Page 48 of Linenfold (The Alice Chronicles #4)

‘Let me show you what I mean.’ Alice says, rising.

‘Henrietta is sleeping so I can leave her with Mollie for a space.’ They follow her upstairs, and in the main chamber, the door safely closed, she draws the hanging out to show them.

‘The chain-stitch branches are the limbs. They and the crewelwork fruits are set on this raft of coarse harden-linen backing, the “hardened raft”. They wrapped the ruby and the emerald and goodness knows what other gems each in its own bag of cyprus-linen, folded round to protect them. Then they stitched these crewelwork fruits like shields over them. I expect if you count, you’ll find a hundred and forty-four.

A gross. Olivia, you remember you said to me the apprentice had much to learn? ’

‘It’s not an apprentice piece, is it?’ Olivia says.

‘No, it’s a hurriedly stitched and deliberately ugly piece that no one would give a second glance.’

‘Alice, I give you best,’ Philip says.

‘It was Master Cranley’s recollection that helped me piece the riddle together, though I only understand parts of the second half.

For example, the screen is this,’ holding out the bedcurtain.

‘But I do think that before you cut out the rest of the gems, we must make sure it can be done in absolute secrecy. The fewer the people who know about this the safer the rest are.’

‘We suggested to the duke and to the household here that the ruby was a gift to you from Henry,’ Jack says.

‘And the emerald doesn’t need to be mentioned,’ Olivia adds. ‘No one else has seen it. I have it and the ruby in my pocket.’

‘As regards this, then,’ Alice indicates the hanging, ‘I shall “give it back” to you Philip. That will explain its disappearance from here.’

They discuss in detail when and how to remove the gems and where to secrete them.

It has to be at night, since there is too much movement around the house during the day.

Before then, Master Cranley is to be sent home to London in the temporarily repaired coach, along with the luggage coach and the coffin.

Jackson, Farley and Larkin will convey all.

Philip has made it clear to Master Cranley that arranging the funeral of His late Lordship will be the last task he will do for the Hardcastles before going into retirement.

Sir Malcolm, his face set in a scowl, has declared to the jury’s surprise the very verdicts on the “unknown man” and Pearce that they themselves would have declared.

Having said nothing else of any import, he strides out of the house.

Jack has accompanied him, and while they wait for his horse to be brought, the jury leave.

Slapping his whip against his thigh, the coroner unwarily allows his rage to boil over.

‘He told me, ordered me, to declare misadventure on Lord Hardcastle. I knew it was murder all along, of course. That woman-man! It only goes to confirm what I’ve always said about the French. Vicious! Unprincipled!’

Jack refrains from explaining that Cargill was as English as Wipley. As was Pearce, who was Lord Hardcastle’s murderer.

‘I suppose young Hardcastle went and bleated to His Grace,’ the coroner goes on. ‘Typical of the newly raised. Not born to it. The rank’s gone to his head.’ Jack gives a noncommittal nod and forbears from mentioning Wipley’s own unearned knighthood which he bought for hard cash from King James.

Joe appears leading the coroner’s horse.

Sir Malcolm mounts the block, plumps down hard onto the horse’s back and jerks the reins round.

‘And they let the other one get away! Well, now the southern ports are watched, it won’t be long before she’s caught.

Then I’ll see she burns! Slowly!’ He digs in his spurs and the horse lurches into a canter.

Master Corvin the tailor, the member of the coroner’s jury who found Louise, walks into the kitchen court at High Stoke in answer to a summons from Alice.

He knocks at the door, modestly waiting to be admitted.

At that moment Maureen is alone, enjoying a surreptitious pot of October ale with her feet propped up on a stool by the fire.

Mistress Egerton has gone to sit with the mistress for a while, so Maureen is safe.

She will hear any footsteps approaching from the screens passage.

Seeing the humble little tailor through the window patiently knocking again, she turns her back and takes another swig.

Unfortunately, she has forgotten that Alice is still in loose-gown and soft house slippers.

‘Why aren’t you answering the door, Maureen?’

The cook nearly falls off her seat, the ale does fall, and the pot smashes on the stone flags, casting dark splashes across the floor.

