She sighed. ‘He … has an interest in me.’
‘Does he?’ She wiggled closer still. ‘He seems rich.’
‘No doubt he is.’ She waited as Hugh brought the second round, then leant in. ‘He wants me to be his mistress.’ She jerked up her head. ‘By the Lord. Now he is widowed, dare he think even wife, perhaps?’
‘The scandal!’ Clemency grinned. ‘What does Nathan think?’
‘Nathan knows I will never agree. It was my uncle’s idea. But he did not count on my fighting it.’
‘We women have to fight sometimes, do we not?’
Mercia took up her second drink. ‘That we do.’
‘And Nathan. Are you two …?’
She fidgeted in her seat. ‘In truth I do not know. It is … complicated. We have been friends for many years.’
‘Only friends?’
Mercia shrugged. ‘I had always suspected there might be something. But I never really allowed myself to think it. My husband was his friend, you see, and his wife was mine.’
‘But now they are—’
‘Dead.’ Mercia looked up. ‘Both.’
Clemency nodded, a momentary sadness flitting across her face. ‘What does your boy think?’
She smiled. ‘He adores Nathan.’
‘Well, then. That is that.’
‘I do not—’
‘And what of him?’ Clemency interrupted before she could finish. She jerked her head at Nicholas, who was showing the two engrossed men beside him a trick with a pack of cards.
Mercia glanced over. ‘’Tis as I said. He is my manservant.’
‘But there is some tension there, I think, that goes beyond mistress and servant.’
She blew out her cheeks. ‘You spoke of trust just now. Let us just say he needs to regain mine.’
Clemency nodded thoughtfully. ‘Another drink?’
Half an hour and three sacks later the two women were rolling in conversation.
‘Such a shame you have to go back home tomorrow,’ said Mercia. ‘We are getting along so well.’ She frowned, for Clemency was staring. ‘What is it?’
‘Oh, nothing.’ She inclined her head. ‘I was just wondering, that you might want to, with your family having been …’ She glanced away. ‘I probably should not.’
‘What of my family? Has Elizabeth been talking?’
‘A little.’ She sighed. ‘But I should not ask. Not at all. No, do not worry.’
‘Come, what?’
‘Just an errand I have to help with.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Nothing that need concern the great Mercia Blakewood, voyager of the cruel Atlantic depths!’
She gave up her questioning. ‘You make it sound like crossing the seas was a unique endeavour. All the people here will have sailed the ocean.’
‘I never have.’
‘Their parents, then.’
She nodded. ‘Mine came in the ’30s, like the governor. A shame my father never lived to see all that we have built. Or that I never had children of my own to continue building it. But… forget the past.’ She looked up at Mercia, a sudden brightness in her eyes. ‘I have a wonderful idea. You are here now, and you can see our present.’
‘What do you mean?’
Her emerging smile grew to a grin. ‘Come to Meltwater. All of you. You will be bored staying with the governor for too long.’
‘To Meltwater?’ Mercia felt the sack rising to her head. ‘I cannot.’
‘Why?’
She slouched in her seat. ‘I cannot think why.’ Then up straight. ‘Because it is a long journey.’
‘By God, woman, you have come thousands of miles!’
‘I am well travelled.’
‘You are well drunk.’ Clemency put her hand on Mercia’s shoulder. ‘You want to see New England, understand its spirit? Well, you will not find that in Hartford. Meltwater is at the edge of our lands, it is the real New England, people forging their lives in the most beautiful of places. Stay with the governor for a couple more days, then ride out to us. The road is – well, rotten – but ’tis an obvious route, and with Nathan and Nicholas you will be perfectly safe.’
Mercia stared at her. ‘Where would we stay?’
‘I only have a small cottage, I fear, but I will find you lodgings easily enough.’ She rested her chin on her hands. ‘Come for a few days. You will enjoy it.’
Mercia considered. She had intended to stay in Hartford for at most a week before returning to New York to await a ship to England, but now Sir William had appeared in the town the thought of staying there had considerably soured. But it was either the drink or the companionship, most likely both, that made her certain. ‘Yes!’ she cried. ‘Nicholas! Get ready!’
