by C. J. Sansom
We followed the steward to Hobbey's study. Hobbey sat slumped at his desk, his thin face grey, staring unseeingly at the hourglass. Dyrick sat in a chair next to him. Fulstowe stood by the window, watching, as Dyrick said to me, 'Master Hobbey wishes to talk to you. Know it is against my advice—'
'Your advice,' Hobbey said quietly. 'Where has that brought me? Since that first day you told me the children's wardship was worth paying for.' He looked at me; his eyes were sunk deep in his skull. 'David will live. The barber-surgeon has taken the arrow out. But he thinks David's spine is injured. He cannot move his legs properly. We must get a physician.' His voice broke for a moment. 'My poor boy, what a hard path I gave him to tread in this world. Harder than he could bear.' He looked at me. 'You are not my nemesis, Master Shardlake. I have been my own. I caused the destruction of my family.' He closed his eyes. 'Vincent says you know what we did.'
'Yes,' I answered gently. 'I realized only this morning.'
'We have told everyone there was an accident at the butts, that Hugh was frightened by what happened and has run away. I think they believed us.' He paused. 'Unless you tell them something different.'
I said, 'It was David who shot at Barak and me that day, wasn't it? I think he was even following me the night I arrived.'
He answered quietly, 'I think so.'
'And who killed his mother?'
Hobbey bowed his head. Dyrick raised a hand. 'Nicholas—'
Hobbey looked up again. 'I feared so from the start. David—he had come to see everyone as his enemy; except me, and Emma, whom he—whom he loved. He said to me more than once that if anyone tried to expose us he would shoot them dead.' He added sombrely, 'I think perhaps he did mean to shoot you in the woods that day, but missed. He was never as good a shot as Emma.'
'Jesu,' Barak said.
'That was why I let Fulstowe and Vincent persuade me to try and get Ettis convicted. David's mind—' He shook his head. 'But now it is all over.' He looked at the hourglass with a sad, broken smile. 'The sand has run out, as I have feared it would for so long.'
'Did you make Emma assume her brother's identity because the law allows a girl to come into her lands much sooner than a boy?'
'Six years ago, when I bought this house, I was a prosperous merchant, a risen man.' He spoke the words bitterly. 'But then the French and Spanish put their embargo on English trade. I invested too much at the wrong time, and faced ruin. When Hugh and Emma's parents died, I saw the opportunity to make profit from Hugh's woods. Eighty pounds a year's profits for eight years, that was what I needed to repay the bond with my creditors. Getting Hugh and Emma's wardship was the only way out I could see. I was advised by friends to see Vincent.'
I turned to Dyrick. 'So you were part of the plan to steal the children's assets from the start.'
'Many people do it,' Dyrick said impatiently. 'And it kept Master Hobbey and his family from penury. And gave the children, who had nobody else, a home.'
'And David a potential wife. Whether Emma wanted him or not.'
Hobbey said, 'We hoped Emma would come to love David in time. Abigail said she would have made a steady, sober wife for him, which he needed. She was right.'
'What of her needs?' I asked in sudden anger. 'That orphaned child?'
'Listen,' Dyrick said. 'Never mind the moralizing, much as you love it. The point is, what is going to happen now?'
Hobbey said, 'Yes. To Emma? And David?'
'First I need to know it all,' I answered. 'Everything. What happened, who was involved. So, Dyrick got you the children's wardship and you tried to cajole Emma into marrying David. I imagine Hugh and Michael Calfhill both counselled her to resist.'
'Yes, they did.'
'But then something went badly wrong, didn't it? Hugh died. His lands passed to Emma. Who, unless she married David, would inherit at fourteen, not twenty-one.'
Hobbey said, 'We were in a panic, we thought we would go bankrupt. After Hugh died we begged and pleaded with Emma to marry David, but she refused utterly. She said she would go to the Court of Wards and say David was not a suitable husband because of his falling sickness. Though we knew she could hardly do that alone.' Hobbey bowed his head. 'And then—then my wife had the idea of substituting Emma for Hugh.'
'And Emma agreed?'
'She agreed readily, perhaps too readily. I still do not understand why she disliked my son so much, but—she did. In fact it was David that Abigail and I needed to persuade to accept our plans.'
