Lords of Misrule (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 4)

by Stella Riley

  Summoned once more into Thurloe’s office on the following morning, Colonel Maxwell said, ‘I suppose throwing a rock at the Protector must be treason, must it not? Did they find the person responsible?’

  ‘No. And your flippancy is not appreciated, Colonel.’

  No. Of course it isn’t.

  ‘My apologies, sir.’

  ‘That rock is but one symptom of public discontent – which is something I take seriously. I’m told people are muttering about dire omens, prophesying the end of the Protectorate.’

  ‘Yes. I’ve heard them. The Thames ebbing and flowing a couple of hours earlier than it should … part of Paul’s Cathedral crumbling … a comet in the heavens and the ghost of the late King gliding through Whitehall.’ Eden shrugged slightly. ‘You can’t fight superstition.’

  ‘I’m aware of that,’ returned the Secretary testily. ‘We can, however, ensure that it doesn’t translate into anything more. These tavern meetings Roger Cotes has been privy to … what do you make of them?’

  ‘Nothing. Apparently they talk of inciting apprentice riots and taking the City – but they’ve no money, no authority from Paris and no backing from men of substance. It’s all talk and no possibility of action, that I can see.’

  ‘You have the names of everyone involved?’

  ‘Most of them, I believe.’

  ‘Good. Bring me your list.’ Thurloe paused briefly and then said slowly, ‘It’s time we made a few arrests. Not all of them, perhaps … but enough to give the rest pause.’

  Eden looked at him. ‘Whilst leaving them free to get into more trouble?’

  ‘Yes. That, too.’

  ~ * * ~ * * ~

  THREE

  At around the time Colonel Maxwell was receiving his orders from the Secretary of State, Lydia Neville was paying her annual dues at both the Loriners and Haberdashers Guilds. It was the first time she’d had to go to either of them without Stephen’s support and she had half-expected to be treated with less than the usual courtesy. But her worries proved groundless and the transactions in both places was conducted without the merest hint of a sneer.

  From the Haberdashers Hall on Wood Street, she picked her way through the labyrinthine ways of Aldersgate to the lorinery in Duck Lane. As always, the place was a hive of industry but every man there looked up from his work and called out a greeting as she walked through to the foreman’s tiny office. To most, Lydia responded with a smile and a lifted hand; with others, she paused to enquire after either their own health or that of a member of their family. Consequently, it took some time to reach Mr Potter – thus allowing him to tuck his empty left sleeve into the breast of his coat, dust off the room’s only chair and shuffle his desk into some semblance of order.

  ‘Mistress Neville,’ he grinned, obviously pleased to see her. ‘We was hoping you’d come along today. I didn’t want to send a lad round to the house ’cos we all know how that goes down. But we got a bit of good news for you.’

  ‘What is it?’ She sat, eyeing him expectantly. ‘A new order?’

  ‘Better’n that, Miss. A new customer.’

  Lydia’s eyes widened.

  ‘Really? Who?’

  ‘Rayners. They ain’t ordering bits and bridles and such – not yet, anyway. But they’re asking us to supply saddle-trees – starting with an order of two dozen by next week.’

  ‘That’s wonderful! But can we do it? I mean – the order book is full and you’re working to capacity already. Do you have enough men?’

  ‘We’ll manage – though a couple more, ’specially ones with a bit of carpentry training wouldn’t go amiss. Meantime, we ain’t going to risk losing a new customer – not if we can help it. It’ll just mean working a few extra hours. And none of us’ll mind that.’

  ‘Note it all down, then. Extra hours mean extra pay.’

  He shook his head. ‘Maybe one day – but not yet.’

  ‘But --’

  ‘Beg pardon for arguing, Miss Lydia but we’ve all decided. After you and Mr Stephen setting this place up and using your own money to give us all a chance – why, there’s not a man here who wouldn’t be begging on the streets, but for you. And now, with us just about breaking even, this order from Rayners could see us turning a profit sooner’n we thought. So there’s no question of extra wages ’cos we won’t take ’em.’

  Lydia felt tears pricking her eyes. She said, ‘That … that’s exceptionally good of you.’

