Heartstone (Matthew Shardlake #5)(42)

‘Everything depends on the mother’s evidence,’ he said.

‘It does, Sir William.’

‘The applicant’s death is a strange matter. A suicide, he must have been sick in his mind.’ There was a suppressed sob from Bess, which Paulet ignored.

I said, ‘Master, something which may have tipped this man of good character over the edge of reason must be serious indeed.’

‘May be serious, Master Shardlake. May be.’ Paulet turned to Dyrick. ‘I will hear from Master Hobbey’s representative. Master Hobbey himself is absent, I see.’

Dyrick rose. ‘My client is busy with contracts to supply the fleet and army at Portsmouth with wood, work of national importance.’ He looked at me. ‘From his own woodlands, I should add.’

Paulet considered a moment. ‘I understand no marriage is in prospect for the ward.’

‘No, indeed. Master Hobbey would not wish his ward to marry till he finds a lady of his own choice.’ Dyrick’s voice rose. ‘As we know, the man who lodged this extraordindary bill is dead. His mother’s evidence is mere hearsay. And Reverend Broughton’s deposition deals only with allegations relating to the grant of the wardship many years ago.’ His voice took on a reproving note. ‘That wardship went through the due and proper processes of the Office of Wards, predecessor to this honourable court.’

Paulet nodded. ‘Very true.’ He stared at Broughton. ‘I think you a naughty fellow, sir, to stir up trouble now over how the wardship was granted.’

Broughton rose. ‘I have told only the truth, as God is my witness.’

‘Do not bandy words with me, or I will have you in the Fleet for contempt.’ Paulet did not raise his quiet voice but it cut like a knife. Broughton hesitated, then sat down again. Paulet turned back to Dyrick and sighed.

‘Michael Calfhill’s allegations, however vague, do, I think, merit some investigation. Do you wish to question the witnesses?’

Dyrick stared at Bess. She looked back at him, lifting her chin. Dyrick hesitated, then said, ‘No, Master.’ I smiled inwardly. Dyrick had realized that questioning Bess on her statement would only reveal her total sincerity. I understood then that I had won this stage of the battle at least, and from the angry set of his face Dyrick did too. But I took no credit. I had seen enough of Paulet to realize that if pressure had not been brought on him by the Queen he would indeed have thrown us out the door of his strange fiefdom in minutes.

‘I think,’ Paulet said, ‘the court should order depositions from all persons currently concerned with Hugh Curteys’ welfare.’ He looked at me. ‘Whom did you have in mind, Serjeant Shardlake?’

‘Hugh Curteys himself, of course. Master Hobbey, his wife, perhaps their son, the steward of the household. Any current tutor—’

‘There is no tutor,’ Dyrick said. He stood again, his face red with suppressed anger. ‘And David Hobbey is a minor.’

‘Anyone else, Master Shardlake?’

‘I would submit that a statement should be taken from the local feodary, and that he should make his accounts regarding Hugh Curteys’ estate available.’

Paulet considered. ‘Sir Quintin Priddis is feodary of Hampshire.’

I ventured some flattery. ‘Your wide knowledge does you credit, Master.’

Paulet smiled thinly again. ‘Not really. I am from Hampshire too. I am going down to Portsmouth in a few days, as governor, to bring some order to all the soldiers and sailors.’ He reflected. ‘A deposition from Sir Quintin: yes, I agree to that. But as for viewing the accounts – I think not. That could be considered a slur on Sir Quintin’s honesty.’ He stared at me with those large empty eyes, quite straight-faced, and I realized I had not won as much as I thought. If profits were being creamed off Hugh’s estate, and the fact that Hobbey was cutting down woodland strengthened the notion, the local feodary was probably involved. Without accounts he could say anything and there was no way to test the truth of it.

‘Now,’ the Master continued urbanely, ‘there is the question of who should take these depositions.’ He looked at Dyrick, whose face was now almost as red as his hair. ‘What about Serjeant Shardlake?’

‘With due respect,’ Dyrick answered, ‘an impartial person is needed—’

Paulet leaned back in his high chair. ‘I have a better idea. You and Serjeant Shardlake can both go.’

I saw what Paulet was doing. He was going to let the investigation go ahead, but handicap my enquiries by setting Dyrick to breathe down my neck as well as refusing to order disclosure of the accounts. Dyrick must have realized that, but he looked no happier. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘that would give me difficulties. Family commitments—’

‘It is your commitment to the court that matters, Brother. Master Shardlake, have you any objections to my suggestion?’

And then I had an idea. I stared at Barak, who looked back enquiringly. ‘Sir William,’ I said, ‘if Brother Dyrick and I are both to go, then might I ask that we take our clerks to assist us?’

Paulet inclined his head. ‘That seems reasonable.’

‘Perhaps they could be named in the order to attend us. Merely to ensure fairness, equality of legal resources, in the investigation.’

Paulet turned to Dyrick. ‘Any objection to that?’