son overheard her talking to someone later. It’s perfectly obvious to all but the meanest intelligence’ — mine, I supposed — ‘that he returned and persuaded her to accompany him somewhere or other.’
‘But would Celia have gone with him,’ I protested, ‘in view of their previous quarrel?’
‘God knows what blandishments and persuasive arguments he used to lure her away. Celia has far, far too kind a heart. She can be so easily led, particularly by a rogue such as Roderick Jeavons. Why, once he even persuaded her into a betrothal against her will.’
‘Are you sure it was against her will?’ I asked quietly. Adela sent me a warning glance, but I chose to ignore it. ‘Couldn’t she have been genuinely in love with the man?’
Oswald turned on me as though I had uttered the worst kind of blasphemy. He was shaking with temper and his eyes burned with fury in his parchment-coloured face.
‘Celia would never have married him! Never! She would never have deserted the rest of us.’ He gave a wild sob that caught in his throat, before once more making a visible effort to take himself in hand. ‘In those days, of course, Charity and Martin were still alive. We were a close-knit, loving family. Celia would never seriously have considered leaving us for a stranger. But Roderick Jeavons has been trying for years to make her change her mind, all to no avail, and now he’s become desperate. He’s abducted her by force.’
‘In broad daylight?’ My tone was sceptical.
Oswald’s voice rose almost to a shout. ‘He’s lured her away with some story or another, I tell you, and then imprisoned her.’ The spittle flecked his lips. ‘That’s why we’re going straight away, now, to visit him.’
‘We?’
‘You have to come with me, Roger. He’s more likely to admit the truth if he’s confronted by two of us instead of one.’
‘No.’ It was my wife who spoke in the tone of voice she reserved for the children when she intended to brook no argument. ‘Roger has been ill. He only got up yesterday. He has already over-taxed his strength with all he’s done today. He looks worn out and I insist that he rests.’
Oswald and his sisters looked shocked. ‘After all we’ve done for you, Adela,’ Sybilla breathed accusingly.
The colour suffused my wife’s face, but she stood her ground. ‘I’m aware of that, Sybilla, and I’m very grateful, believe me. But I will not have Roger’s health put at risk.’
‘Roger’s health!’ Oswald flung back at her. ‘What’s that compared to the fact that Celia’s life might be endangered?’
At this point, Arbella arrived to tell us that supper was ready at last, urging us to come to table before it got cold, only to find her words falling on deaf ears. Clemency informed her brusquely that no one present felt like eating, but to see that the children were fed.
‘What is this nonsense?’ the housekeeper demanded angrily, adding gruffly, ‘Celia wouldn’t want you to make yourselves ill, you know, whatever has happened to her.’ She glanced towards Oswald and real concern lit her eyes. She laid a hand on his arm. ‘My dear man, you look done to death. Come and get some food inside you, and if Celia still isn’t home by the time you’ve finished, then go and alert the Watch, the sheriff’s men or whoever you think fit, but-’