'And then you got rid of Michael Calfhill and moved down here. Where no one had ever seen the children.'
'Yes. It was only then that we realized that we were all trapped. Me, David, Abigail and Emma. If the truth came out we could have been in deep trouble. The only other who knew was Fulstowe.' Hobbey looked at his steward. 'He was always so good at organizing things, anticipating difficulties. And Emma—she retreated into herself, into books and archery.'
'Which she had already practised with Michael.'
'Yes. And the other tutors. We never let one stay too long. It was easy enough to deceive them at first, but it grew harder as Emma grew older. We—we became frightened of her. She never let us know what was happening in her mind. She impersonated her brother so well—sometimes I found myself thinking of her as Hugh for days at a time, somehow it eased my mind. Abigail never did—if I accidentally referred to Emma as Hugh in her presence she would shout and rail at me. But she was utterly terrified of exposure. And at the time you came there were only three years left till Emma could go to court as Hugh and claim her lands. I do not know what would have happened then.' Nor did I, I thought. Emma had truly made herself unreachable.
Hobbey continued: 'As the years passed the deception was a toll on us all. But especially on Abigail. She was the one who had to counsel Emma how to deal with the monthly woman's curse, cut and sew padding for her breasts. That only seemed to make Emma hate her, and—and somehow we all came to blame Abigail because it had been her idea. Especially David. It was not fair, it had all been done to pay my debts. But even I came to blame her. My poor wife.'
'And then Michael Calfhill returned.'
Hobbey flinched. 'He realized at once that Hugh was really Emma. The moles on her face were enough. He threatened to expose us. But Emma did not want him to.' He looked at Dyrick. 'And you had found out something about Michael, hadn't you, when he was encouraging Emma to refuse to marry David.'
'You suspected it yourself,' Dyrick answered sharply. 'You asked me to see what I could find.'
Hobbey dropped his gaze. He said, 'Someone in London told me Michael was said to have had an—improper—relationship with another student at Cambridge. And Vincent discovered there had been others.'
'So after he came this year you threatened him with exposure?'
'Yes. I got Vincent to visit him. God forgive me.'
'Sodomy is a hanging offence,' Dyrick snapped. 'I told Calfhill I would tell the world what he was if he lodged a complaint at Wards. How was I to know he would kill himself?'
'So it was suicide, after all,' I said.
'What the hell else did you think it was?' Dyrick burst out.
'You went and threatened him.' I looked at Dyrick with disgust. 'You drove that young man, who had only ever sought to help both children, to his grave.'
'I did not know he was that weak,' Dyrick said defiantly.
'You dirty shit,' Barak said.
I stared at Dyrick. 'Someone attacked me in London and warned me off the case. Was that you as well?'
Dyrick and Hobbey stared at each other, then at me. Dyrick said, 'That was nothing to do with us.'
I frowned, thinking. 'So Michael screwed up the courage to make the complaint at the Court of Wards. But then he became terrified of what you would say and killed himself. How he must have struggled with his conscience. Perhaps he hoped his mother would take up the case, maybe bring it to the Queen, who had been kind to him.'
'Conscience,' Hobbey said with infinite sadness.
'I had one once. Ambition killed it. And afterwards—you know in your heart the wrong you have done, but—you stifle it. You have to. You continue to act your part. But Michael's death has haunted me.' Tears began coursing down his thin grey cheeks. 'And poor Abigail. Oh, if only we could have seen where this imposture would lead. And it destroyed my poor son's mind.' He put his head in his hands and began weeping uncontrollably. Dyrick stirred restlessly. Fulstowe gave his employer a look of contempt.
After a minute, Hobbey wiped his face then looked at me wearily. 'What will you do now, sir, about David? Will you reveal he killed his mother?'
'Shouldn't he?' Barak asked brutally.
'My son's mind was disturbed,' Hobbey said desperately. 'It was my fault.' He looked at me, his face suddenly animated. 'If I could, I would sell Hoyland, leave the villagers alone, and go somewhere where I could spend the rest of my life looking after my son, trying—trying to heal him. Though I think he would not be sorry to die now.'
