‘Leave, you old rogue. I will be better after sleep.’
He returned her kind look, and when he had gone she imagined him drinking with his friends, or walking with Cerwen, or any of a number of things he could be doing with his life. As for herself, she sat on the bed, thinking that tomorrow she would make sure to see Daniel, for she would welcome the comfort of her son.
But tonight she was alone, and as she looked at the flowers dying in the vase, at the wavering flames of her fire, at her waiting pen and ink, she felt the rawness of bruised emotion, and she longed for the days when she had enjoyed friends of her own. And yes, she was strong, but still she felt bereft, and the call of her tears could no longer be denied.
Chapter Eleven
She watched, happier now, as Daniel talked with another boy slightly older than himself, and she was proud, too, to see him so finely dressed in his little grey suit, his doublet remarkably free of stains.
Yes, she thought, this was all worth it. Even when her son spent all of five minutes with his mother before returning to his new friends.
‘He does you credit,’ said the young woman at her side. ‘He has only been here a week and yet see how quickly he has made friends. The tutors already speak of him as capable.’
‘Thank you.’ Mercia beamed. ‘He is a curious child, that is certain.’
‘Inquisitive, I take it you mean, rather than strange.’
She laughed. ‘Indeed, Lavinia.’
‘I only hope that one day my charge proves himself the same. Between us, I fear the little Duke is somewhat mindful of his status, even though he is not yet quite two. A little too much like his father, the Duke of York.’ She touched Mercia’s sleeve. ‘If you can tear yourself away, I will introduce you.’
Dressed in a simple red dress outdone by her opulent hairstyle, Lavinia Whent led Mercia along a corridor to a massive oaken door barred by two sturdy guards. She winked at the guard on the left, a strong youth of about her own age; the guard smiled, standing aside to let them in.
She progressed through an outer chamber, filled with the paraphernalia of a one-year-old infant – a cradle, small clothes, tiny toys – into a larger room, the floor strewn with the sweetest doublets Mercia had ever seen. In the corner, an older woman was tending to her charge, a rather podgy child.
‘Good day, Your Highness,’ said Lavinia, crouching down to look into his eyes. ‘Did you miss me?’
The boy laughed.
‘Yes, you missed me.’ She brought her face close to his and scrunched up her nose, making him laugh still harder.
‘Miss Whent,’ said the other. ‘I have cautioned you before against such frivolities.’
‘Forgive me, Lady Plaidstow.’ She rose to her feet. ‘I cannot help it.’
‘Perhaps you would do well to learn how. And who might this be?’
Mercia bowed. ‘Mercia Blakewood, my lady. An acquaintance of Miss Whent’s.’
‘Mercia’s son is currently tutored at Court,’ explained Lavinia. ‘I knew she could not resist a look at the Duke.’ She pulled a face at the young child, who laughed once more. ‘How could anyone?’
‘Your Highness.’ Despite the infant’s tender years, Mercia dropped to a curtsey. ‘It is an honour to meet you.’
The boy squealed.
‘Hard to believe this fragile creature may be King one day,’ said Lavinia. ‘Such a delicate aspect, and so very young.’
‘Miss Whent,’ admonished Lady Plaidstow, clearly her superior in the nursery. ‘The Queen may yet conceive.’
‘She may. But Mercia, all the talk is that the Queen is barren. I am not sure you knew that, being away for so long. Should matters stand, ’tis likely the Duke here will be crowned one day.’
‘His Highness is healthy?’ asked Mercia, unable to take her eyes away, wanting for all the world to copy Lavinia by blowing in his face and making absurd noises. Why do we do that to babies, she thought?
‘Very,’ answered Lady Plaidstow. ‘Too healthy, at times, bouncing around all over the place.’ She held out a finger, which the young Duke gladly took. ‘Are you not, my precious?’
He squawked, and the women laughed.
‘I remember when my Danny was that age,’ said Mercia. ‘He had none of the responsibility His Highness has, but he was just as vocal.’
‘He is the new boy?’
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘Then my husband says you have a gifted son, Mrs Blakewood. He is tutor to the boys.’
