Deliverance: A Justice Belstrang Mystery

by John Pilkington

  DELIVERANCE

  Justice Belstrang Mysteries: Book Three

  John Pilkington

  Copyright © John Pilkington 2021.

  The right of John Pilkington to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  First published in 2021 by Sharpe Books.

  Table of Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  ONE

  The Great Comet first appeared in the southern sky about the sixth day of September, in the year 1618. With hindsight, I might say it marked the beginning of a period of disruption in my otherwise peaceful life, on my modest acres at Thirldon. For many, the object was seen as a portent, called by some the ‘angry star’ because of its reddish hue. Small good could come of such an omen, Worcestershire folk said – not least my own steward Childers.

  ‘It bodes ill, Master Justice,’ he insisted, as the two of us walked in the garden on a balmy Sabbath evening. ‘See now, what of the war on the Continent? Our own King could find himself caught up in it, and what might follow from that?’

  ‘It’s hardly a war,’ I told him. ‘Some angry Protestants in Prague threw some Catholic envoys out of a window. It’s what they seem to do in Bohemia – “defenestration” it’s called.’ But seeing his sober expression, I added: ‘I feel sure the King will keep out of the business. He has no wish to lose his reputation as the Peacemaker.’

  ‘Even though his own daughter is married to the ruler of that country?’ Childers countered.

  I had to admit that his point was apt. Since her marriage five years before to the young Elector Frederick, the Princess Elizabeth might indeed find herself affected by the troubles in Middle Europe. Though here in balmy Worcestershire, where news was somewhat slow in arriving, we had heard only vague rumours of unrest.

  ‘Let us hope for the best,’ I said lamely; my stomach was too full of beef and claret to allow unease to arise. ‘One day, perhaps, these fearful tussles between the two religions may be a relic of the past. I certainly hope so.’

  But Childers shook his head. ‘I fear that day will be very far off, sir – if it ever comes.’

  We walked back to the house, pondering the matter. England had been at peace for almost a decade, since the Dutch Truce of 1609. But who knew when conflict might erupt again? The Treaty would expire in another three years, and already there was talk of certain factions rearming. Striving to put such matters aside, I gave Childers goodnight and was making my way to my private closet to read Tacitus, when I was accosted in the hallway by a delegation of Thirldon people – or two of them at least: Henry my cook, and Lockyer my manservant.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, seeing they had the appearance of men on a mission. ‘I’m about to retire for the night.’

  ‘Your pardon, Master Justice,’ Lockyer began. ‘We would like to ask your permission to be absent, tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘To go into Worcester,’ Henry added.

  ‘Indeed? For what purpose?’ I enquired.

  ‘The matter is, there’s to be a play, in the yard at the King’s Head,’ Lockyer answered. ‘The Earl of Arundel’s players are come. It should be a splendid show - our last chance to see them on their summer tour.’

  On a sudden, I felt inclined to laugh. These two strong men – Henry the scourge of the kitchens, and Lockyer the fearless ex-soldier – now looked like boys suppressing their excitement at a possible treat. ‘Well, seeing as it’s your last chance, I had best allow it,’ I said… whereupon a thought struck me. ‘Are you asking for yourselves, or on behalf of others?’

  A sheepish look appeared on Henry’s face, but Lockyer spoke up. ‘In truth, I understand everyone would like to go, sir,’ he said stiffly. ‘Save Dickon who’s too deaf, and Sarah who thinks play-acting is sinful.’

  He named the oldest gardener and the washerwoman, which was small surprise. I thought of Hester, and wondered whether she knew of the players coming to Worcester.

  ‘So… the import of your request is that I should give almost my entire household an afternoon’s holiday – on a Monday too,’ I said, keeping my face free of expression. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘It’s washing-day,’ Henry said hopefully. ‘Sarah will still be here to do her work…’

  ‘And Dickon will mind the yard and stables,’ Lockyer put in.

  ‘What of Master Childers?’ I had assumed my magistrate’s tone, which caused both men’s faces to fall. ‘Have you approached him with your request?’

