by Stella Riley
‘Then why don’t you tell Jude about it yourself?’ suggested Lydia. And without waiting for him to reply, she turned back to the boy and said, ‘Meanwhile, I’d be honoured to help you find gifts for the ladies in your family. And since gentlemen usually find shopping a tedious exercise, I suspect the Colonel would be happy to be spared that particular task.’
‘He would,’ agreed Eden promptly.
Lydia laughed. But Jude, with a smugness that his father found deeply suspicious, said, ‘You can’t. Mistress Neville can help find the right gifts for me – but you can’t expect her to do it for you as well. So you’ll have to come with us, won’t you?’
* * *
After that, the days flew by. Jude spent hours at the lorinery or standing in rapt fascination beside Tobias’s work-bench. And, in between, his father took him to Westminster Hall and the Painted Chamber; to Inigo Jones’ piazza in Covent Garden; and to watch the troops drilling on Tothill Fields. They toured the maze of chambers, galleries and courtyards that comprised the Palace of Whitehall where, without troubling to conceal his pride, Colonel Maxwell presented his son to Major-General Lambert; then they took a boat from Westminster Stairs to the massive bulk of the Tower with its forbidding history and arsenal of weapons.
Despite all of this, they still somehow managed to spend more time with Lydia Neville than Eden thought wise. What he’d considered the one unavoidable shopping expedition became two and then three – throughout which alarm bells rang loud and clear. He watched her laughing with his son and looking like the girl she must have been before her life was turned upside down; and he saw the two of them forming a bond … one he almost envied because she achieved it so easily and because it contained none of the reservations from which he, the absentee father, still suffered. Familiarity with Lydia was only breeding a desire for even more familiarity. Day by day, he found himself wanting what he shouldn’t. And worst of all, he occasionally caught himself imagining the kind of future that, for ten years, he’d been convinced was the very last thing he wanted – which suggested that his wits were becoming addled.
And yet he couldn’t regret any of it because Jude was clearly having the time of his life. Eden wondered why he’d never done this before … and wished that he had.
* * *
With no wife to go home to, Gabriel once more took to supping in Cheapside on a regular basis. On these occasions, the conversation was inevitably dominated by progress – or more usually the lack of it – made in the House.
‘It’s one step forward and two steps back,’ remarked Gabriel, one evening towards the middle of the month. ‘Nothing ever arrives at completion. For example, last week we adjourned discussions about reducing the size of the army because Cromwell gave the impression that, though he didn’t agree with it, he wouldn’t necessarily stand against it … so the House decided to wait and see if we might find a compromise.’
‘And have you?’ asked Nicholas.
‘No – because I doubt very much that it’s possible. And within twenty-four hours, we were in deep waters of a completely different kind that resulted in a vote that the true reformed Protestant religion and no other shall be maintained – which in turn brought up the thorny question of toleration. We spent two whole days on that, while everyone said all the same things they said six weeks ago.’ Gabriel drained his glass and set it down. ‘In the end, they managed to agree that there would be no Bill compelling attendance at established church services and that those with tender consciences would be left alone so long as they didn’t cause any trouble. In addition, Parliament wants the right to pass Bills against atheism, blasphemy, popery, licentiousness and the like on its own authority – the Court Party failing to get damnable heresies made an exception.’
Eden pushed the bottle across the table in Colonel Brandon’s direction.
‘Cromwell’s still for toleration, then?’
‘Yes. He was recently heard to say that everyone wants liberty but no one will give it – a statement hard to argue with. As to the Army … it sees what’s happening in the House as a step back to repression rather than slow progress in the right direction. And as I imagine you know only too well – it wants liberty of conscience for everybody except the Catholics.’
‘The folks who hate Catholics can’t have met the likes of Jonas Radford,’ volunteered Jude absently from the corner where he was systematically beating Tobias at cribbage.
‘That would be Sam Radford’s brother, would it?’ asked Gabriel.
‘The very one.’ Eden glanced across at his son. ‘Still as big a zealot as ever, I presume?’
