Heartstone (87 page)

G
ATEHOUSE
C
OURT
was hot, dusty-smelling in the summer sun. Barristers and clerks walked to and fro within the square of red brick buildings. Here there was no sign of war. I felt myself relax at the old familiar scene as I walked to my chambers. I had sent Skelly a note from Esher saying I would shortly be back, and he rose to greet me with a smile.

'Are you well, sir?' From the hesitation in his voice I could tell the strain of what I had been through showed on my face.

'Well enough. And you? Your wife and children?'

'We are all in good health, thanks be to God.'

'Everything well here?'

'Yes, sir. A few new cases are in, to come on in the new term.'

'Good.' I sighed. 'I want to encourage some new work.'

'We heard about the French trying to invade the Isle of Wight, the loss of the
Mary Rose
in front of the King himself. They're sending another fifteen hundred men down from London - '

'Yes, the road to Portsmouth was busy with men and supplies on our way back.'

'Nobody seems to know what will happen next. The ship
Hedgehog
blew up in the Thames the same day the
Mary Rose
sank; some say she was blown up by French spies, though others blame the stock of gunpowder she carried not being supervised properly - '

'I would guess that is more likely. Were many killed?'

'A good many. Sir, are you all right?' He darted forward as I grasped at a corner of a table, for the floor had seemed to shift beneath my feet.

'Tired, that is all. It has been a long journey. Now, are those new papers in my office? I should look at them.'

'Sir - ' Skelly asked.

I answered impatiently, 'Yes?'

'How is Jack? Is there any news of his wife? I think his baby is due soon.'

I smiled. 'Jack is well, Tamasin too I believe. I left him going to her.'

I went into my office, shut the door, and leaned against it. Sweating, I waited for the feeling that the ground was moving to stop.

I
LOOKED OVER
the new papers, then turned my mind to the subject of Coldiron and Josephine. I was still considering how to tackle him when there was a knock at the door. Skelly came in and closed it.

'Sir, there's a young man to see you. He called two days ago, asking for you. He says he knows you from a place called Hoyland. Though he--'

I sat bolt upright. 'Show him in,' I said, trying to keep the excitement and relief from my voice. 'Now.'

I sat behind my desk, my heart beating fast. But it was not Emma that Skelly ushered in, it was Sam Feaveryear. He stood before me, brushing a lock of greasy hair from his forehead in that familiar gesture. I fought down my disappointment.

'Well, Feaveryear,' I said heavily, 'have you brought a message from your master?'

He hesitated, then said, 'No, sir. I have decided - I will work for Master Dyrick no more.'

I raised my eyebrows. Feaveryear said, in a sudden rush of words, 'I did wrong, sir. I found something out at Hoyland. I let Master Dyrick send me away, but I should have told you. It has been on my conscience ever since. Hugh was really--'

'I know already. Emma Curteys.'

Feaveryear took a deep breath. 'When I met Hugh there was something - something that attracted me to him.' He began twisting his thin hands together. 'I thought - I thought the devil was tempting me to a great sin. I prayed for guidance, but I could not stop how I felt. He did not like me looking at him, but I could not help myself. Then one day, I realized--'

'And told Dyrick.'

'I thought he would do something for - for the girl. But he said the matter was his client's secret and must be protected, and sent me away. I thought, I prayed, and I realized - it cannot be right, sir, what has happened to her.'

I spoke sharply. 'The family made her impersonate her dead brother for years, for gain. Now she has run away, and nobody knows where she is.'

'Oh, sir.' He gulped. 'May I sit down?'

I waved him to a stool. He collapsed onto it, the picture of misery.

'Do you know,' I asked, 'what happened to Abigail Hobbey?'

'Yes,' he replied in a small voice. 'My master wrote. He said the man Ettis had been arrested for her murder.'

'He has been released. It was not him.' I leaned forward and said angrily, 'Why did you not tell anyone about Hugh?'

'I could not be disloyal to my master. But I have been thinking and praying, and when Master Dyrick wrote saying he was returning tomorrow I realized - ' Feaveryear looked at me with pleading intensity. 'He is not a good man, is he?'

I shrugged.

'I - I wonder, sir, whether perhaps I could come and work for you. You are known as a good lawyer, sir, a champion of the poor.'

I looked at Feaveryear's miserable face. I wondered how far his coming to me had been motivated by conscience, how much by the desire to get an alternative post. I could not tell.

