A Web of Silk

by FIONA BUCKLEY

  I remarked: ‘I expect in the bustle of moving in, these things were just dumped here and forgotten, and will stay here until someone looks at a stretch of bare wall and says “Where is that tapestry with the hunting scenes?”’

  ‘But of course we’re not really here to unpack for the Frost family,’ said Brockley, resuming his grip on our true purpose and turning back to the chest. ‘We’re here to … Madam!’

  He was staring down into the chest. I came beside him and looked into it. Then we straightened up and looked at each other.

  ‘It’s it!’ said Brockley, almost in a whisper.

  And there it was, Eleanor Liversedge’s dowry chest. Buried under a thick blanket and a roll of tapestry, it had presumably lain there since its disappearance from Stagg’s premises.

  Brockley reached down and heaved, grunting. I quickly lent a hand. The dowry chest was extremely heavy. We lifted it out and set it down so that we could see it clearly.

  We both recognized it, recognized the warm red colour of the wood and its lovely grain, the spray of leaves inlaid with silver that decorated each of its sides, the pattern like a twisted rope of silver round the edges of its domed lid. It was padlocked, and there was no sign of the key.

  I got out my picklocks.

  The lock proved easy to open. I put back the lid of the chest and got out the salt, wrapped in cloth, inside. I freed it from the cloth and we stood contemplating it in admiration. Its amethyst decorations gleamed softly blue and lavender in the gloom of the attic.

  ‘So now what do we do?’ Brockley muttered.

  ‘We inform Master Stagg,’ I said. I began to wrap the salt up again. ‘I had better …’

  A shadow fell across my hands. Black-gowned and black-browed, Dr Lambert was standing in the doorway, staring at us.

  ‘Just what is going on here? Do you have permission to hunt through Master Frost’s attics? What is that that you are holding?’

  It sounded like: ‘Just what is goink on here? Do you have berbission to hunt through Baster Frost’s attics? What is that that you are holdinck?’ But it would be tedious to repeat all of Dr Lambert’s conversation in Dr Lambert’s weird accent.

  He stepped forward, took the salt out of my hands and stared at it. ‘What is this? It’s the bridal gift for the niece of Master Stagg, who makes stained-glass windows, is it not?’

  ‘You have seen it before?’ I said. Or rather, blurted out.

  Lambert stared at me. ‘When Master Frost came to inspect this property before moving in, I was with him,’ he intoned. ‘We found two badly cracked windows in the chapel, and I took a message about it to Master Stagg’s Guildford workshop. The chapel is my charge, after all. Master Stagg had the chest there, at his works.’

  ‘And he showed it to you?’ asked Brockley, quite sharply. Sharply enough, anyway, to jerk a reply from Lambert, who said ‘Certainly!’ quite defensively and then went on to explain.

  ‘I had to wait for Master Stagg in his room upstairs. One of his apprentices came in to say that his master would not be long and asked me if I wanted any refreshment while I was waiting. This chest was there under a table. The boy saw me looking at it and told me what it was. I didn’t see the contents then, but the lad had apparently seen that salt when Master Stagg first acquired it and he described it to me. He was greatly impressed. “Amethysts!” he said, in such an awed voice. He told me he had asked Master Stagg what they were because he’d never seen an amethyst before. When Master Stagg came, I mentioned what the lad had said to me and he showed me the salt. I recognize both it and that rosewood chest.’

  He stopped and seemed to recollect himself. ‘Why am I troubling to explain all this? It is none of your business. What right have you to question me? I have caught you interfering where you should not. You are the ones to explain.’

  I had pulled myself together by now. I said: ‘Mistress Jane could not find her lute yesterday and thought it might be in some luggage that had been put up here during the move and not yet unpacked. We came up here this morning to help her look. She found her lute in this big chest and took it downstairs. We – that is, Brockley and myself – thought that probably there were other things up here that ought to be unpacked and Mistress Jane agreed. She wanted to go down and retune her lute somewhere more comfortable and gave us permission to look around to see if anything else ought to be taken downstairs. That is what we were doing when you came in. I assure you that we are here with Mistress Jane’s permission. I must say, I am surprised to find Mistress Liversedge’s dowry chest here. We too recognized it, having seen it at Master Stagg’s place.’

