The King's Return: (Thomas Hill 3) (Thomas Hill Novels)

by Andrew Swanston

  ‘Let us hope so. Chandle, when might we expect to receive our first return?’

  ‘Well now, Mary,’ replied Stoner, leaning forward in his chair, ‘I’m glad you’ve raised that. The agent tells me that the more men they employ at the new mine, the quicker they will find the deeper seams which are always the richest and the sooner our investors will receive a healthy return.’

  ‘What is to stop them employing more men?’ asked Mary. ‘Surely there are plenty of workers to be had in Jamaica?’

  ‘As ever, my dear, money. They need money to recruit men and to pay them until the seams are found and the profits start pouring in.’

  ‘What about the money already invested?’

  ‘Exploration, wages, payments to local officials and all manner of sundry other costs. Only to be expected in a venture of this kind, of course. I’ve seen it before a hundred times. Initial investment, proof of potential, second investment, revenues, profits. It’s how business works.’ Stoner laughed. ‘My apologies, Charles, of course I don’t need to explain that to you of all people. You must have been through much the same experience in Barbados.’

  ‘Much the same, Chandle, much the same,’ replied Charles affably. ‘What do you advise?’

  ‘I have given this serious thought, Charles, and my advice is to invest exactly the same amount as before. You will then maintain your share of the venture and may hope for an earlier return than might otherwise have been the case.’

  ‘So this investment will be on the same terms as before, will it, Chandle?’ asked Mary. ‘Is that usual?’

  ‘Oh, quite usual. We would not want to put a higher value on the venture at this stage. Although within a year or so, it will certainly be worth many, many times more.’

  ‘It seems to me to be a matter of trust, my dear,’ said Charles. ‘I for one trust Chandle and I think we should take his advice. What do you think?’

  ‘In matters of business, Charles dear, I have always trusted your judgement. If you wish to invest more in the venture, let us do so.’

  ‘Very well. Chandle, you may count on us for a further investment of a thousand guineas. Will tomorrow do?’

  ‘Tomorrow would be splendid.’ Stoner was clearly delighted at Charles’s decision. ‘And what about you, Thomas? Are you tempted to follow suit?’

  ‘In matters of business I am little more than a babe in arms,’ replied Thomas. ‘Such capital as I have came to me from an unexpected source. I try to avoid things I do not understand.’

  ‘Oh, quite, quite. Most prudent, if I may say so. In this case, however, you have Charles and Mary’s example to follow. Might that sway you? I do like to see my friends profiting from my advice.’

  ‘It might. I shall think about it.’

  ‘Very wise. Talk to Mary and Charles. Take their advice. And if you do decide to join us, I shall be able to tell you the name of the venture. Until then, it must remain confidential, eh, Charles?’

  ‘Confidential. Indeed. Much the best way. Don’t want every tinker and tailor getting wind of it.’

  Stoner rose to take his leave. ‘It’s time I was about my business. You’ve made the right decision, Charles. I’ll call again tomorrow. Good evening, Mary. Good evening, Thomas. Do think about it, won’t you?’ Thomas smiled and nodded and Charles escorted Stoner to the door.

  ‘Well,’ said Charles when he returned, ‘I knew it would be a good day. First Thomas and Madeleine and now this excellent news from Chandle. I shall sleep well tonight.’

  ‘You sleep well every night,’ replied Mary tartly, ‘and you snore like a forest boar. Still, I expect you’re right. It’s just that two thousand guineas is such a large amount.’

  ‘Not as much as fifty thousand, which is what it will soon become. I’m quite confident of it. What do you think, Thomas?’

  ‘I think I shall keep to my books. You know where my money came from – the bottom of a foul hole in Barbados. I am much better at spending the stuff than making it, so I shall leave Chandle’s venture to you and hope it makes you enormously wealthy.’

  ‘What do you make of him?’ asked Mary.

  ‘I found him affable enough, if a little vague on facts. How well do you know him?’

  ‘Not very. We relied on Drax’s recommendation. Why?’

  ‘It’s just that he described himself as a financier. That strikes me as being like my describing myself as a mathematician. What exactly does a financier or a mathematician do?’

  ‘One makes money and the other counts it,’ laughed Charles. ‘Mary has reservations, but I trust the man. We’ll take our profits when the time comes and go home even wealthier than when we arrived.’

