‘Can I not have a seat?’ he snapped.
One-Eye’s lips curled, and she clicked her fingers; one of her men began a search, until he found a second stool stored against the wall and brought it across.
Sir Francis sat without a thank you. ‘When I returned from America, the King set that cursed painting in the palace and made everyone look. But I looked at this’ – he shook his cane – ‘and saw your face. The King was deluded. I had to make him see you for what you are – a plotter and a traitor.’
‘A more perfect description for you,’ she replied.
‘I sent my man into the streets of London, asking questions about yours. It took him but half a week to find out where Wildmoor lived, who were his friends and his family.’ He sneered. ‘And they are the sort, Mercia, who will tell anything for coin. Soon enough, I found out your man had arranged a meeting with her, last year.’ He raised his hand at One-Eye, the barest of acknowledgments. ‘I wondered why. Would you care to explain?’
‘Why need I, Uncle, as you clearly know?’
‘I thought perhaps you would welcome the opportunity to show contrition.’
She laughed. ‘You make a poor comparison to the inquisitor at the Tower.’
His cane slipped, but he caught it. ‘Why do you think I have done this? That tone you take. That … shameful dearth of reverence.’
‘A trait in your family, it would seem,’ said One-Eye, for the present hanging back with her men.
Sir Francis closed his eyes. ‘I believe I am speaking at this moment.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Mercia, you found out this woman to aid you in your attempts to disobey me. And now I have … sought her help … in making you see how that was wrong.’
‘It was a most intriguing proposition,’ said One-Eye. ‘There was that promise you had made me, when I supplied you with the information you requested last year. And there was your uncle, offering me money to trap you into losing your newfound status with the King.’
Mercia looked at Sir Francis. ‘If you think this woman will keep whatever word she has given, you are mistaken. She seeks only what is advantageous to herself. I see now how it must have been you who told the King’s guards where we would be meeting, she and I, and yet when they came she fled, giving up two of her men without a thought. She took my manservant from the street and she tore off his fingernail, only to return him to the palace while I worried what she might have done. She is not worthy of anyone’s trust – not mine, not yours, not her men’s.’
‘Those men had betrayed me,’ said One-Eye, barely troubled by the grumbling that had arisen around her. ‘They thought to keep for themselves a shipment they were sent to collect, and that was their reward. All these men here today are loyal – or they know to be.’
‘And Jink?’ she said. ‘He was your second, I thought.’
‘Jink had become … dissatisfied.’ She nodded at the man beside her. ‘Van is my second now.’
‘These matters are irrelevant,’ growled Sir Francis. ‘When it became clear that the King intended you for his pet spy, I arranged for his guard to catch you as the very woman he had hoped you would find. It scarcely mattered if he truly thought you could be Virgo. Despite what you think you have achieved for him, if you cause him embarrassment he will not hesitate to cut you loose. He has done it to others before, promising them much and withholding their reward as it suited him.’
‘And yet he has allowed me to go free,’ she replied.
‘Only so that he need not bother himself with the question. Now I shall resolve it for him.’
‘I think you underestimate him, Uncle. The King, and Lady Castlemaine my patron.’
Sir Francis laughed out loud. ‘You think she cares a jot for someone like you? She uses you to maintain her place at Court, and that is all.’
‘As the Earl of Clarendon uses you, I hear.’ Her face impassive, she switched her attention to One-Eye. ‘What is your price for helping him in this? You do nothing for free, I know.’
One-Eye smiled, exposing a row of chipped teeth. ‘The same price I demanded from you, my dear. But while yours was a pretence, to fit this … amusing act, his was most real. He promised me information that I could carry on my business with no interference from anyone at Court.’
‘So this is the price for besting me, Uncle? You sell your dignity and collude with criminals. But if you think to discard her after, she will not permit it.’
‘He will not discard me.’ One-Eye came round to face him. ‘He tried that once before, thinking he could change his mind so soon after seeking me out. But he suffered for it, as is my way. Actions lead to consequences, remember? Or, at least, his wife suffered.’
