Page 21 of Linenfold (The Alice Chronicles #4)

M aureen hastens for the buttery as Philip enters from the hall.

He perches on the edge of the kitchen table where Alice is mixing vegetables and herbs in a bowl for a pie.

Swinging a leg, he recounts his discussion with Sir Malcolm regarding rank.

‘… so I felt I should put him wise before he dug himself into a slough of his own making.’

Alice indulges a private unholy regret that she was not there to witness the exchange between the two.

‘I offered to stay with poor Cranley when they questioned him,’ Philip goes on. ‘It seems you can’t when the coroner says you can’t.’

‘He has wide powers, I believe, My Lord.’

‘If I stay here with the door open, I shall hear when they’ve done with him, poor old fellow.

And I have obtained consent to collect my uncle’s body and bring him in, by your leave?

Oh, thank you, Maureen,’ he smiles as she hands him a mug of October ale.

She returns to her cooking pot, seating herself on the stool sideways to the hearth such that she can cast frequent glances at the young man.

Alice would like to have some private conversation with Philip about what the coroner asked him, but Philip forestalls her.

‘I hoped for a word with you, Mistress Jerrard. I think it likely we shall be several more days here now and I shall remove us all to an inn in Guildford, if you would be kind enough to retain our baggage for that time.’

‘It might be more convenient for all if you would agree to stay here, sir,’ Alice says. ‘If you are prepared to put up with our simple fare, I feel sure Justice Townsend will find it easier to have us all in one place when he investigates.’

‘It wasn’t Master Townsend’s convenience I was thinking of,’ Philip says.

‘Oh, My Lord,’ Maureen interjects, ‘it is no trouble to us to provide a few extra meals for Your Lordship.’ She gives him a gap-toothed smile. ‘And your men, of course. And those women, I suppose.’

‘Thank you, Maureen,’ Alice says. ‘You see, sir, it is not only I who am happy to accommodate your party.’ And I was thinking it was only Rose whose heart beats the faster for Philip Sewell’s presence .

‘We would be honoured to accommodate you, your people, the two French ladies, and indeed your boxes.’

‘I’d like to get the Frenchwomen away at least. There’s no reason to delay their journey. And if the Justice agrees, Cranley might go too. He can be relied on to find them suitable accommodation in Spitalfields.’

Alice sprinkles a little sugar on the mixture and starts to work it in. ‘Ask by all means, sir, though I think we shall have to wait at least until we have a verdict.’

‘I suppose so. Your French is fluent, mistress, perhaps you would explain that to them. How much have they been told?’

‘That Your Lordship’s uncle is killed last night. They were both very distressed. Mam’selle Honorine fears they will be blamed, being foreigners. She could be right. Sir Malcolm seems particularly vehement against foreigners.’

‘I wouldn’t tell them that. Tell them I will do what I can on their behalf. My uncle wanted to see them safe to London and I intend to honour his wish.’

‘Shall I tell them now, perhaps?’

‘The sooner the better. Ah, here’s Cranley. I told him I would wait here.’ Philip slips down from the table. ‘My dear fellow, you look exhausted. Let us go into the dining parlour. Maureen, perhaps you would bring another pot of this excellent brew.’

‘It will be an honour, My Lord,’ Maureen assures him. As the latch falls, she says to Alice, ‘Mistress, I’d be careful around those Frenchwomen if I was you.’

‘Why? What do you know?’ Alice asks.

‘That shy one, Louise. Have you noticed she’s left-handed?’ Maureen looks meaningfully.

‘What’s that to the purpose?’

‘It means she’s a witch.’

‘Oh, Maureen, it means nothing of the sort.’

‘John agrees with me.’ At Alice’s questioning look, ‘John Pearce. Well, what are they here for, then?’

Alice explains. ‘You and I are lucky enough never to have been persecuted for who we are. They know what it feels like, they had to flee their home.’

‘They should be persecuted if they’re witches.’

‘So now it’s both of them?’

Maureen bristles. ‘That outlandish dress.’

‘They’re Huguenot, Maureen.’

‘All right, so they’re French witches. They’re still witches.’

Alice sighs and goes to knock on the door at the end of the dairy passage. After a few moments of silence she knocks again. ‘Louise? Honorine?’

