Marigold Chain

by Riley, Stella

  He tried to tell himself that thinking was pointless since he couldn’t do anything about it yet. Afterwards, when he could tell her that Danny was avenged – that was the time to speak. But he found, for the first time in his life, that he could not help himself. The house was empty when she was not in it and, when she was, he avoided her.

  He felt lost. And when he tried to find relief in reading, even the poetry betrayed him. For it was too late; the damage was done and spreading, mockingly, through the words of Suckling’s verses.

  “Out upon it, I have loved three whole days together;

  And am like to love three more, if it prove fair weather.”

  And then, at the end of his three days, came the message he had been waiting for.

  ~ * * * ~

  TWELVE

  ‘You look ill,’ said Mr Lewis, by way of greeting.

  ‘I’ve felt better,’ agreed Alex, shrugging. ‘I take it you’ve come to tell me that Simon is on his way?’

  ‘Aye.’ Matt sat down, irritably noting the signs of fatigue and strain on Mr Deveril’s face. ‘You need to calm down. You’re living on your nerves and, by the look of you, they won’t stand much more.’

  Surprisingly, Alex neither denied it nor grew impatient.

  ‘Possibly. But they’ll serve a few days more – long enough, anyway.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Matthew bluntly. ‘The job?’

  ‘No. Leave it, Matt. I’m not about to fall apart. Tell me about Simon.’

  Mr Lewis snorted but knew better than to enquire further. He said, ‘I trailed Vine to Sandwich and, when he set off back, I left my lad to keep an eye on him. Cousin Simon started out this morning – but he’s coming by coach so he won’t be here before tomorrow. I passed him on the road.’

  Alex thought for a moment before he spoke.

  ‘So. Tomorrow night should see the end of it. Arlington will have to be warned .. and Giles, if he cares. Can you - - ?’ He stopped abruptly. ‘Or no. I’ll go myself. I need some fresh air and you’ve earned a rest.’

  Eyeing him sardonically, Matt got up. ‘I’m not so old I can’t cope with a bit of a ride and trip across the river both. I’ll go – and, if you’ll take my advice for once, you’ll go to bed with a glass of brandy for company.’

  Mr Deveril smiled crookedly.

  ‘I can’t. If I start to drink, I might not stop.’ He paused. Then, ‘I suppose it might be as well if you went. If I see Giles, I’ll probably let him provoke me. Again.’

  ‘Will he try? It doesn’t sound like Mr Giles.’

  ‘No. My fault, I expect. And he has a slight handicap. I’ve told neither him nor Arlington that our man is Simon.’ Alex looked into his friend’s shrewd black eyes and added, ‘So it’s all going to be a beautiful surprise.’

  *

  Next morning saw Matt up with the lark and off to Seething Lane, hard by the Tower, to watch the Naval Office. Shortly after noon he was back in Southwark, his relief that Alex’s prediction had proved accurate hidden beneath a mask of dour satisfaction.

  ‘He came,’ he told Alex dryly, ‘then after no more than ten minutes, he was away again. And he wasn’t smiling. Almost, you might say, as though he’d had a nasty disappointment.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Mr Deveril. ‘Goring House and King Street again for you. I imagine we can count on Simon waiting until it’s completely dark – but Arlington and Giles should be inside well before then. And myself, of course.’ He paused, then said, ‘See Arlington first. I hope he’ll have arranged it so we don’t have to break in – and then, when you have the details, you can inform Giles of them on your way back here.’

  ‘You’re certain,’ said Matthew, ‘that the daisified beau-trap’ll go himself?’

  Alex smiled faintly. ‘If I read the situation correctly, he has no choice. You don’t build a cover as good as his by confiding in your underlings. It’s possible that Vine is the only one who knows his identity. And that,’ he concluded, ‘brings us to your part for tonight.’

  Matt folded his arms. ‘I’m to have one, then?’

  ‘Naturally. Did you think I’d leave you out? While I am dealing with my cousin, you will be picking up Samuel Vine – but not until you know that Simon has entered the Office. I leave the details to you but get some men from Arlington. I doubt Vine and his crew will give up peacefully and whichever of them broke in here nearly tore my arm from its socket.’

  Mr Lewis did not look impressed.

  ‘You mean you gave him the chance? Damn me, but I thought you were better than that.’