  ‘No, Miss. It’s only doing what’s right.’

  She left soon after and walked on towards Smithfield and Strand Alley where two clean, well-lit rooms were occupied by nine women and half a dozen young girls, all busy with various tasks. Exactly as at the lorinery, she was welcomed with smiles and murmured greetings but the only one who stopped work was the chief seamstress.

  Dipping a curtsy, she said, ‘Good morning, Mistress Neville.’

  ‘And to you, Lily.’ She glanced round and then said, ‘Everyone seems very busy today. Are there any problems?’

  ‘Not as such. The weekly order for Bennett’s is ready for delivery but they sent a boy round asking for another dozen yards of the new cream lace as well. Bel and Marjorie are working on it now but it’ll be a while before it’s finished. So I was wondering whether to hold the order back till it’s done or send it along anyway and tell them they’ll get the lace by the end of tomorrow. What do you reckon?’

  ‘Delivering the main order and sending the lace on later would probably be best,’ replied Lydia. Then, ‘How is your husband today?’

  ‘He’s as well as can be expected, thank you for asking.’

  Lydia nodded, aware that the unfortunate man was blind in one eye, had severely restricted vision in the other and was prone to occasional violent headaches. She said, ‘You’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do to help?’

  Lily curtsied again. ‘That’s good of you, Mistress. But we manage well enough.’

  Lydia recognised that was less an affirmative than a side-step but had learned long since that, like the men in the lorinery, these women had their pride. In most cases, it was all they had. Fortunately, while she was still wondering how best to respond, a voice from the other side of the room called out, ‘How’s our Nancy doing, Mistress? We ain’t seen hide nor hair of her at home for a month or more.’

  Smiling, Lydia turned to her maid’s younger sister.

  ‘She’s fine, Mary. Truthfully, I don’t know how I’d manage without her. But I’ll make sure she visits you all as soon as possible.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Lydia – that’d be kind. Meantime, I’ll tell Mam what you’ve said.’ And then, hesitantly, ‘I wouldn’t want you to think our Nancy gossips about you, because she don’t … but are Mr and Mistress Neville still nagging you to shut this place down?’

  ‘Mary!’ snapped Lily quickly. ‘You’re over-stepping yourself.’

  ‘No,’ said Lydia. ‘It’s all right. I don’t mind her asking. In fact, I’d rather tell you the situation myself than leave you to speculate on what might or might not happen.’ She looked around and raised her voice slightly, ‘Mary is right. My husband’s family don’t like my involvement either here or at the lorinery and want me to stop. I have refused … and I shall continue to refuse. So none of you need worry.’

  ‘Can they make you do what they want?’ asked another voice anxiously.

  ‘No.’ Lydia managed a grim smile. ‘All they can do is annoy me – and I won’t deny that they do. But I’m not about to give way just for the sake of a little peace and quiet. I’m proud of everything you’ve achieved – and I want to see you flourish further.’ She paused and then added, ‘This morning, the men at the lorinery volunteered to work extra hours for nothing to complete a new order. Actually, they insisted. So -- ’

  ‘And they was right, Miss Lydia,’ said Mary firmly. ‘It’s different for us ’cos we get paid for what we make, not the hours we work – but I reckon I can speak for us all when I say we’d do the same, if ther
e was ever a need for it.’

  A chorus of agreement followed her words.

  Lydia spread her hands in a gesture that was half helpless, half embarrassed.

  ‘I don’t know what to say to you.’

  ‘You don’t need to say anything, Mistress Neville,’ remarked Lily. ‘But you should know that we talk to the men from time to time and we’re all in agreement about one thing. If you ever need a rag-tag army to stand at your back, you can count on us. All of us.’

  * * *

  Later in the day, while his sister was hiding at the top of the house with her ledgers in order to avoid yet another visit from Cousin Geoffrey, Sir Aubrey Durand took leave of absence from his own work at Neville’s Pewterers and joined his friends at the Ship Tavern.

  ‘Cromwell must still be smarting over yesterday’s lack of enthusiasm,’ remarked Captain Dutton with a grin. ‘Not a single cheer, I believe.’