‘For what?’ he called across. ‘Do you need me?’
‘I need you to take me to Meltwater,’ she slurred. ‘We will leave the day after tomorrow!’
It was fortunate the horses were sober, for the three riders were not. Relying on their steeds they returned to the governor’s house around eleven. Clemency bade them goodnight as they left the horses at the stable; Nicholas helped Mercia into the hall and up the stairs before retreating to his shared quarters elsewhere in the house.
As she was opening her door a chink of light falling through another grew brighter. A silhouette lit by a candle stepped onto the landing.
‘Mercia?’ the figure whispered. ‘Is that you?’
‘Yes, Nathan.’
‘Are you well?’
‘Yes, Nathan.’
‘Where have you been?’
‘Yes, Nathan.’
He sniffed the air. ‘Have you been drinking?’
She giggled.
‘Get in your room.’ He took her by the elbow and eased her through her door; immediately, she collapsed onto the bed.
‘Nathan,’ she said. ‘Let’s go to Meltwater.’
‘To Meltwater?’
‘That’s what I said!’ She rolled her hands in her sheets. ‘Clemency asked us.’
‘Mrs Carter.’ He tutted, setting his candle on a rickety table. ‘I think that woman is—’
‘No.’ She sat up. ‘Whatever you were going to say, don’t. That woman, as you put it, is the first woman I have met in a very long time I feel I can talk to.’ She stood up, indignant in her drunkenness. ‘How long is it since I have had a friend?’ She scowled as Nathan looked away. ‘I do not mean you, Nathan, I mean a female friend, someone to talk to about all those things that bore you.’ She smiled. ‘We are going back to England soon. In all likelihood I will never see her again, and we can go back to caring for your farmland and fighting my uncle and stopping Daniel’s grandparents from trying to steal him away. But this week, let’s do something different. You’re interested in New England, aren’t you, how the people live? Then let’s find out.’ She looked at him coyly. ‘Come, Nathan. You say you care for me, well then give me this. Please. Give me this.’
‘An impassioned speech.’ He reached out his hand. ‘I do care for you. Always.’
She looked at him. ‘Stay with me tonight.’
‘Mercia, I don’t think—’
‘I don’t mean that. Just, lie next to me. Sleep.’
He bit his lip. ‘What if the governor finds out?’
‘You sound like a timid boy. I don’t think it will be the worst he has dealt with.’ She flopped back on the bed. ‘I do not have the strength to take off these clothes anyway. It will be the least indecent sleeping together in history.’
‘Well, if you are sure …’
She grunted.
‘And I am not a timid boy.’ He pulled at the bottom of his nightshirt. ‘Do you mind? ’Tis so hot tonight.’
She turned on her side to get comfortable, waving a dismissive hand, not caring either way in her insobriety. Her eyes drooping, she heard him laugh, felt him lean over to blow out the candle, smelt his skin as he threw off his shirt. She rested her hand on his chest, feeling the roughness of his scar, feeling safe. But when he stretched out his own arm to pull
her close, she was already in blissful sleep.
Chapter Five
The hammer in her head thumped her into fragile consciousness. Tired from constant waking in the night, she slowly opened her eyes, pushing stray ringlets from her forehead and cursing as she realised her curling papers were absent: she had forgotten to put them in to keep the style set. Then a change of speed: she darted up straight, remembering she had invited Nathan to stay, but when her sight came into focus she saw he was no longer there.
What time is it, she wondered, noticing the stream of bright light rushing in through the window, and then: I wish that pounding would cease, it is harming my head. She rubbed her temples, trying to count the number of sacks she had drunk, until the banging renewed itself, seemingly stronger. Dragging herself halfway alert, she realised the knocking was not coming from within, but from the bedroom door.
She pulled the linen sheets around her. ‘What is it?’
‘’Tis only me,’ came Nathan’s chirpy voice. ‘The morning is passing. The governor’s wife was wondering whether you were ill.’
