‘Are the French fond of pique-niques?’ asked Madeleine, in between mouthfuls. ‘It does seem to be one of their better ideas.’
‘When Margaret and I used to take the girls out to the meadows by the river,’ said Thomas, ‘we often took our dinner with us. The girls loved it and I always fell asleep under a tree. We’d never heard of pique-niques. Typical of the French to think up some fancy name and claim they invented the whole thing. The Romans were eating mice and snails in their gardens centuries ago.’
‘Shall we take a stroll?’ asked Madeleine when they had finished.
‘We shall.’
They walked slowly along the ridge which formed the hill, stopping from time to time to gaze down at the city. ‘It gets bigger by the month,’ said Madeleine. ‘It can’t grow east into the sea, but I suppose it will continue to expand in every other direction. What’s to stop it?’
‘Nothing, I imagine. Houses, shops, streets, squares, churches, more houses until it reaches Kingston or Richmond.’ They were silent for a while until Thomas asked, ‘Do you share your father’s faith?’
‘I pretended to until he died, but now I attend church only when I have to.’
‘And I. Worship should be a private matter. Public displays of it I dislike.’
Madeleine looked at him. ‘How odd that we should share such views. In the interminable conflicts between Protestant and Catholic, conformist and non-conformist, you and I choose to be neutral. Peace before prayer, one might say.’
‘Indeed. And courtesy before creed. I have often thought that there’s much to be said for Judaism. The Jews do not try to force their opinions on anyone else and keep themselves largely to themselves. Why they should be persecuted for their faith is beyond my understanding. At least Cromwell showed more tolerance towards them.’
‘Have you ever considered that Judaism is easier than Christianity? Or Islam, for that matter?’
‘In what way easier?’
‘A Jew must only believe in his God. A Christian must believe in his God and that Christ was his son. A Muslim must believe in his God and that Mohammed was his prophet. One leap of faith is easier than two, don’t you think?’
‘I’d never thought of it like that.’
They had walked half a mile. ‘Now that we’ve dealt with that, shall we return?’ asked Madeleine, taking Thomas’s arm and steering him back along the ridge to where the coach was waiting for them. Thomas helped Madeleine in and they set off back to Piccadilly. Looking at her, Thomas saw that the colour was returning to her cheeks. She would very soon want to go back to her own home and the care of Agnes. The image of Agnes and Josiah together made him smile.
‘Why do you smile?’ she asked.
But before Thomas could reply, a front wheel lurched into a hole and there was a fearful grinding noise. They came to a sudden and uncomfortable halt and were jolted off their seats and on to the floor. ‘I fear that sounded like an axle,’ said Thomas, helping Madeleine up. ‘Sit there and I will investigate.’
The coachman calmed the horses and jumped down. They peered under the carriage – not that much peering was needed. The front axle had twisted when the wheel hit the hole and the wheel itself had come loose. They would not be travelling any further in this vehicle.
Thomas stood up. ‘If you stay there, my dear, I will go and find another carriage.’
Madeleine climbed down. ‘Nonsense. It is no more than a mile to the house. Why don’t we walk?’
‘If you feel strong enough.’
‘Tush, Thomas. Of course I am strong enough.’ Leaving the coachman to deal with the problem as best he could, they set off towards Piccadilly.
Madeleine appeared to be enjoying herself. ‘I pity the poor coachman, but it has livened up the day, don’t you think?’
‘Did it need livening up?’
‘Certainly it did. A simple pique-nique is nothing like exciting enough now that I am well.’ Thomas ignored her.
When they reached Piccadilly the street became busier and they had to walk more slowly. Outside Berkeley House, Madeleine stopped and put a hand to her throat. The colour had suddenly drained from her face and she spoke in a whisper. ‘Oh dear, I feel quite unwell. Can we sit down for a moment?’
Thomas looked about. Other than on the ground, there was nowhere to sit. ‘We are nearly there. Can you not manage to walk?’ Madeleine shook her head. Then she turned away and vomited. Thomas put an arm around her shoulders and waited for the retching to stop. When it had, he put his other arm under her knees and gently picked her up. Passers-by made space for them and within two minutes they were at the Carringtons’ house. Thomas shouted for Smythe, who opened the door and let them in.
