A Rustle of Silk: A new forensic mystery series set in Stuart England (A Gabriel Taverner Mystery)

by Alys Clare

There was silence as Hodge finished speaking. Quinlie, I reflected, was far from the respectable silk merchant he purported to be. Whether his deviation from this image went as far as murder, I couldn’t have said, although I could have made a good guess.

  Theo was speaking to Hodge, and I made myself listen.

  ‘… think it may be possible Jeromy Palfrey tried to cheat him of the silk, and was killed and disposed of,’ he was saying quietly.

  Jarman Hodge seemed to know what was expected of him without Theo having to explain. He nodded. ‘I’d best get on with it then,’ he said offhandedly. With a nod to each of us, he slipped quietly out of the room.

  I stared after him. ‘Will he be all right?’ I asked. ‘Surely what you ask of him is dangerous?’

  Theo smiled. ‘He can take care of himself,’ he replied. ‘Now, I do hope you won’t think me rude, doctor, but since there doesn’t seem much more to be said or done until Hodge reports his findings, I have quite a lot of work I should be getting on with.’

  I took my cue and left.

  Rosewyke seemed quiet without Celia in residence. It wasn’t that she’d made a lot of noise – far from it, since she’d spent a lot of her time in her own quarters – but, even in her grief, she’d contributed some sort of lively, vibrant spirit to the place that I found I missed. Nevertheless, her absence was welcome in one sense, as now I could return to my neglected studies without feeling guilty.

  I wasn’t going to be permitted to study for long, however. In the middle of the afternoon, when I was deep in Andreas Vesalius’s treatise on dissection in which he repeatedly stressed the importance of observation as a physician’s tool, I was interrupted by Sallie’s brusque tap on my study door. ‘You’ve got a visitor, doctor,’ she said, and I could tell by her very tone of voice that, whoever it was, my housekeeper didn’t approve. ‘I’ve said you’re busy and not to be disturbed,’ she added, ‘but some people won’t take no for an answer.’

  Reluctantly I laid Vesalius aside and put down my quill. ‘Very well, Sallie, I’m coming.’

  I followed her down the stairs into the hall, where she indicated the parlour with a disapproving jerk of the head before disappearing into her own domain. The kitchen door closed emphatically behind her.

  I went on into the parlour.

  I’m not sure who I was expecting, although I certainly hadn’t envisaged a woman. Not such a one, anyway, as she who stood in the middle of the parlour, staring around her and perfectly at her ease.

  She was strikingly attractive. She was dark: her skin had the healthy, tanned look of someone who spends a lot of time out of doors, and what I could see of the hair beneath the modest white headdress and hat was black and glossy. I’d have put her down as a native of more southern climes – Spanish, Italian – but for her eyes. These were bright, large and clear, and a rare shade of very pale blue with a hint of silvery grey. Her nose was strong and straight, her chin firm, and her wide mouth was beginning to curve into a smile.

  ‘Have you seen enough, or would you like me to take off my cloak?’ she said in a low-pitched voice. Even as she spoke, her hands went up to unfasten the clasp at her neck and she flicked back the wide folds of her high-collared cloak. She was tall, her waist was small beneath a generous bosom and her neck rose elegantly from square, strong shoulders. She wore a tightly fitting black bodice over a full skirt made of fine wool, deep brownish-red in colour.

  ‘Please, sit down,’ I said, stepping forward and pulling out a chair. She sank gracefully on to it, spreading her skirts. ‘How may I help you?’

  Her smile widened. ‘Maybe it’s I who can help you, doctor.’

  I stared into her shining eyes. ‘I don’t believe I know who you are.’

  ‘I very much doubt it,’ she agreed. ‘I’m called Judyth. I am on my way home after a visit to Josiah Thorn, who summoned me to attend a tricky delivery up at Buckland. I’m a midwife,’ she added helpfully, in case I hadn’t worked it out for myself.

  Josiah Thorn. Why did I know that name? But that was something to ponder later. ‘Do you want my assistance?’ I asked. Something flashed swiftly in her eyes. ‘Not that I can imagine any circumstances in which you might have need of it,’ I went on hastily, ‘since you have probably brought far more babies into this world than I.’ I didn’t add that this was the case with every midwife in the land, since to date my sum total of solo deliveries stood at nil. I’d observed and assisted on many occasions, of course, during my training, but that, I was quite sure, was a very different matter from being in charge and alone.