‘You can come in.’
He opened the door a crack, a broad grin on his face. ‘Are you ill?’
‘No.’ She coughed, feeling the pulses reverberating through her head. ‘It was only a couple of drinks.’
‘I see. But you have been so long abed you have missed Clemency.’
‘What?’ A strange, sad feeling came over her at the news; she would have liked to have seen Clemency that morning, perhaps commiserate over the repercussions of the night. ‘How was she?’
‘She was fine,’ said Nathan. ‘No headache at all, so she said.’
‘Why am I not surprised?’ She shook her head and straightaway regretted it. ‘Did she say anything about meeting later, before she leaves for home?’
‘Ah.’ Nathan sucked in through his teeth. ‘I am afraid she has had to return already.’
The unexpected sadness deepened. ‘Why?’
‘That sick child. His mother sent a message that he has worsened. It came last night but was only delivered this morning. Clemency was furious, but she made sure to call in here to let you know.’
Mercia nodded; the slight movement made her queasy. ‘Then of course she should go. I know how I would feel were Daniel ill: the boy’s mother will need her.’
‘But don’t worry. She repeated her invitation to visit Meltwater to me.’ He paused. ‘You are sure you would like to go?’
‘Oh yes.’ Of a sudden she felt more cheerful. ‘I think it would be pleasant.’
‘Very well.’ His merriment unabashed, he looked her dishevelled form up and down. ‘But I would get up now, lest Mrs Winthrop send in her husband with one of his remedies.’
She blew out her aching cheeks. ‘Nat, that might be a good idea.’
The rest of the day passed slowly as Mercia restored her strength and her wits. Finally confessing her bad head to Winthrop, he prescribed her a small amount of a red powder he called rubila, and whether through the power of the mineral or through the passing of time, by evening she was back to her more healthy self, vowing not to touch American sack again. She had been worried she would offend him by suggesting she might leave to visit Meltwater, but his enthusiasm surprised her.
‘Yes, you should go.’ A whimsical look came over his face, bathed in orange from the crackling firelight. ‘You will see the real America, what it was like thirty years ago when we arrived. My, it was a struggle then, even for me, the governor’s own son.’ He smiled. ‘I have travelled to Meltwater but twice myself. It is a most intriguing town.’ He arched his fingers. ‘But I would caution against mentioning you came to America for the King. Like in all New England, the people there can be mistrustful of his royal motives.’
She scratched her neck. ‘I came to America for my son, Governor. Acting for the King was a necessity to that end.’
‘I know that, but others are quick to judge. I merely say be careful, that is all.’ He pursed his lips. ‘I do wonder, though – and I am merely thinking out loud – whether you should take your son.’
Mercia pulled herself closer to the fire. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘There is no particular reason. But I doubt the lodgings will be as comfortable as they are here, and he does seem quite settled. If you wished it he could stay with us. I know how Elizabeth would like it.’
She looked into the flames. ‘In truth, it has been worrying me today, with that sick child Clemency is treating. And he has met some other boys here already. I think he would prefer to stay with them than to traipse off with his mother.’ She smiled. ‘He is a boy. He tires of travelling.’
‘Well, the offer is there if you need it.’ Winthrop’s left eyebrow twitched. ‘It is good for a parent to have time on her own – or with a friend.’
She blinked: how loudly had she and Nathan been talking last night? But he immediately changed the subject, studying her from over his arched fingertips in that way of his she knew by now meant he had something to ask.
‘Now. Did you solve that riddle I set you?’
‘Ah. I suspected you might ask.’ She delved into her pockets, withdrawing the paper he had given her. ‘Indeed I have.’
He inclined his head. ‘And?’
She pointed at the code word for her name he had scrawled on the paper: NCUYNB.
‘It is a variation on the Caesar cipher. For the first letter, you go one back in the alphabet. For the second, you go two forward. Then ’tis three back from the third, four forward from the fourth, and five back from the fifth. Then you start again. M-E-R-C-I-A.’ She tapped at the longer word alongside the other. ‘And so this phrase my father wrote reads: I have met a man who has knowledge of the alkahest.’
