The Piccadilly Plot: Chaloner's Seventh Exploit in Restoration London (The Exploits of Thomas Chaloner)

by Susanna Gregory

  ‘It would have been deemed an unfortunate accident,’ said Oliver, malice suffusing his gloomy face. ‘If the lack of air had not killed him, the rats would have done.’

  ‘Rats?’ cried Hyde in bewilderment. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Hyde’s note would have suggested otherwise,’ said Chaloner, ignoring him.

  Oliver sneered. ‘It would have been eaten. Along with most of you. But if not, no one could have proved it came from me. Hyde wrote it, after all.’

  ‘Stop!’ shouted Hyde, increasingly appalled. ‘Murder has no part in our plans. We will come to an arrangement with Chaloner. Every man has his price, and my father is a wealthy man.’

  Oliver smiled, but his eyes were icy cold. ‘You think we can let him go, do you?’

  ‘It may have escaped your notice, but I am the one holding the gun,’ said Chaloner, while Hyde gaped at the assistant architect in disbelief.

  Oliver’s grin widened. ‘And it may have escaped yours, but I have workmen at my disposal.’

  He gestured around him, and Chaloner was horrified to see the barrels of several weapons jutting through holes in the panelling. He counted at least four. Reacting quickly, he darted across the room and grabbed Hyde around the neck, putting the dag to his temple and using the younger man’s body as a shield.

  ‘I still have the advantage,’ he said. He would have preferred Oliver as a hostage, but the man had been too far away. ‘Order your people to stand down, or I will kill your accomplice.’

  Oliver had predicted his move, and had ducked behind the desk, out of Chaloner’s line of fire. ‘Do it, then,’ he said viciously. ‘I do not care. And then we shall dispatch you. You have been nothing but trouble ever since you came back from Africa. It will be a delight to end your life.’

  Hyde had been thrashing about furiously, trying to free himself from Chaloner’s grasp, but he went rigid with shock when he heard Oliver’s words.

  ‘What?’ he gasped. ‘We are in this together, Oliver, so you will care if I am harmed. And you can put me down, Chaloner. You will not shoot me: you would not dare.’

  ‘He might not, but I shall,’ called Oliver from under the table. ‘We do not want anyone else knowing what we have installed here. And as you gave me your original drawings the other day, the only other record is in your head. In other words, you have gone from helpmeet to liability.’

  ‘Liability?’ squeaked Hyde in confusion. ‘No! I am your partner. And Chaloner has the plans, anyway – he put them in his coat. He will give them to you in exchange for my life.’

  ‘We shall take them from his corpse,’ said Oliver disdainfully. ‘You cannot bargain with them.’

  Chaloner released Hyde abruptly. ‘You should choose your associates more carefully – you are about to become the victim of your own deceit.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Hyde’s voice was unsteady with rising panic.

  ‘I cannot imagine these secret passages and spyholes were your idea,’ said Chaloner, thinking him a fool. He took a step towards Oliver’s table, but the click of more guns being cocked stopped him from taking another. ‘Did Oliver come to you with the notion, claiming they would work to your father’s advantage?’

  ‘Well, yes he did,’ conceded Hyde. ‘But—’

  ‘Who commissioned you?’ Chaloner asked of Oliver. ‘Buckingham? Lady Castlemaine? Which of the Earl’s enemies is so determined to harm him that he went to all this trouble?’

  ‘You will just have to wonder,’ replied Oliver, keeping his head well down. ‘Now drop the gun. You cannot hit me from where you are standing, and if you try, my friends will shoot you.’

  More men had gathered in the doorway; Chaloner recognised the sullen woodmonger Vere and the labourers who worked under his supervision. All were rough, ruthless individuals who would happily commit murder for money. He knew he was unlikely to survive the encounter, so with nothing to lose, he aimed at where he thought Oliver’s chest would be and pulled the trigger. There was a loud report, and splinters flew from the table, but it was a sturdy piece of furniture, and Oliver’s startled yelp said he was unharmed.

  Immediately, there was answering fire from the spyholes, which had the men at the door wheeling away in alarm. Fortunately for Chaloner, the angle of the apertures prevented them from aiming properly, and most missed, although one nicked his shoulder, causing him to drop to his knees. Hyde hurled himself to the floor and covered his head with his hands.