Alice wastes no time on her but goes to welcome Master Corvin and conducts him to the dining parlour where Allan awaits him to be measured for a fresh suit of clothes after the ones he found in the woods mysteriously disappeared.

By the time she returns to the kitchen, Maureen is busily wiping away the evidence of pilfered ale.

‘You and I need to talk, Maureen. You have been saying for some time that you would like to find another position and now I believe that time has come.’

The cook’s mouth drops open in dismay.

‘You feel that your knowledge of cooking is superior to mine and that you know far better how to produce meals for the household,’ Alice goes on.

‘I have been endlessly patient with you, Maureen, despite your refusal to change, despite your preference for the best ale, which you have been taking without permission ever since I came here in the spring. A few days ago you watered down the pottage again, despite my telling you not to, and before that, you produced another crop of tumbled pastry cases and burned meats. Young Lord Hardcastle bought a quantity of pies and pastries, not only to pay his way but because the food you produce is well-nigh inedible.’

‘I’m a cook!’ Maureen insists. ‘I do what I’ve always done!’

‘That last I do believe,’ Alice concedes.

‘And now it is time for you to take your customary ways elsewhere. You may have bed and board for a week and then you are to be gone. That will give you time to cast around for another position. I hear you have friends in town, so no doubt they will help you in your search. There are plenty of cooks required now, with Christmas coming and families feasting. If you work hard and well for the Twelve Days, they might even keep you on afterwards. And now, do you have any questions?’

When the cook has opened and closed her mouth several times and spouted naught but angry abuse, Alice turns and leaves the kitchen.

Philip emerges bright-eyed from the dining parlour at that moment.

‘Alice! I saw the tailor arrive to measure Allan. Do you come in here. I have something to … what is it?’

She takes a deep breath before she can answer. ‘I have just dismissed my cook, and she took it very ill.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. I mean, that she took it ill. That will mean a greater onus on you when you have your daughter to care for.’

She gives a wry chuckle. ‘I suppose I could have chosen a better time.’

‘May I speak my mind?’ he asks. ‘I am sure you have done the right thing. I’m told that behind your back she has been abusive about you on several occasions. Perhaps I should have told you, but Jackson was embarrassed to tell me and didn’t want to appear a complainer.’

‘That makes me feel a little better about my decision,’ she tells him. ‘If Jackson is worried, please thank him for his sincerity and assure him his words will go no further. The issue is closed, and any abuse will cease with her departure next week. What was it you were going to say?’

‘Ah, yes. Come into the dining parlour. Allan’s been measured and gone, so while Master Corvin’s still here I asked him about the second half of our riddle, the Huguenot connection.

’ He follows her in, closing the door. Master Corvin rises from the table to bow.

Before him is a sheet of paper on which are written four lines.

‘Master Corvin is familiar with Spitalfields,’ Philip explains, ‘and I think he has solved our little puzzle.’

‘Indeed? Master Corvin, tell me what you know,’ Alice says, sitting down by him.

‘I may be entirely wrong, of course,’ the tailor says diffidently, ‘but looking at these lines, I believe I can place the extra words which His Lordship says fit somewhere amongst them. I imagine it might look something like this.’ He turns the sheet for Alice to read.

God’s angel first doth join with end of faith

Where lamb and raging lion do embrace

There, bald one’s devotee awaits the screen

To stow in safety, later to redeem

‘First you have God’s angel . Let us assume that is Gabriel, and he joins with end of faith .

I shall come back to that. Then you possibly have a lamb and a lion.

I am told you suggested two inns, Mistress Jerrard.

But I think this refers to two roads in Spitalfields, Lamb Street and the Red Lyon way which is a path by some fields.

It’s called that because alongside it is an inn they call the Red Lyon.

Coming originally from Spitalfields as I do, I know people there, including a Gabriel Boutefoy.

He is a weaver, something of an elder in the community, and his house is on the corner where Lamb Street meets the Red Lyon way.

You might say it is where they embrace .

And Boutefoy could be read as bout de foi , end of faith.

It would seem that your uncle, My Lord, wished you to find Master Gabriel Boutefoy, and he set you this little game.

Gabriel is the one who awaits the screen . ’

‘Master Corvin! We should never have discovered it without your help,’ Alice says.

Philip adds, ‘I owe you more than I can say, sir.’