  Judyth was studying me. ‘No thanks, doctor, that’s not why I’m here. As I just said, I’ve come to help you.’

  ‘Yes, so you did.’ I drew up another chair and sat down beside her. ‘In what way?’

  ‘I felt it was my duty to speak to you,’ she said calmly. ‘You are, I understand, making enquiries into the discovery of a body at the beginning of the month down by Old Ferry Quay.’

  It was a statement and not a question, but I said, ‘Yes I am,’ anyway.

  ‘I have some information for you.’

  I felt my senses grow alert. Was it possible she’d seen Nicolaus Quinlie, or, at the least, his thugs? Observed them dumping Jeromy’s body? Killing him? It seemed too good to be true.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘One night round about then I was in the vicinity of Old Ferry Quay. I’d been delivering a baby in a small hamlet further upriver, and I was making my way home along the track that runs along the top of the bank, approaching the place where the steep path down to the river emerges. I didn’t realize there was any significance in what I saw, because then, of course, I hadn’t heard about the body being discovered at the quay.’

  ‘What did you see?’

  ‘A man, cloaked and hooded, making his way along in the shadows as if he didn’t want to be seen.’

  ‘One man?’

  She hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. I stopped and concealed myself – it wasn’t that I was frightened exactly, only that, in general, I find discretion is preferable to over-confidence. But I managed to get a good view of this man, and I think I might have heard him muttering. Unless he was talking to himself, that suggests he had at least one companion, even if I didn’t see him.’

  Quinlie’s men? There was no way I could be certain. ‘Are you able to describe further the man you saw?’ I demanded.

  ‘I …’ She hesitated, frowning. ‘I had the impression he was a foreigner, although I can’t really say what made me think so.’

  Did Quinlie’s gang of thugs include any foreigners? It was a question to ask Jarman Hodge. ‘Perhaps—’ I began.

  But then her face lit up. ‘Oh, I believe I may be able to help after all,’ she said. ‘But, please, do not make too much of this, for, as I said, it was only a swift impression.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I said.

  Again, something flashed in her eyes. Then she said, ‘It seemed to me that he was wearing a mask, for the features of his face – what I could see of it – did not look quite human. The nose … it was beak-like. And I seem to remember that there was a particular scent, a perfume, in the air. Not something that occurs naturally in the early May countryside, but something alien, unusual … Pepper, cloves, perhaps?’

  ‘Like a pomander?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not exactly, for why should a pomander be the unique possession of a foreigner? There was something else, a sharp sort of smell …’ Her fine dark eyebrows drew together as she frowned. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t bring it to mind.’ She raised both hands, palm uppermost, in a graceful gesture that made me think of dancing.

  ‘No matter.’ I found I was smiling, and hastily straightened my face. ‘I appreciate your coming here to tell me as much as you have done, for undoubtedly it will prove extremely helpful.’

  ‘You have a suspicion, then, concerning who was responsible for that poor young man’s death?’

  ‘A suspicion, yes,’ I agreed, ‘but as yet we – they – a
re a long way from proving it.’

  She nodded. ‘I see.’ Then, after a pause, ‘I’ve heard he was in some way connected to you? Not a close friend, I trust, for to lose one such is a great sorrow to the heart.’

  ‘No,’ I said, still thinking about the shady foreigner and the mysterious smell and not concentrating on what I was saying. ‘No, he wasn’t a friend, he was my brother-in-law.’

  She was getting to her feet: a smooth, elegant movement in which she didn’t use her hands to help her but relied solely on her strong legs and back. She gave me an enquiring look, and I thought I saw the shadow of a swift, amused smile. Then just as quickly her expression straightened. ‘I will leave you to your work, doctor,’ she said. ‘I am sure I have disturbed you long enough.’

