by Stella Riley
It was not till after the Lords had voted on the Attainder on May 8th that Richard encountered Viscount Wroxton – and, by then, Francis’s flight had paled into insignificance.
‘Why did you do it?’ asked Richard. ‘How did you come to let it pass?’
His lordship flushed and stared at his feet.
‘Virtually half the House absented itself,’ he said. ‘But it won’t matter. The King won’t sign it. He told us he wouldn’t. So it didn’t matter how we voted. Not really.’
Hearing an echo of Henry Cox’s words, Richard felt a shiver go down his spine. If Strafford went to the block for no better reason than that everybody had passed their responsibility on to someone else, he – Richard – would be no less culpable than the rest.
In order to push this uncomfortable thought to the back of his mind, he set about trying to verify the bizarre tale told to him by Luciano del Santi. Deciding that the only place to start was with the Inns of Court, he approached three Justices and four lawyers and drew a blank with all of them. Then, just as he was beginning to wonder if the whole thing wasn’t a figment of Luciano’s imagination, he finally elicited a spark from John Maynard.
‘Falcieri?’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Falcieri. Yes. An Italian, you say? Mm. The name is vaguely familiar.’
‘The trial – if there was a trial – would have taken place in May 1628,’ said Richard.
‘Mm,’ said Maynard. And then, ‘Ah.’
‘You’ve remembered something?’
‘Perhaps. It’s simply that, at the time you mention, I was assisting a lawyer who was regularly patronised by the late Duke of Buckingham – on matters to which I was never made privy. It seems likely that, if I have heard of this Italian gentleman at all, I did so in the chambers of Samuel Fisher.’ He paused consideringly. ‘Yes. Fisher rose to the bench in the summer of ’28 only to fall into disfavour very shortly after, thanks to the death of Buckingham. In later years, I believe he became something of a recluse … but he may see you. Assuming he’s still alive.’
‘I see,’ said Richard. ‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t mention it. He had the reputation for having the sharpest legal brain in London and an ability to make a case out of anything. If you find him, let me know. We could have done with his services during the impeachment.’
Before Richard could pursue this line of enquiry, national events gathered momentum when the Bill of Attainder was put before the King. For two days His Majesty sought legal advice and spiritual counsel until the Bishop of Lincoln pointed out that he could either save Strafford or perish with him – along with his family. Then, tears in his eyes and remarking that Strafford’s position was happier than his own, Charles signed.
A bare two days later, Richard stood amidst the surging crowd and watched Strafford go to his death in the bright May sunshine. And when it was over, his mind echoed – not with the Earl’s simple words from the scaffold – but with an earlier speech he’d made to the Commons.
‘Opinions, he had said, ‘may make a heretic; but that they make a traitor, I have never heard till now.’
~ * * ~ * * ~
FOUR
Once she had got over the fright of being caught in the stable-loft with Daniel O’Flaherty, Amy was speedily able to convince herself that everything had worked out for the best. She had got what she wanted – a fact that caused her spirits to rise with every passing mile on the journey to London and made her prattle non-stop. By the time they got to the house in Old Palace Yard, Dorothy’s teeth were on edge and Kate was having to grip her hands together to prevent them straying to her sister’s neck.
All was forgotten, however, in the warmth of Richard’s welcome and by the following day Kate was sufficiently restored to be able to set forth in a mood of mild curiosity to dine in Ludgate Hill with a family of strangers. Since Amy had been included in the invitation, it seemed logical to suppose that Father’s friend Mr Cox had an eligible son; and Kate looked forward with benign interest to seeing what he and Amy made of each other.
The evening, as it turned out, was remarkably successful. Mr Cox’s wife, Alison, was characterised by a fund of cheerful common-sense which instantly recommended her to Dorothy; his two daughters were lively and down-to-earth enough to appeal to Kate; and his son and heir – a tall, pleasant young man, distinguished principally by an air of quiet self-possession – appeared sufficiently appreciative of Amy’s attractions to satisfy everyone.