Mary came out of the sitting room. ‘What happened, Thomas?’
‘I don’t know. She was quite well and then suddenly felt ill. I will take her up to her bedroom.’
Mary followed them up. ‘Leave her to me, Thomas,’ she ordered. ‘Ask Smythe to bring brandy and water.’
Thomas did as he was told and then went to sit with Charles. He told him what had happened.
It was an hour until Mary joined them. ‘She’s asleep. She told me about the carriage, Thomas. Really, you should not have permitted her to walk so far. She was exhausted.’
‘How is she now?’
‘She will be perfectly well after a rest. But do not on any account allow her to be so foolish again.’
‘I have sent for Joseph,’ said Charles. ‘I thought he ought to know.’ There was a knock on the door. ‘That will be him now.’
Smythe showed Joseph in. Before he could ask, Mary told him the story and assured him that no lasting damage had been done. Then she took him up to see Madeleine.
They had just come down when there was another knock on the door. ‘Good God,’ exclaimed Charles, ‘is all of London coming to visit the patient? Who can it be now?’
Josiah was shown into the sitting room and stood with both hands resting on his stick. ‘They told me I’d find you ’ere, sir,’ he said to Joseph. ‘Is Miss Stewart well?’
‘She will be after a rest,’ replied Joseph, ‘no thanks to Mr Hill.’ Josiah shot a look at Thomas, who shrugged. ‘What brings you here, Mottershead?’
‘Progress, sir, I ’ope. I didn’t get much from my contacts – none of them ’ad seen a new face about – so I visited the tradespeople. Often the best sources, the grocers and butchers, seem to know what’s going on. There’s a baker near the Palace. When I asked ’im ’ow business was, ’e was very keen to talk. Told me all about ’is customers and what they bought. Eat a lot of bread, those churchmen, ’e told me. Thought it must be on account of all the wine they drink in church. So I egged ’im on a bit, one thing led to another, and ’e was soon telling me about a lady who buys a loaf every morning. Insists on one of the first batch out of the oven. Won’t stand for anything less. The baker didn’t know why, as all ’is loaves are just the same.’
Joseph was getting impatient. ‘Where is this leading, Mottershead?’
‘I was just getting to it, sir. The baker said that the lady ’adn’t been in the area very long. Thought she must ’ave been set up in an ’ouse nearby by some gentleman. It ’appens a lot these days. ’Enrietta’s always losing them.’
‘Why would he think that?’
‘She dresses like a lady, ’e said, all silks and satins and ribbons, but she can’t ’ide ’er voice. Voice like an ’ore, ’e said. And a real lady wouldn’t go out to buy bread ’erself. She’d send a servant, unless she ’asn’t got one. If she’s ’iding someone or something, she might not ’ave one. Not good at keeping secrets, servants, in my experience.’
‘And?’
‘She’s been buying two loaves every morning, instead of one. The baker reckons ’er gentleman is staying with ’er.’
‘Is that all?’ Josiah’s face fell.
‘It could be ’im, sir. And I ’aven’t got anything else. The baker ’asn’t seen ’im.’
‘D
id you find out where she lives?’
‘Yes, sir. I did get that out of the baker. Didn’t go there, mind. Didn’t want to alert ’im, if ’e was there.’
Joseph turned to the other two. ‘We are only guessing that Stoner is in Lambeth. He might as easily be in Paris. It’s very little, but all we’ve got for the moment. We will look into it ourselves. I suggest you take Mr Carrington and Mr Hill, if they’re willing, Mottershead, and pay the lady a visit. Quietly, if you please. No need to alarm the neighbours.’
‘I’m willing,’ said Charles, ‘and so is Thomas. Aren’t you, Thomas?’
‘I suppose I must be.’
‘Good. Then we’ll go at once. If it is Stoner, Joseph, we’ll bring him to you.’