‘Thank you, Lady Plaidstow. His Highness is a remarkable child, I can sense it.’
Lady Plaidstow inclined her head. ‘Indeed he is. I dare say it will not be long before he is learning with the men himself.’
‘Come, Mercia,’ said Lavinia. ‘Let us leave His Highness to his amusements and talk some more outside.’
With a broad smile at the Duke, Mercia followed into the antechamber, shutting the inner door behind them. The high-vaulted room let in less light, but was airy nonetheless.
‘What do you think?’ said Lavinia. ‘Beautiful, no?’
‘Quite. Are his sisters healthy also?’
‘Mary is. She is five now, and seems in rude health. As for Anne, she is but two months old, so ’tis still early to say. I do not much know of her, but from what I can gather, she seems free of sickness.’ She drew up her seat. ‘Do not underestimate the importance of these children. You heard what I said. The King spreads bastards across the land, but his wife produces no heir. Surely she is barren, and that means his young nephew in there will just as surely be King.’
‘And yourself, Miss Whent?’ asked Mercia, settling into an upholstered chair.
‘I told you to call me Lavinia.’
‘Forgive me. Do you intend to marry Sir Peter and have children of your own some day? He is … advancing in years.’
‘As is Sir William, Mercia, but then you already have your own boy.’ Lavinia scratched at her calf. ‘My, these boots are uncomfortable.’ She smiled. ‘Yes, I should like children, but not necessarily with Peter.’
‘Then with whom?’
‘It is hard to say. But when I have children, I hope it will be as a wife, not as a mistress. There is enough of that around here already.’
Mercia studied her blank face. ‘You do not strike me as a disapproving sort of woman.’
‘I have morals, Mercia. Strong ones, betimes. But this Court can be a little … uncomfortable, shall we say. Staid, for all its pleasures.’
‘I understand. Do you miss home?’
‘If you ask if I miss the Barbados, then yes. If you ask if I miss my family, then no.’
The answer intrigued her. ‘Why so?’
‘In short, I despise my father. Does it shock you to hear me speak so?’
It did, a little. ‘I do not know the circumstances. I make no assumptions one way or the other.’
‘It was my father who sent me here. It was he who asked his friends at Court to secure a position for me. And so I was placed in the young Duke’s household, under the watching eye of my … cousin’s wife’s aunt.’ She counted the relations on her fingers. ‘I think that is right. Lady Plaidstow.’
‘Then it did not turn out badly. What do you miss?’
She draped her hand over the edge of her chair. ‘The sun. My friends. My own nephew. Then again, I do not miss the heat, I do not miss the insects, I do not miss the constant risk of dying from some unheard-of disease, and I do not miss being forced to witness the treatment of the blacks.’
Mercia nodded. ‘I spoke with Tacitus yesterday. Lady Cartwright’s servant.’
‘You mean toy.’
‘Servant. He speaks well of you.’
She shrugged. ‘I know the blacks better than most here do. I lived with them, remember, and am prepared to speak with them.’ She leant towards her. ‘Did you know, there are more blacks in the Barbados than there are of us? If ever they realise that, men like my father will be in trouble. It will be they who are flogged until thei
r skin is but a sliver of mangled puss.’
The image made Mercia no less nauseous than Lavinia’s seeming detachment. ‘The way you describe it is most graphic,’ she said. ‘In America, I saw an Indian boy shot before me, with no hearing. And yet he was not owned as chattel.’
‘Nobody wants to know. Not as long as men like my father own the sugar plantations, or men like Sir Geoffrey Allcot and the Duke of York are prepared to engage in this … trade.’ She glanced at the inner door. ‘Can you believe that sweet child in there is the son of such a man?’
‘I have found the Duke of York to be unpleasant in many circumstances.’
‘And the King?’ She looked at her. ‘You have his ear somewhat, I hear. What thinks he of matters such as these?’
The question gave Mercia pause. ‘Why do you say I have the ear of the King?’
‘He sent you to America, did he not? To retrieve that painting.’
‘You are well informed.’
