The Black Madonna (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 1)

by Stella Riley

  ‘But why? What’s he done?’

  ‘Failed to win the war and allied himself too clearly with the Peace Party. Ah yes – and I almost forgot,’ added Richard with a twisted smile. ‘The Scots know he doesn’t like them.’

  * * *

  Word from the North said that Irish troops had begun pouring in through Chester for the King’s service and that neither the parliamentary fleet nor Sir Tom Fairfax seemed able to stop them. The Scots had got as far as Newcastle and were busily but unsuccessfully besieging it, and Sir John Meldrum was having similar difficulties driving the Cavaliers out of Newark. The King seemed still to hold the advantage; and the Committee of Both Kingdoms, sitting amongst His Majesty’s purloined tapestries in Derby House, were at a loss to know what to do about it.

  March brought no signal improvement in the weather. It did, however, bring Colonel Cromwell, who – whilst guarding a convoy from Warwick to Gloucester – ran into a Cavalier raiding party from Banbury and drove it smartly back into the Castle. He and his troops then lingered in the town while he sent to Northampton for artillery and would undoubtedly have settled down for a siege had not a force under Prince Rupert entered the vicinity and proved a more tempting target. Colonel Cromwell promptly set off in hot pursuit … and Hugo Verney arrived at Thorne Ash to collect the quarter’s rents.

  With her father absent about the farm, Kate had the captain escorted to the book-room and proceeded to deal with the matter herself. As usual, she neither welcomed him nor invited him to sit – a ploy which she found expedited the business no end – and in less than ten minutes he was being shown to the door again. It was then, however, that she found he had dropped one of his exquisitely embroidered gloves.

  Kate picked it up, sighing. If it wasn’t returned, he would call again to retrieve it. Without wasting time summoning a maid, she shot across the hall, through the front door and out into the courtyard.

  She caught up with him in the shadows of the gatehouse and had already said, ‘Captain Verney? Your glove,’ before she realised he wasn’t alone. Then, looking from his dismayed face to Celia’s flushed one, she simply raised enquiring brows and remained silent.

  Hugo took his glove, saying, ‘Thank you. But how careless of me to put you to such trouble.’

  ‘Not at all,’ replied Kate coolly. ‘I’m glad I caught you.’

  He fidgeted slightly but had the sense not to attempt a reply. Not so, Celia.

  ‘I’m sure you are,’ she remarked sweetly, ‘But don’t let your imagination run riot, Kate. I was merely asking Hugo to try and get a message to my father. Far Flamstead’s going to rack and ruin in his absence and I can’t deal with quite everything myself. Although, if the weather remains dry, I really must try and get there tomorrow.’ She paused and turned back to the captain with a slight shrug. ‘However. You won’t forget, will you Hugo? It upsets me that the house had been empty for so long.’

  Looking at him, Kate thought she detected a rather desperate look in Captain Verney’s eye. Then it was gone and he said smoothly, ‘I’ll do my best. And now I’m afraid I should be going. We’ve a number of errands to complete today.’

  Celia watched him leave and then walked past Kate with a taunting smile and a swish of violet taffeta. Neither of them spoke. There was, after all, nothing that either of them could usefully say.

  * * *

  A week later, Luciano del Santi arrived with Toby in tow.

  ‘Well, well,’ said Richard, by way of greeting. He had not seen or heard from Toby since he’d returned to London in early January … and Luciano had been silent even longer. ‘Wonders will never cease. Has Cheapside been washed away – or is this merely a social call?’

  Toby, looking faintly subdued, kept his mouth shut.

  ‘Neither,’ said Luciano sourly. ‘We’re here because I’d like to leave for Genoa without wondering if your son will manage to get himself clapped up again – and returning him to you seemed the best solution.’

  ‘What?’ asked Dorothy.

  Tabitha groaned and looked at her twin out of wide, gloomy eyes.

  ‘I told you to be more careful.’

  Richard, Dorothy and Kate all turned to stare at her.

  ‘You knew?’ snapped Luciano del Santi. And when she nodded, ‘Then why the devil didn’t you tell someone?’

  ‘I couldn’t,’ she said simply. ‘I promised Toby I wouldn’t – and we don’t break our word to each other. Ever.’