  The mention of Jane obviously mollified Lambert. The suspicion faded out of his face; instead, he now seemed bewildered. I realized that I was looking at him properly for the first time. Hitherto, he had been a thin man with a dark gown and cap and an irritating voice. Now, it occurred to me that here was a man who was worried. His brown eyes were the anxious eyes of a spaniel trying to understand the speech of its human owners. Eventually, he said: ‘Well, I suppose Master Frost knows his own business best. Perhaps he is looking after the salt for the time being. He and Master Stagg are old friends, after all.’

  We stared at him in such surprise that he noticed it and asked: ‘Why are you astonished? Did you not know? I know little about it myself, as I have only been Master Frost’s chaplain for a few months. But when he told me that we were to move down to Surrey, he said that it would be pleasant to be near his friend Julius Stagg, a master glazier living in Guildford. Only two days after we arrived here, Master Stagg came to dine. And a fine muddle it all was!’ There was a retrospective amusement in his voice, and I realized that Lambert’s speech was suddenly less weird. Interested in what he was saying, he was forgetting his affectations.

  ‘It was all arranged so quickly,’ he said, ‘that the preparations needed to entertain a guest had to be done in a rush. Half of the kitchen utensils still hadn’t been unpacked, and the Hambles had to be sent out to Guildford early in the morning to buy extra victuals. They had trouble finding sugar and cinnamon and couldn’t find any fresh fish at all. By the time they’d bought what they could and brought it back, the cook was going out of his mind because he had a leg of mutton on the spit and was waiting for capons, needed the ingredients for some special sauce or other, and couldn’t start on the desserts without sugar … The whole house was upside down in panic! No one who was here is likely to forget the day that Master Julius Stagg came to dinner.’

  ‘But …’ I said, and then stopped. This was utterly at variance with what Stagg had told us. He had said that he had only come to Knoll House to work and had lacked sufficient social status for anything more. I sensed that Brockley’s mind was following the same bewildered track.

  ‘We will leave things as they are,’ I said at last. ‘You are right, of course. Master Frost must know what he is about, and the same applies to Master Stagg.’ With Lambert standing there, I could not use my picklocks to secure the padlock so I turned away, leaving it open.

  ‘I will mention the matter to my employer,’ said Lambert. This time he remembered to intone, and he seemed to be soothed.

  Which is more than either Brockley or I were.

  There was no question of going straight back to the parlour and sitting down for a quiet morning of instruction in needlework. I told Brockley to bring Dale to my room and then called Sybil to join us. ‘Please forgive the interruption,’ I said to the twins. ‘A private matter has arisen. Go on with what you are doing until we return.’

  Once I had all three of them in my bedchamber with the door closed, I told Sybil and Dale what we had found in the attic and what had been said when Dr Lambert caught us. Bewildered, Sybil observed: ‘Master Stagg said he came here just as a workman. But now the chaplain is saying that they’re old friends!’

  ‘I know.’ I felt just as confused. ‘We’re supposed to be here because Stagg says he can’t just come here himself and make any kind of attempt to do his own sear
ching.’

  Brockley said: ‘I think we should simply tell Stagg what we’ve found and what Lambert said about it, and leave it at that. With your permission, madam, I’ll ride over to Guildford straight away and do so. Yes?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘At least, not on your own. I shall come with you.’

  FIFTEEN

  The Call of the Wild Geese

  I excused my absence that afternoon by saying I wished to ride out for exercise and ought to make another visit to Hawkswood, to see that all was well there and also to find out when the new window was to be installed. Sybil could continue instructing the twins, who in any case were eager to concentrate on the parterre pattern. It sounded natural enough.

  Once more, I encouraged Dale to sit in the parlour with them. She always seemed to have some mending to do, and could do it there. She looked depressed because I was going off alone with Brockley, even though she knew quite well that such expeditions were in no way a threat to her. Dale couldn’t help her jealous nature. I always did my best not to arouse it; and so, I think, did Brockley though we never discussed the matter.