Winthrop clapped his hands together. ‘Very good.’
She smiled, pleased at his approval. ‘It was not hard.’
‘Maybe not.’ He paused. ‘But your ability might find outlet in another puzzle. That found on the Meltwater minister. I did not want to speak of it to Clemency or Percy Lavington, for they are … occupied. But if you are travelling that way, I wonder if you would mind speaking with the magistrate on my behalf?’
She felt a surge of pride. ‘You wish me to act for you?’
‘You are clearly your father’s daughter, Mercia. I have no doubt in your curiosity and your intellect.’
She tried to hide the broad grin emerging on her face. ‘So the puzzle you set me … it was a test, after all.’
Winthrop tutted. ‘A challenge, more like. Besides, how could I have known then you would be going to Meltwater?’
‘That is true, but would you have mentioned the minister again if I had failed your challenge?’
He smiled, batting away the question with a wave of his hand. ‘Mercia, I ask this because I have great confidence in you: that, and that alone.’ He reached into his pockets. ‘Here is the code from the minister’s jacket. Please, take it with you. I would dearly like to know what it means.’
She reached for the proffered note. ‘Then I am honoured. I am happy to be your proxy, you know that.’ She hesitated. ‘But I wonder – if I can help with this matter, perhaps I can help with another also.’
He waited. ‘Go on.’
‘Several times now I have heard you or Clemency talk of some mysterious business. It may not be my place to know, but if there is any way I can assist now she has had to return early, I would be glad to do so.’
Again the arched fingertips. ‘A difficult business indeed. A shame I know nothing of it.’ He studied her face, and then he winked. ‘But as you ask, I did, shall we say – overhear – Clemency wondering whether you would like to help. Whether you would like to meet with him, at least.’
‘Him? This is about a man?’
Winthrop smiled. ‘Are not most strange affairs to do with men, or women come to that?’ He leant in towards her. ‘As for this man, I am sure he would like to meet with you.’
She waited with Nathan on the corner of t
he street. It was a warm night for the time of year, so she did not feel the need to wrap up in her hood, all the better as it afforded her a clearer view of the darkened streets.
‘How long has it been?’ she asked.
‘Again,’ he sighed. ‘About ten minutes. Be patient.’
‘I am patient.’ She tapped her foot.
‘Mercia.’
She scowled, but made herself still. ‘What do you think about Daniel?’
‘What about him?’
‘Winthrop thinks I should leave him here when we go to Meltwater.’
‘That might be for the best, Mercia. There are no sick children here, and with this new matter – I am still not sure you should be involving yourself in it at all.’
‘Are you not?’ She laughed. ‘Well, let us see what happens this evening, and then I will decide. But it has been a while since he had someone to play with, and when I asked him he seemed more than happy—wait.’ A whinnying came through the air up ahead. ‘Is this who we’re expecting?’
A large silhouette emerged from the darkness, making them stand back. As the vague shape coalesced into a horse and rider, the animal was manoeuvred alongside them, and the rider jumped down.
‘Mrs Blakewood,’ he said. ‘Mr Keyte. I am pleased to meet you again.’ He led the horse to a bar on the side of the road, tying it fast. ‘I must admit, I had no idea you were so in the governor’s favour. Or that of our mutual friend.’
‘Mr Oldfield,’ acknowledged Mercia. ‘If the governor esteems us, the regard we hold for him is even more pronounced.’
Amery Oldfield, the soon-to-be Meltwater schoolmaster, let out a quiet chuckle. ‘Of course, I do not know you myself – and Percy will be most displeased when he learns I have gone along with this – but our friend is so looking forward to seeing you again.’
‘As we are to seeing him,’ said Nathan. ‘You will take us there?’
Amery nodded. ‘The route will be a circuitous one, but do not be alarmed. It is necessary in case we are pursued.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I am concerned I am being watched. Follow me a little way behind, and if you are asked, say you are taking the night air.’
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