Rags of Time

by Michael Ward

  Before he knew what he was doing, Tom moved from behind the panel and gently called her name. Elizabeth looked over and took the pipe from her mouth. Tom caught the smile on her face in the light from her lantern and experienced a jolt of intense happiness.

  ‘Thomas Tallant. You came to see me.’

  That soft voice with a husky undertone.

  ‘I wondered if you would, after the other night. Come, sit here next to me.’

  Her hand touched the bench on her left. Tom moved forward, careful not to trip over the shape in front of Elizabeth. It was some sort of apparatus. He sat down and placed the wooden box next to his feet. Now closer to her, the air was filled with a heady mix of jasmine and sweet tobacco. Elizabeth was wearing her cloak bareheaded.

  ‘Do you look at heaven, Thomas? I do, most nights when that infernal coal fog is not clouding my view.’

  Tom looked up. It was turning into a clear, star-studded night.

  ‘I do not understand why more people do not,’ she continued. ‘Is there anything else to consider, day or night, that can match this?’

  Her pale hand emerged from within her cloak and pointed to the stars.

  ‘Is there anything else to make us wonder more than this? I have studied the night sky for as long as I can remember. Then I discovered Galileo, or rather his Sidereus Nuncius. Have you read it? I have, about two hundred times, and I still learn from it. Galileo is my hero. I would love to meet him but, of course, that will never happen.’

  Elizabeth returned the pipe to her mouth but it had gone out. She gently tapped the bowl against the wooden bench to dislodge the charred remains of tobacco.

  ‘I weep to think of such a brilliant mind locked away simply because he speaks the truth. Copernicus was right. Of course the earth moves around the sun. The Inquisition would not accept that. They could not imprison Copernicus. He’d long gone. So they accused Galileo of heresy instead and placed him under house arrest in Florence. It makes my blood boil.’

  Tom heard the scorn and anger in Elizabeth’s voice and his eyes turned towards the dull shape in front of him. Of course, it was a telescope, the largest he had ever seen. It was not pointing upwards, hence his confusion. Elizabeth caught Tom’s gaze.

  ‘Do you like it? It is a Kepler. I hate to admit it gives a clearer image than my old Galileo. I am still getting accustomed to it and was making adjustments when you popped out of the undergrowth like a woodland troll.’

  Elizabeth flashed Tom a beaming grin that stunned him.

  ‘Kepler was a genius. He was another to calculate planetary motions and how they move around the sun. Do you know they accused his mother of witchcraft? Why are people of science so persecuted? Am I boring you?’

  Tom looked at Elizabeth and shook his head. He did not understand a great deal of what she was saying but he could not think of anyone he would rather listen to.

  ‘No, I am, aren’t I? I often talk too much when I am nervous.’

  Tom was surprised. ‘Nervous? You?’

  ‘Well, I did not behave terribly well at the masque ball and no doubt you have heard of my weakness. It is not something I am proud of.’

  Tom felt the box by his feet. Was this the right moment to mention it? He didn’t get the chance.

  ‘So, you see, I much prefer to come into the garden on my own to search the skies and enjoy a pipe. Do you smoke, Mr Tallant? I could not endure life without tobacco. It soothes the senses and helps me concentrate. Turning my teeth rather yellow, though.’

  Tom had not noticed and he was not sure he would much mind if he did. He was completely captivated by this extraordinary woman.

  ‘Here I am talking again. Let me ask you a question. Why are you here?’

  Tom could not answer. The well considered phrases he had prepared crumbled like ashes in his mouth. Once again he was totally disarmed by Elizabeth Seymour’s presence. He wanted to say he had thought of little else but her since they met in the warehouse. Instead he managed something less elegant.

  ‘I think I can help you with your gambling problem.’

  Tom sensed Elizabeth stiffen and marvelled at his own insensitivity.

  ‘Well thank you for coming straight to the point, Mr Tallant. And what makes you believe a virtual stranger could stop my… problem? Do you not think I have received advice from many who know me better? Do you even know why I play the tables, Mr Tallant?’