The sound of footsteps on the boards, the bar being lifted, and the door opens a crack. ‘Oh, madame!’ Honorine opens the door wider. She is the only one in the room.

‘Where is Louise?’ Alice asks in French.

‘Oh, madame, she was so affrighted. She is fled!’

‘Fled! Where?’

‘She would not listen to me. She demanded that I go with her but I was not of her mind. Calm yourself, I said, often and often. Milord was a good man who took our part. His name will protect us, I said, but she would not attend me.’

‘How long ago did she leave?’

‘I tried and tried, hoping she would not go. I made the pretence that I was in sympathy. You must at least take the breakfast first, I told her. I hoped to delay her. It was of no use, she was resolved, so I gave her my bread. Oh, it is terrible, terrible—’

‘Which door did she leave by?’

‘It was not by the door.’ Honorine points. ‘It was by the window.’

‘When did she go, Honorine. Which direction did she take?

Honorine breathes deeply. ‘I must be calm. I must.’ She runs a hand across her eyes. ‘She is gone since one hour. We shall find her, shall we not, madame?’

‘We will search for her immediately if you will tell me where she was bound for.’

‘London. There is a place, Spitalfields. Milord said we shall be safe there.’

‘I’ve not yet questioned the foreigners,’ Sir Malcolm’s voice says behind her.

‘What are you telling this woman to say?’ His question strikes dismay into Alice.

She has not heard him approaching, and now, looking round, behind him is Justice Townsend and the whole jury following. There is nothing for it.

‘I am not telling her anything, Sir Malcolm. I have just learned that her sister has become so upset at the news that she has taken fright and run away. Probably for London. She believes that she will be accused of His Lordship’s murder, simply because she is French.’

‘She is wise to be fearful. She will know the viciousness of her fellow countrymen, she will be familiar with popery. Hardcastle had no right bringing them here.’

‘Sir, she is a frightened woman, escaping from France in terror of persecution. And here she is alone in a foreign land, fearing the same. We are duty bound to find her and bring her back to safety.’

He approaches her, a smile just pulling at the edges of his mouth.

It is not a pleasant smile, and this is not the first time he has threatened by looming over her.

At the rank smell of his unchanged linen she turns away her head.

In a low voice, he speaks into her ear. ‘You do realise it’s illegal to harbour Catholics? ’

‘They are Huguenots, Sir Malcolm. Louise and Honorine de Kergyle, fleeing persecution in their Catholic country.’

Behind him in the passage, Townsend says, ‘Sir Malcolm, these are troublous times for our Huguenot neighbours in their own country. De Kergyle is a good Huguenot name. It appears His Lordship was performing a commendable act of kindness.’

‘If that’s what he was doing, and not smuggling papists into the country.’

‘That judgment I leave entirely to your superior talents, Sir Malcolm. I reflect only that if His Lordship was indeed rescuing these ladies as is claimed, my good friend His Grace of Canterbury will be saddened to hear that a man of such virtue is lost to this world.’

So Master Townsend is not quite so servile as he appears.

There is a small whip in that boot, Alice reflects, Townsend citing his friendship with fellow Guildfordian Archbishop Abbot.

A slight but sufficient spur for Sir Malcolm, keen for notice and advancement, to soften his tone as he replies, ‘Indeed you have the right of it, my friend. I was about to suggest a search be made. This court,’ he says addressing the jury, ‘is adjourned. I need those of you who have horse to set off directly. Search the London road both ways, ask in Guildford. And go down towards the river. Send word to me when the woman is taken.’

In the melée of men agreeing each his area of search with Sir Malcolm, Oliver Sanderson approaches Alice. ‘Mistress Jerrard, you’ve told me in the past your young man Allan Wenlock is skilled with carts. May I ask whether you would do me the favour of lending him to have a look at one of mine?’

‘Of course, sir. When shall I ask him to attend? Is it a major repair?’

‘No, nothing like that. If you have a cart outside, I can show you where mine is binding on one of the wheels.’

As they repair to the kitchen court, he murmurs, ‘Can I speak privately with you?’

She resists glancing at him, schools her face and says aloud, ‘Indeed sir, the more you can tell me the easier any remedy will be.’