  *

  It was half past eight that evening when Chloë, just back from her spell of attendance at Whitehall, walked wearily into the parlour to find Mr Deveril preparing to go out – and not, if appearances were anything to go by, to a social engagement.

  He had dispensed with all the trimmings of fashion and was soberly attired in a coat of serviceable blue cloth over a shirt worn open at the neck and without a vest; soft boots of supple leather had replaced the usual silver-buckled shoes and, although he wore no sash, thirty-five inches of double-edged steel lay across his palms as he stood examining it carefully in the light from the window. He looked tired, but his face was grimly purposeful in a way that she had never seen and matched the sword which, despite its latticed and scalloped basket-guard and its copper-wired grip, was anything but a toy.

  Chloë walked towards him, her throat constricting.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ she said. ‘It’s the gardening season and you’re off to hack down a few weeds?’

  He raised his eyes and his expression lightened a little.

  ‘Something like that.’ He restored the sword to its sheath and laid it on the table before picking up two folded sheets of paper which he stowed carefully in his pocket. ‘But not in our garden, I’m afraid.’

  Able to hazard a guess as to his plans for the evening, if not his destination, and knowing equally that it was pointless to say so, Chloë smiled and concentrated on keeping her voice bright. ‘And Matt is going too – armed with a hoe?’

  ‘Not quite. He’s hoping to catch a pigeon.’ He gave a sudden, brief laugh. ‘It’s Giles who is bringing the hoe. He uses it for sorting out principles – usually mine.’ He paused as though searching for words. ‘I caused you some trouble the other night – on top of a rather unpleasant few hours during which you displayed quite uncommon fortitude for no thanks that I can remember making. I wanted you to know that - - ‘

  ‘I do know. It’s all right You thanked me quite adequately.’ She stretched out a hand to touch the swords voluted quillons, discovered that it was shaking and withdrew it again. ‘I haven’t seen this before.’

  ‘No.’ Alex looked down at the weapon, his eyes hooded and unreadable. ‘It belonged to my father. I rarely use it.’

  ‘But tonight is a special occasion?’

  ‘You could say so.’ He picked it up and stood staring at it as if unable to make up his mind to go.

  Chloë looked at his hands, their hard beauty outlined against the dark scabbard, and wished she had the right, just this once, to storm the barriers and say what she meant. Then the silence was broken by Matt’s voice from the doorway saying, ‘Mr Alex – you haven’t forgotten the time?’

  The air of indecisiveness vanished and Mr Deveril nodded.

  ‘I’m coming.’ He looked at Chloë and smiled. ‘I’m sorry. I have to go.’

  ‘I know.’ She tried to think of something witty to say but couldn’t. Instead, she heard herself saying, ‘You’ll be careful? I think I’d sooner be annulled than widowed.’

  An oddly desperate look lit the blue eyes and was gone.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said lightly. He strolled to the door, then turned back to fix her with an enigmatic smile. ‘Time shall moult his wings away ere he shall discover, In the whole wide world again, such a - - ‘ He stopped. ‘Or no. You wouldn’t believe it, would you? And who could blame you? Goodbye, Marigold.’ And on this cryptic note,
he was gone.

  *

  With the gathering dusk, the small-windowed rooms of the Naval Office were already dimly shadowed as the Secretary of State ushered Alex and Giles swiftly in through the rear entrance.

  His lordship, thought Mr Beckwith, watching him peer through the door before he closed it, was experiencing a precarious pleasure in his adventure. Having arrived at the end of the lane in his own blazoned carriage, he had stepped out into the stifling August evening with his hat pulled low over his eyes and a heavy black cloak enveloping him from chin to ankle and then made a nervous beeline for his destination, jerking his head every few seconds to see if he was being followed.

  ‘And after behaviour furtive enough to give any qualified spy an ague, ‘ thought Giles irritably, ‘it’s a miracle that he wasn’t.’

  Mr Deveril was engaged in checking that the building was empty while simultaneously amassing a collection of candles and lamps. Giles perched on the edge of desk and let him get on with it, thinking that here was someone else who was enjoying himself. Then Alex came back and in the deepening light Giles looked into his face and knew that he was wrong.