  Thomas fell silent and looked at his feet, stung by Elizabeth’s scorn.

  ‘I will tell you,’ she continued. ‘When you understand what is out there, in the heavens, you realise you are nothing. A speck of dust in a moment of time. What does it matter what you do or say? You really are not important in the natural order of life.’

  You have become absurdly important to me, Tom thought.

  ‘At least while I gamble I get a brief sense of excitement, a feeling that something does matter, because frankly I cannot afford to lose. But usually I do. I am aware of my family’s concern and the hurt I am causing. Do you think I would not stop if I could? So, Mr Tallant, you presume much to think you can make a difference, particularly when you are so heavily outnumbered.’ She pointed to the stars once more. ‘Each one of my friends above provides me with ample reason to ignore you.’

  For the first time there was silence between them. The distant owl screeched again. Tom did not trust his tongue, so instead he reached down, gathered the box and silently offered it to Elizabeth. She looked at Tom, then at the rough wooden container. She reached forward, took it and placed it in her lap.

  ‘Well, Thomas Tallant. You have my attention again. I think I would like to know what is inside.’

  Elizabeth looked at Tom searchingly with her enormous brown eyes and then started to unfasten the leather clasp on the box. Tom raised his lantern above the container and Elizabeth removed its top. She reached down into the box with both hands and gently lifted out a plant in a terracotta pot. It was upright, nine inches tall with three broad leaves growing from its base around a single graceful stem, which was topped with a small flower bud. Elizabeth gave Tom a quizzical look.

  ‘Plants and flowers have always been my passion. But this one is special,’ he explained.

  ‘What is it?

  ‘It is a secret,’ Tom said, ‘or rather it holds within it a secret I have not shared with anyone. A secret I keep close to my heart. But I will share it with you, if you do one thing in return.’

  ‘Name it.’ Elizabeth’s eyes flashed at the prospect of a mystery.

  ‘I will share my secret with you but you must promise not to play the tables from this day until the plant flowers.’

  Elizabeth looked at the plant then back at Tom. She sighed deeply and then grinned.

  ‘Perhaps you see that as another gamble? However, I do not. I can return to my cards after the flower has bloomed, can I not?’

  Tom nodded.

  ‘In that case I accept your wager. You have piqued my interest, Thomas Tallant, the surest way to my heart.’

  She looked again into his eyes. His pulse was pounding. There was another long pause.

  ‘Now, shall we look for Jupiter and her four moons?’ and Elizabeth reached forward to pull the telescope upwards.

  There was a shout from the direction of the house. It was Ellen.

  ‘Tom, Elizabeth, where are you?’

  Tom heard the alarm in his sister’s voice.

  ‘Over here, Ellen, by the hedge. What’s the matter?’

  Ellen walked quickly across the lawn guided by a servant with a large lantern. She was breathless and shaking in the cool evening air. Tom put his arm around his sister.

  ‘What is it, Ellen, and why have you come out without a coat? You will get a chill.’

  ‘It’s Ma and Pa, Tom. Something terrible has happened at home.

  ‘They are not hurt, are they?’

  ‘No, no. They are all right but… but—’

  She burst into tears in Tom’s arms. Elizabeth spoke for the first
time, her voice gentle but firm.

  ‘Ellen. Try to calm yourself. What has happened?’

  ‘Oh Elizabeth, It’s awful. They had guests for dinner and one of them… one of them has died.’

  ‘What, did he become ill?’ Tom asked.

  ‘No, it was terrible. He fell down the stairs. Father says his neck is broken.’

  ‘Oh, poor Ellen, what a terrible shock for you. Accidents can happen—’

  ‘No, Tom, you don’t understand. The man who has died… it’s Sir Hugh Swofford.’

  Chapter 7

  The same night

  Bolton Hall

  By the time Tom and Ellen returned to their parents’ house, the guests had left. Tom found his mother sitting by the remains of the hall fire, her eyes closed. She opened them as Tom approached and smiled weakly. He had never seen her look older.

