Lady Elizabeth stopped dealing. ‘Silks?’ The look on her face told Cato this would be easy enough.
‘I have the inventory here.’ He took out a letter from his coat pocket. Aged and sealed and smelling of Africa, it listed satins and taffetas and silks and uncut gems. Stolen gold and more besides. The Lady Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide just looking at it.
‘And such colours!’ Cato said. ‘Emeralds and reds, a violet so dazzling my father says it looks like nothing but the sky just before sunset, transformed into cloth. They are of a kind as yet unseen in Europe.’
‘But these fabrics, aren’t they damaged by the water in the shipwreck? And anyway, won’t the owners want them back? That is what happens in these cases, sir, isn’t it?’ asked Lady Stapleton.
‘Ah, no, you see, the misfortune that causes such loss of life is not shipwreck, it is the malaria, the marsh fever. I believe you Europeans are less hardy and not immune to it as we are. The entire crew perished. But the ship, as you may have seen, madam’ – here he handed a copy of the London Gazette over to Lady Elizabeth – ‘is registered lost. They believe it was wrecked. Gone and sunk at the bottom of the Atlantic. The insurers will be reimbursing all the owners. Only my father, his people and ourselves in this room know the truth. So now the ship is his.’
‘Only us three in the whole of the world know this truth? That is indeed amazink!’ the countess said.
‘So what will happen to the silks? Your father will have fine dresses made for his hundreds of savage wives and dress them as if they are Parisiennes!’ Lady Elizabeth laughed. The countess joined in and flashed a subtle but cutting look to Cato, which he knew meant join in.
Cato felt for the prince. He imagined if he was a prince with a father who was a king, he would look hurt. So he did. ‘I can assure you, my father has but two wives, madam.’
At that comment the vaguest look of anxiety passed across the countess’s face, and she changed the subject. ‘But the cloth, dear prince. You vill bring it here, to London?’
‘Well, this is a long and moving story, madam. My father is a king.’
‘Yes, yes, and I am the Marchioness of Byfield, we know that!’ said Lady Stapleton.
‘But he is dependent on the traders for money. Oh, he has land. The Kingdom of Bonny is larger than England.’
‘Oh, I do not think that can be possible . . .’ She shook her head.
Cato ignored her. ‘But our country is not rich. And this opportunity has fallen as if from heaven into our laps. A ship loaded down with expensive cargo. If I can find an investor who will finance a crew, we can change the ship’s name and bring the goods to market as our own. Countess, you have been a friend to our family. You could be more of a friend to us now – and, by the by, enrich yourself and have the most beautiful and indeed the most original dresses for the coming season.’
Lady Elizabeth turned the cards over in her hands. The countess looked thoughtful.
‘I vill have to be thinking on it. It vould be a most considerable investment,’ she replied.
‘It would, that is no lie. But there is opportunity for a great return – the cargo speaks for itself. It would be worth more than seven thousand on sale, here in the richest city of all, London!’
‘But the risk! Vot if the Favourite is recognized? That could happen, could it not? I vould have paid out – how much did you say?’
‘I hadn’t yet. But the Favourite’s home port is Amsterdam. If she has a new name, it’s a long shot she’ll be remembered.’
The countess paused, eyeing Lady Elizabeth for a reaction. ‘So then, Master Prince – how much?’ she asked.
Lady Stapleton put the cards aside and stared at Cato in anticipation.
For a second Cato remembered the conversation in The Vipers. Mother Hopkins had said three thousand pounds would be enough for a good house and a decent living. But this was so easy. He looked at the Lady Elizabeth, who was fairly drooling at the thought of satins and silks and who must now have a fortune equal to royalty. He took a deep breath.
‘Five thousand pounds. Surely a trifle for one such as yourself, Countess.’
The countess looked shocked, and Cato shut his eyes and looked away. Lady Elizabeth had seen the shock too.
‘Five thousand pounds?’ The countess had her hand to her throat and she talked low. She was looking daggers at Cato, who tried not to squirm. The wood in the fireplace crackled and spat in the silence. Cato crossed his fingers and prayed that no one could see. Perhaps he had gone too far; perhaps he had ruined the lay good and proper.