  ‘I am sure you will, Charles. Forgive my cynicism. Money always brings out the worst in me.’

  ‘In that, Thomas,’ said Mary, ‘you are not alone.’

  When Thomas called at a little after two in the afternoon the next day, Madeleine Stewart opened the door herself. ‘Agnes is out, so we shall have to look after ourselves,’ she said archly. ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘Not in the least.’

  ‘Good.’ Taking Thomas’s hand she led him straight to her bedroom, where she undressed and slipped under the bed cover. ‘Make haste, Thomas, Agnes will be back in a few hours.’ With a grin, Thomas did as he was told.

  Two hours later, arms and legs entwined, they spoke quietly of their friends and families. Thomas told her about his sister Margaret and his nieces Polly and Lucy, to whom he had been a father after Margaret’s husband had died in a skirmish near Marlborough. Madeleine told him about her father, the village parson, whom she had loved despite his weakness. Their intimacy was interrupted by a knock on the door.

  ‘Now who can that be at such an inconvenient time?’ asked Madeleine. ‘I am not expecting visitors. Perhaps they’ll go away.’

  But they did not go away. A second, more insistent knock, and Madeleine reluctantly struggled out of bed and into her clothes. ‘Stay there, Thomas, and I will deal with this intruder,’ she said.

  ‘I shall. Call me only if you are in mortal danger.’ Madeleine stuck out her tongue and went to answer the door. Thomas buried his head in a pillow and waited for Madeleine to return. When, after a few minutes, she had not returned, he too forced himself up, put on his shirt and breeches and opened the bedroom door. He stepped into the sitting room and immediately wished that he had stayed in bed. Sitting opposite Madeleine in front of the hearth was Joseph Williamson.

  ‘This is a surprise. I thought you had left for Romsey, Thomas.’ Joseph’s disobedient eye squinted at him.

  ‘I had intended to but, er, circumstances have detained me.’

  Williamson looked him up and down. ‘So I see from your dress. Perhaps a little adjustment might be in order.’ Realizing that his shirt buttons were undone and his breeches untied, Thomas retreated to the bedroom, sorted himself out and re-emerged trying to look unembarrassed.

  ‘Well, Thomas,’ asked Williamson, ‘am I to understand that my cousin has chosen to overlook your many faults and now entertains you in her home?’

  ‘Tush, Joseph,’ said Madeleine, ‘there’s no need to mince words. Thomas and I are lovers. I hope you approve, but if you don’t, we will still be lovers.’

  Williamson smiled. ‘I cannot disapprove of a man who got the better of Sir Samuel Morland. But treat her with care, Thomas. Madeleine is my only cousin and I love her like a sister.’

  ‘Be assured that I shall, Joseph. In my hands Madeleine will be as a lamb to its ewe.’

  ‘Then let us hope there are no wolves about.’

  ‘Enough of this,’ said Madeleine briskly. ‘Would you gentlemen care to share a bottle of claret? Good. I shall fetch one.’

  While she was out of the room, Thomas asked Joseph if there had been any developments.

  ‘Other than an uncomfortable audience with the king, very little,’ replied Joseph with a sigh. ‘Our fears that the Dutch and the French are up to something have been confirmed, but we don�
�t know exactly what. Our agents in France and Holland have been unable to shed any light on the matter. I have found no evidence of a traitor in the Post Office and Mottershead has unearthed not a single clue about the murders. The king thinks we should close the Post Office until we find Aurum and Argentum and force the truth out of them.’

  ‘Do you still think there is a spy in Cloak Lane?’

  ‘There are spies everywhere, as the murders and the letter confirm.’

  ‘Has Josiah heard nothing more about the murders at all?’

  ‘Nothing other than that rumour of a disfigured foreigner. It is most frustrating and I dread each audience with the king. Had you not decrypted the letter, we would not even know about Aurum and Argentum.’

  ‘Aurum and Argentum. Two precious metals about one base task. No wonder the king is alarmed.’

  Madeleine returned with a bottle of claret and three glasses on a silver tray. She poured a glass for each of them and sat down. ‘Now what have you gentlemen been talking about behind my back?’