  ‘Did he expect them to throw their hats in the air?’ asked Aubrey. ‘He’s never been less popular than he is right now.’

  ‘Who threw the rock?’ Roger Cotes’ voice was casual. ‘Does anyone know?’

  ‘No – though I expect the spymaster is doing his damnedest to find out.’ Ellis Brandon, reached for his tankard of ale. ‘My own guess, for what it’s worth is that – since whoever it was missed their target – it was probably a woman.’

  There was a scattering of laughter into which John Gerard eventually said flatly, ‘It’s all very well to laugh – but that kind of thing does more harm than good. Even if the rock had actually hit Cromwell’s carriage, what would it have achieved?’

  ‘A round of applause?’ suggested Dutton flippantly.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake!’ snapped Gerard. ‘Can we please take this seriously? Because, as Ellis has already said, Thurloe certainly will. He’ll look for the guilty party but if he doesn’t find them, he’ll arrest anybody who comes to his attention. Do you think he doesn’t have a list of virtually every Royalist in London? And any one of us could be on it.’ He glanced round and added, ‘Speaking for myself, I’d as soon not see the inside of a cell because some damned idiot threw a brick at the Protector.’

  ‘I take your point,’ said Dutton, ‘but at least this person did something – which is more, despite three months’ worth of talk, than can be said of ourselves.’

  ‘Very true,’ drawled Ellis. ‘So perhaps it’s time we changed that.’

  ‘You have a suggestion as to exactly how?’ asked Gerard.

  ‘What’s wrong with the original idea of inciting the apprentices to riot?’

  ‘Quite a lot. It’s just not enough and likely to about as effective as yesterday’s rock – on top of which it would also earn us the enmity of every merchant and Guild in the City. People may be disenchanted with Cromwell – but they’ll back him to the hilt if they think we’re disrupting trade.’

  ‘So what are you saying?’ asked Aubrey. ‘That we can’t do anything?’

  ‘At present, I don’t believe we can.’ Gerard pushed his ale aside and stood up. ‘Think about it, gentlemen. In particular, think about the things – aside from a coherent plan – that we don’t have. At the top of that list comes money – of which we have none at all and therefore can’t afford to do any serious recruiting. Next comes support from men like Belasyse and Loughborough; Royalists with family connections and substantial influence. And finally there’s the not-unimportant fact that we don’t have the King’s commission to act on his behalf.’

  ‘I doubt His Majesty would let that worry him if we achieved something,’ said Cotes.

  ‘Perhaps not – if we did. But if we don’t? If we go off half-cocked and plunge into yet another fiasco, there’ll be a fresh round of arrests and even more of our friends choosing to stay at home in future.’ Gerard paused again to glance round. ‘I probably have a clearer picture of the situation in Paris than most of you. My cousin and his friends are anxious for some action and have been attempting to persuade His Majesty to sanction it. But Ned Hyde is urging caution and the King trusts him so it’s Hyde’s advice that is dictating policy at present – and it’s his belief that nothing at all should be attempted until the time is right. In fact, he’s rumoured to be forming an official unit to control all Royalist conspiracies. I don’t know how true that is but it sounds very likely. At any rate, the two opposing views are causing a lot of friction. And though I like it no better than you, our hands are tied until we can come up with a scheme promising enough to win the King’s approval.’

  ‘If that’s so, we’re wasting our time here,’ said Dutton. ‘Unless anyone has got a brilliant suggestion they’ve been keeping to themselves?’

  ‘I know a man who does have an idea,’ replied Gerard guardedly, ‘though whether or not it’s brilliant is debatable. Obviously, I’m not at liberty to reveal it without his permission. I also want to go to Paris to speak with my cousin and a few others … and get an audience with the King, if I can.’

  ‘To get his commission?’ asked Cotes negligently.

  ‘To ask for it, at least. But it will be some ten days before I can get away – so I suggest we meet here again next week to consider Colonel Whitley’s report on the likely level of support in Kent and Essex.’ He stood up. ‘And that, gentlemen, would seem to be as good a place as any to end this meeting.’