  Richard lifted his eyes to the ceiling.

  ‘Will someone please tell me what all this is about?’

  ‘Cartoons,’ said Luciano, succinctly. ‘Political cartoons, to be precise. Tobias draws them, Geoffrey Cox captions them and they both print and distribute them. Or did – until they were caught and arrested for running an illicit press. Show him, Tobias.’

  Wordlessly, Toby pulled a broadsheet from his pocket and handed it to his father. In a neatly-executed drawing, the King – backed by Rupert, Ned Hyde and a handful of other perfectly recognisable faces – confronted Oliver St John, Colonel Cromwell and a huddle of tartan-clad Scots; and hovering irresolutely between the two, my lords Essex and Manchester were saying plaintively, ‘O Lord, show us thy will? Shall we be Papist or Presbyterian?’

  Richard scrutinised it at some length and then passed it to his wife. If he felt like laughing, there was no sign of it. He said flatly, ‘You’re a fool, Toby. And so, apparently, is Geoffrey. What happened?’

  ‘We got caught running the last batch through the press,’ muttered Toby. ‘Someone must have informed on us. We should have guessed, really. The Committee of Examinations is trying to stamp out unlicensed printing and has spies everywhere. Anyway, four officers came and hauled us off to the Gatehouse. We were there nearly a week.’

  ‘And are monumentally lucky,’ said the Italian caustically, ‘that you’re not there still. They were not at all eager to let you out.’

  Richard sighed. ‘How much did it cost you?’

  ‘Too much. But don’t worry. I recouped it from your enterprising son-in-law. It seemed only fair. No profit without risk of loss, you know,’ finished Luciano. And smiled.

  * * *

  By means of a little stealth and cunning, Kate managed to isolate him in the parlour but, instead of coming straight to the point, said, ‘Why do you go to Genoa every year at this time?’

  He hesitated and then, reflecting that there was no harm in her knowing and it might even be helpful, he said, ‘My business is founded upon a substantial loan from my uncle and the interest is payable annually. Delivering it in person is a stipulation of Vittorio’s own … one I could well do without but which I’ve never been able to talk him out of.’

  Shock at receiving a straightforward answer slowed the progress of comprehension. She stared at him for a moment and finally said carefully, ‘Substantial sounds … serious. Your uncle must have a good deal of confidence in your abilities.’

  ‘He certainly knows what they are.’ Luciano smiled wryly. ‘But he didn’t make the loan because of that. He did it because I had something he wanted – and which he now holds as security. Family feeling doesn’t feature in the arrangement at all.’ He paused and then added negligently, ‘If I’m unable to repay the principal two years from now, he’ll break me.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Kate faintly. And thought just how many things that explained … and how many others it didn’t. Then, aware that they would probably be interrupted any minute, she said quickly, ‘On the other matter – am I allowed to ask if you found him?’

  He raised faintly baffled brows.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Robert Brandon. Did you find him?’ And when he didn’t answer, ‘You did, didn’t you? Was he the right man?’

  There was a long silence. Then, ‘I rather thought,’ he said gently, ‘that I told you to stay out of it. This is not your affair, Caterina – nor will it ever be. And I have a morbid dislike of prying.’

  ‘Oh it’s worse than that,�
� Kate assured him, disposing herself gracefully on the window-seat. ‘You’re so secretive, I doubt your right hand knows what your left is doing half of the time.’

  ‘And you,’ he returned blandly, ‘have a number of characteristics generally attributed to ferrets. Now, does that conclude the exchange of compliments? Or have you anything you’d like to add?’

  Able to think of at least three smart answers, Kate opened her mouth on the best of them – and then shut it again as the door opened and her mother walked in.

  ‘Check,’ murmured Luciano softly, laughter lighting his face. ‘Company manners, Caterina.’

  ‘Well, at least I have some,’ she returned, equally softly and with restrained enjoyment. ‘But what are you going to do?’

  * * *

  In the hour before supper, when the ladies of the household were occupied elsewhere, Luciano faced Richard across the hearth and said thoughtfully, ‘So you’ve stuck to your guns and stayed at home. Doesn’t it irk you?’