‘Mercia, this is Whitehall. Everybody knows everybody else’s business, or at least the most of it. When that painting arrived, His Majesty made certain the entire palace was paraded before it. Not that he mentioned you, of course, but the word soon spread all the same.’ She set her palms on her lap. ‘The daughter of a supposed traitor sailing the ocean on a secret quest, vanquishing the real villain to see him dragged home in his place. And now installed at Whitehall as consort to the rich and powerful Sir William Calde. Quite the story, is it not?’
‘I had not thought of it like that. But Lavinia,’ she said, keen to divert the conversation back to her companion, ‘aside from your duties with the little Duke, are you happy here at Court? And with Sir Peter?’
‘Yes, Mercia, I am. Peter is a little pompous, but he provides for me well.’
‘You spend much time together?’
‘As he is widowed. You and I are not like other women, who have to share their master with his wife, or who are married themselves, like Lady Castlemaine.’
‘Or Lady Cartwright.’
‘Her?’ She almost spat. ‘I would not pay much heed to that foulness of a woman.’
She frowned. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘Come, you have met her. She spends her time being fawned over by those ridiculous followers, growing rich and fat on the profits of Sir Geoffrey’s insidious trade.’ She smirked, dispelling her looks. ‘She will have to take care not to get too fat, or like Lady Castlemaine, she will be on her way out.’
‘Lady Castlemaine?’
‘The King has his eye on young Frances Stewart now. Who is beautiful, lithe – and seventeen.’ She tapped her forehead. ‘Not much up here, mark, but whenever are men much interested in conversation when their breeches start to swell?’
‘Lavinia,’ whispered Mercia. ‘The Duke is next door.’
Lavinia laughed. ‘I do not think his young mind will yet be offended by such talk. Besides, that door is thick. Nobody can hear through it.’
‘And the guards beyond this other door?’
‘They are guards, Mercia. They have their place and will let me mind mine. I speak as I want.’
She tugged at a ringlet of her hair. ‘Does Sir Peter too speak as he wants, do you find?’
‘Why ask?’ Lavinia blinked, but then reclined into her seat. ‘Do not all such men like to prove their worth, to their women as much as to each other?’
She made sure she laughed. ‘I suppose that would depend on the boast. Sir William talks well enough, if he keeps his opinions hidden at times. But I am intrigued. We both enjoy the company of trusted men. Is Sir Peter much the same as Sir William?’
‘As I said. He likes to talk.’
‘And this war with the Dutch?’ She decided to venture a bolder question. ‘What says he of that? What say you?’
‘It grows hot in here, does it not?’ Lavinia fanned the air before her face. ‘Oh, this tiresome war. ’Tis all everyone has been baying for. I leave such matters to men like Peter, as I must. If you are concerned, I doubt we are in danger in London. No, we face a much more deadly threat.’
‘And what is that?’
She shuddered. ‘The plague. They say the first few families have already been taken. If we are not careful, it will spread, and we shall have to move from the city.’
‘Is that likely?’ A chill took her as she thought of Nicholas on his day out.
‘Outside the palace and the park, the air in London is foul. My knowledge may be slight, but I fancy I know something of how sicknesses begin. If the stench of the city is not lessened, then the plague will spread through the miasma and infect more and more. Many of the poor are at grave risk. Indeed, at risk of the grave. But I suppose when ’tis our time, God will call regardless.’
She fell silent, and Mercia recognised the look in her eyes, the look that takes the mind to some unfathomable place. She was on the verge of asking more when the door behind them opened, and Lady Plaidstow called for aid. Bidding Mercia farewell, Lavinia disappeared into the happy room to care for her precious young charge.
Returning to Daniel, Mercia dragged her reluctant son to spend a half-hour together in the park. The time over too soon, she kissed him goodbye and walked back to her chambers to plot her next move. But she did not get far before she came across an onlooker leaning against a pillar, one leg crossed over the other, watching her approach.
He stepped forward and smiled.
‘Hello.’
Recognising his handsome mien, she was about to nod a polite greeting and walk on, when she thought of what Nicholas had said the evening before.
