The Weaver's Inheritance (8 page)

Alison Burnett, in a red velvet gown trimmed with grey squirrel, was huddled in a carved armchair, her hands spread to the flames whose light appeared almost visible through their delicate, blue-veined skin. She turned her head as I closed the door, the ghost of a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Of her husband there was, for the present at least, no sign.

‘Sit down, Master Chapman,’ she invited, nodding at a second armchair on the opposite side of the hearth.

I did as she bade me, but I felt uncomfortable at usurping what I was sure was William Burnett’s own place. I perched awkwardly on the very edge of the seat, ready to get up at once should he appear.

Alison nodded understandingly. ‘It’s all right. My husband has agreed that it might be wiser if I see you alone. He gets so angry on my behalf.’ She bit her lip and sighed. ‘Indeed, his temper has already caused too much harm.’

I relaxed a little. ‘In what way?’ I asked her.

She buried her face in her hands for a moment before looking up. ‘He has quarrelled so bitterly with my father, told him so many home truths about this evil rogue who pretends to be Clement, that my father has altered his will, cutting me out completely.’ She drew a long, shuddering breath. ‘I don’t mind owning to you, Master Chapman, that his action has destroyed my faith in human nature. Never,
never
did I think that he would treat me in such a fashion.’

I was astonished at this revelation, but it could explain the scene I had witnessed outside the Alderman’s house in Broad Street. To make certain I asked, ‘When did you learn of this?’

‘The day before yesterday,’ she answered, confirming my suspicions. ‘My father sent Ned Stoner round in the morning with a message, requesting that William and I wait upon him some time before supper. We were hoping that he had come to his senses at last, but it was only to tell us that in view of our hostility towards “Clement” and our attitude towards himself, he had that very afternoon made a new will, leaving everything he possessed to his “son”!’ She spat the last word so venomously that a few drops of spittle, landing on one of the logs, hissed and sputtered among the flames.

‘Do you believe him,’ I asked, ‘or do you think he just wants to frighten you and force you into accepting this man?’

Alison kneaded her hands together in her lap. ‘Oh yes, he’s done it! The lawyer was leaving just as we arrived. But he’s signed his own death warrant.’

‘Oh come!’ I protested with more confidence than I felt. ‘You mustn’t think like that. No one in his right senses would risk doing away with a benefactor who has just left him all his worldly goods. If the Alderman were to die suddenly now, the finger of suspicion would point directly at the one who stands to gain the most.’

Alison glanced scornfully at me. ‘Of course he wouldn’t do anything immediately! Even I don’t suppose the man’s that much of a fool. But my father is a very sick man: anyone can see that he hasn’t long to live. It wouldn’t need much cunning for either the wretch himself or his partner to help my father out of this life without arousing too many misgivings.’

‘When you say his partner…’ I was beginning, but she cut me short.

‘He’s bound to have one, isn’t he?’ Her tone was impatient. ‘He can’t be as well-informed as he is without having been primed by someone who knows the family. It stands to reason.’

‘Unless he really
is
your brother,’ I suggested tentatively, braving her wrath.

But she didn’t fly at me as I had expected. She merely said flatly and with complete conviction, ‘This man isn’t Clement.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

Alison hunched her thin shoulders. ‘Clement and I grew up together: there wasn’t a great difference in our ages. We were close.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I repeat, this man is
not
my brother.’

In the face of such conviction I felt there was probably nothing I could say to persuade her otherwise, but I had to try in case she should be wrong.

‘Is there anything you could ask him to which only your brother would know the answer?’ I suggested. ‘A secret, perhaps, which you and Clement shared as children?’

Her lips curled. ‘I have no intention of wasting my time on the creature. As William says, I should demean myself by giving even the slightest hint that I take his claim seriously.’

It was not for me to point out that such blind prejudice had already done her and her husband a great disservice in her father’s eyes, probably costing them the remaining half of Alison’s inheritance. I also suspected that the greater intransigence they displayed, the more entrenched became the Alderman’s belief that Clement had been miraculously restored to him. The Burnetts had mismanaged a delicate situation from the start, with William goading his stubborn wife into direct opposition to her obstinate father, when a little sympathy and understanding might have given them ascendancy over the old man’s mind.

