by Stella Riley
‘So are others,’ came the cool reply. ‘And the Army lists still show you as one of my officers. Consequently, although Secretary Thurloe has enjoyed the benefit of your talents for some time, I now need your services myself. Thus, he has no option but to release you.’
‘I … see.’ No I don’t. If that’s so, why couldn’t you do this when I first asked – or at any time during the last year? Why wait till now? ‘Forgive me for asking, sir … but you have any number of officers capable of seeing a supply train to Scotland. Why, suddenly, do I have some particular value?’
The Major-General eyed him thoughtfully and took his time about replying.
‘You’ll also be transporting a substantial amount of coin. Of the officers so far located that General Monck wants returned, I have failed to identify one I’d trust to keep hold of the change in his pockets – let alone a sum of this size. That, ostensibly at least, is why I need you.’
‘Ostensibly?’
‘Yes. Between ourselves, you’ll be taking the opportunity to make a slight detour.’
Eden felt a faint quiver of wariness.
‘I will?’
‘Yes. I want you to visit Colonel Brandon.’
This was unexpected and Eden had to bite back an unwary reply.
‘You look shocked,’ observed Lambert. ‘But I don’t imagine you’ll find it a chore.’
‘No.’ It’s what I’ve been wanting to do for months. ‘Far from it. But why?’
‘I wrote to him some weeks since asking him to stand as member for his district in the forthcoming Parliament. Rather annoyingly, he hasn’t deigned to reply. He may simply be undecided. If he is, I’m hoping that you are the one man who can persuade him.’
God. Don’t you know Gabriel at all?
‘I can try, sir. But he left both London and the Army more or less immediately after the execution of the late King. He was, as I’m sure you’re aware, in total disagreement with the whole business.’ The truth is that he was bloody disgusted and wanted nothing more to do with anybody who had a hand in it. ‘He is also not particularly susceptible to persuasion.’
‘I’m merely asking you to try, Colonel. Brandon’s name still occasions respect in a good many quarters and he’s the kind of sensible man we need filling the benches of Westminster. I hope he says yes … but I won’t blame you if he doesn’t.’ Lambert rose from his chair, indicating that the conversation was at an end. ‘And look on the bright side. In two or three weeks from now, you’ll be free of Secretary Thurloe.’
* * *
Mr Fisher proved to be quietly-spoken and pleasant-looking in an ordinary sort of way. He arrived bearing a posy of flowers for Deborah and, thanks to his trade, six bottles of extremely superior wine for his gentleman hosts. He was also clearly nervous.
Supper, which Deborah insisted on serving herself before sitting down to eat, was overlaid by a faint air of strain and the only person seemingly unaffected by it was Nicholas. Eden did his best to keep the conversation afloat but found it uphill work. Although Deborah smiled and was perfectly composed, she said very little … and, as far as Fisher was concerned, Eden could virtually hear the wheels turning as the poor fellow weighed every word before he uttered it. Worst of all, Tobias spoke only in monosyllables whilst watching the visitor with something like predatory intent – which, considering his size, appeared decidedly threatening. Eden shot him a look that promised some sharp words later.
No one was sorry when the meal was over and, as soon as they rose from the table, Eden said pleasantly, ‘A word with you, Mr Fisher, if I may?’
The vintner swallowed hard, cast a wary glance in Tobias’s direction and then nodded.
Eden led him to the rarely-used back parlour and closed the door. He said, ‘Don’t take too much notice of my brother, Mr Fisher. He’s feeling somewhat ill-used just at present – but he doesn’t bite.’
‘No? Oh – no. Of course not.’ Fisher tugged at his collar and, summoning all of his courage, said, ‘I was a little concerned. I wondered if … if perhaps there was some attachment. Between your b-brother and Mistress Deborah, that is.’
Christ, Toby. You bloody idiot.
‘No, no – nothing of the kind. You need have no fears about Toby. It’s merely that Mistress Hart runs the house like clockwork which leaves him free to concentrate on his work. And then, of course, he is dreading the loss of her pies because he is convinced that no others could possibly be as good.’ Eden managed a careless smile. ‘Sad but true, I’m afraid.’
Relief rolled off Mr Fisher in waves and, for the first time, his answering smile was entirely natural.