Lady Elizabeth put down the cards. ‘Is that all?’
Cato and the countess turned to look at her.
‘You could engage a crew and bring the ship to London for that? I would expect ownership of the cloth and whatever bullion is on board as well as the ship itself.’
Cato and Bella exchanged a quick glance, and Cato hoped his delight was not too obvious. If they pulled this off, then he would be in favour with Mother for ever.
‘You vould spare a gown for me, dear cousin?’ the countess asked.
‘Of course,’ Lady Elizabeth said. ‘If what you say is true.’
‘I have no reason to doubt the prince, sister. His family is well known to me.’
‘But what about your husband?’ Cato asked. ‘He will need to be consulted, no? This is a major investment.’
Lady Elizabeth winked. ‘It can be our secret. Ships take an age to get from one side of the world to another! By the time the ship is in London and our dresses made – which will be the most fabulous creations in the city—’
‘Indeed, madam, you shall look like birds of paradise! Human angels!’ Cato said.
‘Yes, yes, heads will turn and we will be most admired. My husband need never know until I have the cargo stored and housed and have made a return.’
‘A good return,’ Cato added.
‘Yes indeed, a very good return.’
‘He is bound to be most pleased with his marchioness!’ Bella emphasized the point in her best Russian English.
At that moment Mother Hopkins bustled in with the hot chocolate and Cato almost drank the sweet smooth liquid down in one, it tasted so good.
‘Saints strike me dumb, Cato Hopkins!’ Bella was standing by the fire in the upstairs room at The Vipers, tying her hair up in rags to make it curl. Her face was scrubbed of make-up now, and she was in her nightdress and wrapped in a shawl. She was smiling. ‘I thought for a good minute your brains had turned to soup! Five thousand he asked for, Ma!’
Out on the street the watchman called the hour and the church bell at St Andrew’s Holborn rang for ten o’clock. Sam was mending a buttonhole on his coat and Jack was polishing his Russian boots. Quarmy sat furthest from the fire; he’d not spoken a word.
Cato had tried to cheer him up since this afternoon, but if anything the good news had made him worse.
‘Five thousand pounds! That’s two houses and a pair of the finest black Arabians and a flashy four-wheeler!’ Jack said, eyes gleaming. ‘And some of these Russki boots for you and me, Sam.’
‘Now look what you done,’ Bella said.
‘It just came out!’ Cato said. ‘It seemed a way to make the trap sweeter.’ He stretched out in front of the fire. It had been a good day.
Bella went on, ‘You should have heard her, Ma, Lady Elizabeth. All day, on and on about getting the money together before her old man comes home. We went and had the necklace valued – remember, that diamond one she wore to the Ice Ball?’
‘Very nice. How much?’ Mother Hopkins filled up her pipe.
‘One thousand five hundred pounds!’ Bella exclaimed. ‘The jeweller fairly died and went to heaven just looking at it!’
‘Still leaves near on four thousand,’ Mother Hopkins said.
‘Yeah, well, I reckon as Countess of Pskoff I could always help out with the odd grand. It’d be more of a convincer if she thinks I’m shelling out too. And it’s not all roses . . . We went to
her private bank, and the manager is a mate of her father’s. We’re gonna need that ship’s inventory for him to look over. He’s not happy with her taking so much money out at once. You sure it looks the business?’
Mother Hopkins nodded. ‘Right as the Archbishop of Canterbury himself.’
‘I never thought I’d say it but, Cato, you’re a marvel, a real honest marvel!’
Mother Hopkins lit her pipe. ‘Don’t get too happy until the money’s in our hands, Bella. It’s not over yet. When’s she paying up?’
‘We’ll have the necklace tomorrow, to show willing,’ Bella said.
‘Sam, you take it up to Solomon the Dutchman, over Saffron Hill, get him to make us a copy so good you can’t tell one from t’other. And tell him we wants it done by yesterday!’