  ‘Oh Mama,’ Tom said, as they embraced. ‘What has happened? Where is father? Why was Swofford here?’

  Lady Beatrix’s body slumped in the face of Tom’s questions.

  ‘Your father is with the servants. They are moving Sir Hugh’s body to the garden outhouse.’

  She turned her gaze to the fire as a burning log collapsed in the grate with a shower of sparks. Lady Beatrix was one of the strongest people Tom knew, but now she looked close to breaking. For the first time he noticed lines and age marks on her hands. Ellen moved forward and silently sat at her mother’s feet. She placed her head in Beatrix’s lap who started to stroke Ellen’s hair absentmindedly. In a quiet voice, she broke into an old Dutch lullaby. She stopped, still staring at the fire’s glowing embers.

  ‘I told your father not to invite Swofford, but he insisted.’ She turned her empty gaze towards Tom. ‘Now look at the trouble we have.’

  There was a noise at the back of the room and Sir Ralph entered, dusting dirt off his hands. He walked towards the fire to catch its warmth. Tom approached him.

  ‘Father, what were you thinking of, inviting Sir Hugh Swofford to our house after he humiliated Ellen? He as much as accused me of causing Venell’s death and said he would not have a Tallant under his roof, and yet you entertain him here a week later? I am surprised he accepted the invitation.’

  Sir Ralph’s lip tightened and his face flushed.

  ‘Thomas, I would have a word with you, in the parlour. Now.’

  Tom’s father spat out the final word under his breath, before turning on his heel and leaving the room. When Tom entered the rear parlour his father was pacing the stone floor, hands behind his back. Eventually he turned to his son.

  ‘I invited Sir Hugh to offer him a trading partnership in the New World, initially with Peter’s colony when it is founded.’

  Tom was speechless. Could he be hearing this correctly? Sir Ralph had suggested the same to him less than two weeks ago. His father knew Tom wanted to open a route to the Americas but instead he was offering it to the man who had treated two of his children so abominably? Tom sat down.

  ‘Father, how could you? That was promised to me!’

  ‘Tom, it was not promised to anyone. I merely said we should discuss the opportunity, and I intended to do that, before your current gift for making enemies in the city reached a new level.’

  ‘What do you mean, make enemies? If you mean that drunken oaf Swofford, I am sorry father, I know his body is not yet cold in our outhouse but his behaviour to me and Ellen, was unpardonable. There was nothing I could do about it.’

  Sir Ralph looked at his son with a cold expression Tom had not seen before.

  ‘Do you have any idea how much trouble you are in, Tom? After the events at Sir Hugh’s house, you had three people on your trail for Joseph’s Venell’s death: not only Petty and the magistrate Franklin, but also Sir Hugh. You may not wish to believe it but I can assure you the talk of the Exchange last week was open speculation about your guilt and when you will be arrested—yes, even within my earshot!’

  Sir Ralph was pacing up and down again.

  ‘I warned you about your position but you have done nothing but make the situation worse. You treated Petty’s inquiries too casually. Why were you not open about your visits to Valkenswaard? You must not give the investigators any reason at all to suspect you. Venell and Swofford were members of the merchant nobility. These people look after their own and both Petty and Franklin will be under enormous pressure to solve this case, one way or another. Franklin for certain will not worry too much about who hangs, as long as someone does. You are becoming dangerously isolated, Tom. Why are you the only person who does not see that? Edmund tells me he is worried for you. He understands how the City works and has tried to reassure those in his circles that the gossip is completely unfounded, but he senses they are not listening. Remember, Tom, what I have told you. To some in the merchant community, families like the Tallants are brash interlopers, in need of taking down a peg or two.’

  Sir Ralph’s voice was getting louder.

  ‘I have seen this rumour frenzy before. Reputations ruined—and worse. I needed to act immediately to build bridges because you clearly were not inclined, or capable, of doing so. Edmund told me Sir Hugh was furious with you but had regretted including Ellen in his tirade. I saw my opportunity to open a discussion with Swofford, so I visited him at his home.’