‘Are you quite sure,’ Alison asked me, ‘that you never saw Clement’s body?’

‘As certain as I’m sitting here now.’ I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees, and stared earnestly into her face. ‘I could only guess at the fate of your brother and all the others who had disappeared from that inn, by what happened to myself. But that doesn’t mean, of course, that one of the victims couldn’t have survived. And this young man, so my mother-in-law tells me, says that a blow to his head robbed him of his memory for the next six years. I suppose that could be possible. I’m not a physician, but the Infirmarian at Glastonbury Abbey did once tell me the Greek word for such forgetfulness. I can’t recall it at the moment, but it shows that the condition exists.’

I might as well have talked to the wall: Alison Burnett remained totally unconvinced.

‘You found Clement’s tunic,’ she accused me. ‘Some beggar was wearing it. If my brother wasn’t dead, how did this man get hold of it?’

I sighed. ‘Your brother could have been stripped while he lay unconscious and his clothes sold some time or other to Bertha Mendip…’

‘Bertha Mendip?’ Alison demanded as my voice tailed off. ‘Who’s she?’

I shook my head. ‘It’s a long story. I can’t go into all the details now.’ I straightened my back. ‘Mistress Burnett, why have you asked me here? What is it you really require of me?’

It was her turn to lean forward, the hazel eyes with their distinctive green flecks suddenly blazing into life, the light from the fire reflected in their depths.

‘I want you to work for me,’ she said. ‘I’ll pay you well, never fear. I want you to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that this man who says he’s Clement is really an impostor. I want him revealed for the rogue that he is. And above all, I want to know the name of his partner in this crime.’

Chapter Six

One half of me longed to accept her offer, but the other urged circumspection. I hedged a little while trying to make up my mind.

‘Mistress Burnett,’ I said, ‘I’m only a chapman. What makes you think I could be of any use to you in this matter?’

She regarded me scornfully. ‘Oh, come! Apart from the service you rendered my father, when you discovered the truth about Clement’s murder, there have been other instances when you have successfully employed this talent of yours as a solver of mysteries and puzzles. Do you think it remains unknown? Do you seriously believe that you can nose out the would-be assassin of the Duke of Gloucester without a single word of your success being noised abroad? William heard it talked of when he was in London last October, on business; and that was more than a year after the event, if I’m not mistaken. And goodness knows what you’ve been up to in the meantime.’

‘Fr-from whom did Master Burnett get this information?’ I stammered.

Alison shrugged. ‘He has a friend who has a friend at court, so from him, I would imagine. Is it of any importance?’

‘No … No, not at all!’ I assured her.

But I was astounded by this revelation that what I had done was of sufficient consequence to be a topic of conversation over a twelvemonth later. It also made me uneasy, for I have always valued my privacy as much as my freedom, and even at that comparatively young age, I had discovered that privacy’s greatest ally is anonymity. At the same time, I experienced a surge of pride and knew I could be in danger of getting a swollen head. I sent up a hasty, although admittedly half-hearted, prayer for humility.

‘Say something, man!’ Alison demanded, obviously annoyed by my silence. ‘Will you do this for me, or not?’

‘On one condition,’ I answered, raising my head and holding her eyes with mine. ‘That I am employed by you to seek out the truth, whatever that may be, even if it’s something you would prefer not to hear.’

Relief made her laugh. ‘Oh, is that all? You’re thinking what if you should discover that this man calling himself Clement really is my brother?’ I nodded and she continued, ‘You won’t. I’ve already told you that. I wish I could convince you. However, it’s of no moment if you’re willing to accept my offer. You’ll find out for yourself soon enough. So, that’s that.’

‘Not quite,’ I protested. ‘There are some questions
I
want to ask.’

The door opened and William Burnett entered the parlour. ‘Is everything settled?’ he enquired.

His wife turned towards him, seemingly apprehensive at this unlooked-for intrusion, and said, ‘Master Chapman has agreed to help us.’

‘I’ve agreed to try to discover the truth,’ I amended. ‘With respect, Mistress, it’s not quite the same thing.’