Kate watched her sister automatically setting out to enslave and grinned to herself. So long as a man had an eye on either side of his nose, you could always rely on Amy. But the interesting bit now was whether or not she had any idea of what was in the wind … and, if she hadn’t, whether she’d presently regret tonight’s work.
The answer came later on when they were preparing for bed. After chattering about the compliments Geoffrey had supposedly paid her, Amy said coolly, ‘I’ve an idea that Father and Mr Cox may be considering a marriage between us. What do you think?’
‘It’s possible,’ acknowledged Kate cautiously. ‘Would you like that?’
‘Well, it’s not exactly what I had in mind. I’d hoped for someone with a position at Court. But the Coxes are quite rich and there’d be no question of having to moulder away in the country … so I think I might be able to resign myself to it.’
‘That’s nice. And can you … resign yourself … to Geoffrey?’
‘Why not? He’s quite attractive, after all – though not very talkative. Not that I mind that.’
‘No,’ said Kate with feeling. ‘You wouldn’t.’
Amy shot her a suspicious glance and the continued placidly braiding her hair.
‘Did you see the sapphire brooch Mistress Cox was wearing? It was even bigger than the ruby one that awful Italian girl has. I expect I’d get something like that to mark our betrothal.’
‘If,’ suggested Kate delicately, ‘there is a betrothal.’
Amy rose and advanced on the candle, smiling complacently.
‘If I want him, I’ll have him. You’ll see.’
* * *
A week went by … and then another. Kate celebrated her eighteenth birthday, renewed her friendship with Venetia Clifford and kept away from Cheapside; Toby breezed in full of technical terms and a determination to have his apprenticeship formalised as soon as possible; and Amy went shopping with the younger Mistress Cox, was escorted home by brother Geoffrey and capitalised on her opportunity by seeing to it that he stayed to dine.
Richard Maxwell, meanwhile, sat quietly in the Commons and watched his own misgivings surface in others. A new feeling was being born; a feeling that, having taken Strafford’s head, they should now cease harassing the King – for, grumble and criticise as they might, the King was still the King and few members wished to show disrespect for his person or see his authority completely overthrown. Pym, on the other hand, appeared intent on doing both and, for the first time since Parliament had opened, voices began to be raised in opposition. The King, it was pointed out, was demonstrating a new spirit of reasonableness and therefore did not deserve to have his household and its expenditure put under such minute scrutiny as Mr Pym had instigated.
Pym listened and drew his usual shrewd conclusions. The King, in his opinion, was merely trying to win support whilst seeking the best means of strengthening his arm. It was for this and no other reason that he had so far refused to dismiss the Irish troops, was quietly courting the Scots and had begun talking about raising a force to restore his Protestant nephew, the Elector Palatine, to his lands. In short, he badly wanted an army … and, once he had it, the days of his moderation would be numbered. Or so Pym thought. But with his own already weakened position being further undermined by an extremist Presbyterian bill to abolish bishops ‘root and branch’, his main concern had to be to divert attention from it as a first move towards re-establishing his control over the House.
He therefore called for a new investigation of the so-called Army Plot
. Richard sighed and hoped Francis Langley would have the sense to remain in whatever patch of heather currently harboured him. He himself already had enough to do without having to negotiate the young fool out of the Tower.
* * *
At home, his eldest daughter had uncovered other problems. Her maid, Meg Bennet, was pregnant.
‘Oh God,’ said Kate weakly. ‘You’re not, are you?’
‘I only wish I wasn’t!’ wailed Meg. ‘It was only the once, Miss Kate – and I’ve been praying I was mistook and that I was only late. Only it’s been well over a month now and – and I wish I was dead!’
Feeling somewhat out of her depth, Kate said, ‘You’d better tell me about it. Is the baby Tom’s?’
‘N-no. And I can’t even pretend it is,’ sniffed Meg. ‘I’m not really wicked, Miss Kate. It truly was only the one time and I never thought it could happen just like that. It don’t seem fair.’