CHAPTER 21
THEY CROSSED THE river by wherry from Whitehall Stairs and walked along the south bank towards Lambeth. The row of houses that Josiah led them to was no more than a musket shot from Lambeth Palace. The houses were quite new, two storeys high, brick-built, with tiled roofs and latticed windows. It was a quiet, respectable place in which a prosperous man wanting to escape the bustle of the city might choose to live. Here on the outskirts of London there were few beggars and pickpockets. Josiah pointed to the fourth house in the row. ‘That’s it. The one with closed shutters. She lives there.’
‘What’s our plan?’ asked Charles, fingering the hilt of his sword. Today he had brought only one.
‘We should let ourselves in through the back, sir,’ replied Josiah. ‘An approach from the front might send them running.’
‘Or even shooting,’ agreed Thomas. ‘Do you know what’s at the back, Josiah?’
‘No, sir, but it won’t take long to find out.’
They followed him round to the back of the row, where a narrow path ran between the houses and one of the many streams which meandered down to the Thames, taking with it the waste from the houses and their occupants. The window shutters at the back of the fourth house in the row were also closed, as was the back door. Josiah produced his set of instruments, inserted one of the nails into the lock and twisted. When nothing happened, he tried another nail. With a little persuasion, the second one worked.
There was no one in the kitchen and no sign of anyone on the ground floor. Either the occupants were away or they were in a bedroom. It had better be Stoner. It would be embarrassing to disturb a perfectly innocent couple in their bed. Copying Josiah, they kept to the edge of the stairs where there was less chance of the timbers squeaking. At the top they found a narrow landing off which there were three doors. Josiah signalled to them to listen at each one.
Charles put his ear to the first and shook his head. It was the same with the second door. But when Thomas bent his head to the third door he heard the sound of regular breathing. Someone was asleep in there. He pointed at the door and nodded. Josiah stepped forward, kicked open the door and swept in. Charles, sword in hand, was close behind. Thomas stood at the door to prevent any sudden attempt at escape.
The drapes of the four-poster bed were open, revealing two bodies with their backs to the door, a sheet covering only their lower halves. Charles put the tip of his sword to the neck of the nearer one while Josiah slipped around the bed and held his stick at the head of the other. It happened so quickly that neither body moved and they barely had time to open their eyes.
To Thomas’s astonishment, Josiah burst out laughing. ‘Well I’ll be buggered, Molly Romp, fancy finding you ’ere. ’Enrietta told us you’d cleared off. Didn’t know you were living like a lady in Lambeth. She will be pleased to see you again.’
‘What the fuck are you doin’ ’ere, Josiah Mottershead?’ she squawked. ‘You won’t find no jewels to thieve ’ere. Fuck off and leave us in peace.’
‘It’s not jewels we’re after, my lovely, it’s your gentleman friend. Got a bit of explaining to do, ’e ’as. Up you get now and put some clothes on, there’s a good girl.’ Molly swore mightily, then wriggled off the bed and grabbed a dress from the back of a chair.
‘I don’t know what you’re up to, Josiah Mottershead, but it ’ad better be good. This gentleman ain’t done nothing wrong and neither ’ave I.’ She’s a buxom girl, thought Thomas, watching her dress, and, if I’m not mistaken, with a redhead’s temper. Better keep a eye on her.
So far, the other body had neither moved nor spoken. Charles poked it with his sword. ‘Turn around slowly. Any sudden movement would be a mistake.’ Very cautiously, the body turned. ‘Well, well. Chandle Stoner. And what have you to say for yourself?’
‘I might well ask you the same question, Charles,’ replied Stoner, sitting up. ‘I daresay the magistrate will want to know why you and your accomplices have broken into this house and held its occupants at the point of a sword.’
‘I daresay he might. Not that he’s going to find out. Get up and get dressed and waste no more words. Joseph Williamson would like a talk with you.’ At the mention of Williamson, Stoner’s face betrayed nothing. Watching him closely, Thomas thought that unless the man was innocent he was an accomplished actor. If he had successfully persuaded Charles and Mary to part with their money on false pretences, an actor he must be. Innocence was less likely.
When Molly and Stoner were both dressed, Josiah ripped up a shirt he found on the floor and tied their wrists together. Then he ushered them down the stairs and out of the front door. The moment she was out of the house, Molly started screaming. ‘’Elp, ’elp. Robbers. Murderers. Thieves. Traitors.’ Josiah stepped forward and hit her a sharp blow on the head with his stick.