‘You cannot mean … it was you who attacked my aunt?’
‘Someone I employed to remind him of his promises, shall we say.’
‘In the very palace?’
One-Eye shrugged. ‘The King allows all and sundry to watch him strut to and fro. It is remarkably easy to smuggle someone into Whitehall. But we had already agreed on the scheme to disgrace you, and once agreed, it must be done.’ She leant down to her uncle. ‘Tell her, Francis. Tell her what sort of man you are.’
His face was entirely set. ‘We agreed that—’
‘What we agreed is not important. What I have decided counts.’ She beckoned to her men, three of whom stepped forward to surround him. ‘You see, Mercia, despite my warning, your uncle still sought to thwart me. When you and I last met, the King’s men arrived peculiarly early.’ She stared into Sir Francis’s eyes. ‘Could it have been that you hoped we should all be taken, and so removed from your way?’
Sir Francis paled. ‘I … am sure that is not so.’
She looked up at Mercia. ‘See how he blusters? At least you have more composure.’ Then she turned back, pressing her face even closer; the smell of her breath must have been appalling. ‘You thought to use me again today, did you not, to trap your poor niece? Whereas I intend to use this chance to rid myself of you. Get to your feet.’
He grew ever paler. ‘What?’
‘Get to your feet.’
She glanced at her trio of thugs, but Sir Francis stayed put. Unbidden, one of them wrenched him from his seat.
‘What do you intend?’ he shrilled.
The vindictiveness on One-Eye’s face was absolute. ‘Mercia’s father was executed. I saw it myself. I am going to do the same to you.’
Mercia leapt to her feet, but the smuggler-queen cut her off.
‘Those who seek to destroy me shall be destroyed themselves. I suggest, Mrs Blakewood, you sit back down.’
‘You cannot mean to kill him?’
‘I do as I please. My men have killed for him and received nothing in return, save lies and attempts at our arrest. As he sought to murder others, so I shall murder him.’
‘No!’ Sir Francis’s cane shot out from beneath him. ‘I will help you. I said I would!’
‘Your actions prove otherwise. All you have wanted is to ruin your niece. I pity her, in truth. To have such an uncle as you, who would seize her property and presume to get away with it because she is a woman. Now I shall show you how a woman can be the equal of any vicious man.’
‘One-Eye,’ said Mercia, horrified. ‘Do not make me your excuse. I wish nothing of the kind, despite what he has done.’
‘I do it for me,’ she said. ‘Francis, on your knees.’
Two of her men grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to the ground. He slipped, and sprawled out on his front, but they yanked him up so he was kneeling.
‘Give me the powder and gun,’ she commanded.
Another of her band produced a doglock pistol from a satchel, and handed it over with a pouch. One-Eye opened the drawstring, tipped powder into the barrel, and cocked the gun.
‘Now,’ she said, aiming at the back of Sir Francis’s head. ‘You will learn what happens to those who think to outdo me.’
‘Please!’ Sir Francis had become frantic. Tears were streaming down hi
s face, and a puddle was forming on the floor. ‘Please! Do not do this.’
‘You were happy for me to order my men to kill Lady Allcot. You were happy for your niece to be taken as a traitor, with the consequences that would have entailed. If you care so little for life, why should I?’
‘Killed Lady Allcot?’ Mercia was transfixed by her uncle’s ice-white face. ‘Why?’
‘Because he believed she was the spy you have been set to find. He thought killing her would leave the way clear for him to make you that spy yourself. He thought doing so in your presence would mean he could so control events that you would be the one accused of hiring those who shot her.’ She laughed. ‘When he learnt you were going to Hampton Court, he came to me straight away, pleading that I send my men to kill her there and then, as long as they were sure you were near. This now must be my payment. I shall put down this faithless dog.’
‘This is madness!’ Without realising, Mercia clasped her hands together as if in prayer. ‘One-Eye, listen to me! His mind is addled. He blames me for his injury, and he seeks to deny me, but whatever he has done, he does not deserve death.’