'Nicholas,' Dyrick said, 'Hoyland has been your life—'
'That is over, Vincent.' Hobbey looked at his servant. 'And you, Fulstowe, that we took into our confidence, you used that to build up power over this family. You used us, you felt nothing for any of us. I have known that for a long time. You can go, now. At once.'
Fulstowe looked at him in disbelief. 'You can't dismiss me. Listen, were it not for me—'
'I can,' Hobbey cut in, a touch of the old authority in his voice. 'Get out, now.'
Fulstowe turned to Dyrick. But his confederate in the plan to destroy the village only jerked his head sharply at the door, saying, 'Tell no one about Emma, ever. You are as implicated as your master.'
'After everything I have done for you—' Fulstowe looked at Hobbey and Dyrick again, then walked from the room, slamming the door behind him.
I looked at Dyrick. 'Ettis has to be freed,' I said. 'You and Fulstowe would have let him die to further your schemes.'
'Don't be stupid,' Dyrick snapped back. 'He would never have been found guilty. But with him in prison the villagers would have been more reasonable.'
'Master Shardlake,' Hobbey said, 'I want no charges brought against Emma. If only she could be brought back—'
'I fear she may have gone to Portsmouth to enlist. She may look for my friend George Leacon's company. They saw what a good archer she is.'
'Could you—might you find her?'
I sat back, considering. David and Emma. Both their fates were in my hands now.
Barak said, 'She nearly killed us. Let them both be exposed for what they did.'
I looked at Hobbey. 'I have two more questions. First, am I right that Sir Quintin Priddis knew Hugh was really Emma?'
'Nicholas,' Dyrick expostulated, 'don't answer. We may need Priddis—'
Hobbey ignored him. 'Yes. He knew.'
'From the beginning?'
'No, but he visited this house once, to bargain for his share when I began cutting Emma's woodlands. Sir Quintin is very observant, looking at her he realized the deception. The only one that ever has, save you and Feaveryear. He agreed to keep quiet in return for a larger cut.'
'And his son?'
'I think not. Sir Quintin is a man who even now likes his power, and secrets are power. Other people's, that is; your own are a curse.'
I took a deep breath, then asked, 'And Sir Richard Rich? What is his involvement in all this?'
A look of genuine puzzlement crossed Hobbey's face. 'Rich? The royal counsellor? I have never met him. I saw him for the first time when he came up to you at the Guildhall.'
'Are you sure, Master Hobbey?'
He spread his hands. 'Why would I keep anything back now?'
Dyrick too was staring at me in surprise. I realized neither of them had any idea what I was talking about. But then why had Rich been so agitated in Portsmouth? Why had he, as I increasingly believed, set those corner boys on me in London and killed the clerk Mylling? I thought hard, and then I understood. Again I had jumped to a wrong conclusion.
* * *
AND NOW I had to decide what to do. I looked at Hobbey's desperate face, Barak's angry one, then at Dyrick, who had begun to look uneasy and frightened. If it became known he had helped to conceal Emma's true identity there would be serious professional consequences for him. I could never trust Dyrick, but for now he was in my power. I said, 'This is what I am prepared to do. If Ettis is freed I will say nothing about David killing his mother.'
Barak sat up. 'You can't! He murdered her! What else might he do? And you can believe they're not involved with Rich—'
'They're not. They never were. I think I see what happened now. But tell me, Jack, do you think David was of sound mind when he killed Abigail? Do you think his being put on trial and either certified as mad or hanged will do anyone any good? Who will it benefit?'
'He may shoot someone else.'
'That he never will,' Hobbey said. 'He may never even walk properly again. And I told you, from now on I will watch after him day and night—'
I raised a hand. 'I have three conditions, Master Hobbey.'
'Anything—'
'First, you will ensure—I care not how—that Ettis is released. If he has to stand trial for murder in due course, very well, so long as I am there to ensure that justice takes its course and he is found innocent. And I want to let him know now, in confidence, that that will be the outcome.'
Hobbey looked at Dyrick. 'We can arrange that, Vincent, I am sure. Sir Luke—'
Dyrick said, 'What are your other conditions?'
