B004BDOJZ4 EBOK

by Susanna GREGORY

  ‘Chaloner?’ pounced Behn. ‘You mean the regicide? Heyden is kin to him?’

  ‘He is not,’ said Eaffrey firmly. ‘Although Silence is not the first to notice the uncanny resemblance. Mr Heyden is a mercantile clerk from Manchester, in London to make his fortune by working in White Hall.’

  Silence sighed, disappointed. ‘Pity. Old Chaloner was such an amusing man. He was always playing jokes and could put away more wine than my Matthew, which is saying something! But I shall still sit next to Mr Heyden, anyway. He will welcome the opportunity to get to know me better.’

  ‘Will he?’ asked Eaffrey, while Chaloner tried, by covert signals and desperate glances, to tell her he would not. ‘Then I shall arrange for your place to be set at his side.’

  ‘Well, come on, then,’ said Silence, plumping herself down and producing a large spoon from the front of her robe. ‘Grab a seat and let us be at the food before it gets cold. I could eat a horse.’

  ‘I am sure she could,’ murmured Scot to Chaloner, as they took their designated seats. ‘So make sure she does not eat you, too.’

  Silence’s rearrangements meant Chaloner was sandwiched between her and Alice, and he resigned himself to a long evening. In proper London fashion, the meal was served in two courses. The first consisted of roasted beef, boiled carp, venison and a dish of sweet potatoes that no one ate. The second comprised pork, tench served with lemons, steamed chicken and two fruit pies. Following the French way, knives and two-pronged forks were provided, although a finger-bowl was required for Silence, who had not been taught how to manipulate a fork, and so was obliged to use her hands.

  She rested a hot, heavy palm on Chaloner’s knee, which attracted a scowl from Behn, who sat on her other side. ‘Has Lord Clarendon said anything else about my husband’s murder?’ she asked.

  ‘I am afraid not, ma’am,’ said Chaloner, moving his chair away from her. He bumped into Alice, who pushed him back more forcefully than was necessary or polite. He glanced at Scot, expecting him to say something, but the older man was talking to Brodrick, clearly intent on making his brother’s case before the courtier became too inebriated for sensible conversation.

  ‘Mr Behn tells me Dillon is certainly the man who struck the fatal blow,’ Silence continued in a whisper. ‘Him and the other two – except that one has escaped justice by dying of fever. I still believe they were under orders from someone else, although I shall enjoy seeing them die anyway. Will you attend the hangings, Mr Heyden?’

  ‘No,’ said Chaloner shortly, trying to make himself as small as possible, so he could maintain his distance from Silence without invading the space claimed by Alice.

  ‘I enjoy hangings, as long as the weather is fine,’ Silence went on. ‘Will you accompany me on Saturday? I would appreciate an escort, and you cannot refuse a recent widow.’

  ‘I will accompany you,’ said Behn, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. Chaloner glanced at Eaffrey, but her attention was occupied by the chortling teenagers. ‘I am always ready to be of service.’

  Silence shot the merchant a smouldering look. ‘You are a true gentleman, sir.’

  ‘I am not surprised you want to make sure the villains are hanged, Behn,’ said Temple conversationally. ‘You did a lot of business with their victim, I understand.’

  ‘Yes, Webb was a dear friend,’ agreed Behn.

  ‘Oh, silly!’ said Silence, thumping him playfully. ‘You know he was not! In fact, he would not approve of me sitting here with you at all, but he is dead, and so not in a position to do much about it.’

  Behn looked decidedly shifty. ‘We were close companions, Sil— Mrs Webb. You know we were. We occasionally pretended to be enemies, but that was just to flush out common foes.’

  ‘You challenged him to a duel,’ countered Silence. Her expression became disconcertingly simpering. ‘I believe it was over me, because he thought you entertained a fancy for his little Silence. Of course, he made sure he was out of London on the relevant morning, and sent you a letter—’

  Behn laughed uneasily. ‘A joke, Mrs Webb. Just two merchants amusing themselves.’

  Chaloner regarded him thoughtfully, recalling the discussion Temperance had overheard: Behn and Webb had quarrelled, and Behn had left the Guinea Company dinner early. Was Behn the killer? He watched with interest as, desperate to deflect attention from himself, Behn turned on the startled Temple.