‘And, Ma, the marquess’s back from the country next Monday and we need to get the rest of the cash before he can change her mind,’ said Bella, warming her hands near the fire.
‘And with plenty of luck and hard graft,’ Mother Hopkins said, ‘not forgetting God’s will, we’ll be off on the Bath Road by Tuesday morning, chickens!’
CHAPTER TWELVE
Reversals of Fortune
IT WAS A beautiful Friday morning. Cato was pleased to be out instead of shut up at The Vipers having to look at Quarmy, whose face registered so low a depression even Bella had commented on it. Mother Hopkins had offered him Sam’s bed until Monday and then he would have to sort himself out. Cato felt a little sorry for him but no more. He could work a passage back to Africa, although Cato had heard that a sailor’s life was hardly removed from that of a slave. Even Quarmy’s title could not protect him from that.
Cato looked up. The sun shone hard and the silver frost glistened and made the city into a fairyland, a magician’s palace of church spires, fine townhouses and shining roofs. Cato felt a tug at his heart at the thought of losing all this – there were only a few days until they would be packing up and leaving for Bath. He tried to imagine a life somewhere other than The Vipers but he couldn’t. Of course, there’d been times away when he was young and played the slave boy. But one of the things that had been most comforting during the long nights in other people’s houses, curled up in a lumpy box bed (if he was lucky; if he was unlucky, on a hard stone kitchen floor), was the thought of coming home. There was nothing to beat coming back into London, cresting Highgate Hill and seeing the city spread out before him like a panorama come to life.
Cato walked out towards Covent Garden and made certain to take in every last detail: the shop signs offering knives and blades, or gloves and trimmings, stays and petticoats, stationery and pens. He thought he’d take a long walk through the market, then back along the Strand and over to St Paul’s Churchyard to look at the bookshops, and then perhaps he could walk to the docks by the Tower. He was not needed today, after all. The necklace had been handed over, and all that was left was for Bella to play the countess a little longer and for the documents (forged expertly by another of Mother Hopkins’s oldest colleagues) to be signed over and the cash exchanged. Cato knew better than to walk too far up west and be seen, but today was the first day the weather had allowed a walk for pleasure. He sighed out loud, and a cloud of white smoke left his mouth and drifted up into the air. Surely Bath would never measure up to London in any shape or form.
Cato reminded himself not to make his feelings known. Addy would be back soon and she was bound to moan about Bath enough for both of them. She hadn’t been born here and yet she loved it just as much as he did.
‘Cato?’ He was walking in-between the costers’ donkey carts clustered around the Russell Street side of the market when he thought he heard Addy’s voice shouting at him.
‘Cato!’ He stopped and looked round, and there she was. She was leaning against a grimy stone pillar of the market colonnade, out of breath and red in the face from a long run.
‘Addeline?’ He couldn’t help smiling. ‘I was thinking of you! Only this very instant! This world is always stranger than any ballad!’ He hugged her straight away without thinking. But Addy pulled back and Cato could see she was shaking.
‘What is it?’
‘Oh, thank goodness! You’ve saved me a trip to The Vipers!’
Addy was wearing her housemaid’s dress with an extra shawl tied around her top half and over her head. She looked like any costermonger’s daughter, only one that had seen less of the sun.
‘Cato, I only have a moment. I’m supposed to be in Golden Square buying needles. Please! Just let me speak!’
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, worried now.
‘Listen! Get back to The Vipers now and tell Bella to get herself all Russianed up and go and sit in Soho looking the lady!’
‘What?’
‘Cato! Shush up! The marquess rode home with the devil on his tail this morning. He’s come from the country a pauper, so he says.’ Cato tried to speak but Addy went on, ‘He’s grunting and snapping like a badger that’s had its rear end nailed to the floor before they let the rats on it. He was so mad he smashed the Chinese vases in the hall – them ones that’re bigger than me – with his riding crop! Once he finds out what his missus has done with those sparklers, we are done for!’
Cato said nothing and looked at her. ‘I don’t understand . . .’
‘He’s bellowing about the debts he’s been left to deal with, an’ shouting as they’ll have to sell everything, Cato, everything! Tell Ma to get everything packed up – we might have to make a run for it tonight.’