‘Thank you, Colonel. You have no idea …’ He stopped, groping for the words he needed and turning rather red. ‘The thing is that I – I still can’t believe my good fortune. That a woman like Mistress Deborah should choose an ordinary fellow like me seems almost too good to be true. For I do love her, you know.’
‘I have no doubt of it.’ And I’m glad of it for Deborah’s sake but sorry for yours. I know about loving a woman who wants another man. I hope you’re lucky enough never to find out. ‘I had a reason for wishing to speak privately, Mr Fisher. Please accept that what I’m about to suggest is no reflection upon yourself or your ability to keep Deborah in comfort. But I’d like to arrange a small annual stipend in her name as a token of thanks for her service here. Would you be offended by that?’
‘Offended? No, sir. How could I be? It’s extremely generous of you.’
‘Not at all. Call it a wedding gift. However, I know that if I mention this to Deborah, she’ll refuse. Consequently, I thought that if I were to make the arrangements and have the necessary paperwork sent to you … well, she need know nothing of it until the deed is done. If that is acceptable?’
‘Perfectly acceptable, Colonel. Indeed, I hardly know what to say to you.’
Don’t be grateful. Don’t. I feel bad enough already.
‘There’s no need to say anything,’ he said bracingly. ‘Now that’s settled, perhaps you’ll join us upstairs for a glass of your excellent wine? And if Toby is still sulking, I’ll send him to bed.’
Mr Fisher laughed. ‘Please – not on my account. I have every sympathy with him. The lady’s baking is indeed exceptional.’
As it turned out, Tobias was no longer glowering. Instead, he looked chastened and a little sheepish – thanks, presumably, to the martial glint in Deborah’s eye.
‘Ah,’ said Eden. ‘I see you’ve received a scolding. And deservedly so.’
Tobias crossed to Mr Fisher and held out his hand.
‘I believe I owe you an apology, sir. Deborah says I was behaving rather badly.’
‘That’s not quite how she put it,’ murmured Nicholas, his face alight with laughter.
‘Shut up, Nick.’ Tobias released Mr Fisher’s hand and, with a deprecating shrug, said, ‘If you’ll allow me, I’d like to atone for it by making Deborah’s wedding ring.’
Mr Fisher looked utterly taken aback.
‘That is most generous, sir – but no atonement is necessary.’
‘Yes, it is,’ remarked Eden. ‘Let him make the ring, Fisher. He’s really quite good.’
‘I’m exceptionally good,’ corrected Tobias. And to Deborah, ‘You’ll let me, won’t you? As a parting gift?’
‘Put like that, how can I refuse?’ Smiling was becoming uncommonly difficult but she managed it anyway. ‘And for that I’ll bake you one pie a week.’
‘Two,’ said Tobias promptly.
She shook her head, laughing. ‘Very well. Two, then.’
‘And I,’ said Nicholas, rising from his chair, ‘would beg the honour of offering my one good arm to escort you down the aisle. Unless there’s someone you’d rather have?’
‘There’s no one,’ she replied. Oh God. Will this evening never be over? ‘And the honour would be mine.’
‘In that case, I’d like to propose a toast,’ said Eden, pouring wine and handing glasses to Mr Fisher and De
borah. ‘To the future happiness of the bridal pair … and to the hope that we three poor bachelors will not quite be forgotten.’
* * *
A little later, after Mr Fisher had left and Eden found himself alone with Nicholas, he said, ‘Why did you offer to act in loco parentis at the wedding?’
Nicholas’s expression suggested that this was a stupid question.
‘One of us has to do it – but Toby won’t and you can’t.’
‘No. I suppose not.’ He re-filled both their glasses and dropped into a chair on the other side of the hearth. ‘That was a hellish evening. I could cheerfully have murdered Toby. He managed to give Fisher the impression that he and Deborah might be in love with each other.’
‘Oh. That’s awkward.’
‘Awkward?’ Eden gave a harsh laugh. ‘You have no idea.’
Nicholas eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. Then, he said bluntly, ‘I’ll save my sympathy for Deborah, if you don’t mind.’
‘Do you think I don’t know how hard she’s finding this – or that I don’t care? Because, if so, rest assured that I do.’