  ‘Stop!’ shouted Oliver, as there came the sound of weapons being reloaded. ‘You will damage the panelling, and Pratt will demand to know what happened. We cannot afford questions. Come in here and grab them – without bloodshed, if possible. We do not want stains on the floor.’

  Men poured into the library to lay hold of Chaloner and Hyde, but although Chaloner managed to club one with the now-useless dag and disable another with a kick, it was not long before he was subdued. Then Vere relieved him of gun, sword and daggers. Wiseman’s scalpel went undetected, though, tucked as it was in his cuff.

  ‘You cannot do this to me!’ shrieked Hyde. ‘We have been working together for months, and—’

  ‘Shut up,’ snarled Vere. He looked at Oliver, who was inspecting the shattered desk, obviously amazed that he had escaped unharmed. ‘What do you want us to do with them?’

  ‘Put them in the strongroom.’ Oliver dragged his attention away from the table. ‘And this time, mount a guard outside to ensure they do not escape. While they suffocate, we shall concoct evidence that proves Hyde has been stealing his father’s bricks, and that Chaloner locked him in there to teach him a lesson.’

  ‘And became trapped himself at the same time?’ asked Vere doubtfully.

  ‘When they are dead, you can bury him in the woods. Everyone will assume he fled London when he realised his antics had brought about Hyde’s demise.’

  ‘No!’ whispered Hyde, while Chaloner went cold at the thought of being shut in the vault a second time. ‘Please, Oliver. I will not tell anyone what … There is no need to kill me.’

  Oliver laughed, and Chaloner was stunned by the change in the man. Gone was the glum, shambling fellow, replaced by something far less attractive.

  ‘You were never going to be allowed to live, Hyde,’ he said pityingly. ‘What would be the use of these devices if you blab about them to your father? It means my employer would have wasted his money. Use the wits you were born with, boy!’

  His gloating voice, coupled with a determination not be to incarcerated again, served to concentrate Chaloner’s mind, and a plan began to form. He went limp in his captors’ hands; they swore when he suddenly became a deadweight.

  ‘What is wrong with him?’ demanded Oliver impatiently.

  ‘He has passed out from the pain of his wound,’ said Vere. ‘He will not be any trouble now.’

  ‘Then I will deal with him and Hyde,’ said Oliver briskly. ‘Green and Berry can help. Vere – take everyone else to the Room of Audience and start work. It is imperative that we finish tonight, because the house will be crawling with people once Hyde’s corpse is found.’

  Hyde started to cry, while Chaloner contrived to make himself as difficult to carry as possible. Green and Berry soon grew exasperated, and frustration turned them careless. The moment their guard dropped, he plunged the scalpel into Green’s arm. The man’s eyes widened in shock, but Chaloner was already spinning away, and had knocked Berry senseless with a punch.

  ‘Run!’ he hissed to Hyde, whipping around to deal with Oliver. Unfortunately, the assistant architect’s reactions were faster than he had anticipated, and he had already snatched a gun from the reeling Green, his face full of enraged fury.

  At such close range, Oliver could not miss, and Chaloner braced himself for the shot that would end his life. But he had reckoned without Hyde. With a screech of passion, the Earl’s son grabbed a sledgehammer that was leaning against a wall, and swung it with all his might. It caught Oliver on the back of his head, and Chaloner
knew from the sound it made that it had shattered his skull. The gun went off at the same time, and Chaloner had no idea how it had missed him.

  Hyde raised the hammer again, but Chaloner grabbed his arm and pulled him away. The gunshot and Green’s shrieks would have warned the others that trouble was afoot, and sure enough he heard a distant shout. Grateful that his explorations had familiarised him with the house’s layout, he hauled Hyde along a corridor towards a chamber where there was a defective window. Hyde was sobbing hysterically, slowing them both down.

  They reached the room and Chaloner forced open the shutter. He shoved Hyde through it, acutely aware of footsteps coming ever closer. Hyde was clumsy, and took longer than he should have done, so by the time it was Chaloner’s turn to escape, the workmen were almost at the door. Forced to hurry, he jumped badly, jarring his lame leg as he landed. The resulting limp slowed him down. Hyde was making good time now, though, sprinting towards the woods as fast as his feet would take him. He was soon invisible in the fog.