  ‘We… we thought Master Childers would prefer to remain here, in charge of the house,’ Henry answered.

  I made no reply; laughter was bubbling up, which I was at some pains to control. Childers regarded plays as frivolous, and all travelling players as rogues.

  ‘So now we have it,’ I said. ‘Thirldon is to be all but deserted, while my servants decamp en masse for the King’s Head Inn to idle the afternoon away, abandoning their work.’

  ‘I’ve made a venison pie for tomorrow’s dinner,’ Henry said in a forlorn voice - which broke my restraint. In spite of myself, I let out a gasp.

  ‘Lord above, then how can I refuse?’ I spluttered – and when both men’s faces lit up, I gave way to laughter.

  ‘Then you will allow it, sir?’ Lockyer asked, a smile appearing. ‘That will be most welcome news.’

  ‘No doubt,’ I said, wiping my eye. ‘But mind this: I expect everyone to make their way homewards after the play - no lingering at the inn.’

  ‘Of course.’ Henry was grinning from ear to ear. ‘Now, with your leave I’ll return to my domain.’

  I waved him away, fumbling for a kerchief. But when Lockyer made his bow and turned to go, I stayed him. ‘Do you know what play the Earl’s men are performing?’

  ‘I do, sir - it’s Doctor Faustus by the late Master Marlowe. It’s got devils running around, and magic.’ He threw me a sly look. ‘Not real magic, that is… no harm in a show, is there?’

  Summoning a frown, I dismissed him. It seemed unlikely that he was referring to my brush with the supposed witch Agnes Mason the year before, whom I had saved from the gallows. But Thirldon had always been a hive of gossip. My authority, I reflected ruefully, was a mere shadow of what it had been in my magistrate’s days. As if to drive the notion home, I had barely retired to my bed-chamber that night when the door opened and Hester entered, wrapped in her russet night-gown.

  ‘If it’s about the play tomorrow, I’ve already been waylaid and given my consent,’ I told her. ‘I was feeling magnanimous, I suppose… or drowsy with claret-’

  ‘I would like to go too,’ Hester interrupted. ‘I haven’t seen a play in a long time – nor have you.’

  Standing in my stockings in the candlelight, I made a gesture of dismissal. ‘I’ve seen Doctor Faustus twice, in London,’ I said. ‘I’ve no desire to see it again. You should go - you can keep an eye on the Thirldon men, see they don’t get soused and start a fight.’

  ‘You wish me to attend alone?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘There are no private gallery-boxes at the King’s Head. I’d be a target for any lecherous gallant who had a mind to seize me.’

  ‘What piffle,’ I muttered, stifli
ng a yawn. ‘You’d be a match for any of them.’ But there was truth in her words. The inn-yard could be rowdy - and a woman alone, whatever her age, was generally considered fair game…

  ‘In any case, it’s likely some of your friends will be there,’ Hester said.

  ‘I don’t have friends nowadays,’ I lied. My old companion Doctor Budge was a true friend, but he was away for the summer spending time with his daughter and her family. ‘More likely I’d run into some old enemy from my days on the bench.’

  ‘I believe an afternoon’s entertainment will be good for you,’ came the reply. ‘You never go anywhere, save fishing.’

  I sighed. ‘May we leave this for the morning?’

  ‘I suppose we may. In fact, that was my thought too.’

  She made no move to leave the room; our eyes met, and I drew a sharp breath. ‘I see,’ I said, in a different tone. ‘Is this a matter of bribery, or…?’

  ‘Call it what you will,’ Hester said, undoing her gown.

  And that was how we both came to be attending a performance at the King’s Head Inn, the following afternoon.

  It was what followed afterwards, however, that set the cat among the pigeons.

  ***

  In spite of my reservations, I had enjoyed the play. The Earl of Arundel’s company were seasoned players who had been touring the provinces, and their delivery was well-honed and lively. Though Marlowe’s work was familiar to me, I had almost forgotten the power of his poetry, which more than compensated for the knockabout scenes of clowning, to a man of my tastes. The inn-yard was packed, my own servants dotted among the crowd, delighting in the show. As did Hester, who was moved by the cries of the wretched Faustus when the devils come to drag him off to hell at the end. She spoke of it as we made our way out through the throng and into the street.

