The Burgundian's tale

Until he realized he didn’t need you, I thought to myself; until he discovered he could wind his aunt around his little finger and make himself heir to her entire fortune without having to marry you to get your share. Then you became just another source of entertainment to him, my girl, if you did but know it; another proof of his ability to take a woman away from any man he chose …

But I held my tongue. It was not my place to disabuse her mind or wreck her dreams; and anyway, I guessed that Alcina was unhappy enough already without being brought face to face with the truth.

‘Was Brandon Jolliffe very jealous of Master Quantrell?’

‘He was upset, naturally. But he had always been more in love with me than I was with him. There was a time when he was even jealous of Josh, because he thought I favoured my stepbrother.’

‘And did you?’

The large brown eyes opened wide and she laughed. ‘Not in the way you mean. I’m fond of Josh, but I regard him as a member of the family.’

I struggled to recall all the various bits of information I’d been given. Finally, I said, ‘Yet surely I’m correct in thinking that he hasn’t been a member of this family for very long?’

Alcina grimaced. ‘No, he hasn’t,’ she agreed wryly. ‘It’s barely two years since my stepmother married Godfrey St Clair and he and Jocelyn came to live with us. But from the beginning I’ve thought of Josh as my brother. Oh, I’m perfectly well aware that my stepfather would like the pair of us to marry, and of course, looking at it from his point of view, I can see the reason why. It would keep most of the Broderer fortune intact, except for what would go to Lionel, and Josh and I wouldn’t have to share it between us when Judith and Godfrey are dead. But I’m not in love with Josh nor he with me. We’re friends, that’s all.’

I shifted my ground again. ‘Are you fond of your stepmother?’

Alcina glanced at my face, then away again. ‘I suspect that Paulina’s been gossiping, so you already know the answer to that. I’m deeply in my stepmother’s debt.’ She drew a painful breath. ‘My father, as you’ve no doubt been told, was a very violent man. I think … I’m almost sure that Judith only married him for my sake. She must have known what he was like, how he treated my mother, because she’d already been living in this house a year when I was born next door. And, of course, her first husband, Edmund Broderer, had lived here all his life.’

‘You think she married your father to protect you from his violence? Couldn’t your uncle have done that?’

‘He was as afraid of my father’s rages as I was or as my mother had been. Uncle Martin was useless. He would never cross his brother, even though he was the elder by seven years.’

I mulled this over. Bertram was shuffling his feet, growing bored. He had probably envisaged a more exciting life as my assistant: more action, less talk. He caught my eye and nodded his head towards the door, indicating that it was time to go.

But I was interested in Alcina’s view of Judith St Clair. Would a woman marry a man she knew to be violent simply to protect a child who wasn’t even hers? Perhaps; a lonely childless woman who had not only been widowed, but who had also, in the same year, been deprived of the company of a twin sister and six-year-old nephew of whom she had been deeply fond. The young Alcina had filled a void in her life, and for that comfort, Judith might have been prepared to pay a heavy price. If so, her altruism had been rewarded. After only four years of marriage, Justin Threadgold had died.

I got to my feet and bowed briefly. ‘Thank you, Mistress Threadgold; you’ve been extremely patient. We’ll take our leave.’

Bertram was already at the door, bumping into Jocelyn St Clair as the latter entered the parlour, looking for his dinner.

‘That damn man still hasn’t finished my boots,’ he fumed, ‘and, what’s more, I’m starving. It’s way past dinner time. You still here, chapman? This is all your fault, you know. You and your bloody questions.’

I didn’t stop to argue the point, but left him to Alcina’s more soothing ministrations.

‘What now?’ Bertram asked hopefully as we stood outside the St Clairs’ house in the Strand.

It was well past noon and a bright spring day. Ribbons of sunlight were dispersing the clouds, shredding them with streamers of gold and pink. Birds sang in the trees and bushes that overhung the garden walls, and all the cobwebs trembled with a myriad diamond drops. Everything was sharply delineated, the sun swinging high in the heavens like a newly minted coin, the air clear and fresh. I took a deep, appreciative breath.