He filled the mugs from the jug. He drank his straight off in a few gulps, sighed deeply and refilled it, before passing the other to me and lowering himself back into the chair.
'It was after they took Ellen away that I started drinking too much. It seemed so cruel, the foundry burning down, that poor girl with her wits gone. And I have to preach that God is merciful.' His plump face sagged into an expression of great sadness.
'And was Ellen the only witness to what happened?' I asked quietly.
Seckford frowned. 'Yes, and the coroner was very persistent in trying to get the story out of her.' His voice took on a harsh note. 'Mistress West wanted the matter out of the way so her son would not be reminded of it, and it would cease to be the talk of the locality. And the Wests could help Coroner Priddis's advancement. An ambitious man, our former coroner,' he concluded bitterly.
'I know of Priddis,' I said. 'He is now Sir Quintin, feodary of Hampshire. A post of some power.'
'So I have heard. The Priddis family were mere yeomen, but they were ambitious for their son and sent young Quintin to law.' The curate drained his mug. 'Ambition, sir, I believe it a curse. It makes men cold and hard. They should stay in the station God set them.' He sighed. 'Perhaps you will not agree.'
'I agree ambition may lead men into harshness.'
'Priddis was keen to be in with all the gentry. A busy, bustling little fellow. From the day after the fire he kept calling here, demanding to see Ellen and take a statement. But as I told you, she wouldn't see anyone. Master Priddis had to adjourn the inquests on Master Fettiplace and Peter several times. I think it rankled with him, his power thwarted by a mere girl. He had no sympathy for her state of mind.'
'Well, it was his duty to discover what happened.'
'The knave got his statement in the end. I'll tell you how.' Seckford took another mighty quaff of beer. Unlike Wilf he had shown no suspicion of me and it struck me there was something unworldly about him.
'After a few weeks Ellen improved, as I said, but still she would not say what had happened and she would not go out, not even to the church next door. She kept inventing excuses, became—crafty. Ellen Fettiplace, that had been so honest and open before. It saddened me. I think in the end she agreed to see Priddis so he would leave her alone. That was all she wanted now, to stay in this house with me and Jane Wright and never leave.'
'Were you there when he saw her?'
He shook his head. 'Priddis insisted it just be him and Goodwife Wright. They went into my kitchen over there and came out an hour later, Priddis looking pleased with himself. Next day he sent a draft statement to Ellen and she signed it. It said she and her father went to the foundry for a walk that evening, he wanted to check the delivery of some coke, they found Peter drunk and he fell into a fire he had made to warm himself. Peter's clothes caught fire and somehow William Fettiplace's did too. Priddis allowed the statement at the inquest without Ellen attending because of her state of mind. Got a verdict of accidental death.' Seckford slapped his fist angrily on the side of his chair. 'Case closed, tied up in red ribbon and put away.'
'You think Ellen's statement was untrue?'
He looked at me keenly. 'My guess is Master Priddis pieced together the little Ellen had said, worked it up into a likely chain of events and Ellen signed it to be rid of him. As I said, she had become calculating. They say that can happen to folks that are sick in their minds. She wanted only to be left alone.'
'What do you think really happened?'
He looked at me. 'I have no idea. But if the fire had only just started I do not see how Master Fettiplace at least could not have escaped.'
'Did he have any enemies?'
'None. No one wished him ill.'
'How did Ellen come to leave you?'
The curate leaned back in his chair. 'Oh sir, you ask me to remember the worst part of all.'
'I am sorry. I did not mean to press.'
'No, you should hear it to the end now.' Seckford got up, took my mug, waddled to the buffet and poured more beer.
'Goodwife Wright and I did not know what to do about Ellen. She had no relatives, she was heiress to her father's house here in Rolfswood, a little land, and the burnt-out foundry. I thought to keep her with us in the hope that eventually she might recover and be able to deal with her affairs. But Quintin Priddis took a hand again. Not long after the verdict he was back. Sat where you sit now and said it was improper for Ellen to remain here. He threatened to tell my vicar, and I knew he would order her put out.' Seckford drained his mug again.
I leaned forward. 'Goodman Harrydance said she was taken to London, to relatives.'
I saw the hand holding the empty mug was trembling. 'I asked Master Priddis what was to become of her. He said he had made enquiries and found relatives in London, and that he was willing to arrange for her to be taken to them.' He frowned and now he did look at me sharply. 'You say this friend of yours lives there, but does not know her.'
'He knows nothing of this.' I hated lying to the old man, and realized how once started on a course of lies it becomes ever harder to stop. But Seckford seemed to accept my reply.
He said, 'My guess is Mistress West asked Priddis to search for relatives, gave him some fee. There would have to have been some profit in it for him to act.'
I thought, but for whoever placed her in the Bedlam there has been no profit, only continual expense. Keeping her out of the way could only be for their safety. Was it Mistress West, protecting her son?
'Priddis played a dirty trick.' Seckford spoke quietly. 'Jane Wright, you see, had had no wages since the fire. Nor had the other servants in Master Fettiplace's house. Who was to pay them? Priddis told her that placing Ellen with these relatives meant that things could be put on a proper footing, Master Fettiplace's house sold and her arrears of wages paid. He said he would put in a word with whoever bought the house, see if they would keep her on. That brought her over to his side. I cannot blame her, she had no income, we were all living out of my poor stipend.'
'Did you ask who these relatives were?' I asked gently.
'Priddis would not say. Only that they lived in London and would take care of her. He said that was all I needed to know.' Seckford leaned forward. 'Sir, I am only a poor curate. How was I to stand up to Priddis, a man of authority and power with a stone for a heart?'
'You were in an impossible position.'
'Yet I could have done more. I have always been weak.' He bowed his head. 'A week later a coach arrived, one of those boxes on wheels that rich people use. Priddis had told me people were coming to take Ellen to London. He said the best thing was not to tell her anything, otherwise she might become wild. Jane Wright persuaded me that was the kindest thing to do. Ah, I am too easily led.
'Priddis came early one morning with two men, big ugly ruffians. They marched into Ellen's room and hauled her out. She was screaming, like a poor animal caught in a trap. I told her it was for the best, she was going to kind relatives, but she was beyond listening. Such a look she gave me, she thought I had betrayed her. As I had. She was still screaming as the coach drove away. I hear her still.'
As I do, I thought, but did not dare to say. Seckford rose unsteadily to his feet. 'Another drink, sir? I know I need one.'
'No, thank you.' I stood as well. Seckford looked at me, something desperate in his eyes. 'Drink with me, sir,' he said. 'It eases the mind. Come.'
'I have travelled far, sir,' I answered gently. 'I am very tired, I must rest. But thank you for telling me the story. I see it was hard for you. I would not have liked to be in your place.'
'Will your client try to find Ellen?'
'I promise something will be done.'
He nodded, his face twisting with emotion as he went and poured another mug for himself.
'One last question, if I may. What happened to the Fettiplace house?'
'It was sold, as Priddis said it would be. To Master Humphrey Buttress, that owns the corn mill. He is still there.' The curate smiled mirthlessly. 'An old associate of Master Priddis—I'll warrant it was sold cheap. Master Buttress brought his own servants, and Jane Wright and the other Fettiplace servants were all out on the street. She died the next year, during the great dearth, she starved, and she was not the only one. She was old, you see, and had no work.' Seckford steadied himself on the buffet with one hand. 'I pray your friend will find Ellen in London and help her, if she still lives. But I beg you, do not repeat what I have said about Priddis, or the Wests, or Master
