Page 20 of Linenfold (The Alice Chronicles #4)

‘Believe me, I’d love to, Rose, but they would not allow a woman in their midst,’ she answers.

‘Still, you may have noticed a thin-faced man in dark green amongst their number? He is Master Sanderson and he will tell me anything I need to know.’ Oliver Sanderson, merchant of Guildford, a man of solid reliability in Alice’s view, was one of Henry’s friends.

He and Alice were the last two people to see Henry alive.

The jury are not very long in the vegetable garden and their voices are subdued as they return through the kitchen.

A minute later a head pokes round the kitchen door.

‘Mistress Jerrard is needed in the hall,’ announces one of the jurymen.

He is a tailor in the town, a kindly man she knows slightly.

He is of minimal substance, just enough to be eligible for a call from the coroner.

She accompanies him along the passage. ‘Does he have a verdict, sir?’

‘Not as yet, Mistress Jerrard. He wants to ask you some questions.’

The coroner has seated himself in Henry’s chair at the head of the table. She has always thought his head looks like a great cube under the straight line of the hat, the hair hanging lank either side.

‘Sir Malcolm,’ the tailor says, ‘I have brought Mistress Jerrard as you requested.’

Sir Malcolm looks long at him. ‘So I see.’ He continues a conversation with one of the jurors on the merits of The Angel over other hostelries in Guildford.

She waits. The man he is addressing glances uneasily in her direction, but with the coroner engaging him in further remarks about The Angel’s ale, his attention remains on his responses.

The rest talk amongst themselves. Their shocked observations on the sight they have lately seen is already melting into past recollections of coroners’ juries they have attended.

Justice Townsend’s mournful face carries an expression of discomfort but he says nothing. Finally, Sir Malcolm turns to Alice.

‘So what is a peer of the realm doing on your demesne?’

‘There was an accident when their coach went into the ditch out on the road. It could not be repaired yesterday and I offered them bed and board meanwhile.’

‘So who opened the door last night?’

‘Which door?’

‘The back door, the front door. What does it signify except that His Lordship was able to leave?’

‘His Lordship was free to leave whenever he wished, sir, by unbolting and lifting the bar on the front door, or the bar on the kitchen door. But Mollie would have told me this morning if she found it unbarred.’

‘Ah yes, the kitchen wench who doesn’t speak. A highly reliable witness. So the answer is, you don’t know.’

‘That’s not what I—’

‘Who sleeps outside the house?’

‘The menservants, Allan, Joe and Angus. They do not have family on the demesne and so they have sleeping quarters in the loft over the woodshed. Also Lord Hardcastle’s four men. We put them in the loft above the stables.’

‘His Lordship had two coaches, Sir Malcolm,’ Justice Townsend remarks.

Alice explains. ‘The travelling coach carried himself, his secretary and his nephew. The other contained his baggage and also two young Frenchwomen whom he was conducting to London.’

‘Frenchies?’ Sir Malcolm looks his distaste. ‘Whatever next? No wonder he went outside, with two foreigners in the house. Who secured the entries to the house last night?’

‘I did, Sir Malcolm. After Lord Hardcastle’s men had gone to the stable loft, and my maids were in bed in the attics.

I barred the kitchen and front doors and shot the bolts on the front door as well.

I also checked all the windows on this floor, including the winter parlour where Lord Hardcastle and his nephew spent last evening, because it was raining.

I suggested to the two Frenchwomen at the end of the dairy passage that they should bar their door on the inside. ’

‘At least they speak English, then,’ Sir Malcolm says.

‘Not so, sir, I have passable French.’

‘Really? Passable French? Mon Dieu!’ Sir Malcolm mockingly pronounces it Monn Joo . ‘I’ll see them later. For now, I’ve heard enough. You are dismissed. Fetch the nephew and the secretary. I need to speak with them directly.’

At Sam’s little chamber, Alice knocks lightly. ‘Master Cranley?’ There is the sound of movement from within, a floorboard creaks. Behind the door he asks, ‘What is it?’

‘Are you well, sir? Are you recovered from the swoon you suffered?’

‘It was no swoon!’

‘But, sir, we were quite worried about you. You did not respond to our efforts to rouse you.’

‘It was no swoon, I tell you! How dare you suggest so? I merely needed to rest. I did not choose to respond.’

Alice rolls her eyes. ‘Then I am glad to know you are well, sir. The coroner Sir Malcolm Wipley would like to speak with you regarding your master. He is down in the hall now.’

‘I cannot come down!’ His voice sounds panicked. ‘I don’t know anything of the matter! Tell him I cannot help him.’

‘Sir,’ Alice persists, ‘he merely wishes to understand a little more from others’ viewpoints. He is also going to speak with Master Sewell, and the two Frenchwomen.’

‘I can’t! I can’t talk to him.’

‘Sir, I do not believe one can refuse a coroner’s request. If he has to come up here, I believe it will only exacerbate his vexation.’

‘Oh, this is intolerable!’ she hears him mutter. ‘Hounding the innocent in this way. Giving me no peace.’ His complaints continue in like manner for a few seconds until, ‘Tell him I have yet to finish dressing. I shall attend him in twenty minutes.’

‘Make it ten, sir, please,’ Alice begs. ‘I do not wish to be the one whose message induces his ire.’

‘Insufferable demands on an old man! Then if I have forgot everything in my haste it will not be my fault!’

‘I shall say ten minutes, then, sir.’ Well, he has something to tell, Alice muses, or he could not have “forgot everything”.

And now, where to find Philip. She checks barn and woodshed in vain before finding him in the stable loft.

Barred like the rest from leaving the demesne, Philip has found familiar company and a dice game help pass the time, and perhaps blunt his memory of that smothered face.