  ‘You were not Webb’s friend, though – you signed a deed at the Guinea Company dinner that would have ruined you. I heard him tell you so after you had put pen to paper – when it was too late to withdraw from the agreement.’

  ‘I am not a novice in business,’ objected Temple indignantly. ‘I knew what I was doing, and he was mistaken about the outcome of that particular arrangement. It would have made me wealthy, and I was deeply sorry that his death rendered our contract null and void.’

  ‘Well, there you are, Chaloner,’ murmured Scot a little later, when people were taking the opportunity to stretch their legs by walking around the table. ‘Two more suspects for Webb’s murder: Behn, whose “friendship” may not have been all he declared, and Temple, who had been beguiled into signing something that might have seen him destitute.’

  ‘You were at that Guinea Company dinner, William,’ said Eaffrey, pausing for a moment with a sniggering girl on either side of her. ‘Did you see Temple almost sign away his fortune? I thought he had more sense than to put his name to deeds without considering their repercussions, and you must ask yourself whether you want him managing Alice’s money.’

  ‘I did see Webb and Temple together, but I slipped away too early to see how their discussion concluded. Webb must have produced these writs later, when Temple was befuddled with wine.’

  ‘You left early?’ asked Chaloner, when Eaffrey had gone. ‘I thought you said you spent the evening holding forth about plants.’

  ‘I did not say I left early – I said I slipped away too early to know what happened,’ corrected Scot pedantically.‘I was enjoying my botanical debate, but even trees could not distract me from the lice in Terrell’s hair-piece, and after a while, I simply had to go. I should have returned it to the wig-maker, but Williamson wanted me in place quickly and there was no time. I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to throwing this whole business to the wind and never adopting a disguise again.’

  ‘Not even when Peter Terrell presents his botanical researches to the Royal Society?’

  Scot smiled. ‘I will be in Surinam. Someone will read my dissertations to the learned gathering.’

  ‘I visited your husband’s tomb in St Paul’s,’ said Chaloner to Silence, when everyone had reclaimed his seat, and the footmen were concluding the meal by serving a syllabub – a dish popular at Court, because the King claimed it refreshed the mouth after riding and love-making. ‘Clarendon sent me.’

  ‘How kind,’ said Silence, leaning across him to claim more dessert. ‘They could not fit him in the crypt, so they slipped him in with a bishop instead. He would not have minded; he liked bishops.’

  ‘He did not,’ stated Brodrick, overhearing and so preventing Chaloner from probing Silence to see if she was aware that Webb was not interred at all. ‘He detested the lot of them. I can see why: they are worse than Puritans for prim morals.’

  ‘I like a little fun myself,’ said Temple amiably, taking more wine. ‘And the latest fashionable way to do it is to purchase a Private Anatomy from the barber-surgeons. Has anyone— Ouch!’

  He gaped at Alice, who had apparently kicked him under the table. Then gradually, it dawned on him that the one he had commissioned had involved the husband of the woman who sat opposite him. He had the grace to look disconcerted, although Silence did not appear to notice what was going on.

  ‘I have never attended such an event,’ she said. ‘Matthew tried to buy one, but the barber-surgeons fobbed him off with some tale about a leaking roof. Can you specify which corpse you want? I would be very interested in seeing
inside a Dutchman, because their innards are made of cheese.’

  ‘We shall be at war with Holland soon,’ remarked Eaffrey, trying to raise the discussion to a more intelligent level. ‘Especially if the Guinea Company tries to poach its slaving monopoly.’

  ‘Good,’ said Temple, rubbing his hands. ‘We shall show the cheese-eaters a thing or two,’

  ‘War with the Dutch should be avoided at all costs,’ argued Chaloner. ‘They have bigger and better ships, a navy in which its sailors are paid, and their weaponry is superior to ours. We would be foolish to take them on in open battle.’

  ‘That is an unpatriotic statement,’ declared Alice. ‘Are you a traitor, then, who believes England is inferior to other nations?’

  ‘In some respects we are,’ said Chaloner, aware of Scot glaring at her across the table. ‘And to claim otherwise would be to do Britain a disservice. We cannot win against the Dutch at sea.’

  ‘Speaking of Dutch matters, did you hear that upholsterer is mortally ill?’ asked Temple. ‘If he dies, Bristol says it will be murder, because Clarendon struck the old fellow when he was defenceless.’