  ‘It’s a morality tale - one of straight retribution,’ I told her. ‘If you make a pact with evil, you pay the price. As for yearning after Helen of Troy – or even her spirit – that’s mere lust personified.’

  ‘Of course - Master Justice,’ she replied, with a dour look. ‘Being a paragon of virtue yourself, you naturally disapprove of pleasure for its own sake.’

  I lowered my gaze; having enjoyed a rare episode of carnality with her the previous night, I was in no position to preach. We walked on in silence through the busy street, past the Guildhall where, on a sudden, Hester stopped.

  ‘Do you see who it is?’ She asked, tugging my sleeve.

  I looked up, and drew to a halt myself. Walking towards us was Dorothy Standish, the wife of my old rival Justice Matthew Standish, with whom I had oft been at loggerheads. Especially in the previous year, when I’d had a hand in the downfall of the wicked landowner Giles Cobbett, friend and – so I had deduced – silent paymaster of the unscrupulous Justice. I never saw Standish, as a rule. He and I were enemies, now that I knew he had been one of those responsible for my having to quit as magistrate. Nor had I any wish to speak to his haughty wife. I took Hester’s arm and would have walked past her – but to my surprise the woman blocked our path. Only then did I notice that she was not alone, but in the company of an over-dressed gallant who must have been twenty years her junior.

  ‘Master Belstrang…’ a thin smile appeared. ‘How pleasant to see you… you and your servant.’

  ‘Madam.’ I managed the curtest of nods. ‘Your pardon, but we cannot stay.’

  ‘Of course you can’t… always such a busy man.’ The lady half-turned to her companion - a simpering fellow, I surmised. ‘Master Belstrang was once a Justice here, did you know?’ She murmured. ‘Now he… well, in truth I’m not sure what it is he does now. Tends his fruit trees, perhaps?’

  Beside me, I felt Hester stiffen. Suppressing a retort, I made as if to side-step the two of them, but it seemed Mistress Standish was not done with me yet.

  ‘It’s such a pity,’ she said sweetly. ‘You have my deepest condolences for your coming loss. The Justice and I were most saddened when we heard.’

  ‘I don’t follow you,’ I said, feeling a frown coming on. ‘Pray, what is this loss you speak of?’

  ‘I quite understand,’ came the reply. ‘It must be too painful to speak of… I’m most sorry for raising the matter.’

  ‘What matter?’ Hester asked. She shifted her gaze from Mistress Standish’s face to that of her foppish friend, who curled his lip disdainfully. But now, having chosen her moment, the lady delivered her killing blow.

  ‘Why, the loss of Thirldon, of course,’ she said, lifting her brows at me. ‘It’s tragic… your family have dwelt there for generations, have they not? But then, when the eye of His Majesty the King lights on such a prize, there’s little one can do, is there?’

  I gazed at her, too stunned to speak. Beside me, Hester jerked as if struck.

  ‘God in heaven, Madam, do you not see what you have done?’ The perfumed popinjay on Mistress Standish’s arm spoke up in a languid tone. ‘I’d lay odds the poor man doesn’t know yet… he’s plain lost his reason, along with his voice!’

  ‘Oh, my dear…’ Mistress Standish put on a look of such horror, she could have done sterling work as a player. Lifting a hand, she made as if to ward off the thought. ‘But this is unbearable, sir – I naturally assumed that you knew!’

  And she would have put a consoling palm out to me, had I not received a dig in the ribs from Hester. In a moment she had drawn me aside, ushering me away from this cruel-hearted woman. I was still so shaken by her words that I submitted, the pair of us almost stumbling off up the street, jostled by the throng still coming from the play. After taking a few paces, however, I stopped and turned back, as if to reassure myself of what had just occurred.