‘No. I daresay it doesn’t. So who was it?’
‘S-Selim. You know. The foreign gentleman’s servant.’
For a long moment, Kate simply stared at her. Then, ‘Hell and damnation,’ she said hollowly. ‘That’s all I need.’
She turned the matter over in her mind until Amy was out of the way and she was sure of being alone with her mother. Then, bluntly and in a tone devoid of expression, she said, ‘Meg’s pregnant by the tame assassin. What do you think we ought to do about it?’
Dorothy looked utterly blank. ‘She’s pregnant by whom?’
‘Luciano del Santi’s servant. The one with the knife. I believe his name is Selim.’
‘Oh.’ Dorothy sat down. ‘Of course, it would be him. I ought to have listened to Eden. He kept saying it was like cats to cat-mint.’ She paused, thinking about it. ‘Is she sure?’
‘About the baby? Yes. And there seems no choice about who the father is. Goodness only knows what Tom Tripp will say. He’s been courting her for months.’
‘That’s the least of our worries.’ Dorothy stood up again. ‘I’d better have a word with her. And then I suppose I’ll have to call on your assassin.’
‘You can’t. He’s in Genoa, guarding his master’s back. And if you’re hoping he may marry her, I suggest you don’t depend on it. With his apparently fatal fascination, this situation can hardly be new to him – and he can’t marry them all.’ Kate stopped abruptly and drew a long breath. ‘Or can he?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I’m sorry. Something just occurred to me.’ She fixed her mother with an awed green stare. ‘We don’t know where friend Selim comes from, do we? Supposing he’s a Mussulman?’
Dorothy’s own eyes widened and there was a long, yawning silence. Then she said, ‘Kate – I could murder you. Why should he be any such thing?’
‘His looks – his name? I don’t know. But I think we ought to get Toby to find out. Unless, that is, Meg doesn’t mind ending up in a harem.’
Toby, on being asked, produced the required information in record time.
‘He’s a Turk,’ he announced cheerfully to Kate. ‘From Constantinople. Now will you tell me why you want to know?’
‘No. Is that all you found out?’
‘More or less. It was pretty well a waste of time asking Giacomo. He never tells you much at the best of times and, if you mention Selim, he just threatens to spit. Not that he ever does, of course.’ Toby appeared to find this mildly regrettable. ‘Anyway, when you want to know something, it’s always better to ask Gino.’
‘And did you?’
‘Yes. But if you won’t tell me why you want to know --’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Oh well. Please yourself.’ He paused and smiled seraphically at her. ‘It’s a pity, though … because I found out something interesting about Sir as well.’
For a full minute Kate struggled with temptation. Then, in as few words as possible, she told him what he wanted to know.
‘God’s boots!’ breathed Toby, impressed. ‘Meg?’
‘Yes. And if you tell a soul, I’ll --’
‘I won’t. Word of a Maxwell.’
‘All right. So tell me what Gino said.’
Toby edged closer and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
‘He said Selim spends a lot of time at the brothel with a girl called Aysha.’
‘You,’ said Kate calmly, ‘aren’t supposed to know anything about places like that.’
‘Don’t be stupid. I’m not a girl. And it’s not just any old brothel. It sort of belongs to Sir.’
‘What?’ Kate swallowed hard and pulled herself together. ‘What do you mean – sort of belongs to him?’
‘Gino says Sir owns the house but that the – the business is run by a woman named Gwynneth.’ Toby grinned and casually produced his pièce de résistance. ‘And Gwynneth, of course, is Sir’s mistress.’
There was a long silence. Then Kate said sourly, ‘Dear me. I don’t know whether to applaud his efficiency, his originality or his thriftiness. Or all three. Have you met this woman?’
‘No. But if I do, I’ll tell you all about her.’
‘Don’t bother.’ She got abruptly to her feet. ‘She’s bound to be a voluptuous blonde. They always are. And, really, I couldn’t care less what she’s like. Why should I?’