  Joseph and Thomas exchanged a look. ‘Have you told Madeleine anything, Thomas?’

  ‘I most certainly have not. We found more interesting matters to discuss.’

  Joseph raised an eyebrow. ‘In that case the less you know, Madeleine, the better. Suffice it to say that Thomas has performed a valuable service and that I have rather more on my plate than I had anticipated when Sir Edward left for the north.’

  ‘How is Sir Samuel behaving?’ asked Thomas with a grin.

  Joseph waved his hand dismissively. ‘As you might expect. With bile and venom. I have told him that you are still working on the letter. He is crowing that he was right and you were wrong and is demanding to be given it. He also wants more money for the work he is doing. The wretch is always short of money although we pay him well. I have no idea what he does with it.’

  ‘And what of Henry Bishop?’

  ‘Bishop does not like the work we do and does not understand why his Post Office has not been made entirely secure. Mind you, Bishop himself was a republican, although not as ardent as Morland. And to make matters worse, he is demanding more staff. He says the volume of work is increasing and, with Squire forever away sick, he needs more men.’

  ‘Is Lemuel still sick?’ asked Thomas.

  ‘He’s sick more often than not these days. Too much rich food and too many bottles of wine, if you ask me.’ Remembering Squire’s consumption on the day he inspected the copying machine, Thomas could not but agree.

  ‘By the way, he has mentioned that the seal on the encrypted letter might have been tampered with. Says it slipped his mind to tell us. Clever but unreliable, that man. I may have to think seriously of replacing him.’

  Madeleine wagged her finger at him. ‘Not with Thomas, Joseph, or you’ll have me to answer to. Promise me you won’t try to persuade him.’

  ‘Don’t worry, my dear,’ said Thomas, ‘a troop of the king’s lifeguards armed with carbines and pikes could not persuade me to go back to work for Joseph. I am much too busy.’

  ‘I shall have to do something soon,’ said Joseph. ‘We must remove this threat. God knows what damage has already been done.’

  When Joseph had left, Thomas said to Madeleine, ‘Despite the seriousness of this affair, I find myself thinking of it as a play, with characters and scenes and a plot which will unfold in its own time. Odd, isn’t it?’

  Madeleine giggled. ‘I expect it’s that French philosopher of yours who puts such ideas in your head.’

  Having agreed that Madeleine would call for him at the Carringtons’ the following morning at ten o’clock, Thomas returned to Piccadilly. Delighted as he was at the thought of enjoying Madeleine’s company, Joseph’s mood had unsettled him and, as he walked back, he found his mind turning again to the play.

  In his room, he took out the Dramatis Personae again, and added

  Disfigured foreigner (murderer?)

  Aurum and Argentum: spy ring leaders

  What did he know now about the players? Williamson himself was surely above suspicion. Bishop, however, had worked for Cromwell and had been accused more than once of using his position to promote republican sympathizers. If Joseph trusted him he would have told him about the decryption. Could he be working secretly with the Dutch?

  As for the ambitious and disagreeable Morland, he too had been a zealous Parliamentarian. Until, that is, he had seen the return of the monarchy coming and quietly changed his allegiance. Lemuel Squire – gluttonous, affable and often in his sickbed. Could there be even more to him than met the eye? Josiah Mottershead – Joseph’s man and a most unlikely spy.

  And what of Chandle Stoner? Nothing to do with the Post Office, man of business and friend of the Carringtons, he was not really a player at all, and Thomas wondered why he had included him in the cast. Madeleine? Charles and Mary? Impossible.

  And there would be other players, some with small roles, others large. Polonius, Gertrude, Horatio, the Prince of Denmark himself? Still no sign of the deus ex machina, though. Fortunately I’m only a cryptographer, thought Thomas. Espionage is too complicated for me. And I have played my part. Joseph must take care of the rest.

  Thomas appeared the next morning in the clothes he had worn to the coronation, to be greeted by one of Charles’s throaty chuckles. ‘Off to visit the king, Thomas? Are you sure about the ribbons on your sleeves? Might not be quite the thing for Whitehall Palace.’

  ‘Take no notice, Thomas,’ Mary reassured him. ‘You look splendid. Pale blue suits you. Are you taking Madeleine out today?’

  ‘I am. She will be here at ten o’clock. She is hoping to see you and Charles.’