  ‘Every hour of every day,’ came the honest reply. ‘But there’s no room in the House now for men like myself – so I’m best out of it.’ Richard handed his friend a glass of wine and sat down, staring meditatively into his own. ‘Is it true there’s disappointment in the air over our Scottish allies?’

  ‘You could put it that way. It’s been a long, cold winter and people are tired of waiting for the Scots to take Newcastle so they can have some coal. As for the City, the last forced loan nearly broke it.’

  ‘How much was asked for?’

  ‘Seventy thousand – on top of the thirty thousand advanced by the Merchant Adventurers. With Dunkirk pirates, Cavalier pirates and increased competition from Bristol, these sorts of demands just can’t continue being met. In short, Parliament’s draining the well dry.’

  ‘And if the money runs out, the Scots will doubtless withdraw their services.’ Richard leaned back in his chair and said, ‘That cartoon of Toby’s … are people saying Lord Manchester’s joining the Peace Party?’

  ‘Not that I’ve heard. They do, however, say he’s less than happy running in harness with Oliver Cromwell.’

  ‘Then he’ll find plenty of sympathisers. The popular view is that Cromwell is useful for fighting the war but could become a problem when it’s won.’

  ‘If it’s won,’ said Luciano sardonically. ‘At the moment, there’s scant sign of it – though I agree that, the longer it drags on, the less chance there is of victory going to the King. His high command is as divided as that of Parliament. George Digby and the Queen oppose Rupert over practically everything – which means that policy shifts as soon as the Prince turns his back.’ He paused to drink and then gave a short laugh. ‘And if that feels as if he’s banging his head against the wall, I can only say that I know the sensation well.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Richard. ‘From your silence on the subject, I rather assumed that you didn’t find Brandon after all.’

  ‘That’s not what Kate thinks.’

  ‘Kate? Hell. I thought she’d forgotten all about it.’

  ‘As far as I can see,’ came the acid response, ‘she never forgets anything. She’s also too damned shrewd.’

  ‘Shrewd enough – with what she’s picked up from Toby and Gianetta – to come close to the truth? Yes. It’s what I’ve thought myself. Fortunately, she also knows how to keep her mouth shut.’

  Luciano’s expression said that this was a matter of opinion.

  Richard grinned. ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘I do. But if you’re suggesting that I take her into my confidence, I can only say I’d need a better reason than merely to stop her asking questions.’ He drew a long breath and then said, ‘I found Brandon. He’s not like the others. He actually tried to find a way out that didn’t involve my father and it wasn’t his fault that he failed. But, to cut a long story short, we discussed the matter in detail and, at the end of it all, I went back to Samuel Fisher – mainly because I had nowhere else to go.’ Luciano stopped to take a drink and let the silence gather around them before he finally said baldly, ‘He was dead when I found him – and had been for a week or more.’

  ‘Natural causes?’ asked Richard sharply.

  ‘Hardly. He’d been stabbed – in a way that suggested someone had wanted information. The same someone had also ripped the house apart, looking for something. And, if it was there at all, I presume they found it.’

  ‘You didn’t search the place yourself, then?’

  ‘There seemed little point. Besides, the stench was intolerable.’ He paused again. ‘However. I’m inclined to think that Fisher knew who was behind the whole thing and was killed because of it. But what I can’t understand is – why now? Why now, when he must have been sitting on his knowledge for years?’

  ‘The Chief Bastard didn’t know he knew? Or he had some written proof tucked away as insurance?’

  ‘And which the Chief Bastard has now taken.’

  ‘Yes. That would fit. And you said you’d tried to speak to Fisher last autumn? That might account for the sudden need to silence him. After all, if you’re right about the raid on your house, your involvement is no longer a secret.’

  Luciano looked sick. He said, ‘Do you still want me to tell Kate all about it?’

  ‘No. It’s getting messy. And dangerous.’

  ‘I think I may truthfully be said to have noticed that.’

  ‘Then let the thing drop.’

  ‘And sit back waiting for him to kill me?’

  ‘He probably won’t if you stop trying to trace him.’