  There, watching me with a shameless smirk, stood Mistress Standish. To add further insult her companion swept off his hat and made a bow, then burst into mocking laughter.

  ‘Come, walk!’

  Hester gripped my arm, urging me onward. With an effort, I picked up my pace and walked with her until we had put some distance between ourselves and the people who had spoiled our afternoon so harshly. Not until we had reached the stables where our mounts awaited us, did we pause for breath.

  ‘Surely you didn’t believe her?’ She faced me, her eyes full of concern. ‘She meant to dismay you, nothing more. She has never forgiven you for getting the better of her husband as you did last year… she is bitterness itself!’

  I exhaled, and gave a nod. ‘But what an odd thing to say. Can such a rumour truly have got around? In God’s name, how can that be?’

  ‘It’s nonsense. Rumours may come from nothing – a few words slurred by someone in drink. It was said to spite you.’

  ‘But…’ I found myself frowning. ‘You recall what might have happened to John Jessop, when he almost lost Sackersley? Once the King takes a fancy to some pleasant country manor, for one reason or another-’

  ‘For pity’s sake!’ Hester exclaimed. ‘The King has never set foot in this county – I doubt he’s even heard of Thirldon.’

  ‘Well… perhaps,’ I allowed. Letting out another long breath, I gestured to the stable doors. ‘Let’s get ourselves home, shall we? I need a drink of something.’

  But Hester remained still, looking hard at me.

  ‘The idea is preposterous,’ she insisted. ‘And I dislike the thought of riding back with you working yourself into a turmoil over it. I say again - it’s pure nonsense.’

  But it was not.

  I arrived home to find that a letter had been delivered, sent in haste from my son-in-law George Bull in London, advising me of grave news that had been brought to his attention.

  It seemed King James was about to make me an offer of purchase for Thirldon: the house and the entire estate, to gift to his favourite the Marquis of Buckingham. Naturally, it was assumed that I would humbly accept this honour bestowed by the King, and make arrangements to suit.

  Whereupon Mistress Standish’s words rang in my head: When the eye of His Majesty lights
on such a prize, there’s little one can do, is there?

  TWO

  To say that there was consternation in my house that evening, would be a gross understatement.

  Childers, in some ways, took the news even more to heart than I did. Thirldon was all he knew, having spent his entire life in my family’s service. Whereas one of my first thoughts was for the rest of the servants. Fortunately, it appeared that none of them had heard of the matter, even in Worcester. How Mistress Standish came to be in early possession of such knowledge, was food for much thought.

  ‘Even George is dismayed,’ I said, holding up his letter. We sat in my private chamber, Hester, Childers and I, fortified with cups of strong sack. ‘He says the King can refuse Buckingham nothing. His Lordship is Master of Horse now, atop all his other titles, and likely set for a dukedom. Building up estates in Ireland, it seems, though what gave him the idea of adding Thirldon to his properties I’m uncertain…’

  I broke off, as a notion sprang up; indeed, it had been at the back of my mind since the return journey from Worcester.

  ‘Standish,’ Hester said, divining my thoughts as she so often did. ‘He must have had a hand in this.’

  I gazed at her, even as Childers let out a sigh. ‘It would explain what his wife said to you in the town, sir,’ he muttered, with a shake of his head. ‘By all that’s holy…’

  We were silent for a while. Hester was shaken, but remained calm. ‘The man must burn with revenge, after you thwarted him last year,’ she said after a while. ‘He’s acquainted with important men – as is his wife. That woman would use any means to hurt us. She could even have spread the word about Thirldon’s desirability herself.’

  ‘It may be so,’ I breathed.

  A great weight had settled upon me. I turned my attention to George’s letter again, re-reading it for perhaps the third time. He had learned of the King’s intention to purchase Thirldon from another lawyer who was well versed in Court affairs, and was doing his best to find out more. Meanwhile his wife, my beloved daughter Anne, was distraught at the thought of losing our family estate. The two of them assured me that, should matters go as we feared, Hester and I would have a home with them for as long as we wished. Lifting my gaze, I repeated the offer to the others.