The Saint John's Fern (5 page)

‘What happened next?’ I asked.

According to Mistress Trenowth, neither Henry nor Oliver Capstick had been prepared to throw good money after bad, and Oliver had blamed himself bitterly for having insisted on the marriage in the first place. But there were other factors, also, why the brothers declined to assist Cornelius. First, when Berenice was three and Beric one, their Aunt Capstick had died, leaving her husband to mourn her passing by becoming almost a recluse. Secondly, the wine trade was not what it had been, and Henry Capstick’s business had begun to fail. Consequently, when he died in the autumn of 1468, within three months of the death of his own wife, his fortune had been considerably eroded. The amount of money, therefore, left to Beric and Berenice had been substantially less than their father had been led to expect. Nevertheless, by the time that Cornelius himself had died, in the spring of 1475, of a surfeit of drink and hard living, he had managed to whittle away his children’s inheritance still further, and Valletort Manor was once more slipping into a state of decay.

Berenice Gifford – eighteen years old at the time she lost her father – and her brother were now almost entirely dependent on their Great-Uncle Oliver for the luxuries, and even, on occasions, the necessities, of everyday life.

‘And Master Capstick was only too willing to supply them with what he thought was right and proper,’ Mistress Trenowth said, getting up to close the inner shutters, for the October morning had suddenly clouded over. She returned to her chair and went on, ‘He felt it to be his duty, you understand, for having more or less forced his niece into marriage with Cornelius Gifford.’

‘But was that the only reason?’ I interrupted. ‘Wasn’t he fond of his great-niece and -nephew?’

Mistress Trenowth frowned. ‘He didn’t dislike them,’ she answered cautiously, ‘but he was old and they are young, and they didn’t pay him the attention that he thought was his due. The elderly grow exacting, Master Chapman, as you probably know. They get lonelier than they’ll admit to. It happened with the Master. Oh, his neighbours would have visited him as often as he could have wished, but there again, old people never want what they can have, only what’s not on offer.’

‘You mean that Beric and Berenice Gifford were neglectful of him?’

‘No, no! I wouldn’t say that. One or the other of them visited Master Capstick at least once or twice a month, and sometimes they rode over together. But very often the reason for their visit was because they wanted more money.’

‘And their uncle objected to giving it to them?’

‘It depended what it was for. If they said it was to mend the roof of some leaking outbuilding, or to rebuild a wall, or simply to keep them in clothes, he’d part with the amount in full without a murmur. But it’s what I said to you just now. They’re young, and the young need to have their moments of fun and extravagance. The master kept them on too short a rein because he was so afraid that they were going to prove profligate like their father. If Beric spent more than he thought he should have done on a horse or a hawk, or if Berenice bought silk and satin when he considered that she only had need of wool or linen, or if she purchased some extravagant jewel for her personal adornment, then Master Capstick would absolutely refuse to reimburse them by so much as a groat. “If they get into debt for such fripperies, that’s their look out,” he used to say to me.’

‘And did they? Get into debt, I mean.’

Mistress Trenowth sighed. ‘Almost certainly, because in the final year of his life, Master Capstick stopped giving them any financial help whatsoever, after he found out that most of the money they’d had from him for repairs to the manor had not been used for that purpose at all.’

‘And how did he happen to make the discovery?’ I wanted to know.

‘One day, he took it into his head to pay them a surprise visit. No one who knew him would ever have expected him to do such a thing, for he hadn’t been out of the house for years except to visit his man of business, down by the Dominican Friary. I was amazed when he told me to go to the livery stable and hire a wagon and horses.’

‘And did this refusal to lend them any more money lead to bad blood between Master Capstick and his great-niece and -nephew?’

‘He was very angry when he returned home,’ Mistress Trenowth admitted. ‘I do remember that. What had passed between the three of them, I could only guess at from the fact that they didn’t come to visit the Master for quite a long time afterwards. But then, towards the end of the April just past, Berenice arrived in Bilbury Street, all smiles, just as though nothing had happened, to tell her uncle that she was betrothed to Bartholomew Champernowne, a young relation – although how distant I’m not quite sure – of the Champernowne family.’

‘And did this news please Master Capstick?’