  She was already gliding towards the door. ‘Won’t you take refreshments?’ I offered belatedly. ‘We have—’

  ‘No, thank you,’ she said firmly. ‘I have another call to make, and the night promises to be long since I shall be attending one of my mothers whose labours habitually last a day and a half and more.’ She turned, giving me an unreadable glance over her shoulder. ‘I’ll call you if I need you.’

  She knows, I thought as I watched her swing up into the saddle of her chestnut gelding and ride away. Somehow she has picked up the fact that, when it comes to obstetrics, I am a novice whose help she wouldn’t send for if I was the last doctor in Devon.

  Was she a mind-reader? It was both an exciting and a scary thought.

  I put it from my mind, contemplating instead the news that Judyth had brought: good news, without a doubt. Now we had a witness to what had happened on the night Jeromy was murdered, surely we were that much closer to establishing who was responsible. I glanced up into the sky, deciding it was too late to pay a visit to Theo. I would tell him in the morning.

  For now, I would return to Vesalius and his views on dissection.

  As I bounded back up the stairs, I remembered where I’d heard the name Josiah Thorn before. Black Carlotta had asked if I knew him, and when I said I didn’t, had added mysteriously, maybe you should. I’d been making enquiries about the unpleasant offerings left on my doorstep, and this Doctor Thorn, it appeared, might be involved. Or not: as I recalled it, when I asked Black Carlotta if she thought he had been responsible, she had replied enigmatically. I don’t think any such thing, she said. I’m just asking, do you know him?

  I stopped halfway up the stairs. It was true that there hadn’t been any more offerings since the beheaded blindworm, but that didn’t necessarily mean the perpetrator had done with me.

  Now the name of Doctor Josiah Thorn had cropped up again, albeit in a very different context. Perhaps it was time for me to make his acquaintance.

  TEN

  Before I could either set off for Buckland to present myself to Josiah Thorn or go down to Theo’s house to tell him about the sinister foreigner, however, my own duties summoned me. Not to assist Judyth with her patient’s long labour, however – and the thought of her seeking my help was indeed risible – but to treat a small boy who had fallen off the back of a cart and knocked himself out.

  It was not until the early evening of the following day that I finally went to see Theo. He was in his office, and Jarman Hodge was with him.

  ‘You come at an opportune time,’ Theo greeted me. ‘Hodge here has just got back. Jarman? Go on, please, with your report.’

  ‘Like I was just saying,’ Jarman Hodge began, ‘I didn’t reckon there was much point in returning to the warehouse, since both the doctor here and I have already spoken to the warehouseman who made that remark about the dead man, and it didn’t seem likely he had anything to add. I considered cornering some of the other men who work there and I spied out the comings and goings at the warehouse for a while.’ He paused, clearly thinking. ‘There was … a mood among them. I reckon they were scared. Maybe they’d had a warning not to speak to strangers, not to discuss Quinlie’s private business with outsiders. I can’t say. But what I did observe was that there was no sign of the fat man with the fighting-cock walk. And,’ he added while Theo and I were still digesting that, ‘they’ve tightened up security.’

  ‘Because Quinlie doesn’t want to risk anyone else breaking in and robbing him like Jeromy did!’ I exclaimed.

  Jarman Hodge gave me a look. ‘Or maybe because too many people have been lurking around asking questions.’

  I shook my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts. This whole affair was turning into a dense tangle and I was finding it difficult to see through it with any sort of clarity. ‘There’s something else,’ I said after a moment and I told Theo and Hodge about Judyth’s report of the mysterious foreigner.

  They both stared at me. Then Theo said kindly, ‘It’s not much to go on, is it, Gabriel? He could have been anybody.’

  ‘But she saw him, right there at the top of the path that leads up to the road from Old Ferry Quay!’ I protested.

  ‘And exactly who is this woman?’ he asked.

  ‘Her name’s Judyth and she’s a midwife. That explains what a woman was doing out alone late at night on the track by the river,’ I said before anyone could ask, ‘since she was on her way home from delivering a baby.’

  Theo looked enquiringly at Jarman Hodge. ‘Judyth … Penwarden, I believe,’ Jarman said. ‘Came up to the area from Cornwall, they say. Used to work out of Morwellham Quay but she had an argument with a local doctor there and lost, and now she’s based just outside Blaxton, near where the ferry runs across the Tavy.’

