I entered Julian Makepeace’s shop, still gloomy in spite of the warm May sunshine outside, and was met by Mistress Naomi, looking prettier and even more pleased with herself than when I had first seen her. The reason was not far to seek as she flashed her left hand with a ring prominently displayed on the third finger; not a wedding band, but plainly a pledge of some kind or another. I was obviously expected to comment, but my mind was too taken up by my recent discovery to waste time on polite conversation.
‘Is Apothecary Makepeace in?’ I demanded.
Naomi made a little moue of disappointment. ‘I’ll find out,’ she said, and flounced off to the living quarters behind the shop.
A second or two later, Julian appeared, exuding his usual aura of good health and unabashed friendliness.
‘Master Chapman, how nice to see you again. What can I do for you? Nothing amiss with your family, I hope?’
‘No, no!’ I answered hurriedly. ‘They’ve gone home to Bristol. Master Makepeace, there is something I must make sure of. You told me that after your mother married Morgan Godslove, you and Reynold went to live with an aunt-’
‘Grandmother,’ he corrected me.
‘Grandmother, then,’ I continued impatiently, ‘who lived in Candlewick Street. You told me that neither of you ever lived with her in Bristol.’
‘That’s quite correct,’ he agreed, puzzled but smiling.
‘Are you quite sure?’ I persisted.
He gave a little laugh. ‘Quite sure.’
‘Then did you and Reynold perhaps pay a visit to the house at Keynsham after your mother’s marriage to your stepfather?’ I suggested.
‘No, never. My brother and I didn’t see our mother again after her wedding day. I daresay that may appear strange to you, but travel was arduous and expensive and our grandmother was a poor woman. And Morgan Godslove gave no indication of desiring our company. Moreover, within three years of the marriage, our mother had born her new husband two children of his own to add to the four he already had by his first wife. He had no need of Reynold and myself. On the contrary, I imagine he was pleased to be rid of us so easily as we should only have meant two more mouths to feed. As for Mother herself, she was not a maternal woman. Our grandmother had always been the constant, steadying influence in Reynold’s and my life from our earliest days, so it was no penance for us to live with her permanently. Whether or not our mother would have shown more affection for Martin and Celia than she did for us we shall never know. Within six years of her second marriage she died of the plague, and our stepfather was a widower for the second time.’ He frowned. ‘You still look uncertain, Master Chapman. It would seem that there is something about my story you fail to understand.’
We were interrupted for a few minutes by customers; a woman who bought syrup of calamint for a child with a bad cough and another who wanted extract of feverfew to make into a poultice for a sprained wrist.
‘Be very careful with it,’ Julian advised the latter as he handed over the little box. ‘Keep it well out of the reach of your children. Concentrated feverfew can be poisonous.’
The woman thanked him and departed.
‘And now!’ Julian turned his attention back to me. ‘Master Chapman, what is bothering you?’
I took a deep breath. ‘When I was first told the history of the Godslove family, the person who gave me the details said that her father — a distant kinsman of Morgan Godslove who had visited the family at Keynsham — was horrified by the fact that there were eight children in the house. But by my reckoning I can only make it six: Clemency, Sybilla, the sister who died after eating mushrooms-’
‘Charity,’ Julian supplied.
‘Thank you. Yes, Charity and Oswald from the first marriage, and your half-siblings, Martin and Celia from the second. If, as you say, you and your brother were never present, not even for a visit, who were numbers seven and eight?’
My companion considered the question. ‘Could this kinsman of the Godsloves have been mistaken?’ he asked at last. ‘Is it possible that he miscounted? Six children stampeding around could possibly appear more numerous than they actually were.’
That, I knew, was true. When Nicholas and Elizabeth were playing one of their games, upstairs at home in Small Street, it could often sound like an army on the march.
‘I suppose it’s possible,’ I conceded reluctantly, but then shook my head. The number eight had recurred too frequently during the past few days for me to ignore it. God’s finger was inexorably pointing me in a particular direction. ‘Nevertheless, I don’t think so,’ I added. ‘My informant was adamant that her father said eight.’
Julian Makepeace chewed a thumbnail, as intrigued by the problem as I was. Meantime, I cudgelled my brains trying to remember all that Margaret Walker had said. Suddenly, memory sharpened.
‘Wait! Something’s coming back to me. I can recollect Margaret — the woman who told me the story — saying that after the death of his second wife — that is after your mother’s death — Morgan Godslove decided against marrying again. Instead he hired a housekeeper. And,’ I went on triumphantly, ‘I can even recall her name. Tabitha Maynard! That was it. But a few years later, she and Morgan were both drowned in a tragic accident. The two of them were aboard the Rownham ferry when it capsized in a terrible storm. Master Makepeace, is it possible, do you think, that this Tabitha Maynard had children of her own? Children who would have gone to live in the Godslove household when their mother became Morgan’s housekeeper?’
The apothecary stared at me for a moment or two, then sadly shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I wouldn’t know. After my mother died, all communication with the Godsloves ceased. Not that there had ever been much: one short letter announcing her death was all we received, and I knew nothing more about the family until they moved to London when Oswald was about fourteen. Clemency brought Martin and Celia to visit us, but we never had a great deal to do with any of them, even then. As for this housekeeper, I’ve never heard any mention of her until now.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘I regret I can’t be of more help on the subject. But of course the people to ask are Oswald and his sisters.’ He rubbed the side of his nose reflectively. ‘If there were children, I wonder what became of them?’ Almost in the same breath, he answered his own question. ‘I suppose they would have been reclaimed by their mother’s kinfolk.’
‘Yes, I suppose they would,’ I agreed, and held out my hand. ‘Thank you for being so patient with me, Master Makepeace. I just wanted to be sure that the extra two children could not possibly have been you and your brother. By the way, am I to congratulate you?’
He looked bewildered. ‘Congratulate me?’
‘I noticed Mistress Naomi was wearing a ring.’
His eyes twinkled. ‘Oh that! She just chooses to wear it on her wedding finger and I don’t dispute her right to do so.’
‘But you bought it for her?’
‘I bought it as a favour from an old friend of mine who was in urgent need of ready money, that’s all. There’s nothing more to it than that.’
‘I see,’ I said and once more held out my hand. To enquire further would be to intrude upon his privacy to an unwarrantable degree. And I liked him as much as I had liked his brother. I wished to stay friends.
I retraced my steps to the Great Conduit and from there walked slowly homeward through the Poultry and the Stock’s Market, busy with my own thoughts and taking little heed of what was going on around me. I did notice, however, that several enterprising street-sellers had exchanged their usual goods for trays of ‘coronation specials’: cheap miniature replicas of bits of the regalia and little dolls in royal purple, distressingly bad wooden effigies of our young boy-king. I resisted the temptation to buy one, in spite of knowing how much Elizabeth would love it.