  Chaloner was not so fortunate, and his pursuers were so close behind him that he could hear the rasp of their breath. He also aimed for the woods, in the hope that the trees would prevent them from all attacking at once – he might stand a chance if he could fight them in twos or threes.

  He reached the copse, then whipped around with the scalpel. The fellow at the front of the mob reeled away with a howl of pain, but others jostled to take his place, and the ferocity of their assault made Chaloner stumble. His lame leg buckled, and he crashed to the ground. With grim purpose, Vere stepped forward, a gun in his hand.

  Chaloner was not sure what happened next, except that there was a sudden yell and a ragged volley of shots. Then other men appeared, weapons at the ready, although it was too dark to see their faces. Vicious skirmishing followed, and rough hands hauled him to his feet.

  ‘Run! We cannot hold them off for long.’

  Chaloner did not need to be told twice. He followed his rescuer through the woods, staggering along twisting paths in the misty darkness until he was wholly disoriented. Behind him, he heard more shots and the continued clash of steel.

  Just when he was beginning to think it was time to stop and demand answers, they reached a row of houses, and he knew they were on the northern end of the Haymarket, because he could see the distinctive form of the windmill looming out of the fog. Then he saw his rescuer’s silhouette.

  ‘Lester!’

  ‘Pratt saw lights in Clarendon House when all should have been in darkness,’ explained Lester. ‘So he ran to White Hall to tell Williamson, assuming the brick-thieves were at work. I went with Doines and his men to lay hold of them, and we were about to pounce when you raced out with that horde on your heels. I thought we had better intervene.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Chaloner sincerely.

  ‘Well, you did save Ruth. I shall always be in your debt for that. Of course, I am not quite so ready to forgive you for abandoning me in a graveyard with my brother-in-law’s exhumed corpse.’

  ‘Where is Hyde?’ asked Chaloner, not wanting to dwell on his ill-judged notions about Elliot. He stopped walking abruptly. ‘I will have to go back for him.’

  ‘He is here, with me,’ came a soft voice from the darkness. Chaloner jumped, disconcerted that Williamson should have been listening to their conversation. ‘And I think an explanation is in order, but not here. Lead the way to the Gaming House, Lester. We all need a drink.’

  As they walked, Chaloner was aware of Hyde conversing in an urgent hiss to the Spymaster. He could not hear what was being said, but was disinclined to demean himself by telling his own side of the story. Williamson would believe what he pleased, and nothing Chaloner could say would make any difference. Doines caught up with them just outside the Gaming House.

  ‘Most of them got away,’ he reported. ‘But we shot two and caught Vere. He has agreed to give the others up in exchange for his freedom. Shall we take him up on his offer?’

  ‘Yes.’ Williamson indicated Hyde. ‘This gentlemen says they tried to kill him, and we cannot have earls’ sons assassinated. I want them all in my cells by the end of the day. And Vere can join them there once he is no longer of use to us. I dislike traitors.’

  Doines saluted and disappeared, while Chaloner thought that if these orders were followed, Vere would die at his accomplices’ hands, because they would not appreciate traitors, either. He followed Williamson into the Gaming House, where the Spymaster commandeered a private room and ordered a jug of claret. He sat on a bench and allowed Lester to inspect his shoulder.

  ‘Just a scratch,’ the captain declared, dabbing at it rather roughly. ‘You were lucky.’

  Chaloner accepted the wine Williamson poured him, resisting the urge to swallow the lot in a single gulp. His hands were unsteady and his stomach churned, mostly a reaction to the thought of being locked in the vault again – being dispatched in the woods had not been nearly as terrifying a prospect. Meanwhile, Williamson watched Hyde like a cat with a mouse.

  ‘You have regaled me with quite a story,’ he said. ‘About thieves stealing bricks to build secret passages in your father’s house, and how you discovered their villainy and confronted them. You had better tell me again, and this time fill in the details. Such as why you elected to challenge them all by yourself, and how Chaloner came to be involved.’

  Hyde had the grace to look sheepish, but it did not prevent him from recounting a tale that put him firmly in the role of hero. He declared he had always been suspicious of Oliver and Vere, and Chaloner’s conclusions about them being in the pay of the Earl’s enemies were presented as his own. He even claimed to have saved them both from being locked in the strongroom.