'Feaveryear,' I said quietly, 'I have no room for another clerk. My advice to you is to seek work from some crusty old cynic of a lawyer, who will take whatever work he is given and not fall prey to the illusion that whoever he acts for must always be in the right. An illusion, I regret, I have sometimes had too. Then, perhaps, without someone's shadow to hide behind, you will grow up at last.'

He lowered his head, looked disappointed. I said more gently, 'I will see if I can find such a lawyer who might need a clerk.'

He looked up, sudden resolution on his face. 'I will not work for Master Dyrick again. Whatever happens, I will not go back to him.'

I smiled. 'Then there is hope for you, Feaveryear. I will see what I can do.'

S
OON AFTER
I left and walked the short distance to my house. I let myself in and stood in the hall. I heard the boys' voices from the kitchen. I remembered Joan and felt a deep pang of sadness. Then I became aware of someone looking at me from the top of the stairs. I stared up at Coldiron. He began descending with his light step, his eye alight with curiosity. 'Sir,' he said, 'welcome back. Did you see anything at Portsmouth? I heard there was a battle, the French seen off in front of the King himself.'

I did not reply. He came to the foot of the stairs and stopped. He looked at me uncertainly, sensing something. He said, 'They're sending more men out of London. Young Simon still wants to join up if the war goes on.'

'Over my dead body,' I answered quietly. 'Where is Dr Malton?'

'In the parlour. I--'

'Join us in fifteen minutes.' I turned away, leaving him uneasy.

I
N THE PARLOUR
Guy sat reading. He looked up at me in delighted surprise, got to his feet and came over, grasping me by the arms. I was pleased to see he seemed more like his old self, the weary sadness less marked in his brown face.

'You are back at last,' he said. 'But you look tired.'

'I have seen terrible things, Guy, worse than you can believe. I will tell you later.'

He frowned. 'Is Jack all right?'

'Yes. He has been a rock these past weeks. He has gone on to Tamasin. How is she?'

He smiled. 'Large, and tired, and irritated. But everything goes well. About ten days now till she is due, I would say.'

'And you?'

'I feel better than for a long time. You know, my energy seems to be returning. I want to go back to my house, start practising again. And if the corner boys return - well, it is in God's hands.'

'I am heartily glad.'

'You know what has helped me? Keeping Coldiron in order. By Jesu, he was an insolent rogue that first week. But I did not let him get away with his tricks. I called him out for his insolence, as I said in my letter. Then he was quiet and obedient for a while, but last week he got angry with Josephine again--'

'You said.'

'He set about her with a ladle. I took it off him.'

'Good. I have asked him to come in here shortly. But first I have something to tell you about him, something I did not trust to a letter in case the rogue opened it.'

I related what the soldier in Portsmouth had told me about Josephine's origin, and Coldiron's desertion after stealing his company's funds. 'He is a wanted man,' I concluded.

'It does not surprise me,' Guy said quietly. 'What are you going to do?'

I answered grimly, 'You will see.'

A few minutes later there was a knock and Coldiron entered. He took up a military stance in the middle of the floor. I said, 'Well, Coldiron. Or, I should say, William Pile.'

He did not move, but his stance stiffened.

'I met an old comrade of yours in Portsmouth. Someone you used to play cards with. One John Saddler.'

Coldiron took a deep breath. 'I remember Saddler. A dishonourable fellow. Soldiers with a grievance tell lies readily, sir.'

'He was at Flodden with you, when you were a purser in the rear. He remembered how later you took Josephine from France when she was a small girl.'

He gulped, his Adam's apple moving up and down in his stringy throat. His voice rose. 'Lies,' he said. 'Lies and slander - yes, slander. I rescued Jojo from a burning French village, I saved her life.'

'No, you didn't. You took her like a chattel when you decided to desert, having stolen your company's money. A hanging offence.'

'It's all lies!' Coldiron shouted. He swallowed, brought himself under control. His voice turned wheedling. 'Why would you believe Saddler, sir? A vicious liar. Old soldiers never get any justice,' he added pathetically.

'Easy enough to make enquiries. Then you will get the justice you deserve.'

His face took on a hunted look. 'Does Josephine know who she really is?' I asked sharply.

'She remembers the burning village, her life in camp. She knows I gave her a life, a place in the world. I rescued her, I'm all she has. I treated her as my daughter.'

'Guy,' I said, 'would you do me a small favour? Go and fetch Josephine.'

Coldiron turned to him as he went to the door. 'Sir,' he said pleadingly, 'you don't believe these lies?'

Guy did not answer. When he had gone Coldiron and I stood facing each other. He licked his lips. 'Sir, please don't report this. If it came to a trial they might believe Saddler's lies.'