‘Such familial love, Mercia. Misplaced, I fear.’ She extended her arm, the barrel of the gun resting on the tip of Sir Francis’s hair. ‘Now witness what happens to those who betray me and take care not to be so foolish yourself.’
‘No!’ screamed Mercia, but she was grabbed from behind, One-Eye’s men holding her back.
‘Oh, God!’ said Sir Francis. ‘Please, God, save me!’
One-Eye took a steady breath. She teased the trigger.
And then she shifted her aim two inches to the right and fired into the floor.
Sir Francis gasped, and crumpled to the ground. He was shaking uncontrollably, and a stench filled the air.
‘You … bitch!’ yelled Mercia, struggling against the overbearing strength restraining her. ‘You … vile … bitch!’
One-Eye laughed, throwing the gun to her man. ‘Temper, Mrs Blakewood. I have been called much worse than that.’ She looked down at Sir Francis, whimpering on the ground. ‘Do not cross me again, Sir Francis Simmonds. Nor you, Mercia Blakewood.’ She clicked her fingers. ‘Fetch the torches.’
Her men obeyed, half of them leaving the warehouse. Released, Mercia rushed to her uncle’s side.
‘What now?’ she said.
‘I intend to continue the lesson,’ said One-Eye. ‘God’s teeth, that man stinks.’
She walked across the room and fell silent. Mercia busied herself with Sir Francis, but he responded to none of her entreaties, curled up in a ball on the dirty stockroom floor. Then an orange flicker caught her eye, and she looked up from her uncle to see One-Eye’s men returning with lit torches.
‘Set it there, and there,’ said One-Eye, indicating piles of wooden crates. Her men circled the room, scattering some kind of fuel and lighting a fire after. ‘I am going now, Mrs Blakewood. I shall tie you, but you will have enough time to undo the knots and get free. Whether you save your lamentable uncle is up to you.’
‘But the warehouse.’ Mercia looked at the flames, already accepting the life they had been given. ‘Why burn it?’
One-Eye reached for her hat. ‘Because it must be important in some way, or else why would we be here? And in truth, because it amuses me.’
As her men tied Mercia to the stool in a loose sequence of knots, One-Eye walked calmly from the building. Her men followed in a line, leaving Mercia bound, and Sir Francis rocking in his filth.
Once they had gone she squirmed in her bonds, undoing them in ten seconds they were so poorly done. She reached down once more for her uncle.
‘Uncle, come. We have to leave. The warehouse is starting to burn.’
There was no response.
‘One-Eye does not mean to kill us, just prevent us from following.’ She tugged at his doublet. ‘You have to come now.’
Still nothing. Nearby, wisps of smoke began to rise.
‘Uncle, you will rouse yourself from this torpor and you will come. And once we are outside, you will explain to me what you have done.’
She pulled harder, but he remained immobile, snivelling a wounded squeal. In contrast, the flames at the end of the stockroom were beginning to take, and the smoke was swirling ever faster.
‘Uncle!’ Finally, she managed to twist him from where he lay, and he looked up at her, surprised, as he pivoted on the floor around his hip. She reached under his arms and pulled him up until he sat, and then continuing to coax, she walked him to his feet, thrusting his cane into his fist.
‘Now take my arm and follow.’
She eased him towards the office, a popping of the fire behind hurrying them along. Passing from the stockroom, she kicked out with her right boot, forcing open the entrance and dragging her uncle into sunlight. She helped him towards the river, away from the warehouse, and then she let him go. Utterly unsteady, he collapsed at her feet.
‘Wait here,’ she ordered, but Sir Francis was going nowhere. She glanced up, watching as the first thin pillars of smoke began to poke through gaps in the structure of the warehouse. But there was no need to seek aid: armed with buckets, a number of labourers were already running in. Others were removing straw and wood from around the building, hoping to contain the blaze.
Leaving them to their task, Mercia turned to Sir Francis. He was sitting up, seemingly recovered of some of his wits.
‘Are you improved?’ she rasped.
He stared at her as though still in a daze.
‘Then you can talk. What did she mean about Lady Allcot?’
He remained silent.