Jude nodded, his eyes on his cards.
‘Uncle Ralph won’t go near him for fear he’ll punch him in the face. It’s a shame really.’
Nicholas laughed but said, ‘Leaving my fellow Catholics out of it for a moment … is the House likely to consider liberty of conscience?’
‘Not a chance.’ Gabriel re-filled his glass. ‘It’s ploughing ahead with its right to legislate on religion without consulting Oliver.’
‘Ah.’ Eden’s brows rose. ‘He won’t like that.’
‘No. He won’t. Still less will he like the fact that, with the current assessment about to expire on what used to be known as Christmas Day, the House will be forced to come to a decision about the size of the Army – because if it doesn’t and no fresh taxes are levied, the soldiers are going to be living at free quarter. And nobody will like that.’
‘Meaning that the situation has to be resolved quickly.’
‘In the next few days,’ agreed Gabriel. ‘The last report put Blake’s fleet at Naples, currently in pursuit of the Duc de Guise. Meanwhile, the so-called Western Design under Penn is assembling at Portsmouth and due to sail before the end of the month.’
‘Its strength?’ asked Eden.
‘Eighteen men-of-war, twenty transports and three thousand troopers under Robert Venables. The cost is enormous – despite which I think the House will still vote to reduce the monthly assessment by the same thirty thousand pounds it discussed before. And if I’m right, a corresponding reduction in the size of the Army is inevitable.’
‘As, therefore, is a battle-royal with Cromwell.’
‘Yes.’
‘There’ll be a battle-royal right here in a minute,’ remarked Tobias, running a baffled hand through his hair. ‘Eden – your son is a Captain Sharp.’
‘Yes? Well, it takes one to know one, doesn’t it?’ retorted Eden. And with a grin, ‘Have at him, Jude. He can afford it. God knows he’s won enough money from me in the past.’
‘And me.’ Nicholas wandered over to perch on the arm of Jude’s chair.
Gabriel watched them with a sudden air of speculation.
‘I wonder if that’s it?’ he mused. ‘Gaming is severely frowned upon these days but men still do it … some of them, presumably, to excess.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Eden asked.
‘Alderman Roger Frost of the victualling office. He’s a respectable fellow with a young wife and family and no reason I can see to be so desperate for money that he’d risk stealing it. And yet he was arrested yesterday for embezzlement.’
‘He took money from the victualling office?’
‘Yes. Apparently, he’s been appropriating small amounts for some time. But a few weeks ago, he seems to have become either greedier or bolder and falsified the books to cover a withdrawal of two hundred pounds. Unfortunately for him, the chief clerk is a meticulous fellow who lives for his work and he discovered the entire fraudulent trail.’ Gabriel frowned slightly. ‘What strikes me as odd is that it’s the third similar case in the last two months.’
‘Who were the others?’
‘George Pettigrew – a pillar of the established church – was defrauding the Army by paying a dozen non-existent soldiers scattered through different regiments. And Sir John Seldon, chairman of the committee in charge of supplying Venables’ three thousand troopers with arms. He hasn’t been char
ged with embezzlement … but two consignments of small arms have inexplicably gone missing.’
For a moment, Eden went very still. Then he said, ‘Pistols?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘Ned Moulton saw an open crate containing new pistols in Quinn’s warehouse.’
Hazel eyes locked with storm-grey.
‘Ah,’ said Gabriel gently. ‘It could be nothing or just a coincidence. But I think one of us needs to have a little talk with Sir John.’
‘I’ll do it. Where’s he being held?’
‘Newgate. Let me know what you find out.’ He paused. ‘And speaking of Quinn ... how are your enquiries regarding Mistress Neville’s situation progressing?’
‘They’re not.’ Eden frowned into his glass. ‘I’ve turned over every stone I can think of, all to no avail. We’re still holding five of Quinn’s fellows in custody – who I’ll question again about the pistols – but there’s no trace of the man himself. The warehouse where he held the women is now empty so I can only assume he has other premises elsewhere – probably several of them. And the ledger I took from his desk has yielded nothing of use so far. For the rest, there have been no further attacks on either Lydia or her people and no more attempts at blackmail.’