  * * *

  Ellis Brandon strolled out of the tavern beside Aubrey, saying, ‘Gerard is very young – which makes his caution surprising. I’d expected a more positive approach. I imagine his cousin feels much the same.’

  ‘Are you acquainted with Lord Gerard?’

  ‘Oh yes. Truth to tell, there are precious few active Royalists I haven’t come across over the years. At the moment, many are still keeping their heads down. But as it becomes plain just how unpopular the government really is, doubtless that will change. And when it does we’ll need to be ready.’

  ‘Indeed,’ nodded Aubrey. Then, ‘I know you fought in the first war and again at Preston. But am I right in guessing that this kind of thing isn’t new to you? Plotting, I mean.’

  ‘Good Lord, no. I’ve been working undercover for years now. I devised the scheme that enabled the Duke of York to escape and worked alongside others – rather less successfully as it turned out – to get the late King out of Carisbrooke.’

  Aubrey eyed him with increased respect.

  ‘In that case, you must find the current stagnation extremely frustrating.’

  ‘I do. But I’m wise enough to know that forcing others into unwilling action isn’t helpful.’

  ‘No. I suppose not.’ Aubrey thought for a moment and then, because he didn’t want his new friend to think him totally inexperienced, said, ‘I’ve fought, of course – in the Kent rising in ’48 under Lord Norwich. But I was wounded at Chelmsford and my father died there, so I didn’t get as far as Colchester.’

  ‘For which I’m sure you are duly grateful.’

  ‘Yes, well … that was the only thing in that whole hellish year that I could be grateful for. My father had taken the oath not to fight again – so his part in the Kent rising cost us everything. And the loss of our home and land on top of Father’s death was too much for Mother. She didn’t see out the year.’

  ‘Supporting the King comes at a high price, does it not? My own birthright is now in the hands of one of Cromwell’s Colonels.’ As with a number of other things, Ellis chose not to mention that the Colonel in question was his illegitimate half-brother. ‘So you and your sister were left with nothing, I take it?’

  ‘Scarcely a groat. If it hadn’t been for Stephen, I don’t know what we’d have done.’

  ‘Ah. I was wondering how your sister came to be married to a man so much older than herself.’

  Aubrey shrugged. ‘There’s a very distant kinship between our family and the Nevilles but Stephen was also Father’s oldest and closest friend. He needn’t have married Lydia. He could just have provided for us in some other way. But he said marriage a
nd his name made us both safer – and Lydia didn’t mind. She was fond of him. We both were.’

  ‘You were very fortunate in having his support,’ remarked Ellis thoughtfully. Then, ‘Did he leave your sister adequately provided for?’

  ‘More than adequately. That’s why the rest of the family are so bloody awful to her – or part of the reason, anyway. They absolutely hate her continuing to run the lorinery.’ Aubrey paused, smiling wryly. ‘They want her to give it all up but she won’t. And she spends half her time either at the work-places or keeping the ledgers up to date.’

  ‘As a widow, she doubtless finds it helpful to keep busy – though one would imagine that in time she will re-marry. How long ago did Mr Neville die?’

  ‘Six months. So poor Lyd’s in black until August at the earliest.’ Realising that they were only two streets away from his home, Aubrey said, ‘I can’t promise that we’ll escape the rest of the family … but I’d be happy to offer you some refreshment if you’d care for it?’

  ‘I’d be delighted,’ replied Ellis. And then, as if it was merely an afterthought, ‘Perhaps your sister might do us the honour of joining us?’

  * * *

  ‘Why?’ asked Lydia when, having tracked her down, her brother invited her to join himself and Sir Ellis in the parlour.

  ‘Why not?’ And then, coaxingly, ‘Come on, Lyd. It won’t hurt you to be sociable for a little while – and your books will wait. Also, Margaret and the girls are out so you might actually enjoy yourself for once.’

  Part of her wanted to refuse. The other part suggested that it might be a good idea to find out precisely what kind of men Aubrey was associating with at present – since thus far he had managed to evade all her questions. So she tucked a stray lock of hair back into her cap and prepared, as subtly as possible, to interrogate Sir Ellis Brandon.