Allan is alone in the woodshed. Angus, his usual companion, is gone with Joe and Ned to dig out a ditch that has become waterlogged in the recent rain and threatens a flood.

Allan jumps up from his whittling as Alice and Sanderson enter.

‘I need a little ruse, Allan,’ Alice tells him.

‘We are come to look at that cart so that Master Sanderson can tell you about a problem with a binding wheel on one of his own carts. Except that I believe he has no problem with any cart at all.’ She looks at Sanderson who nods.

‘But let us look busy about it while I speak with Master Sanderson. If anyone comes in we three shall be talking carts.’

‘I can do that,’ Allan says with a grin. ‘Why don’t I keep watch meantime?’

With Allan discreetly at the door to the woodshed, Sanderson rests an arm along the tailboard of the cart and begins.

‘You need to know that Wipley is trying to implicate you by any means he can. Firstly, as you know, he is insisting you did not secure the house. Then he had you in the chamber forcing His Lordship out at knifepoint. When we pointed out that anyone could have done that, Wipley insinuated that your discovery of the body suggested you knew it was there. Also that you had plotted to stop the coach.’

‘How did I do that?’

‘By releasing a flight of ducks across their path. By filling the ditch with leaves so that there was no difference to be seen between it and the road.’

‘For Heaven’s sake, I didn’t need to! The weather had already done that.’

‘Which is what Master Sewell, pardon, His Lordship said.’

‘Even apart from my present condition, I’m hardly likely to stand out in the cold waiting for a coach I don’t know is coming. I was not expecting such strained efforts to implicate me.’

‘If he can’t accuse yourself, he’s taking the view that His late Lordship was elderly and confused and left the house. That he had a seizure, fell and drowned in the mud.’

‘But he wasn’t confused, Master Sanderson, and he wasn’t that old. And there are muddy scuffs on the back of his long-gown.’

‘Which Sir Malcolm claims was the result of falling first on his back and then rolling onto his front. What’s important is that he wasn’t wearing shoes,’ Sanderson points out. ‘And he didn’t carry a light.’

‘Surely Sir Malcolm can see that no one would lie face down in the mud and simply suffocate without a struggle.’

‘If he had a seizure, it’s feasible, I suppose.’

Alice sighs. ‘Why is Sir Malcolm refusing to consider that His Lordship was murdered?’

‘There’s no known motive, he wasn’t stabbed, his throat wasn’t cut, no one let off a gun, and there is no weapon.

When he can’t pin it on you, Sir Malcolm is rattling everyone in sight to show he’s doing his job.

My guess is he wants to avoid offending powerful agencies.

One of the jury has heard of Hardcastle, he was extremely high-ranking.

So Wipley fears accusing any person connected with His Lordship, in case it reflects badly on himself.

He wasn’t the only one in your hall unwilling to get further involved.

I’m pretty much on my own here, mistress.

When it comes to Court politics, they’ll take the easiest—’

‘I believe, sir,’ Allan says, darting over to the cart, ‘the axle on this side of your cart may be worn, or perhaps slipped a little.’

‘This bit here, you mean?’ Sanderson says, leaning down to look underneath as Sir Malcolm walks in.

‘Are you joining the search, Sanderson?’

‘Indeed I am, Wipley. Two birds with one stone, as it were. Did you know this young man is very skilled in cart-making? He’s advising me regarding one of mine.

He’d have been a craftsman now but wasn’t able to finish his apprenticeship, did you know that?

We need wheelwrights and cartwrights in Guildford.

An asset to our community, wouldn’t you agree?

’ It is said deliberately, rubbing it in.

Sanderson is well aware that Sir Malcolm and Allan have been ranged on opposing sides in the past.

‘And that will be such a help in finding this foreign wench,’ Sir Malcolm drawls.

‘Indeed it will,’ Sanderson answers heartily. ‘By engaging Allan’s help while I am here, instead of trying to repair it myself, I can spend my time enquiring of my neighbours in Guildford as to the whereabouts of this young woman. Where will you be enquiring?’

‘My neighbours in the vicinity of Poyle, of course.’

As Sir Malcolm walks away, Alice murmurs, ‘All four of them. Jeremy Tillotson, his grandmother, the maidservant Florence and his man Len. All at Tillotsons. He’ll be busy, then.’