‘Good morning, Mr Raff,’ she greeted.
‘Henry. And yes, it is a good morning now.’ He held out a hand. ‘Would you care to walk with me a while?’
She looked at his expectant face. She knew better than to think he was purely interested in her company, but he was… very good looking. Surely a few minutes would not hurt?
‘Lead on,’ she agreed.
He broadened his smile and set off towards the Privy Garden, engaging her in idle chatter as they strolled. But it was drizzling by the time they reached the atrium that led outdoors, and so he sat her in a window seat, from where she could see the garden’s splendour through the rain-spotted glass.
‘I know how you like the park,’ he said. ‘But as you cannot walk out now without spoiling your dress, I hope this view will be a substitute. And perhaps my company, if I do not flatter myself overmuch.’
She eased herself into the cushioned seat. ‘Your friend is not with you today, Henry?’
‘James? He would be in the way.’ He sat beside her, close, but not so they were touching, his jet-black breeches tight against his legs. ‘I have some time before I must attend to work, and I should like to become better acquainted.’ His eyes flashed. ‘I serve under the Earl of Clarendon.’
‘And what do you do for him?’ she asked, amused at the way he sat back, pretending not to puff out his chest.
‘Oh, this and that.’
‘Very precise.’
‘Just somewhat dull. I should rather learn about you.’ He leant towards her. ‘I was saying to James, when I saw you at the ball earlier this week, how I had never seen you at Court before.’
She held his gaze. ‘Are you not married, Henry?’
‘What does that matter?’ He shrugged. ‘But no. There is time enough to find a wife. In the meanwhile, there is much to admire here.’
The younger man’s flattery was as ridiculous as Sir William’s, but she could not help but smile.
‘I am not sure Sir William would approve of such boldness.’
‘And I said before, Sir William is an old man. Enough of him.’ He inched a little closer. ‘Tell me of yourself. The woman who travelled the ocean.’
‘So you do know about me.’
‘Only that. How you did not rest until you succeeded. I admire that, Mercia, very much. But I want to know about the woman.’ Closer. ‘Who you are and why.’
He was near enough now that she could feel his presence in the space around her, a tingling, erotic sensation that made her guard slip. She looked into his eyes, bluer than hers, and saw his pupils were dilated. And he was so … damn it, so handsome, and she began to think, why not just … enjoy the attention? Until a voice inside reminded her where she was, and how she had to be cautious.
She pulled back. ‘You will find, Henry, I am not the sort of woman who merely accedes to a man’s wishes.’
‘Whatever sort you are, you are a woman. You have the same needs any woman does. But that you are different is what makes you so exquisite.’
She did her best not to react, but her shoulders betrayed her. Yet Raff was unabashed.
‘Why not allow this?’ he said.
‘Because …’ Unable to think of a reason, she rose to her feet. ‘I enjoyed our talk, Mr Raff.’
‘Must you go?’ He leapt to stand beside her. ‘May I see you again, at least?’
She looked him up and down. ‘Perhaps you may yet.’
‘I take that to mean yes.’ He reached to touch her cheek, the lightest of caresses from the very tip of his finger. ‘Then I will speak with you soon, fleeting temptress.’
He pulled a hand across his shirt, casually, but she knew he had done it to draw her eyes to his chest. And then he smiled, and as he walked off, she realised her breathing was coming a little faster than she would have liked. And she realised, also, how she had not shirked his attention, how – yes, how she had enjoyed it, and as long as she stayed in control, keeping Raff at a suitable distance, then what could be the harm in savouring his appeal?
Chapter Twelve
Nicholas, due back at Whitehall following his day out in the city, had still not returned by the morning after. Cerwen, his maid friend, had not seen him either, not since he had left her to stay overnight with his family, and she claimed he had expressed no intention of spending another day apart. Come that evening, a worry was settling in. Mindful of the plague, an irrational panic made Mercia think of Nicholas’s daughter, but no sooner was she convincing herself she should go out tomorrow in search, than she saw the note propped up against her bedroom mirror.
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