Then, after first speaking with her mother, she went off to break the bad news to Meg before writing to Eden so that he could do the same for Tom Tripp.
* * *
Towards the end of the month, while the King tried to live down the Army Plot by finally agreeing to disband the Irish and London seethed with rumours of a Popish Plot, Geoffrey Cox gradually became aware that his father was cherishing certain expectations. He found the concept interesting. If Richard Maxwell was considering establishing his second daughter while his first remained unwed, there was probably only one reason for it … but it was not a reason Geoffrey felt need cause him undue alarm. Amy was young enough to be moulded by her husband and produce the children he required, whilst her essential frivolity meant that she was unlikely to pry into business matters. She was, moreover, better connected than any bride he had ever hoped to have – and pretty, too. All in all, he decided coolly, she would probably suit him very well; and there was an element of pleasing irony in broaching the subject with his father as though the whole thing was entirely his own idea.
Henry Cox was ecstatic and lost no time in communicating the news to Richard – who, in turn, informed his wife.
‘My goodness – he didn’t waste much time, did he?’ was her immediate response. ‘But I suppose we should just be grateful. Kate says Amy is more or less set on having him.’
‘Then perhaps we’d better let her know that she’s fought a successful campaign. I just hope Geoffrey realises what he’s taking on and is up to dealing with it.’
‘Those,’ said Dorothy, ‘are my thoughts exactly.’
Amy received with maidenly gentility the tidings that her hand was being sought and then went off to crow over Kate.
‘Geoffrey is to call this afternoon to make me a formal proposal. And Father says we can be betrothed as soon as he and Mr Cox have agreed terms, then married in the autumn after Celia’s had the baby. Geoffrey’s father has even promised to purchase a house for us,’ she announced smugly. ‘I told you I’d get him, didn’t I?’
‘You certainly did,’ said Kate, reluctantly laying aside her book. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you. Don’t you mind?’
‘Mind what?’
‘That I’ll be married first.’
‘Should I?’
‘Well, yes. I would if I were you.’
‘How fortunate it is, then,’ came the gentle reply, ‘that you’re not.’
And with that, Amy had to be content. She was less than happy about Dorothy’s decision to take her back to Thorne Ash at the end of July and keep her there until a couple of weeks before the wedding – but a tongue-in-cheek remark of Kate’s about absence making G
eoffrey’s heart grow fonder and his gifts bigger softened the blow. And then the excitement of her betrothal overcame all else.
The two families congregated for the event and Kate used the opportunity to study the bridegroom-to-be. He was not, as Amy had said, talkative … but what he did say showed sense. And though he complimented Amy and was suitably attentive to her, Kate did not think he was in the least besotted. He looked, she thought, as though he knew precisely on which side his bread was buttered.
In another quarter of the room, meanwhile, her own name was about to feature in a context that would have astounded her. Having begun by lamenting the terms of the long-delayed and recently completed peace with Scotland, Mr Cox came slowly to the point.
‘And then there’s this thrice-blasted Army Plot,’ he said. ‘Don’t think there’s anything in it myself and never did. But I suppose it gives Pym a good excuse to put the Papists out of office. And that brings me to what I wanted to say to you.’ He stopped, drew a long breath and met Richard’s eyes. ‘Since their lordships agreed that all appointments to the royal households ought to have Parliamentary approval, certain members of the House have been talking about supplying the King with a list of suitable names. And one of those I over-heard being mentioned as a possibility is Mistress Kate.’
There was a long incredulous silence. Then, ‘Kate? You can’t be serious! No one in the House has clapped eyes on her.’
‘Lord Brooke apparently has – and Viscount Saye & Sele.’
‘Oh yes. But surely neither of them would think of --’ Richard broke off and tried to suspend his instinctive disbelief. ‘If this is true, how come I haven’t heard of it?’
‘Probably because no decisions have been made. It may all come to nothing – or they may not choose Miss Kate. I don’t know. I just thought you ought to be warned, that’s all.’
‘In case I’d as soon not have my daughter used as a spy?’