  There was no levity there – no enjoyment, no anticipation. Only tiredness and a fixed, single-minded resolve that blocked out everything except the things that had to be done and that made Giles realise suddenly that if one of them was blinded by mistaken attitudes and motives, then it was not Alex, but himself. Not a pretty thought – and still less so if one acknowledged that its root lay in sickening, pointless envy.

  ‘It seems that I owe you an apology,’ he said lightly. ‘I think I may have been misjudging you.’

  For a second, Alex looked at him and then, quite suddenly, he smiled.

  ‘No more than usual. And I expect I deserved it.’ He held out his hand and, as Giles took it, said with a rare note of sincerity, ‘But it’s good to know that I don’t have to face this thing on my own.’

  Mr Beckwith eyed him searchingly. ‘What is it you’re afraid of?’

  ‘That I’ll kill him,’ replied Mr Deveril flatly. ‘You were right not to trust me, you see.’ He glanced to where Arlington was flattening himself against a wall to squint into the street and then looked back at Giles with a tremor of uncertain laughter. ‘Oh Christ! He’s like a child playing at soldiers.’

  ‘Just be grateful his disguise didn’t run to a false nose.’

  ‘I am – oh, believe me, I am. And will be more so when he stops flitting about like a gadfly. Are you going to tell him – or shall I?’

  Mr Beckwith politely explained to his lordship that since they would be given no warning of the gentleman’s arrival, it was necessary to make their preparations and then wait in silence if they were not to scare him off. To this, Alex added a couple of tersely-worded instructions of his own before they disposed themselves in the positions he requested. Giles stood to one side of the window, obscured by the curtain; Lord Arlington occupied a tall-backed chair in the remotest corner of the room; and, behind the door, Mr Deveril leaned negligently against the wall in the shadow of a large cupboard.

  The time passed slowly while they watched the twilight gradually fade into darkness; and then their test of waiting truly began as the interminable minutes ticked by, became an hour and moved on into the next. Alex and Giles remained silent and motionless. His lordship, at first nervously excited, became rapidly bored and finally irritable. From time to time he stirred, altering his position in the chair and once he got up, intending to walk about the room.

  ‘Sit,’ came Mr Deveril’s voice, soft and disembodied in the gloom.

  Lord Arlington sat and did not get up again.

  It was Alex who first caught the faint sound of a footfall on the stair and, with one precise snap of his fingers, warned his companions that the end of their vigil was at hand. Then he took no more notice of them but stood poised and alert, his eyes fixed on the door-latch and his ears on those light, approaching footsteps.

  They reached the door and stopped. Then, very gently the latch quivered to the touch of a hand and was quietly raised. The door swung slowly back in front of Alex, obscuring his view, and then the footsteps moved on into the room. It was all he had been waiting for. Gently, unhurriedly, he shut the door and leaned against it, arms folded and smiling coldly at the visitor as he wheeled sharply to face him.

  ‘Welcome, Cousin,’ said Mr Deveril.

  And as if on a signal, light flickered from a flint as Giles began to light the candles.

  Simon Deveril, resplendent in violet satin and silver lace, looked back at Alex; he was a little pale and breathing rather fast but he said nothing. Then, in the next instant, his opportunity was lost as Lord Arlington erupted violently from his seat.

  ‘My God!’ he said, stunned. ‘Deveril! I wouldn’t have believed it!’

  Without removing his eyes from his cousin, Simon answered him composedly.

  ‘Dear me. I seem to have stumbled on a plot. But just what is it that your lordship would not have believed?’

  ‘That you are a traitor, sir!’ snapped Arlington. ‘A paid agent of His Majesty’s enemies.’

  Simon turned then and smiled slowly.

  ‘Not I, my lord,’ he said significantly. ‘It seems that His Majesty should have investigated you more thoroughly. I wonder what you are doing here now – gathering information perhaps? And you, Cousin.‘ He glanced back at Alex. ‘Seeking to build a fortune and a career in Dutch employ since you have failed to do either by honourable means? You should have put away your resentment and come to me, you know. Pride is a luxury that beggars can’t afford. And yours is about to send you to the headsman.’

  ‘Well done,’ said Alex cordially. ‘You’re as good as a play. Unfortunately, it won’t work. We’ve been waiting for you.’

  Simon laughed but his eyes were watchful. ‘Really? And on whose authority, may one ask?’

  ‘On mine,’ said Arlington.