  ‘You’ll pardon me,’ observed Luciano caustically, ‘if I say that’s a gamble I don’t particularly like. He could get rid of me a month from now – or a year – or ten. The only way I’ll ever be able to stop looking over my shoulder is by getting to him first. But Langley, Ferrars and Fisher are all dead. Webb’s fled the country and Brandon’s told me all he knows. So aside from two rather frail clues, I haven’t the remotest idea where to look.’

  Richard’s gaze sharpened. ‘Clues?’

  ‘Brandon gave me a sample of our friend’s handwriting – for all the use that’s likely to be. And whoever murdered Fisher has my emerald ring – unless they’ve sold it. It depends, I suppose, on whether Fisher was killed by hired ruffians or by the man himself. All I know is that the murderer wanted that ring badly enough to hack off the old man’s finger to get it.’

  A spasm of revulsion contorted Richard’s face and he said, ‘Bloody hell! And still you won’t let the matter drop? How many times do I have to say it? He knows who you are.’

  ‘Yes. And therein lies my best hope,’ came the mild reply. ‘That one day he’ll come for me himself.’

  Richard shut his eyes and let his head drop back.

  ‘You’ve got a death-wish.’

  Luciano stared down into his glass.

  ‘Far from it. But I can’t give up. Not just for my father’s sake – but for my own.’

  ‘So you’ll die for it.’ The grey eyes opened again on an expression of grim exasperation. ‘Make no mistake, Luciano – you’re not up to dealing with a man to whom murder and mutilation come as naturally as breathing.’

  The dark gaze rose, filled with chilly determination.

  ‘Give me the chance and you’ll be surprised how quickly I’ll learn,’ he said. And then, ‘Stop worrying, Richard. It’s not your problem.’

  ‘No? And I suppose if I were to embark on some suicide mission, that wouldn’t be your problem either? Or perhaps that’s another bloody assumption?’

  ‘No. Not at all.’ Luciano smiled crookedly. ‘But then, I have an ulterior motive. You see, you are the only friend I have.’

  * * *

  At a little before dawn on the following morning, Kate awoke from a dream she couldn’t remember but overcome with an inexplicable feeling of panic. Her heart was pounding and there was only one thought in her head; a thought she didn’t waste time analysing or denying. She simply got up, pulled a gown
over her shift and ran out into the hall, still fumbling for her laces.

  The door to his room stood open. He might already have gone. Nerves twisting painfully, she flew down the stairs and out into the courtyard. Then, arriving at a point two steps inside the stable door, she stopped dead, bracing herself with one hand against the wall and trying to catch her breath.

  Luciano stopped saddling his horse and looked across at her. Then, frowning a little, he gave a small jerk of his chin and said, ‘Selim?’

  The Turk nodded and, passing Kate with a small smile, went outside, closing the door behind him.

  Luciano held out his hand. ‘Caterina?’

  She crossed the straw-strewn floor slowly to place her fingers in his. His grip was firm and warm and comforting. She said unevenly, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here. I’m not sure why I am. Only I woke with the strangest feeling … as though something terrible was about to happen. And I – I had to find you.’ She stopped and achieved a seemingly careless shrug. ‘It was probably just a dream. And now I feel an idiot.’

  Not for the first time, he’d woken thinking about her and wanting – needing – to see her but knowing better than to try. And now here she was … half-dressed, with her hair tumbling down her back and her eyes brimming with uncertainty and confusion. His fingers tangled with hers and his thumb stroked the soft skin of her palm. ‘You had a premonition of some kind and followed your instincts. That’s all.’

  The wide green eyes searched his face.

  ‘You’re not annoyed?’

  ‘Should I be?’

  ‘I don’t know. You’re not laughing at me, either.’

  A vagrant smile touched his mouth but his gaze was curiously intent.

  ‘I can truthfully say I never felt less like laughing.’

  ‘Oh.’ She became aware of the gentle movement of his thumb and, looking down, realised something else. Her eyes flew back to his and she said, ‘The bracelet. You must be wondering …’

  ‘No.’ He lifted her hand and briefly appraised his workmanship. ‘The size is exactly right and it suits you as well as I’d hoped. Thank you for letting me see it.’ He paused and then, meeting her eyes again, said casually, ‘Sleep in it, do you?’