‘It can’t be that bad, surely,’ Cato said. Even though he’d seen – with his own eyes – all the assets the Stapletons owned, he still felt a twisting in his guts, as if he might be sick. He shook the feeling away. What Addy said could not be true.
‘A pauper overnight? I don’t believe it. He’s making a sit-down meal of a starling.’
‘We’ve been let go, Cato! The whole household, as of tomorrow, every one of us laid off except the lady’s maid and the master’s valet, given our leave and told to make the best of it. Right now, back at St James’s, he’s making an inventory of the carpets and silver plate! He’s not fooling!’
Cato tried to think. ‘You must have the wrong end of the stick, Addy—’
‘No! I know what I seen. Now just do as I say. You ain’t seen the master when he’s angry. He may be a member of parliament but he acts like any other buck in a rage when he’s in his cups. He’s already downed a bottle of port this morning.’
The church clock rang for a quarter to eleven.
‘I must return. The cook will miss me, even if the Stapletons won’t. Go on, go! Quickly! Tell them to get over to Carfax with Bella wearing something that will make the marquess forget!’
Cato was hiding in the upstairs rooms at Carfax in his princely coat when the new marquess arrived in a flashy two-seater. Looking out through a crack in the shutters, he saw there was no footman, only a driver, and when he got down from the coach, the marquess slammed the door so hard Cato imagined it would come off.
The marquess had walked up to the front door before he remembered his wife, who was obviously not used to getting herself out of a carriage, and had waited immobile for someone to open her door. The marquess bellowed in the direction of the coach so loud the horses jumped.
‘Come on, woman!’
Cato could see that something had happened to change him. He looked totally different from the time he had seen him at the Ice Ball. He seemed to have aged at least ten years, and the dark circles under his eyes – the result of his overnight ride from the country – made him look closer to a kind of monster than a young nobleman with a beautiful wife and a house in the finest part of town.
The whole square watched as the Lady Elizabeth clambered down, almost falling over and practically in tears. Cato could read off her face that everything Addy had said was true. They had lost everything.
Cato listened as Jack was pushed aside and – supposedly being mute – could say nothing.
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br /> ‘Where is she? Where is the Russian trollop who has bewitched my wife?’ The marquess bellowed louder than the boys who cried the news at Fleet Street.
Jack opened the door to the drawing room, to reveal Bella, or rather the Countess of Pskoff, and Mother Hopkins, done up as her retainer, Masha.
Cato just managed to hear the countess welcome the Stapletons in an accent familiar to lovers of caviar and wild bears, when the drawing-room door was shut. This was followed by shouting, although he could not make out any words, only that it was deep-voiced shouting.
He crept down the stairs, even though Jack tried to shoo him back up.
‘Wait until you’re sent for!’ Jack hissed.
‘I need to listen!’ Cato whispered. ‘I need to know how Bella is playing him.’
Jack stood aside. ‘Indeed, you’re right.’
Cato crept up to the drawing room and stood with his ear to the wooden door. The countess’s voice was smoother than honey and Cato marvelled at Bella’s capacity to keep a cool head and prevent her accent from slipping.
‘You are a marquess now, sir?’ she enquired.
‘For all the bloody good it’ll do me!’ He was still shouting. ‘We are ruined! Ruined by my profligate father, who preferred the cards and the horses and the lowest sort of women to any kind of prudence! And then . . . and then my . . . my wife’ – he spat the word out like the worst oath imaginable – ‘tells me she’s only gone and handed the best of the family jewels over to some darkie prince! As if such a thing exists.’
‘I can be assurink you, sir, the Prince of Bonny is a most honourable and trustworthy young man. I vould be trustink him vith my life.’
‘Yes, John, he is.’ Lady Elizabeth’s voice was high and tremulous.
‘And I think’ – the countess was speaking again – ‘if you can, perhaps, calm yourself – take this wodka – he may even be offerink you a way out of penury and back to the fortune which you and your lovely wife indeed deserve . . .’
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