‘Did you order her death? Speak, Uncle! This is your chance to redeem some of what you have done.’
‘She … she was Virgo.’ He spoke in the same way he looked: Mercia wondered if he even knew she was there. ‘What did it matter if I hired that smuggler filth to kill her? She would have hanged. Hanged anyway. This way she was stopped before she could do more harm.’
‘But she was not Virgo, was she?’ She shook him in an effort to rouse him. ‘Was she? If nothing else, Bellecour’s last report proves it. I know you must have seen it. It spoke of Lady Allcot as separate to Virgo.’
‘That report … it was a lie.’ He nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, a lie, left to confuse us!’
‘Is this what has become of you?’ She shook her head in disgust. ‘Now you will have to pay the price for your mania. But you can do something for your conscience first. You can tell me what you think you know of Virgo, in truth.’
‘But she went to Hampton Court the whole time, to meet that Frenchman!’ He looked up, his eyes wide, almost as if he were begging her understanding. ‘She told my wife how she hoped the war would ruin her husband.’
‘That is hardly conclusive.’
‘Then how do you explain the letter I was sent?’
‘What letter?’
‘The letter that told me of Lady Allcot’s treachery. It was sent to me in my chambers, denouncing her betrayal, explaining where I might observe her duplicity.’
‘Yet Lady Allcot was innocent. Who wrote it?’
‘There was no name given, but … yes, I concede it was strange, but I followed the letter’s instructions, and I did observe her. Talking with that Frenchman, for one.’
She closed her eyes. ‘God’s teeth, Uncle. That letter must have been a ruse! Sent by the real Virgo perhaps, or someone close to her. She must have learnt of your investigations and set you on the trail of an innocent!’
He shook his head. ‘I am not so foolish.’
‘You were so determined to undo me you could not see it. And then you killed her.’ She looked at him and felt utterly sick. ‘Damn you, Uncle. Damn you to hell.’
Her vitriol seemed to work where all else had not. His eyes narrowed, and he turned to face her, the former animosity restored to his gaze.
‘Then who is Virgo, if not her?’
‘I … have my thoughts on the matter.’
�
��Well, you will not catch her today. All those women have gone to the fleet.’
She pulled back. ‘When?’
‘This morning, with the King and his council. They have made a pretty party of it.’
‘The women have gone with the men? Even after what happened to the London?’
‘So you do know something of events. But wives oft visit their husbands aboard ship before they sail to war. Children too. Even you must know this.’
‘I know the London exploded while the women and children were still on it. Over a hundred died.’
‘That was an accident. Some tar had stored the gunpowder poorly.’ He shrugged. ‘Many have gone to Harwich with the council, officers and womenfolk alike. The women are there to encourage the men. It reminds them for what they fight.’
‘Then Lady Herrick and Lady Cartwright have travelled with their husbands?’
He scoffed. ‘I doubt Lady Cartwright cares much for her husband, but yes.’
‘And Mrs Howe? Why should she go?’
He fell sullen and silent, turning away. She crouched by his ear.
‘Uncle, listen to me. You may hate me, but you do not hate England, I know. If you withhold anything that might affect the war, lives could be lost, and victory evade us. You must speak. It is vital that you speak.’
He flicked his wrist in irritation. ‘Because her husband too has a place in the fleet. He will have asked Sir Stephen Herrick to secure him a commission.’
‘Howe is at the fleet?’ She thought of the printing press in his smouldering warehouse, of Cornelia visiting the stables where Bellecour had died. ‘Hell’s teeth! If Virgo has gone to the fleet, and Gemini is already there …’ Then she thought of the map the madam at the whorehouse had taken from Bellecour’s report, the map that marked the east coast with the cross signifying death.
She gasped. ‘Uncle! Where did you say the fleet was assembling?’
‘What does it matter? I will not help—’
‘Damn you, Uncle! You will tell me again where it is.’
‘Harwich,’ he scowled. ‘Harwich, on the North Sea.’
‘The east coast.’ She fished out the map and pointed to the cross. ‘That is Harwich, there, is it not?’
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