‘Good.’
‘Oh for God’s sake, Nick – leave it, will you?’ Eden drained his glass and set it down with a force that nearly cracked it. ‘This is Deborah’s decision, not mine and I’ve had enough for one night. Also, I wanted to talk to you about Mistress Neville’s lorinery.’
‘What about it?’
‘There have been further unwelcome developments.’ And, in as few words as possible, he explained. Then, ‘I intend to speak to Mistress Neville tomorrow with regard to anyone she knows of who might be behind all this. But if there aren’t any obvious suspects, finding the culprit might take time and, in three weeks – possibly less – I’ll be on the road to Scotland.’
Nicholas’s eyes widened slightly.
‘It’s definite, then?’
‘Yes. So I imagine you can see where this is leading.’
‘I think so. You want me to take the lorinery under my single wing.’ Nicholas grinned. ‘Well, why not? At least I’ll fit right in there.’
* * *
On the following morning, Eden and Nicholas got to the lorinery shortly after it began work for the day and earlier than Mistress Neville generally arrived.
‘All quiet?’ Colonel Maxwell asked Trooper Buxton.
‘Yes, sir. Let’s hope they’ve seen the padlock and taken the hint.’
‘Hope, by all means. Just don’t rely on it.’ And then, glancing round at the hive of activity as workbenches began filling up with various tools and materials, ‘Is Mr Potter here yet?’
‘In his office, sir.’
‘Excellent. Come on, Nick. Let’s start by clearing your presence with the foreman before Mistress Neville gets here.’
Mr Potter accepted with relief the notion of Captain Austin helping to keep an eye on things for a while in case of further trouble but said, ‘Mistress Neville will probably kick up a dust, Colonel.’
Eden grinned.
‘There’s no ‘probably’ about it. But don’t worry – I’ll stay to draw her fire. And, in the meantime, perhaps you wouldn’t mind if the Captain introduces himself to your fellows while he and I take a look around the premises? There’s a floor above this one, isn’t there – and, presumably, also a cellar?’
‘Yes. We use upstairs to store the more valuable stock – leather and metals, mostly. As to the cellar, it’s damp. It even floods sometimes when there’s heavy rain and the level in the Fleet rises. We don’t need it so nobody ever goes down there.’
‘We’ll take a look anyway, if you can find us a lantern.’
Lydia arrived half an hour later to learn that Colonel Maxwell was in the cellar. She huffed an irritated breath and said, ‘What is he doing down there? Come to that – why is he here at all?’
‘I think he wants a word with you, Mistress – so I reckon he’ll explain everything,’ replied Mr Potter, carefully avoiding all mention of Captain Austin. ‘Meantime, I’ve got to go round to Cotterells. There was a mistake in the last order that needs sorting out.’ And he made good his escape.
Some minutes later, Eden emerged from the gloom of the cellar to find Mistress Neville standing at the top of the stairs with her arms folded. She said, ‘Good morning, Colonel. I trust there aren’t any nasty surprises lurking down there? No man-traps or barrels of gunpowder waiting to explode? No rotting corpses or hairy creatures with big teeth?’
‘Fortunately, no,’ he replied, arriving one step below her. ‘Just spiders and mice.’
‘Well that’s comfort. You can’t imagine how worried I’ve been.’
This time, Eden didn’t resist the impulse to laugh but merely said, ‘Do you think you might step aside? Aside from the chill, it smells down there.’
‘Count yourself lucky,’ said Lydia, moving so he could pass. ‘I very nearly barred the door.’ And then, seeing Nicholas, ‘My goodness. Never say you’ve a fascination with cellars as well, Mr Austin?’
‘Actually, it’s Captain Sir Nicholas,’ remarked Eden before Nicholas could respond. ‘Best get it right – since you’ll be seeing rather a lot of him.’
The silvery-blue eyes narrowed. ‘Will I, indeed?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Nicholas cheerfully. ‘But I’ll try not to get in anybody’s way. And I’m quite willing to lend a hand if there’s ever a need for it.’
‘Thank you.’ Lydia drew a long, calming breath and avoided looking at Eden. ‘Forgive me, Sir Nicholas … but perhaps you could occupy yourself elsewhere while Colonel Maxwell explains to me precisely what he’s done this time?’
