‘I believe approaching twenty square miles in all. Hobbey owned about a third himself, but the rest will now belong to Hugh Curteys. And by law the value of his land should be preserved. But I believe those who have bought wardships often make illicit profits by cutting down woodland, usually hand in glove with the local feodary, who takes a share. The whole system is rotten from top to bottom.’
Barak frowned. ‘Is there nothing to protect children under wardship?’ A child of the streets himself, the plight of children in distress always moved him.
‘Very little. The wardmaster has an incentive to keep the ward alive because if he dies the wardship ends. And he is supposed to ensure the child is educated. But he can marry the ward off to more or less whom he pleases.’
‘The children are trapped, then? Helpless in the briars?’
‘The court has a supervisory power. It is possible to apply for protection against bad treatment for wards, which is what Michael Calfhill did. But the court doesn’t like interference, wardships are profitable. I will go to Wards tomorrow. I’ll probably have to grease some palm to see all the papers. And while I’m at it – ’ I took a deep breath – ‘I’ll try and get a copy of the document certifying Ellen’s insanity. From nineteen years ago.’
Barak looked at me seriously. ‘That Ellen is closing a vice on you. Weakness can give some folk a strange sort of power, you know. And she’s crafty, as mad folk often are.’
‘Finding out about her family may be a way forward. Maybe I can find someone who will care for her. Ease my burden.’
‘You said Ellen was raped. Maybe it was a member of her family who did it.’
‘Or maybe not. If the Curteys application goes forward, I may have to go down to Portsmouth to take depositions. Perhaps I could make a detour to Sussex on the way.’
Barak raised his eyebrows. ‘Portsmouth? I’ve heard a lot of soldiers are going there. It could be a likely place for the French to land.’
‘I know. The Queen warned me the King’s spies say that is what is planned. But the Hobbey establishment is some miles north.’
‘I’d come with you, but I can’t leave Tamasin. Not now.’
I smiled. ‘I won’t hear of it. But help me with Michael Calfhill’s hearing.’
‘Strange he should kill himself just after making this application. When he might have been able to do something for the Curteys lad.’
‘You mean he might have been killed? I thought of that. But his mother said no one else knew of the application, and she recognized his writing on the suicide note.’ I passed the scrap of paper over to Barak. He studied it.
‘Still strange. It would do no harm to go to where Michael lodged, ask a few questions.’
‘Could you do that tomorrow?’
Barak smiled and nodded. This was the sort of work he liked, and was good at. Ferreting things out on the street.
‘And visit the Curteyses’ old church, see if their vicar is still there?’
‘First thing.’
‘Here, I’ll write down the addresses.’
When I turned to give the paper to him he was smiling at me sardonically.
‘What?’
‘This one has got your juices flowing, hasn’t it? I could see you were getting bored.’
Barak sat up at the sound of his wife’s voice. We went to the door. Tamasin stood outside smiling. Guy looked happier than for some time.
‘Everything is as it should be with my daughter,’ Tamasin said. ‘My little Johanna.’
‘My little John,’ Barak countered.
‘But you are right heavy with the child, Tamasin,’ Guy said warningly. ‘You must take things easily.’
‘Yes, Dr Malton,’ she answered humbly.
Barak took her hand. ‘You’ll listen to Dr Malton, but not to your husband and master, eh?’
Tamasin smiled. ‘Perhaps my good master will see me home. If you can spare him, sir.’
As they left the house, bickering amiably, Guy smiled. ‘Tamasin says Jack is over-anxious.’
‘Well, I have some new work that will keep him occupied.’ I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘That is what you need too, Guy, to get back to work.’
‘Not yet, Matthew. I am too – weary. And now I should wash my hands again. Unlike some of my colleagues I believe it is important, to get rid of any bad humours.’
He went back upstairs. I felt a sudden weight of sadness, for Guy, for Ellen, for the unknown lad Hugh Curteys, for poor Michael Calfhill. I decided to walk round my garden to order my thoughts a little.
As I came round the side of the house I saw Coldiron chopping a pile of wood with an axe. His red face was slick with sweat; it dripped down past his eyepatch, onto his nose. Josephine was beside him, twisting her hands anxiously. She seemed on the point of tears. ‘Hunchbacks,’ her father was saying. ‘Swart-coloured men, pregnant hussies falling and displaying their great bellies on the stairs.’ He jumped and looked round at the sound of my approach. Josephine’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.
I stared at him. ‘Think yourself lucky Barak was not with me,’ I said coldly. ‘If he heard you talking of his wife like that you might find yourself on the wrong end of that axe.’ I walked round him and away. I would have dismissed him on the spot, but the look of utter fear in Josephine’s eyes had stopped me.
Chapter Five