  ‘Good. Madeleine will be most impressed by your outfit. Come and have some breakfast.’ In London, it was the Carringtons’ custom to take their meals as they did in Barbados, where Charles refused to wait until noon for proper sustenance and insisted on a good breakfast before a morning’s work on the estate.

  Thomas sat at the table and picked at a plate of smoked fish. Despite having spent the previous afternoon with Madeleine, he was strangely nervous – more like a callow youth of fifteen than a gentleman approaching fifty. Mary watched him for a while and then asked where he planned to take Madeleine. ‘I am not sure,’ he replied. ‘Would you care to make a suggestion?’

  ‘Bed,’ bellowed Charles, ‘that’s the place to take her. Much more entertaining than a hanging or the king’s menagerie.’

  ‘Be quiet, Charles, and eat your breakfast,’ snapped Mary. ‘Your advice on this matter is unwelcome.’ With a shrug, Charles returned to his food and left them to it.

  Mary turned back to Thomas. ‘As it’s a fine day, Thomas, why not take a carriage to the village of Kensington? The air is clean there and there are good walks to be had in the fields. You could take dinner in a local hostelry and return afterwards.’

  Relieved at having the decision made for him, Thomas managed a few mouthfuls before Charles spoke up again. ‘No need to be nervous, Thomas,’ he said. ‘If you’re planning anything matrimonial, just remember – one knee and undying love. Never fails.’

  ‘Oh, for the love of God, Charles, let the poor man be. Thomas will do as he sees fit and needs no instruction from you.’ Mary’s tone was uncommonly sharp.

  Thomas took his leave and returned to his room to wait for ten o’clock to strike. Whether or not he attempted ‘anything matrimonial’ would depend upon Madeleine’s mood and how their day went. And upon whether his nerve held. Just to be safe, however, he rehearsed his words in front of a mirror, first on one knee, then standing erect. Unable to choose between them, he decided to leave it until the moment arrived. If it arrived. He sat at the writing table and picked up his copy of Montaigne’s Essais. But even the great man could not hold his attention for long. When he realized that he was turning the pages without reading the words, he put the book down, closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply. It was something he had learned years ago. A state of calm comes from cleari
ng the mind and relaxing the muscles.

  When at last the clock struck ten, Thomas rose from his chair, smoothed out his coat, checked his appearance in the mirror and went down the stairs to the sitting room. There he found Charles reading a newsbook and Mary sewing a dress. Charles glanced up when he entered, but said nothing. The strictest instructions from Mary, no doubt, and warnings of terrible retribution if he spoke out of turn. Thomas sat and waited, hoping that Madeleine would not be unduly late. He was anxious to leave the house and be off to Kensington.

  At half past the hour, Mary looked up from her embroidery. ‘Are you sure it was ten o’clock, Thomas? It’s unlike Madeleine to be late.’

  ‘Quite sure. Something unexpected must have detained her. She will be here soon.’

  Having made a gallant effort to keep quiet, Charles could do so no longer. ‘Doesn’t want to appear too keen, I daresay. A good sign, Thomas, if you ask me. Shows her true feelings.’ Thomas smiled but said nothing. He was willing her to arrive.

  When the clock struck eleven, however, she had still not arrived, and he could wait no longer. ‘I shall walk to Madeleine’s house,’ he said, standing up. ‘She may have forgotten our arrangement or she may have been taken ill. I shall go and find out.’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Mary, ‘I think that would be best. If Madeleine is unwell, I will go myself to see that she is being taken good care of.’

  Thomas fetched his hat and set off for Fleet Street. As always, the streets were busy. Ladies and gentlemen taking the morning air, milkmaids, pie-sellers, flower girls, coachmen, messengers – all about their business, all playing their part in the daily bustle of the city.

  He walked as quickly as he could on his heeled shoes, through and around the crowds, ignoring the cries of the traders anxious to sell him their wares and trying not to collide with other walkers. Near the corner of the narrow lane, the crowds thinned and he was soon outside Madeleine’s house. He knocked loudly, waited a minute, then knocked again. He heard footsteps and the door was opened by Agnes. She looked surprised to see him.

  ‘Why, Mr Hill, is Miss Stewart not with you?’ she asked.