‘So you and everyone else are on a state of high alert.’
‘That’s putting it mildly. I think I’ve managed to ingrain a sense of caution into Lydia but I daren’t rely on it – especially now.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Jude. He likes visiting the lorinery and he likes her, damn it. If anybody’s watching and is looking for new leverage, he’d be the perfect target.’
‘That can’t be a comfortable thought. How soon is he going back to Thorne Ash?’
‘Toby wants to leave a week today. Originally, I’d intended to go with them – but now I’m not so sure.’ Eden paused for a moment or two and then added, ‘Lydia can’t find anything among her husband’s papers that anyone might want and is therefore convinced that such a thing doesn’t exist. I have my doubts. The late Mr Neville dabbled in cryptography.’
Gabriel stared. ‘Did he indeed?’
‘Yes. Actually, he did more than dabble. He was bloody good at it. So I can’t help wondering if he had more use for his skill than merely passing the time. But unless Lydia trips across coded documents other than the samples I’ve already seen – which are little more than amusing demonstrations that eventually lead one to the key – we’ll never know.’
‘You’ve become remarkably involved in the widow’s affairs,’ observed Gabriel meditatively. ‘And, one would think, with the widow herself by now.’
‘Oh God. Don’t start that again.’
‘Start what?’
‘Delving into my personal life and putting your own construction on it.’ Eden lowered his voice and said, ‘My relationship with Lydia is the same as it was last time you refused to let the subject drop and I’m not discussing it again – now or ever. Am I making myself clear?’
‘Extremely.’
‘Good. She needed help and I supplied it. Any other involvement is purely coincidental.’
‘Of course.’
Eden cast him a dirty look. ‘Stop smiling, damn you. It’s true.’
‘I’m sure it is – though that’s not how it looks. And you say that Jude likes her.’
‘He does,’ said Eden, irritably wishing that just sometimes Gabriel would mind his own business or that they didn’t know each other quite so well. ‘But don’t read too much into it. He likes Alice Wilkes as well.’
Laughing, Colonel Brandon got to his feet.
‘I daresay he does.’ And with a deliberately infuriating grin, ‘But I doubt he’s looking at her in the light of a potential step-mother.’
* * *
Next morning, Eden sent Major Moulton to start a new round of questioning with Quinn’s five bully-boys while he braved the filth and stench of Newgate in search of Sir John Seldon. It was a relief to find that, having the means to pay for private accommodation, Seldon was not in the general ward. He was less relieved when the surly turn-key unlocked the door of the cell to reveal its inmate hanging from the bars of the window by means of his own belt … and quite dead.
‘Suicide?’ asked Colonel Brandon later. ‘Why? Unless there was some proof that he sold the pistols for personal gain, he’d have squirmed out of the charges. So why kill himself?’
‘Good question. He had a visitor earlier in the day – a servant delivering fresh linen. The turn-key insisted Seldon was alive when the fellow left but eventually admitted that he hadn’t actually seen him,’ replied Eden grimly. ‘There are two possibilities. One is that Sir John’s visitor murdered him; the other is that he brought some news or made some threat that caused Sir John to hang himself. Either one of these might lead back to Quinn … but now, of course, we’ll never know.’
‘What about the men you have in custody? Anything useful there?’
‘No. It’s the same story as before. None of them know anything about any pistols – or anything else, for that matter.’
‘That might actually be true,’ mused Gabriel. ‘I doubt anyone in Quinn’s empire knows more than they need to. And if the fellows you’ve got are mere muscle …’
‘Yes. I realise that. And since I’ve no positive reason for holding them, sooner or later I’m going to have to let them go,’ agreed Eden frustratedly. ‘The whole thing is just another bloody dead end. And I’m seriously beginning to wonder if I’m ever going to find a way past it.’