‘There was a sort of reconciliation between them,’ nodded Mistress Trenowth, ‘and the Master promised her a handsome dowry when the marriage should eventually take place. But he told me after she’d gone – and he admitted saying this to her face – that he wasn’t parting with any money beforehand in case her story was a trick, or in case this Bartholomew Champernowne should prove to be as impoverished and feckless as Cornelius Gifford had been. “Once bitten, twice shy,” I remember him saying.’

‘And Berenice wasn’t angry at such plain speaking?’

‘She didn’t seem to be. Indeed, I don’t recall ever having seen her look so happy.’ A little smile lifted the corners of my companion’s mouth, and she heaved a romantic sigh. ‘She was obviously very much in love, and I believe that Master Capstick himself was half-persuaded that there was no foundation for his suspicions. But experience had taught him caution.’

A day or so later, however, all thoughts of his great-niece’s betrothal were temporarily driven from Oliver Capstick’s mind by the return to Plymouth of an old friend of his youth, a certain Edwin Haygarth, who had made his fortune in London, in the glass-making trade. This Master Haygarth had a granddaughter of marriageable age, his only remaining family, and almost as soon as he had renewed acquaintance with Oliver, he had proposed a union between this granddaughter and Beric Gifford.

‘The Master was delighted with the idea,’ Mistress Trenowth continued. ‘His early mistake with his niece had convinced him that, after all, money was of far more importance than breeding. And marriage to this Jenny Haygarth would have made Beric rich for life.’

Beric, now a handsome, self-willed youth of eighteen, was summoned to his great-uncle’s house and the proposition put to him.

‘Well, to be honest, it wasn’t so much put to him,’ my companion said, ‘as that the lad was told what was expected of him. Jenny Haygarth was rich and pretty. I don’t think it so much as crossed Master Capstick’s mind that Beric would refuse to do as he wished.’

Chapter Four

‘But he did refuse?’ I asked, although it was more a statement than a query.

‘He refused point-blank,’ Mistress Trenowth confirmed. ‘He told his uncle to his face that when he took a bride, it would be one of his own choosing.’

‘And what did Master Capstick say to that?’

My companion shrugged. ‘He didn’t take Beric seriously at first. He thought he was just being awkward and asserting his independence, so he told him not to be a fool.’

‘You heard all this?’

Mistress Trenowth coloured faintly. ‘They were in the parlour and took no trouble to lower their voices. The door was standing wide and so was the door to the kitchen. I couldn’t choose but hear. Indeed, it became impossible not to, when they began to shout.’

‘Master Gifford proved adamant, then, in refusing to accept this Jenny Haygarth as his bride?’

Miss Trenowth sighed. ‘More than adamant! He abused his great-uncle roundly for trying, as he put it, to dictate whom he should marry. He called him a tyrant and other worse names. For a little while, the master still tried to reason with him – I was in the counting-house by this time. Dusting,’ she added defensively.

I inclined my head. ‘These chores have to be done.’

She looked suspiciously at me, but I kept a straight face, which seemed to satisfy her. ‘Indeed, they do. Well, as I say, Master Capstick attempted to reason with his nephew, extolling the young lady’s virtues; her beauty and docility and wealth, and impressing upon him that once he met her, he would be only too happy to take her for his wife. And that’s when Beric really lost his temper. He said he was already promised, and that nothing and no one on this earth would persuade him to change his mind or to give up his betrothed.’

‘Did he say who this young woman is?’ I asked, as Mistress Trenowth paused to draw breath. But, of course, I knew the answer. My companion had already named her.

‘He did. It was his sister’s maid, Katherine Glover.’

‘A choice not approved by his great-uncle, I assume.’

‘Of course the Master didn’t approve!’ The ex-housekeeper was scathing in her condemnation. ‘A common serving girl with neither money nor breeding to recommend her! What future is there in such an alliance for a young man without any fortune of his own?’

‘What happened next?’

‘When he’d calmed down a little, Master Capstick told Beric to go away and think about it. He also told him that if he didn’t return the following day to say that he’d changed his mind and was willing to do his great-uncle’s bidding, then he, Master Capstick that is, would alter his will. “At present,” he said, “my money, when I die, is to be shared equally between you and your sister. But if you persist in refusing to marry Jenny Haygarth, I shall rewrite my will and leave everything to Berenice. She, at least, has had the good sense to betroth herself to a Champernowne.”’

‘And then?’ I prompted, as Mistress Trenowth once again drew breath.