‘Immediately, Mistress.’
Nicholas grinned, bowed and strolled away in the direction of the yard, leaving Lydia to say flatly, ‘Mr Potter’s office, Colonel. Again.’
As before, Eden closed the door and leaned against it. He said concisely, ‘I’ll be leaving for Scotland in a week or two. If there are any further attacks and we haven’t found the culprit before I leave, Nick can continue to offer some protection in my absence. He still has his sword-arm and, though his ability probably isn’t quite what it was, it will certainly be adequate. Also, an occupation will hopefully keep him out of trouble.’
Of the many things she might have asked, Lydia heard herself say, ‘What sort of trouble?’
‘The same sort your brother got himself into.’
She stared at him, perplexed.
‘Getting mixed up with the Cavaliers? Why on earth would he do that?’
Eden hesitated briefly and then said simply, ‘Because he is one.’
‘What? He’s a Royalist?’
‘Yes.’
‘But – but you’re an Army officer. You work in the Secretary of State’s office.’
‘I am and I do.’
‘Then how …?’ Lydia gave up and said, ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Of course you don’t. I don’t myself, some days. But if you want chapter and verse, you can ask Nicholas. I daresay he’ll tell you. And in the meantime, you and I have more important things to discuss … such as whether you’ve received any more threatening notes.’
‘No. So you needn’t --’
‘Good. If you do, don’t keep them to yourself and take the same precautions as before.’
Lydia eyed him forebodingly and didn’t bother to keep the exasperation out of her voice.
‘Colonel Maxwell … I don’t know why you’re making this your personal crusade. But --’
‘Because I would be sorry to see this enterprise of yours fail. Also, I’ll have a bone to pick with the fellow who hurt Dan Hayes when I catch up with him.’
‘Oh. Well. Yes. That’s quite … understandable, I’m sure.’ Blast the man. How can I argue with that? ‘However, I’d be obliged if you would please stop trying to arrange my life. I am more than capable of taking care of both my businesses and my person.’
‘Since you don’t know who wishes you ill or why, that is a singularly rash
attitude,’ he observed calmly. Then, ‘And look on the bright side. The sooner we identify your anonymous enemy, the sooner you’ll be free of me.’
Unable to help herself, Lydia smiled.
‘You promise?’
Eden laughed. ‘I promise. Now … have you thought of anyone who might want to harm either you or the lorinery?’
She sat down and frowned at her hands.
‘No one I consider capable of wilfully injuring one of my workers.’
‘That’s an opinion – not an answer. To whom are you referring?’
She took her time about replying but eventually, she sighed and said, ‘My late husband’s son and daughter-in-law. And their cousin. They’ve all been badgering me to get rid of both this place and Strand Alley ever since the day we buried Stephen.’
For the first time, it occurred to Eden to wonder why Lydia had married a man forty years her senior. It wasn’t unheard of … but it was unusual enough for him to suspect there might have been a reason behind it. But rather than digress now, he decided to see if Nicholas knew and said merely, ‘Strand Alley?’
She nodded. ‘The women work there. They make lace and trimmings and so on.’
A vague recollection stirred but, again, he chose not to pursue it.
‘And that business operates on the same lines as this one?’
‘More or less. It’s to benefit war-widows and the like – but they’re not employed as the men are here. I just give them rent-free premises and help them sell what they make to the drapers and dress-makers. They’re doing very well now and can barely keep up with demand.’
He heard the note of pride in her voice but refrained from commenting on it. Instead, he said, ‘Why does your family object?’
‘Oh – they think I should sit at home with my embroidery. In their view, widows ought to behave with more circumspection. They aren’t supposed to involve themselves in sordid commerce.’
‘That’s nonsense.’
‘I know. But Margaret insists on calling the sewing women whores and believing that the men who work here are all foul-mouthed drunkards.’ Lydia hesitated and then, deciding the Colonel might as well know it all, told him about the two women recently dismissed from Strand Alley, adding, ‘Of course, I can’t prove it was Margaret. It just seems like the kind of scheme she and Joseph might dream up. The thing is that, if a case could be made that that the premises were also being used as a brothel, we’d lose our membership of the Haberdashers Guild – which would create untold problems.’