He jumps up readily when she gives the coroner’s summons and makes his way with her to the hall.

Having explained the delay before Master Cranley will appear, she announces “Philip Sewell” and introduces Coroner Sir Malcolm Wipley and Justice Townsend before returning to the kitchen once more.

In the hall, all except the coroner are on their feet.

Philip looks around. ‘Forgive my observation that the good justice here is standing,’ he says.

‘I hold it to be simple courtesy to offer a seat to a gentleman of my late uncle’s years.

’ He pulls round the chair from the other end of the table.

‘Pray, sir, allow me to place this for your comfort.’ When Townsend demurs, Philip cajoles.

‘But sir, none other may be seated until you are.’

Justice Townsend acquiesces with a grateful look and Philip straddles the bench by the table, leaning an elbow easily on the board. ‘How can I help you, Sir Malcolm?’

The coroner’s eyes narrow. ‘You can start by remaining on your feet when I question you.’

Philip considers a moment. ‘Will that make my answers more truthful?’

‘Lower rank stands in the presence of higher.’

‘So I’ve heard.’ Philip remains seated.

‘I see a troublemaker before me, Sewell, and troublemakers come by no good in my court.’

‘Is that a threat?’

‘It’s a warning. Nephew to His Lordship you might be, but in my presence—’

‘Allow me to clarify for you, sir. With His Lordship’s decease, I am His Lordship.’

There is a silence like a held breath, while Sir Malcolm considers his position. ‘You should have said.’

‘Accept my apologies. I should certainly have mentioned it, had I considered how forcefully rank may exercise the mind.’

From his position amongst the coroner’s jury, Oliver Sanderson regards the young man with interest. No pushover, and no fool either.

The coroner leans back in his chair. ‘So, in summary, you and your uncle went to bed around midnight, you saw him to his chamber, then went to your own next to his.’

‘I went with him into his chamber to ensure I had properly damped down the fire and that he had water for washing. When I had satisfied myself that he had all he needed for the night, I went to my own chamber.’

‘You didn’t check the chamber for one lurking in the shadows?’

‘We both had rushlights. We would have seen if there were anyone else in the room.’

‘So you went to sleep and heard nothing all night.’

‘I heard nothing.’ The words come heavily. ‘I only wish it were otherwise.’

‘So for all you know, Mistress Jerrard could have entered his chamber and taken him at knifepoint to where he was murdered. Or anyone else for that matter, since she seems unsure whether or not she barred the doors.’

Philip considers. ‘Indeed sir, then for all I know, any of the good citizens of Guildford here gathered could have entered the house and taken His Lordship at knifepoint.’

‘I think we are agreed, Sir Malcolm,’ Oliver Sanderson interjects, ‘that His Lordship could have let himself out of the house, had he so wished, and there is no suggestion of a knife or of compulsion.’

‘Except that he is out there, in his night clothes, which no sane man would do by choice.’

‘So what we have,’ Oliver Sanderson says, ‘is, by your suggestion, a possibly unbarred door, a man who should be in bed found outside, and anyone, household, guest or complete stranger, able to have compelled him to where he was found dead.’

‘If indeed he was compelled,’ the coroner adds.

‘My point is, we do not seem to be progressing, Sir Malcolm.’

‘That is because you do not see the subtleties of this case,’ the coroner replies.

‘Which are?’

‘There was nothing subtle about my uncle’s face being ground into the mud!’ Philip bursts out. ‘Look at the evidence before you!’

‘I will decide what happened to your relation,’ Wipley says, adding, ‘We are not in need of your judgments or your instructions, sir! This jury is not to be ordered what to do or not to do.’

Philip swallows hard, then asks, ‘I should like to bring my uncle’s body into the house. If you have finished your viewing, that is?’

As Sir Malcolm hesitates, Oliver Sanderson says, ‘You said you have seen all you need to see, Wipley. It seems a reasonable request.’ One or two others murmur their agreement.

‘Very well.’ Sir Malcolm gives him a narrow look. ‘A moment. You say Mistress Jerrard was ahead of you when you found the body.’

‘She was,’ Philip answers. ‘People were looking in all the places. She and I had checked the kitchen court buildings. It was a natural move to go to the drying bushes and thence to the vegetable garden.’

‘I suggest that she led you there because she knew what you would find.’

‘Do you accuse every person who finds a body?’

The coroner changes tack. ‘When your coach went into the ditch, who was first on the scene?’

‘Mistress Jerrard.’

‘How soon after the, er, accident did she appear?’

‘Almost immediately.’

‘What was she doing out in the road in thick fog?’

‘Perhaps you should ask her.’

‘How did it happen? Was the coach driven too fast?’

‘Not in those conditions. We were going at barely more than a walk.’

‘So why would it suddenly veer off into the ditch?’

‘Jackson said a flight of ducks passed at that moment. They startled the horses.’

‘Convenient that some ducks just happened to fly past at that moment.’

Philip does not respond.

‘Well?’

‘Well, what? You made an observation, sir. I have nothing to add to it.’

‘So the coach just headed for the ditch, I suppose? As you would.’

‘The coachman said he could not tell the difference between the leaf-covered road and the leaf-filled ditch.’

‘Convenient that the ditch was filled up with leaves just at that point.’

‘Is that another of your observations, sir?’

‘Did you not think it strange that your coachman could not tell the difference between road and ditch?’

‘I was not looking outside the coach, I was in conversation with my uncle.’

‘Do you not now think it strange that the ditch was so filled?’

‘The previous day had been very windy, enough to strip trees. If leaves lodged on roads and in ditches I am not surprised. For the details of our journey, Jackson is the one to ask. Or Farley who was driving the other coach.’

‘I shall decide who to question. That’s all for now. My Lord.’