  Brodrick made a disgusted sound. ‘Vanders is not dying. I saw him today, in perfect health.’

  ‘Pity,’ said Temple. ‘I would like to see Clarendon swing for murder. He is a tedious bore, and—’

  ‘He is my kinsman, sir,’ interrupted Brodrick icily. ‘And I suffer no man to insult him.’

  ‘I am sure no harm was meant,’ said Eaffrey quickly. ‘And we should not let the quarrel between Bristol and Clarendon spoil our evening. Let us talk about something more pleasant.’

  Behn accepted the challenge. ‘Would you like to invest in my new ship, Temple? It will carry some very valuable cargoes, and you look like a man who is not afraid to be bold in the mercantile world.’

  ‘New ship?’ asked Chaloner.

  ‘It was Matthew’s,’ explained Silence. ‘It was doing no one any good sitting in a harbour with its holds empty, so Mr Behn and I made an agreement.’

  ‘And what will this vessel carry?’ asked Chaloner coldly. ‘Sugar again?’

  ‘Slaves,’ replied Behn, startling the spy with his bald honesty. ‘That is why anyone who invests with me will be rich. There is a good market for slaves in Barbados and Jamaica, and there is plenty of money for those willing to take a few risks. Do you have any spare income you want to invest?’

  ‘Not for that purpose,’ said Chaloner quietly. ‘And nor does any decent man.’

  ‘This is not suitable dinner conversation, either, messieurs,’ said Scot, seeing Eaffrey look stricken. ‘Have I told you about Bristol’s oignon gardens? He has acres devoted to the plants, and walks among them, savouring their scent.’

  ‘That is a lie – one put about by Clarendon,’ said Temple immediately. He cut across Brodrick’s indignant response and addressed the Brandenburger. ‘You can put me down for a few hundred, Behn. I never let a good business opportunity slip past.’

  ‘Blood money,’ said Chaloner, disgusted. He saw the hurt expression on Eaffrey’s face and saw he should keep quiet if he did not want to spoil her party.

  ‘Brodrick?’ asked Behn, fetching ink, pen and paper from a nearby cabinet. ‘How about you? Do you have womanish principles, or are you a man?’

  ‘I am not sure—’ began Brodrick uneasily. It was common knowledge that he had no money of his own, which was why he clung so firmly to his cousin’s coattails.

  ‘I shall invest with you, Mr Behn,’ said Alice, shooting Chaloner a spiteful glance. ‘I am not afraid to speculate in the world of commerce, and my Richard tells me it pays to be bold.’

  The evening wore on. Silence held forth about music in a way that told Chaloner she was entirely ignorant on the subject, and he found the best thing to do was nod and smile but not listen. He caught Scot’s eye and the bleak expression on his old friend’s face told him he was not having much success with furthering brother Thomas’s cause, either. The meal came to a merciful end when Silence went face-down in her finger bowl. Chaloner rescued her from an ignominious death, although Brodrick suggested leaving her to drown. The spy struggled to lift her enormous weight, but Behn was the only one who bothered to help him.

  ‘Is her carriage outside?’ Chaloner asked, adding without enthusiasm, ‘I will escort her home.’

  ‘So you can seduce her, I imagine,’ said Alice unpleasantly.

  ‘Yes, I doubt I will be able to resist,’ he replied acidly. ‘So you had better take her instead.’

  Her expression was murderous when she saw she had been outmanoeuvred, and she continued to glare as Chaloner and Behn levered Silence into her coach. Temple declined to accompany them on the basis that it would be improper for him to witness a woman’s indignity, and Brodrick was on his horse and out of Behn’s stable with a haste that was only just decent. Chaloner stepped into the shadows with a sigh of relief, grateful the evening was over, and determined to stay out of sight until everyone had gone – when he would emerge and lie to Eaffrey about how pleasant it had been.

  While he waited for the teenagers – drowsy with the lateness of the hour and the wine they had consumed – to be packed into a cart and dispatched home, he breathed in deeply of the blossom-scented air. The stars were very bright, and, as he gazed up at them, he was reminded of the velvety darkness of a summer night at his family’s manor in Buckinghamshire. He experienced a sharp desire to see his brothers and sisters again, to walk in their woods and meadows, and supposed tiredness was making him maudlin.