  Mentally I placed the location. ‘That would put her exactly where she said she was if she’d been returning home from a hamlet further upriver!’

  Jarman Hodge looked at me. ‘It would,’ he agreed.

  ‘So what are we to do to find this stranger?’ I demanded. Theo and Hodge exchanged a glance. ‘It’s very important – crucial – that we do,’ I insisted. ‘He could very well be a witness to Jeromy’s murder, if not actively involved.’

  ‘We’re not saying he’s unimportant,’ Theo said pacifically. ‘It’s just – just—’

  ‘A bit of a vague description,’ supplied Hodge. ‘You can’t even be sure this sighting was on the night Jeromy Palfrey died, since we don’t know exactly when that was.’

  He was right, of course, and I had to admit it, if only to myself. ‘Nicolaus Quinlie has dealings with many foreigners,’ I said, with more confidence than I felt. ‘It seems we can’t prove or disprove the theory that Jeromy tried to steal Quinlie’s Venetian silk, but what if he made an approach to one of Quinlie’s richer clients and attempted to make a deal direct with him, cutting out Quinlie?’

  Both Theo’s and Hodge’s politely disbelieving expressions suggested they thought I was floundering in deep water, about to go under. I was inclined to agree with them.

  ‘As a hypothesis, it has a certain value,’ Theo said carefully. ‘But as to how you’re going to set about verifying it …’ He gave an eloquent shrug.

  I noted he’d said you, not we.

  It looked as if I was on my own with this particular line of enquiry.

  I set off for Rosewyke. It was deep twilight, and the law-abiding villagers of Withybere had retired inside their houses and closed their doors. I could smell the woodsmoke of their fires. We were still in the month of May, and the temperature tended to drop sharply after sunset. I reached the turning for Rosewyke, and Hal automatically headed for home.

  But I drew him up.

  The idea had burst into my head out of nowhere. I knew I wanted to act upon it, and I also knew that, if I hesitated, good sense would undoubtedly overcome impetuosity and I’d have second thoughts.

  I have to do this, I thought.

  I turned Hal’s head, put heels to his sides and headed down into Plymouth.

  Such was Nicolaus Quinlie’s fame in the town – in the whole area, probably – that everyone knew where his premises were located. I made my way down to the quay, keeping to the shadows as I led my horse along
to the big warehouse at the end. As I approached, I slipped into the mouth of a dark little passage leading up between two neighbouring buildings, securing Hal to an iron tethering ring set in the wall. I took the precaution of turning him – not easy in the narrow space – so that he faced outwards. It was quite possible I might be in a hurry when I left.

  The lower floor of the warehouse was one vast storage area, its heavy doors barred and bolted. A little Judas gate had been cut into one of them, and outside it a night watchman patrolled up and down. As I watched from the shadows, he muttered something to his companion, who was stationed further along the quay. It appeared that Nicolaus Quinlie’s security measures had been increased here, too, as Jarman Hodge reported was the case in Dartmouth.

  It didn’t matter to me. I wasn’t going to attempt to enter the warehouse.

  I drew further into the darkness, looking up at the side of the tall building. Nothing. I edged towards the place where the side wall met the rear wall, and, peering round the corner, saw what I had hoped to see: a narrow stair – little more than a ladder – leading to a low door in the upper storey. The door, I thought, must have been designed to provide access for goods stored on the top floor of the warehouse, and, looking closely, I spotted a big beam jutting out on which there was a pulley, a frayed piece of rope dangling from it.

  I sprinted along the rear wall and climbed the perilous stairs. The little door was locked – naturally – and the cumbersome clasp was solid and stout. But I didn’t think it was going to defeat me. I reached into the pouch at my belt and took out the small implement I always carry.

  One of the first ship’s surgeons under whom I learned my craft had shown me how to pick locks. He’d hinted at a degree of criminality in his past, but, since that was true of quite a lot of men serving in the Queen’s navy, it wasn’t really anything to remark upon. He’d taken a deal of satisfaction when I proved an apt pupil, expressing the opinion that one day I’d be glad of the tuition.

  I’d already been glad of it quite a few times, but never more so than tonight.