'The second, Master Hobbey, is that you do as you said, sell Hoyland—having confirmed the villagers' title to the woodland—and take David to a place where you can keep him safe and watched.'
'Yes,' he answered at once. 'Yes.'
Barak looked at me and shook his head. And though I doubted David would be a danger to anyone again, I knew I was taking a risk. But I believed Hobbey would do as he promised.
'My last condition concerns Emma. I will ride back to Portsmouth, and if I find her there and trying to join the army I will get her out.'
'No—' Barak started.
'He'd need to expose her as a girl,' Dyrick said. 'Nicholas, if he does that we could be done for after all. If she gets a lift on a supply cart she could be there already.'
'If she has joined my friend's company, or another, I do not need to tell them the whole story. Merely that a patriotic girl is impersonating a boy.'
'I agree,' Hobbey said. 'I agree to everything.'
'But I will not bring Emma back here. I will take her to London. And you, Master Hobbey, will sell Hugh's wardship to me, as wardships are constantly bought and sold. Though, of course, the transaction will only be a paper one, I will give you no money. Master Dyrick here will organize it.'
Even now, after all the death and ruin, Dyrick took the chance to score a point. 'You will make a profit for yourself—'
'I will see the Curteys lands sold for a fair price, and the money kept safe till Emma, as Hugh, comes of age. That will mean continuing the deception, so far as the Court of Wards at least is concerned. But there are a hundred deceptions there, though maybe none so dramatic as this. Again you will have to cooperate, Dyrick.'
'But Emma just tried to kill David, and nearly killed us!' Barak was proving hard to persuade.
'She didn't kill us, though she easily could have. And I don't think she meant to kill David. She could have shot him through the heart as easily as she could us, but she didn't. My guess is she will be desperately regretting what she did. I learned enough of his—her—nature when we were here before to understand that.'
'Him—her—God's nails!' Barak shouted. 'Are you going to take her home? Will you dress her in tunics or frocks?'
'I will help her to find somewhere to live in London. What she makes of her future then will be up to her. This is the one chance I have of fulfilling my promise to the Queen and Mistress Calfhill, whose son died because he felt he had to help her. We owe somethi
ng to Michael, too.'
Dyrick looked at Hobbey. 'I can negotiate a better deal than that for you.'
'Don't be a fool, Vincent,' Hobbey said dismissively. He reached out a hand to me. 'Again, I agree to it all. Everything. Thank you, Master Shardlake, thank you.'
I could not take his hand. I looked him in the eye. 'I am not doing this for you, Master Hobbey. It is for Emma, and David, to try and bring some future for them out of all this ruination.'
* * *
BARAK AND I left the house an hour later. It was early afternoon now, the sun high and hot. We pulled the horses to a halt outside the priory gate.
'You're stark mad,' Barak told me.
'Perhaps I am. But mad or no, it is time for you to go home. No more words now. With hard riding you might make Petersfield tonight. I will try to find Emma, then follow you. If I do not catch up with you tonight, ride on tomorrow and I will meet you on the road.'
'How can you trust Hobbey and Dyrick?'
'Hobbey is a broken man now, you saw that. All he has left is David. And Dyrick knows what is good for him.'
'So much for Dyrick believing his clients were always in the right. He was as corrupt as Hobbey.'
'I still think he believed Hobbey was in the right, at least until he discovered Emma's identity. Some lawyers need to believe that. But yes, after the discovery his only concern was to save his own position. And as for what he would have done to the villagers—'
Barak looked back through the gates at the untended flower beds. 'Poor old Abigail. She'll get no justice out of this, you realize that.'
'I think in her heart she would have wanted to see David and Emma safe. I think she too was haunted by guilt.'
'What about Rich? Mylling? The corner boys? Did you believe what they said?'
'I think I know what happened there, and it did not involve Hobbey or Dyrick. I will pick up that matter in London. I will say no more now—if I am right it could be dangerous to know. But I will tell the Queen. This time Richard Rich may find he has gone too far.'
'Sure you won't tell me?'
'Quite sure. Tamasin would not want me to.'
'If Emma has chosen to go for a soldier, it is what she always wanted. Why not leave her to follow her choice?'