  ‘We’ll be back before supper,’ I said as we got ready to set out. ‘Thank goodness, the weather has changed for the better.’

  It had indeed, and we had a pleasant ride through cool autumn sunlight. There were few flies to annoy us, but the sky was like blue enamel and the trees were still in leaf although the first signs of bronzing had begun. The going was damp but firm and we made good time. In an hour and a half, we had reached Hawkswood.

  We called at the house first, to be greeted delightedly by Harry who at once informed me that a buyer had been found for Philip’s mare. Then I enquired into the progress of the new window, and Adam Wilder told us it was actually being installed at that moment.

  ‘Dr Joynings came up from the village on his pony to tell us that Master Stagg and his workmen had arrived. He has only just gone. And, madam, would you believe it,’ he said with amusement, ‘old Gladys has got it into her head that someone from the house ought to be there to watch. I don’t know why, but she got the vicar to take her to the church on his crupper. Does she think Master Stagg is going to install a window that ought to go into another church altogether, or put in a cheap imitation then charge you for good work and sell your beautiful window for a fine profit elsewhere?’

  ‘I promised she should see the window unpacked when it arrived,’ I said mildly, ‘as she wanted to view it close to. Have you seen it yourself? Will I be pleased with it?’

  ‘Yes, madam. Master Stagg sent a few days ago to ask if Dr Joynings would like to go to Guildford to make sure all was in order before the window was delivered. Dr Joynings invited me to go with him and I did. You are sure to be pleased with it. What that Gladys has got into her head I can’t imagine! Whatever you promised her, madam, I still think she made too much of a to-do about it.’

  ‘Gladys loves making a to-do,’ said Brockley. I nodded but, although I didn’t say so, I once again experienced the uneasy feeling that had troubled me at the very beginning of this business – the odd combination of the broken window, Walsingham’s secret commission and Stagg’s extraordinary one. These things seemed to have no connection with each other, but Brockley himself seemed to feel that they were connected. By the sound of it, Gladys was experiencing something similar, and I didn’t dismiss that as merely the vapourings of an aged and cantankerous Welshwoman. I had learned from experience not to discount Gladys’s ideas.

  ‘We’ll go to the church,’ I said. ‘I wish to see Master Stagg anyway, and I suppose he is likely to be there if the work is still going on.’

  ‘I think it is, madam,’ said Wilder. ‘It will be quite a task, getting the boarding and the remains of the old window out then securing the new one in place, and it will require careful work.’

  He was right. When Brockley and I reached the village, we found a cart drawn up in front of the church. The horse was dozing with a hind hoof languidly propped on its toe, and the church door was open. Standing around and staring with immense interest were a number of villagers of both sexes, some of whom should certainly have been in their workshops, parlours or kitchens or behind their counters. There were several children, too, all agog and full of shrill comment.

  We dismounted, tethered our horses and went inside, where, alarmingly, the first sound to greet us was that of breaking glass. But then we saw that Dr Joynings was there, standing back to watch, looking quite unperturbed. The boarding over the window had gone and two of Stagg’s men, clad in leather aprons stained with paint and putty, were up on ladders outside, knocking out what was left of the old glass and leading. The pieces were raining down on to a big sheet of canvas placed ready to receive them, on which the splintered boarding already lay. Through a hole already made in the glass, I could see that one of the men looked very young and was probably an apprentice. He was also exuberant and Stagg, standing below and clearly much more anxious than Dr Joynings, seemed to be worrying about him.

  ‘Steady with that hammer, Jude! Slow down! We don’t want any accidents! And we don’t want shards of glass all over the floor. They’ve got to fall on the canvas. What do you think the canvas is there for? Shards of glass are like daggers. Watch what you’re doing!’

