‘No!’ Naomi put her hands behind her back and turned to her lover (I felt certain Julian was that). ‘It’s mine. He shan’t have it. He’s lying. You heard what she said. She said it had been given to her when she was a young girl and she hated having to part with it.’
‘Who said?’ I demanded urgently.
The apothecary pulled down the corners of his mouth. ‘Where did you say your wife lost the ring, Master Chapman?’
‘She didn’t lose it. It was stolen from the Arbour. Someone must have got into the house.’
Julian Makepeace shook his head sadly. ‘I doubt that, my friend. You see it was Arbella Rokeswood who offered it to me.’
‘Arbella?’ For a moment or two I stared at him incredulously, but then things began to fall into place. For a start, who of the Arbour inmates would have been the most likely to try to enter my bedchamber the previous night? Not Oswald or his sisters: they would have no reason to do so. But if Arbella. . My heart was pounding again and I had to grip the edge of the counter. If Arbella were really Lucy Maynard and was beginning to fear that I suspected the truth, might she not make an attempt to silence me? She would surely not balk at another murder, having killed, or helped to kill, a number of times already. .
But was she Lucy Maynard? Perhaps her story that she was in need of money had been the truth. Maybe she had taken Adela’s ring for just that reason. On the other hand, I had little doubt that she was paid well enough by the Godsloves; her food and shelter were supplied and, as far as I could see, she had few wants of her own. And what of her apparent passion for Oswald? Was that just simulated as an additional part of her disguise, if she were indeed the long lost Lucy? Or had she, at some point in her masquerade genuinely fallen in love with him?
I suddenly became aware that Naomi was screaming the most unladylike obscenities at Julian Makepeace, and that he was offering me the ring which he seemed to have prised from her finger by force.
‘Take it, Master Chapman,’ he was saying. ‘I believe you. It’s yours. Why should you lie about it? It will teach me not to do old friends a good turn in future.’
‘Master Makepeace,’ I said, leaning towards him and raising my voice, ‘you say Mistress Rokeswood is an old friend. How old? What do you know about her?’
It was his turn to look startled. ‘I–I’ve known Arbella for several years now. She’s always come here to buy the family’s medicines when they were needed. And other things like fleabane for keeping the fleas at bay, and alkanet for colouring cheeses and a mixture of my own — gall nuts and iron and alum — for dying hair. A pleasant woman, pleasantly spoken, politer by far than my stepsisters’ previous housekeeper, who-’
I interrupted him unceremoniously. ‘She’s only kept house for the Godsloves for the past year or so, then?’
‘Three years. Maybe four. I can’t remember. Does it matter?’
‘Perhaps.’ I held out my hand. ‘Master Makepeace, I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you believe my story and for returning Adela’s ring. I suppose. . I suppose Mistress Rokeswood didn’t mention why she needed money so urgently?’
He eyed me curiously. ‘No, nor did I ask.’ He glanced ruefully at the door at the back of the shop through which Naomi had just that moment flounced, oozing enough ill-will to make any man wince in anticipation of the tirade to come. ‘What will you do? Will you confront Mistress Rokeswood with the theft? I shall certainly be wary of her in future.’
‘I don’t know,’ I answered cautiously. ‘I must think it over. It might be awkward to accuse her while I’m still a guest at the Arbour.’ I saw that he was about to dispute this argument and went on hurriedly, ‘I’ll relieve you of my presence. Thank you again for being so understanding. If ever I can do anything for you. .’
‘As a matter of fact, there is,’ he said, smiling faintly. He took a small box from the shelf behind him. ‘This is Father Berowne’s extract of feverfew. He likes to keep some handy for making poultices when he hurts himself working in that garden of his. If you’re passing his door, will you give it to him?’
‘Of course,’ I answered, putting the little box into my pouch, glad that there was something I could do in exchange for his unconditional acceptance of my story. He came out from behind the counter and moved towards the shop door to open it for me, but I stayed him with a hand on his arm. ‘I recall you saying that extract of feverfew is poisonous. Could it be administered in a drink?’
For a moment, he looked startled, then laughed. ‘It would be difficult. In that form — ’ he nodded at my pouch — ‘it’s very bitter. An infusion of the flowers and leaves can be used to alleviate headaches and ease women’s monthly pains, and mixed with wine and honey they are a good cure for melancholy and dizziness. But when the plant’s juices are concentrated, the result, as I say, is bitter.’
‘Is there any way in which the taste might be disguised?’ It was my turn to laugh at his anxious expression. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not planning to do away with anyone.’
He looked shamefaced. ‘No, I didn’t really think you were.’ He considered for a moment. ‘I suppose if you smeared a little of the extract around the rim of a beaker, the drinker might not notice it. I daresay it wouldn’t prove fatal, but it could make a person ill.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘You’ve been extremely patient and most understanding.’ I glanced towards the opposite door. ‘I hope you make your peace with Mistress Naomi and that she won’t make you suffer too greatly.’
His eyes twinkled. ‘Oh, I don’t think she’ll do that, but it will cost me another ring I don’t doubt. Women!’ he added. ‘But we can’t do without them, I suppose.’
I walked back along Bucklersbury deep in thought. The muckrakers were by now busy at work on the central drain and the night-soil removers, with their noisome little carts, were going from house to house emptying the privies, while several roisterers, already drunk even at this early hour of the morning, rolled out of the Voyager, something that would never have happened in Reynold Makepeace’s day. But I hardly noticed any of these things — or if I did, paid them no heed — being deep in thought.
Why would Arbella Rokeswood be in need of money? And another thought intruded before I had formed the answer to my question. Adam had recollected that the person he had overheard talking to Celia in the Arbour garden had been a woman. Could it possibly have been Arbella? Almost at once, I realized that if that were so, then it would explain why Celia had failed to inform anyone else that she was going out. She would naturally have assumed that the housekeeper would tell them where she was. And she had most probably gone at Arbella’s instigation.
Having by this time reached the Great Conduit again, I paused for a drink and to splash my face and hands with water. Feeling somewhat refreshed, I returned to my first question: why was Arbella suddenly in need of money? And what for? The answer came with the memory of something I had said to Oswald; that it must cost a great deal to hire bravos willing to kill to order. And immediately I remembered those other two thefts: the pyx taken from St Botolph’s Church and the stealing of the tailor’s savings from his cottage near the Bedlam. Father Berowne had said that the pyx was stolen over a year ago and Peter Coleman had said much the same thing about his gold. And in the autumn of the preceding year, Martin Godslove had been set upon, apparently by street robbers, and murdered, while within the past few months or so, Sybilla had been injured by falling masonry from the Bishop’s Gate wall.
I remembered something else as well; three things, in fact. The first was how Arbella had kept urging me to return to Bristol with Adela and the children; the second was her reluctance to tell me the tailor’s name and address until bullied into it by Oswald; and finally, I recalled Arbella’s appearance at the church the day before yesterday while I was talking to the priest. My initial impression had been that she was flustered by the sight of me. But with her usual self-possession, she had quickly recovered her countenance and allayed any curiosity on my part by announcing she had come to confession.