‘Shut your mouth, Molly, or you’ll get another one, and ’arder next time. Keep quiet and you won’t get ’urt.’
Molly rubbed her head. ‘You evil little shit, Mottershead. I always knew you was a wrong ’un. ’Itting a lady with that fucking stick.’
‘You a lady, Molly? You’re no more a lady than I’m a gentleman. You’re an ’ore, and don’t forget it.’
‘Fuck you, Mottershead.’ She spat at him. Josiah laughed and prodded her with his stick.
‘I must be the only man in London you ’aven’t fucked. Now ’urry along. We’ve an appointment to keep.’
Charles and Thomas walked behind Josiah, their prisoner between them. Charles’s sword was drawn. Mr Stoner would not be running off again. A silent wherryman rowed them back across the river to the stairs at Whitehall, from where they took a coach to Chancery Lane. Molly had learned her lesson and Stoner had also decided to keep quiet. Studying his face in the coach, Thomas still saw nothing. For all that showed in his eyes, Chandle Stoner might have been off to the theatre with friends.
At Williamson’s house they were shown into the room that Thomas had used for his decrypting work. Alerted by his footman, Williamson came bustling in and surveyed the scene. Chandle Stoner and a woman backed against a wall and held there by Charles’s sword and Mottershead’s stick. ‘So. You found him in Lambeth. Was he with this lady?’
‘’E was, sir,’ replied Josiah with a chuckle, ‘only a lady she isn’t. This ’ere is Molly Romp, who used to work in Wild Street for a friend of mine, name of ’Enrietta.’
Williamson raised an eyebrow. ‘Wild Street, eh?’
‘Yes, sir. She’s an ’ore.’
‘And you’re a right little bugger, Mottershead, sticking your nose into other people’s business. I ’ope you ’ang for it,’ screeched Molly, trying to grab Josiah by the throat. Wisely, he stepped back and kept her at bay with his stick.
‘And what about you, Stoner?’ enquired Joseph politely. ‘Have you an explanation for your disappearance, not to mention the disappearance of certain people’s money?’
Under pressure, Stoner did what Thomas imagined came most easily to him – he assumed an attitude of high-handed disdain. ‘I feel no obligation to explain anything, even to you, sir. A man may go where he pleases. And money invested may be lost as well as increased, as the most gullible of fools must know.’ He glanced at Charles. ‘However, in the interests of justice and harmon
y, I will answer whatever questions you have.’
‘Good,’ said Joseph, and rang a small bell to summon his footman. ‘Fetch four constables, if you please. Tell them to look lively.’ He turned back to Stoner. ‘I will keep you company until they arrive.’
‘Where are we to be taken?’ asked Stoner.
‘The Tower, I think. At present it is full of the king’s enemies waiting to learn their fate, but I daresay the Constable will be able to find room for you both. It’s where traitors are usually sent.’
‘Traitors! I ain’t no traitor,’ yelled Molly. ‘Traitors ’ang. An ’ore I may be, but not a traitor. I wouldn’t know ’ow. Tell them, Chandle, for God’s sake.’ Stoner ignored her. Thomas was inclined to agree, but kept quiet.
‘That we shall ascertain in due course,’ said Joseph. There were sounds of running boots on the cobbles and the front door being opened. ‘Ah, here are the constables. You’d best accompany them, Mottershead, just to be sure. We don’t want our birds flying, as the king’s father might have said.’
‘Very well, sir. Come on, you two, behave yourselves and you won’t get into any trouble. Try anything stupid and you’ll feel the weight of my stick.’
‘Well done, Mottershead. Report back here when you’ve delivered them safely. Tell the Constable of the Tower that he has my authority to detain them. Then you’ll need to return to the house to search it.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I should thank you gentlemen, too,’ said Joseph when they had gone. ‘Did you have any difficulty?’
‘None,’ replied Thomas. ‘Josiah is a most resourceful soul, and a man who is an expert swordsman with either hand was unlikely to be bested by Stoner.’
The King's Return: (Thomas Hill 3) (Thomas Hill Novels) Page 22