Lamentation

‘The amnesty is public, and many people have brought in books. Perhaps even some from Whitehall.’ He laughed uneasily. ‘If they prosecuted those who took advantage of the amnesty, that would be a great breach of faith, and illegal.’ He smiled sadly, looking out of the window at the quadrangle. ‘My books are a big loss to me, but our vicar says we must wait, for better times may be coming.’

I was glad he did not know about Bertano. I said, ‘I am visiting Gray’s Inn on other business this afternoon, but I have just had a strange encounter with Isabel Slanning and Brother Dyrick. I thought I should tell you.’

His face became serious. ‘What now? Dyrick has been pestering and bothering me about the depositions and other aspects of the case, trying to bully me in his usual manner. But he has not mentioned this nonsense about conspiracy again. I had hoped he was discouraging Isabel from going down that path. I would, if I were him. The courts will not welcome it.’

‘I think he may be trying to. When I ran into them just now, Dyrick was civil enough for once, and tried to hustle Isabel away. But she told me again she knew all about you, me and her brother conspiring together, and that we would pay, as she put it, the highest price.’

‘Dyrick did not back her up?’

‘Far from it, which is unusual for him. I begin to think Isabel is seriously unhinged. But Dyrick looked worried, and I cannot but wonder what she may have planned.’

Philip’s cheerful manner was gone. ‘Is there further word concerning her complaint about you to Lincoln’s Inn?’ he asked anxiously.

‘None. But Treasurer Rowland was going to write her a sharp letter. I should have expected a copy but I have heard nothing yet. I will call on him.’

Coleswyn considered a moment, then said, ‘I have discovered something else.’ He took a deep breath. ‘A few days ago, I was dining in hall when I saw a friend of mine from another chambers, who knows I have the Cotterstoke case — Dyrick’s cases are always a source of gossip round Gray’s Inn. He introduced me to a retired barrister, now over seventy, but of good memory. When he was young — this is over forty years ago — he acted for Edward and Isabel’s mother.’

I looked up with interest. ‘Oh?’

He hesitated. ‘Strictly, even though old Deborah Cotterstoke is dead, his duty of confidentiality remains. But you know how old fellows like to gossip. And I cannot help but be interested in anything concerning that family.’ He frowned. ‘I should not tell you, I suppose.’

I smiled gently. Coleswyn’s integrity was one of the things I admired in him. ‘I no longer represent Isabel. And I promise it will go no further.’ I inclined my head. ‘And if a former client threatens a barrister, as Isabel did this afternoon, I think he is entitled to seek out anything which might throw light on the circumstances. I take it the old man’s story does that, Philip?’

He grunted acknowledgement. ‘Not directly. But you and I have both wondered whence came the mutual hatred, and perhaps fear, in which Edward Cotterstoke and Isabel Slanning hold each other.’

‘Yes. It is surely something out of the ordinary.’

‘We know from the old merchant I spoke to before that Edward and Isabel’s father died young, their mother married again, but her second husband also died. And the merchant said that ever after she and both children seemed at odds with each other.’ Coleswyn leaned forward in his chair. ‘This old barrister I spoke to was consulted in 1507, back in the old King’s time. By Mrs Deborah Johnson, as she then was. At the time she was an attractive widow in her thirties with two children.’

‘Edward and Isabel.’

‘Yes. Deborah’s first husband, Master Johnson, had just died. Of the sweating sickness, you remember, which was raging in the city that summer.’

I remembered the confident-looking young father in the painting, with his tall hat, and the pretty wife and two little children. How easily even a rising man could be suddenly cut down.

‘Isabel and Edward’s mother had inherited his business. She was quite rich. There had recently been a case in Chancery over whether a woman could inherit and run a business and be a member of a Guild. The old barrister was able to reassure her that she could. He remembered her as a formidable woman.’

‘I recall her face in the painting. Pretty, but with a sharpness, a hardness to it. Like her daughter’s.’

‘Yes. A year later, Mistress Johnson consulted him once more. She was minded to marry again, a man in the same trade as her, Peter Cotterstoke, but she was concerned her rights in the business would pass to her new husband on marriage.’

‘As they would. Automatically.’