Free 10 - The Goldsmith's Daughter by Kate Sedley

with a candid stare, but no trace of resentment at my obvious curiosity. Otherwise, it was a strong, almost mannish face with thick, dark eyebrows, a high-bridged nose and a stern, unsmiling mouth. And yet I was immediately attracted to her. She reminded me in some way of Adela, a woman who, once she had committed herself, would give you her full loyalty and support. I could understand why her father thought her innocent of this terrible crime.
    I pulled myself up short with a silent admonition. I knew, none better, that first – and sometimes even second and third – impressions could be deceptive. Master Babcary was making me known to his daughter, and I rose from my stool to return her greeting.
    ‘Mistress Bonifant,’ I said, bowing. ‘God’s peace be with you.’
    ‘I hope it may be,’ she answered frankly, advancing into the room. She looked me up and down. ‘You’re a very strange chapman. I’ve never met one before who is intimate with princes and the King’s chief whore.’
    ‘Isolda!’ Her father’s reprimand was harsh. ‘You won’t talk like that, if you please, while you’re under my roof. Mistress Shore is your kinswoman by blood and mine by marriage. She has done, and is doing, her best to help us. I wish you will remember that without her assistance you could well have been accused of Gideon’s murder.’
    Mistress Bonifant shrugged. ‘Perhaps it would have been better if I had been. At least, by now, I would either have been proved innocent or be dead.’ She moved further into the room, coming to stand beside me, and I saw the dark shadows beneath her eyes. ‘But that still doesn’t explain how the chapman here is acquainted with our cousin.’
    And so, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, I gave brief details of my history and the circumstances that surrounded my friendship with the Duke of Gloucester. As always, my listeners expressed surprise that I had not chosen to better myself by taking advantage of the Duke’s ever increasing cause for gratitude; and, as always, I reiterated my reasons for not doing so.
    ‘I like my independence too much, the freedom of being my own master. I want no one set in authority over me.’
    Master Babcary admitted that he could see the force of such an argument, and Isolda also conceded that, were she a man, she might feel the same way. Having said this, she begged me to be seated again and brought forward another stool for herself, placing it alongside mine.
    ‘Well, and what conclusions have you come to regarding the murder of my husband, Master Chapman?’
    ‘Good Heavens, girl!’ her father protested. ‘He hasn’t been in the house but half an hour, and as yet knows very little of what happened last December. I brought him up here for some peace and quiet and in order to make him acquainted with the facts.’
    ‘Then I shall stay to help you.’ And Isolda sat down with a rattle of the household keys fastened to her belt.
    Miles Babcary must have seen the expression on my face, for he said nervously, ‘Do you think that a good idea, my dear? You are, after all, the one most nearly concerned and . . . and . . .’ His eyes rolled in my direction, seeking guidance.
    Mistress Bonifant laughed suddenly, sounding genuinely amused. ‘And you think it would be better if I didn’t remain to plead my own cause?’
    Miles Babcary and I assented with almost one voice.
    ‘Very well then,’ she agreed, rising to her feet, but just at that moment the door opened for the second time and a young girl came in.
    I judged her to be some sixteen or seventeen years old, about the same age as I had learned Meg Spendlove to be, but there all similarity ended. There could not have been a greater contrast than between those two. One was plain – some might even call her ugly – unloved and had probably never known an act or word of simple human kindness until she had come to this house to work. The other was a beautiful, blue-eyed,