  ‘Sorry, sir!’ The youth began to use his hammer with exaggerated caution. Stagg shook his head and clicked his tongue, and then noticed that we had arrived. He gave us a nod of acknowledgement, before turning back to give his attention once more to the work in progress. Joynings had also seen us and was inclining his head in greeting, though a moment later his gaze was back on the window – clearly the only thing he was really interested in just now.

  The light had changed. Since the boarding was gone, bright daylight could now pour through. The new window, swaddled in thick, soft fleece, had been brought inside and placed on a long trestle table. Some of the new benches had been pushed aside to make room for it. Seen closely, the size of the window was impressive. Carrying it inside must have been a very cautious business. They would have had to tilt it to get it through the doorway.

  The knocking out finished, and the men came into the church to begin folding the canvas over the bits of broken glass and board. Master Stagg gave a satisfied nod and turned again to us. At the same moment, I caught sight of Gladys, who had appeared from the other side of the church and had lifted some of the protective covering to peer at the window. Dr Joynings had moved to her side and was pointing something out to her. Stagg glanced at them and laughed. ‘The old woman is from your house, I think, Mistress Stannard? She wants to inspect things on your behalf!’

  ‘She’s a nosy old soul, but harmless,’ I said, though softly so that Gladys wouldn’t hear. ‘Master Stagg, I am very pleased that I happened to come home on the right day to see the window arrive, but it’s pure chance. I really came on another errand entirely. I wanted to tell you that we have found the missing bridal chest. It’s as you feared. It’s in an attic at Knoll House. I just wanted to inform you. What you do about it is up to you.’

  ‘You’ve found it!’

  ‘Yes, that is what I said.’

  ‘She’s found it!’

  I started. I hadn’t realized that Eleanor was there too. She had been inside the small chapel on the south side. In these Protestant days it wasn’t used as a chapel, but housed the tomb of Hugh’s grandfather – by his own wish, Hugh had told me. The tomb had a flat top where flowers were often placed in a couple of big vases, and as I looked through the pointed arch that led to it I saw fresh flowers in the vases. Eleanor had presumably been arranging them.

  ‘You don’t mind?’ she asked me anxiously. ‘I came with my uncle to see the window go in and saw that the vases were empty. As we came into the village, I noticed some late-flowering roses in one of the gardens and asked if I could take some for the church. The woman there said yes, and told me that her neighbour who usually sees to the vases had been ill. I’ve put in some red roses with ferns for greenery, th
ough they’re beginning to turn bronze. You don’t object?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ From where I stood, I could see that the flowers and ferns were well arranged. Eleanor clearly had a good hand with them. ‘It was a very kind thought.’

  ‘Pretty notion,’ remarked Gladys, who was still peering down at the window, which Dr Joynings had now unwrapped completely. In it, the righteous were being welcomed to the presence of God and the unrighteous were being led away to damnation. I went to stand beside Joynings for the closest possible look. The colours were rich and beautiful and the theme was dramatic enough to strike awe but not crudely frightening, as the former window had been.

  Pleased, I turned away and went back to Eleanor, who made a charming little reverence to me. She raised her large grey eyes to my face. They were full of pleading.

  ‘You have found the chest,’ she said. ‘I am so relieved! Dear Mistress Stannard, can you get it out, privately, and bring it to us? Please say you can. My betrothed will be visiting me soon and I do so long to have the chest there for him to see.’

  ‘And above all, we don’t want him thinking that we have been involved in anything … unsavoury,’ said her uncle, coming to her side and drawing her arm through his. ‘This match is very pleasing to Eleanor, and also to her stepfather and me.’

  I had been afraid of something like this. I took a deep breath and said firmly: ‘Master Stagg, your private affairs are your own. And Mistress Liversedge, the same goes for your personal business, too. I cannot agree to undertake the removal of the chest. For one thing, apart from the sheer impropriety of taking something from my host’s house without his consent, we could only do so by night, as the house is too populated by day. Also, the chest is both heavy and bulky, and it is up in an attic next to the dormitory where the menservants sleep, and if we got it past them we would still have to carry it past the room on the floor below where the women servants sleep. Impropriety apart, it would be impossible to get it out in secret.’