  ‘What, so you could apologise on my behalf? For what?’

  Sir Ralph shook his head vehemently. Tom had rarely seen him so angry.

  ‘Sir Hugh would have no interest in apologies, I can assure you. You cannot simply apologise for being involved in the death of someone’s partner, as he appeared to think you were. No, I had to offer something that would turn his attention from revenge to profit. I knew, whatever his views about the Tallants, Swofford would find the prospect of a profitable venture irresistible. So I dangled the New World opportunity in front of him. He grumbled and grunted a little at first, but eventually accepted my invitation to dinner, as I knew he would.’

  The room fell silent. Sir Ralph sat down, breathing heavily.

  ‘It was not a pleasant experience, I can assure you. Clearly Swofford had been drinking before he got here and carried on after his arrival. He was loud and boorish with the other guests, interrupting their conversations to demand more wine and offer his disgusting snuff. I had heard stories of Swofford’s love of the stuff but rarely have I seen a man consume such quantities. After we had eaten, I needed to talk to him on his own, so I suggested we view a new picture on the landing upstairs, an old Martin Schongauer print. Your uncle Jonas bought it for your mother in Amsterdam as a birthday gift. I told Sir Hugh it would be a good investment in years to come and that caught his interest. He was puffing and blowing as he climbed the stairs but managed to reach the landing. I thought he wouldn’t pay it that much attention, but he became transfixed by the print and then began sweating profusely. He gave out a low moan and shifted from foot to foot, turning his head left and right.’

  Sir Ralph’s voice lowered. He spoke slowly and deliberately, reliving the scene.

  ‘Then, without warning, he began to rant and claw at the air around him with both hands. I put an arm on his shoulder but he twisted away and staggered backwards towards the top of the stairs. He started shouting “No” and “Leave me be”, crouching down and swatting at the air above. Again, I tried to hold him but Sir Hugh was a large, strong man. He said “No sir, you will not trap me here, for them to get me” and he spun around, out of my grasp. By now the other guests were gathering at the foot of the stairs. Sir Hugh stumbled forward, still writhing and twisting, swatting the air around him. I could see what was about to happen, but, the Lord forgive me, I could do nothing to stop it.’

  He lent back in his chair, uttered a deep sigh and closed his eyes.

  ‘His left foot landed on the edge of the top step. It was carrying all his weight and he was off balance. His left leg slid beneath him on the polished wood, fouling his right foot as he tried to place it on the next step down.’

  Sir Ralph swal
lowed hard.

  ‘His arms were flailing like a windmill sail as he fought for balance. But his weight was carrying him forward. He screamed, the guests moved back in a panic…and he fell full length down the stairs, landing on the hall floor. I knew he was dead. I have seen too many falls on board ship, and I knew. I looked down and saw everyone looking up at me, with the body of Sir Hugh at their feet.’

  ‘Father, they cannot think you pushed—’

  ‘I do not know what they think. Fortunately most of the guests were family friends. They saw Swofford was drunk and will vouch for my good reputation. One or two told me so. But, Tom, will you never understand? It is not what they think that will matter. It is what Petty and Franklin think… and what the City rumour mill will make of it, particularly after so many witnessed his accusations against you at his house.’

  Sir Ralph stopped, his previous anger eclipsed by utter weariness.

  Tom spoke hesitantly. ‘Father. I am truly sorry you have become involved in this pernicious business. Please forgive me for my anger over the American trade, I was—’

  Sir Ralph waved a dismissive hand and sighed.

  ‘There’s nothing more to be done tonight. We must get what rest we can. Tomorrow will be a trying day as the world hears the news about Swofford.’

  He gazed at his son, before turning to walk stiffly out of the room, his shoulders bowed. Tom was in despair. Was this truly his destiny? To be ensnared in a fate not of his making and to drag his family down with him? Was his life—family, good name, the business—built on such shifting sand? At that moment he longed for the comfortable certainties of old, to how he felt the moment he saw London Bridge on his return from India. For the first time Tom realised he was truly afraid.