‘And then,’ she said, pressing a hand to her heart as she recalled the fright she had experienced at the time, ‘there was this terrible scream and a gurgling sound. I ran into the parlour, hardly daring to imagine what I should find, to see the Master pinned against the wall with Beric’s hands locked around his throat and his face beginning to turn a bluish colour.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I seized Beric around the waist with both arms, trying to drag him away and yelling at him that he was killing his great-uncle. At first, I don’t think he was even aware of me, he was so furious; but then, suddenly, he dropped his hands to his sides and stood back, just staring at the Master with such malevolence that my blood ran cold.’

‘“Make a new will, and be damned to you,” he said. “I love Katherine and she loves me. We can live without your money.” Of course they can’t, and Beric thought they wouldn’t have to. I’ve no doubt, and nor, I’m sure, had he, that Berenice would have shared everything with him once the money was hers.’

‘What was Master Capstick’s response?’

‘As soon as he’d recovered sufficiently to be able to speak, he told me to go for Master Horner – that’s his lawyer who lives down near the Blackfriars – immediately. “I’ll draw up a new will this very afternoon,” he said to Beric. “And I’ll make it a condition of Berenice’s inheriting my money that she settles none of it on you, so that you’ll have to ask her for every last penny that you need. And once your sister’s married, and her husband holds the purse strings, I doubt if you’ll find it easy to get your hands on any of it. The Champernownes are a high-stomached race. There’s not one of them who’d relish having a serving maid as a sister-in-law.”’

‘And did this threat give Beric second thoughts?’

Mistress Trenowth shook her head. ‘“Do as you please, Uncle,” he answered. “You won’t stop me marrying Katherine. We love one another.” He’d got as far as the parlour door when he turned round and added, “I just hope you won’t live to regret this highhanded attitude of yours.” Next minute, he’d gone and we heard the sound of his horse’s hoofs on the cobbles outside. “Good riddance,” the Master said. But he looked very white and shaken, and his legs were trembling so much that he had to sit down for a while. Beric had spoken with such vindictiveness it had plainly unnerved him.

‘And did Master Capstick alter his will as he had threatened to do?’ I asked.

‘Oh, yes. I was sent for the lawyer as soon as Beric had gone, and the new will was drawn up that very afternoon, with myself and Master Horner’s clerk as witnesses. Everything, including the house, was left to Berenice on the condition that Master Capstick had stated, and it was signed and dated the 30th of April. The next day was May Day, and the young people were clattering through the streets and disturbing everyone’s rest very early in the morning, bringing in the may to crown the May Queen. That’s why I remember the date of the quarrel and the making of the new will so clearly.’

I hesitated for a moment before asking as casually as I could, ‘Did Master Capstick leave you anything in his will, Mistress Trenowth?’

‘Oh, no!’ She appeared genuinely shocked at the idea. ‘The Master paid me generously while he was alive. I expected nothing further. Master Capstick was a great believer in the blood tie, and while there was a member of his own family living to inherit his money and property, he wouldn’t have dreamt of leaving anything to anyone who wasn’t kin.’

There didn’t seem to be any underlying resentment in her tone, but I couldn’t help wondering if Mistress Trenowth was simply disguising her true feelings. After more than fifteen years’ faithful service, she might have expected to be left something, however small. I stored away the thought at the back of my mind to be considered later.

‘When did the murder take place?’ I asked. ‘I know it was sometime in May. Mistress Cobbold told me.’

‘Why, the very next day! May Day! I should have thought Joanna would have remembered that.’

‘Maybe she mentioned it, but if she did, then I’ve forgotten. So! Beric returned the following morning, did he? Can you tell me about the murder – if, that is, it doesn’t distress you too much?’

‘No, it doesn’t distress me, not now. I was upset greatly at the time, but after all these months, I find it easier to talk about.’ Mistress Trenowth settled herself more comfortably in her chair, and I got the impression that she was, if anything, rather enjoying herself. ‘That morning, I’d gone downstairs to prepare the Master’s breakfast a bit earlier than usual. As I said, the May Day revellers had woken me and I hadn’t been able to get back to sleep again. I wasn’t the only one who’d been disturbed by them either. It turned out that both Mistress Cobbold and her neighbour on the other side, Mistress Hannaford, were also up and about betimes. Joanna had done her washing and was spreading it out on the fence and the grass to dry when she heard me scream and came rushing in to find out what was the matter …