  ‘And on that of Prince Rupert,’ added Giles, ‘who five months ago asked us to find him a traitor.’

  In a waft of heliotrope scent, Simon produced the inevitable lace handkerchief from his pocket and shook it, his gaze resting meditatively on Mr Beckwith.

  ‘Well, if that is so,’ he said at length, ‘you have a made a very poor job of it – for I am not he. I know no harm of you, sir, and am therefore willing to believe you honest – but you are plainly misguided for you have confided in the two persons that it appears you set out to unmask.’

  ‘No,’ said Giles simply. ‘Not so.’

  ‘Check,’ said Alex. ‘My move, I think. Perhaps you would like to tell us why you came here tonight?’

  Simon turned languidly to face him, sighing slightly.

  ‘Certainly. I have an urgent report to prepare for the Duke and was careless enough to leave one of my files here.’

  ‘I see.’ Alex smiled. ‘A report on the victualing service, perhaps? Or on the fleet’s sail-power and projected movements?’

  The breath hissed faintly between Simon’s teeth but his manner retained its urbanity.

  ‘You are very importunate, are you not? And all because of childish jealousy. I know – everyone will know – what it is you want.’

  ‘You would think that,’ replied Alex calmly. ‘Unfortunately, it’s not true. I’m afraid you will have to do better than that.’

  ‘Not I, Alex – you. I have served York faithfully for seven years and I have his regard. At best you will be thought merely vengeful – at worst, guilty of treason. But either way your pathetic plot is doomed to failure because it is a matter of your word against mine.’

  ‘It is a matter,’ countered Alex, ‘of hard fact. We’ve had the accusation, the denial and the counter-accusation, so let’s move on to the evidence. For you have sold and betrayed your King, your country and your fellows … and I can’t wait to hear you try to prove otherwise.’

  For a long moment, Simon met the cold, steely eyes and then he yawned delicately.

  ‘I don
’t need to prove anything to you – nor will I try. But if nothing will content you but that I listen to your co-called evidence, then make haste and get on with it.’

  ‘By all means. Let’s begin with your presence here at this hour. You may be wondering why we were expecting you – and for that I must refer you to this.’ Sliding a hand into his pocket, Alex produced the Arabella’s bill of lading and flicked it open for his cousin to see. ‘Perhaps Captain Vine did not feel in necessary to tell you that he’d committed the great mistake of delivering this to me instead of you?’

  This time Simon said nothing and his eyes narrowed fractionally.

  ‘It wasn’t very difficult,’ continued Alex, ‘to discover its secret or to make a copy of it, return it to your accomplice and allow him to take it to you at Sandwich. And naturally, we can prove that he did so. At this moment, I imagine that my friend Mr Lewis is arresting the good Captain … and once in custody, it’s only a matter of time before he tries to save his skin by naming you.’

  ‘This is quite ludicrous,’ said Simon, a slight edge creeping into his drawling tones. ‘I do not know Captain Vine and I have received no document such as the one you have there.’

  ‘Destroyed it, have you? I thought you would.’ The smile touching Alex’s mouth faded along with the pleasant timbre of his voice as he opened out another sheet of paper. ‘A wise man would have destroyed this too – but I’m so glad you didn’t, for it provided the solution to a puzzle I’d almost given up hope of solving.’

  ‘I should be obliged,’ said Simon frostily, ‘if you would keep to the point.’

  ‘If you are patient,’ replied Alex, ‘you’ll find that I am keeping to it. First, I must confess that I took the liberty of searching your house – and very illuminating I found it. It was interesting, for example, to discover that you were compiling dossiers on my Lord Arlington and Sir William Coventry – but more interesting by far was the letter I found in the priest’s hole and which I can only suppose you kept because its congratulatory tone appealed to your vanity. Old Noll was pleased with you – and for good reason.’ Alex paused briefly and then went on. ‘So far you stand arraigned for the treasonable selling of information and the disruption of His Majesty’s fleet; you are also guilty of murder, for Daniel Fawsley died by your agency as surely as if you’d struck him down yourself. But more than all of that,’ finished Mr Deveril, with lethal clarity, ‘this letter proves you responsible for the capture and execution of countless loyal gentlemen when, together with Richard Wyllis, you betrayed the Sealed Knot to Cromwell. And I would suggest that it is your death warrant.’