~ * * ~ * * ~
TEN
As things turned out, the decision on whether or not to spend Yule at Thorne Ash was taken out of Eden’s hands on December 20th when an urgent summons arrived from Major-General Lambert.
‘The trouble stirred up by Wildman’s petition rumbles on,’ he said. ‘Aside from the three colonels, there are rumours of seditious meetings involving Lord Grey, Sir Arthur Haselrig, Colonel Hacker and John Bradshaw. Worse still, we’ve received word from General Monck of a plot fermenting in Scotland, involving all these gentlemen and others.’
‘To do what?’
‘According to Monck’s information, disaffected officers are to meet in Edinburgh on New Year’s Day. Their plan appears to involve seizing Monck himself and giving command to Major-General Overton who will then march south with three thousand Foot and an undisclosed number of Horse. Once in England, he’ll join other forces assembled by Bradshaw and Haselrig.’
‘I’m surprised that Rob Overton would lend himself to something like this,’ remarked Eden, frowning. ‘But presumably since Monck now knows about it – and Overton and his co-conspirators know that he knows – nothing will come of it.’
‘So one would hope. But the fact that Wildman is somewhere at the heart of it suggests other, more worrying possibilities. If the Levellers and certain discontented members of the House decide that their grievances and those of the Royalists are one and the same, the situation becomes potentially explosive. And that being so, Oliver feels that some preventative measures need to be taken now, before talk boils over into action.’
Eden was beginning to have a shrewd idea of where this might be going. Managing not to sigh, he said, ‘I see. And I fit into these measures where precisely?’
‘For the immediate future, at the Tower. We want to raise the strength of the current garrison to nine hundred and, since you’ve served there before, you and such members of your old regiment who are still on the Army lists are an obvious choice. I’m assuming you’ll want Major Moulton as your second-in-command?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Then I suggest you make arrangements to commence duty there immediately.’
Eden rose, saluted and said, ‘Sir.’
And thought, I suppose it could have been worse. At least he’s not asking me to arrest Ned Villiers or Will Compton. But neither Toby nor Jude is going to be happy.
* * *
Eden spent the rest of the morning introduc
ing himself to the Lieutenant of the Tower, visiting the barracks in the Mews, sending a note to Ned Moulton and generally attending to everything that would enable him to take up his new post on the following day. Then he went home to break the glad tidings to his son and his brother.
Jude wasn’t there and Tobias was downstairs in the workshop.
Pausing for a moment to watch the dexterity with which his not-so-little brother set rubies into a circlet of twisted gold, he recalled the day long ago when Tobias himself had stood on the same spot and become instantly enthralled as Luciano del Santi worked on the exquisite lattice that was designed to hold an amber chalice. The image became even clearer when, without looking up and very much as Luciano had done, Tobias said, ‘Give me a minute, will you?’
Eden smiled and waited. Finally, Tobias laid down his tools and said, ‘This must be important. The last time you came down here was the day we buried Luciano’s loot.’
‘I remember. And yes, it is important. I won’t be coming to Thorne Ash with you.’
Tobias fixed him with a level grey gaze.
‘I never supposed that you would. So what’s the excuse this time? I hope it’s more than your reluctance to leave Lydia Neville.’
‘It is.’ Though that is also alarmingly true. ‘Lambert’s assigned me to guard duty at the Tower. They want the garrison strengthened and I’ve done that particular job before, so …’ He stopped, shrugging. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Apologise to Jude, not me.’
‘I would if I could find him.’
‘He’s with your widow in Bishopsgate.’
‘She’s not my widow,’ began Eden. Then, ‘What is he doing there?’
‘I’ve no idea. He just said he was helping her with something and would be back later.’ Tobias turned back to his bench and picked up a minute pair of pincers. ‘Why don’t you go and find out? Or no. What am I saying? Of course you’ll bloody go.’
Eden turned on his heel and went out before he said something he’d probably regret.
Henry admitted him to Lydia’s house with the information that Madam was busy in the kitchen but that if the Colonel cared to wait in the parlour, she would doubtless be with him directly.