  ‘Chaloner fainted,’ he said in conclusion. ‘And I was obliged to carry him from the house with one hand, while fighting off Vere with the other.’

  ‘Really?’ asked Lester coolly. ‘Because I saw you racing away to save your own skin, leaving him to the mercy of—’

  ‘You are mistaken,’ interrupted Hyde curtly. He turned to Williamson. ‘My only regret is not forcing Oliver to tell me the name of the man whose orders he was following.’

  ‘And now Oliver is dead,’ said Lester flatly. ‘Killed by Chaloner with a sledgehammer. Was that before or after Chaloner passed out, by the way? Or did he do it while he was insensible?’

  ‘Unfortunately, Vere and his cronies will be minions,’ said Williamson, while Hyde glowered at Lester. ‘I doubt they have been trusted with the name of the man who paid their wages, although I shall certainly ask. But what will the Earl do about it, Hyde? Destroy these spyholes?’

  ‘They are of no use to his enemies now, because I know about them,’ Hyde declared. ‘And as from today, so will he: I shall tell him exactly what happened. But I think the situation can be turned to his advantage. He can use them to monitor his guests.’

  He shot Chaloner a glance that warned him not to reiterate his earlier remarks about the Earl not entertaining the kind of person who warranted being put under surveillance.

  ‘Well, he has paid for them by inadvertently providing the necessary materials,’ sighed Williamson. ‘So they are his to deploy as he sees fit.’

  While Lester proceeded to interrogate Hyde, tying the younger man in knots over his lies and inconsistencies, Williamson turned to Chaloner and spoke in a low voice.

  ‘I am not a fool, Chaloner – I know who unravelled this mess. So why do you sit back and let Hyde take the credit?’

  ‘I do not care about him. I am more worried about the plans of Fitzgerald’s master.’

  ‘Then you had better tell me everything you have learned. Thurloe confided some of it, but there is a great deal I still do not understand, and we need to work together if we are to thwart these villains. Neither of us can do it alone.’

  It was not easy to forget his dislike of the Spymaster and share his findings, but Chaloner knew he had no choice. When he had finished, Williamson was sombre.

  ‘The
re was an accident at White Hall after you left.’ Chaloner regarded him in alarm. ‘What kind of accident?’

  ‘The fatal kind – Meneses was trampled by a horse. No one knows how it happened, although there is some suggestion that he may have been borrowing it to go for a ride.’

  Chaloner closed his eyes. Who had killed Meneses as he had tried to escape? The Piccadilly Company for his betrayal? Or the Adventurers, because he was no longer useful?

  He dragged his thoughts back to the problems they would face the following day – or rather, that day, because although he had no idea of the time, he sensed it was long after midnight, and approaching the hour when he was supposed to meet Thurloe. He had not anticipated that confronting the brick-thieves would transpire to be such a deadly business, or so time-consuming.

  ‘From the start, I have considered the plot to kill Pratt as a bluff,’ he said. ‘That the real aim was to damage the Queen. But now I am not so sure. I think someone might actually do it.’

  ‘I shall arrest Pratt, then,’ said Williamson promptly. ‘They cannot kill him if he is in custody.’

  Chaloner nodded approvingly. It was as good a way as any to prevent the architect from being used to harm Her Majesty. ‘Meanwhile, Jane will dock at three o’clock in the afternoon, almost certainly carrying a valuable cargo hidden beneath gravel. The Adventurers have hired men to attack and burn her, and the Piccadilly Company will resist.’

  ‘They will,’ agreed Williamson. ‘And the resulting mêlée could be very bloody.’

  ‘And finally, Leighton has arranged for his Adventurers to enjoy some sort of nautical feast aboard Royal Katherine at dusk. I have an awful feeling that a large gathering of opponents may be too great a temptation for the Piccadilly Company …’

  Williamson regarded him in horror. ‘You think that is the nature of the atrocity Fitzgerald has planned? But the Adventurers comprise some of the wealthiest and most influential men in the country – members of the Privy Council, of Parliament, and of the royal family! If anything were to happen to them en masse … well, there would be chaos!’