I had half-risen from my seat as I spoke, but Master Burnett waved at me to sit down again and began pacing restlessly to and fro.

‘Do you mean you believe this man
might
be my brother-in-law?’ he asked incredulously.

‘I mean I’ve no prejudice either way.’ I thought about this for a moment or two, before honesty forced me to add, ‘But I have to admit that I’d rather he was not Clement. Otherwise, I shall always feel guilty that, six years ago, I made a wrong assumption.’

‘Oh, it’s
your
peace of mind we should be worried about, is it?’ William sneered. ‘
Ours
is unimportant!’

His attitude was becoming objectionable, and I had a sudden desire to wash my hands of both him and his wife. This thought must have shown in my face for Alison said quickly, ‘Hush, William! Your ill-humour has already cost us dear. Master Chapman –’ she turned back to me – ‘you said you had some questions you wanted to ask me.’

I hesitated for a few seconds longer, but recognized that even if I walked away now, my curiosity would, in the end, get the better of me. I might as well commit myself and be done with it.

‘Very well,’ I said. ‘Mistress Burnett, how like your brother in appearance is this man?’

‘Not at all like,’ snapped her husband.

Alison drew a deep breath and closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds, before turning them reproachfully in his direction. ‘That’s not true, my dear, and you know it.’ She looked at me again. ‘Yes, there is a similarity of feature between Clement and this creature. It would be foolish to deny it, or why should my father have accepted him so readily? Hair and eyes are also of the right colour, and when I first saw him, even I had a qualm of doubt.’

‘But not for long?’ I suggested.

‘Indeed no! Almost at once I knew him for a cheat.’

‘May I ask why?’

Alison Burnett frowned as she sought for words to express her innermost feelings. ‘I was very close to my brother,’ she said at last. ‘Clement would … would have behaved differently towards me; been more pleased to see me. This man is hostile. His only concern is to worm himself into my father’s favour. It … It’s difficult to explain. It’s just something I feel instinctively.’

‘What about moles or old scars? Did your brother have any blemishes on his body which this man does not?’

She shook her head. ‘None that I recall.’ Was she lying? ‘But that’s irrelevant,’ she went on eagerly. ‘I keep telling you, I
know
the man is an impostor.’

I guessed that this line of enquiry would produce nothing further, for however stoutly she might deny it, Alison did not wish for her brother to be alive: she had grown too used to being sole heir to a considerable fortune. On the other hand, perhaps that was to do her an injustice. Instinct is a very powerful force, and is undoubtedly given to us by God for our protection.

‘Yet this man must know a lot about you and your family,’ I said. ‘Enough to convince Alderman Weaver that he is indeed his son. They cannot avoid discussing the past.’

‘Oh, I don’t deny the creature knows a great deal,’ Alison admitted. ‘That’s why I say he must have a partner; someone who knows us all well and who will share the fortune with him after my father’s death.’ She cast a fleeting, sidelong glance at her husband and could not resist adding, ‘A far bigger fortune, in fact, than could possibly have been foreseen at the start of this venture.’

William muttered something under his breath and stalked out of the room, closing the door behind him with a defiant thud. Judging by the tightening of Alison’s lips, I guessed there would be recriminations after I had gone, but for my benefit, she put on a brave show of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

‘You mustn’t think I blame William for the way in which he stood up to my father. My welfare is his sole concern. The outcome was unfortunate, to put it mildly, and it’s true that he let his tongue run away with him. What he said was very bad, but then he was extremely incensed by my father’s foolish, irresponsible and totally unreasonable behaviour. And no one could have foretold that I would be cut out of the will entirely. Such a possibility was unthinkable and never entered either of our heads. Even the Broad Street servants were horrified when they heard of it. Dame Pernelle, the housekeeper, went so far as to remonstrate with my father, and was threatened with dismissal for her pains.’ Tears trickled down Alison’s cheeks and she dashed them away with the back of her hand.

‘Have you made no attempt at reconciliation with the Alderman?’ I asked gently. ‘It was my impression, all those years ago, that he was very fond of you and would certainly not wish to do you permanent injury.’