The Weaver's Inheritance by Kate Sedley

‘You’ve worked hard this morning and deserve a treat. Later on, I’ll buy each of you something from Roger’s pack, but for now, I must speak privately with him.’ And she gave a slight jerk of the head, indicating that I should follow her.
    Dame Pernelle led the way to a small, tapestry-hung closet on the opposite side of the hall, that evidently served as her hideaway. The air struck chill as there was no hearth and therefore no fire; but as there was only one small window, through which the draughts could seep, it was not as cold as it might otherwise have been. She lit a couple of candles before closing the door and waving me to a seat. When I had lowered my bulk on to a bench which ran along one wall, the dame plumped herself down in the room’s only chair. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘we can talk without the girls overhearing everything we say. What do you want to know?’
    I shrugged. ‘That’s easy. Do you believe this young man to be Clement Weaver or do you think him an impostor? No, wait! I may be putting the cart before the horse. First of all, were you previously acquainted with Clement?’
    ‘Oh yes! I knew him well. My elder sister and I grew up in the city, and our father, Robin Dando, was a vintner with a shop in Wine Street, close by the castle foregate. When Clement and Alison were young, they used sometimes to accompany the Alderman when he came to the shop to buy wine. You see, my father imported several excellent wines from Bordeaux to which Alfred Weaver was extremely partial. And then, when I was eighteen, my sister Alice married the Alderman’s younger brother, John.’
    This revelation was entirely unexpected and I exclaimed in astonishment. ‘You’re Alice Weaver’s sister? I had no notion!’ I scrutinized her more closely. ‘But now that you say, yes, I can see a likeness.’
    ‘You’ve met Alice?’ It was Dame Pernelle’s turn to be surprised.
    ‘Six years ago, in Faringdon Without, when I was searching for Clement.’
    The housekeeper nodded. ‘She and John went to London to live almost as soon as they were married. He had an idea he could make his fortune if he set up his looms there instead of in Redcliffe. Myself, I think it was a mistake; and I fancy Alice does, too, only she’s too loyal to say so.’ She echoed Alison Burnett’s words. ‘John’s comfortably off, I don’t deny that, but he hasn’t made the money that his brother has. He should have stayed in Bristol.’
    ‘And what happened to you?’ I asked.
    ‘I married my father’s apprentice,’ she said apologetically. ‘It wasn’t the match my parents had hoped for me, but we were in love and it worked out very well in the end. My father left us the business when he died, and Henry ran it at a profit for over quarter of a century until he also died, in January last year. After that, I’d no heart for it. We’d no children, so I sold up; and by great good fortune, the Alderman was looking for a new housekeeper as his old one had just been given notice to quit. He and Dame Judith never really got on.’
    It occurred to me that not only was my companion sister-in-law to one of the chief suspects in this affair, but also that she had not been long in the Alderman’s employ – a matter of months, no more – before the arrival of this man who claimed to be his son. But for the moment, I suppressed the thought: I would take it out and consider it at my leisure, later on. ‘Very well then,’ I said. ‘You are a kinswoman by marriage of the Alderman and his children. You knew Clement Weaver. So, is this man who he says he is? You must have an opinion one way or the other.’
    Dame Pernelle shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I don’t. Yes, there is a look of Clement about him, but six years of hardship and privation can change a man. An impostor would bank on that fact to explain any alteration in his appearance. Yes, he knows a great deal about the family, the weaving business, his childhood with Alison; but,