  Scot, Eaffrey and Behn lingered in the yard after the girls had gone, also enjoying the freshness of the evening. When Scot bowed to his hosts and took his leave, Chaloner decided it might be better to write his thanks to Eaffrey the following day, instead of waiting to give them in person. He did not want another encounter with Behn. Then Eaffrey kissed her lover’s cheek, whispering something that made him laugh. Behn tugged her hand in a way that suggested he was ready for bed, but she pulled away, indicating she wanted more time to clear her head. Before Chaloner could emerge from the shadows to speak to her alone, someone else approached. It was Scot.

  ‘What happened to Chaloner?’ he asked, peering into the house to make sure the Brandenburger had gone. ‘It is unlike him to leave without saying goodbye.’

  ‘I do not blame him. Sitting between Alice and Silence all night cannot have been pleasant. I know she is your sister, William, but even you must admit that Alice is not an easy lady. I wish he had not disappeared quite so soon, though. There is something I need to tell him about Webb.’ Eaffrey chuckled. ‘Silence has such gall that I am filled with admiration for her. Even I would have baulked at inflicting myself on such a gathering – and I am paid to do that kind of thing.’

  ‘Your company would never be a burden, though,’ said Scot tenderly. ‘Unlike hers.’

  Chaloner was half out of his hiding place, to share their amusement about the evening and its ups and very considerable downs – and to find out what she had to tell him about Webb – when Eaffrey and Scot flew together for a very passionate kiss.

  The bells of St Andrew’s Holborn were chiming eleven o’clock as Chaloner left Leather Lane, but he did not feel like going home. He had just consigned himself to sitting alone in a tavern, when he recalled Temperance’s club. He walked briskly down Fetter Lane, hand on the hilt of his sword, because few men had honest business at such an hour and anyone he met was unlikely to be friendly, crossed Fleet Street and aimed for Hercules’s Pillars Alley. The tavern of that name was doing a roaring trade, and noisy patrons spilled out on to the street. The air nearby stank of spilled beer, pipe smoke, vomit and urine. By contrast, only the faintest tinkle of music could be heard from Temperance’s house. Chaloner slipped past Preacher Hill, who was saying goodnight to one of the city’s most prominent judges, and padded along the hall to the kitchen. It was not many moments before Temperance arrived, come to fetch nuts for the Earl of Sandwich.

  ‘Thomas!’ she c
ried in delight. ‘Will you join the revels in the main parlour? The Duke of Buckingham has brought Lady Castlemaine again, and there is a lot of laughter and japes.’

  Chaloner was not in the mood for foolery. He saw he had made a mistake in coming and stood to leave, loath to keep her from the fun. ‘I do not know why I am here. Your company, I suppose.’

  Temperance waved him back down, handing the nuts to one of her girls before sitting opposite him. ‘There is no need to sound begrudging about it. There are occasions when only friends will do, and I am glad you felt you could come here. I am also relieved, because there is something you should know – Maude told me today that Dillon will be the subject of a dramatic rescue, just as the noose is put around his neck. All London is expecting some fine entertainment.’

  ‘So is Dillon himself.’

  ‘She also heard that Dillon is innocent of murder, and is going to the gallows because he is an Irish rebel – fabricating charges of murder is the government’s way of ridding itself of such people.’

  ‘That is false. Why do you think most countries have a secret service? It is so knives can be slipped into the backs of awkward subjects without the need for public trials and executions.’

  Temperance regarded him with distaste. ‘Is that what you do?’

  ‘There is nearly always another solution.’

  She was silent for a while. ‘I asked a few of my guests about your surgeons – Wiseman, Lisle and Johnson. Lisle is a good man who spends one day a week working for the poor, and is well liked. Wiseman is unpopular, because he is condescending to his patients, and no one likes being treated like a fool. And Johnson is a fool, but knows enough of his trade to be a menace.’

  ‘So Johnson and Wiseman are bad; Lisle is good?’

  ‘In essence. I also heard that you accused Adrian May of sending the letter that saw Dillon and the others arrested. Did you?’

  He regarded her askance. ‘Christ, Temperance! Does anything happen in that damned palace that is not immediately brayed around the whole city?’