Susanna Gregory - The Piccadilly Plot

George must have heard the warning in his voice, because he did not need to be told again. But Hannah’s suspicions about his spying were still in Chaloner’s mind, and it seemed as good a time as any to question the man — better, in that Joan, Nan and Susan were not there to eavesdrop.

‘Why were you reading our papers this morning?’ he asked, opting for a blunt approach. He felt Hannah stiffen beside him, and supposed she had not wanted George to know that she had tattled.

‘I was looking for tobacco,’ replied the footman curtly. ‘I smoke.’

Even Chaloner was taken aback at the bald admission that George felt entitled to rummage among his employers’ possessions in search of a commodity that, if found, would effectively be stolen. Hannah gasped her disbelief.

‘Did you hunt for tobacco among Fitzgerald’s belongings, too?’ asked Chaloner coolly.

‘Of course,’ replied George, unruffled. ‘What else was I to do when I wanted a pipe?’

‘Even if we did smoke,’ said Hannah, ‘we would not keep tobacco among our legal documents.’

‘So I have learned. I shall not look there again.’

Chaloner gaped at the man’s unrepentant audacity, but when he stole a glance at Hannah, he saw she was laughing.

‘Lord!’ she whispered. ‘Perhaps we had better buy him some, or who knows where he might pry next. Unfortunately, Joan disapproves of smoking …’

‘I will bring him some tomorrow,’ said Chaloner, thinking it would kill two birds with one stone: relieve George’s cravings and annoy the housekeeper. Of course, he thought, as he watched George pause to see Hannah over a rutted section of road, the man still might be a spy.

The O’Briens had rented a pleasant house with attractive gardens, and their great wealth was reflected in the number of lights that blazed from their windows. As they entered, Hannah was immediately claimed by Buckingham, who whisked her away to meet some of his friends.

Chaloner loitered at the edge of the gathering, aware that it included a lot of very well-connected individuals, many of them Adventurers. There was, however, no one from the Piccadilly Company. He was not sure what it meant — perhaps just that the two groups were drawn from different sections of society, with the Adventurers comprising the uppermost echelons, and the Piccadilly Company admitting men like Fitzgerald the pirate and the Tangier scouts.

Secretary Leighton was by the fire, surrounded by fellow Adventurers. They included a man with an exceptionally large nose named Congett. Congett was a drunk, who had earned himself a certain notoriety by mistaking a French cabinet for the King at His Majesty’s birthday party, and informing it of his undying loyalty. Only the fact that he was immensely wealthy had saved him from being laughed out of Court.

‘Turner and Lucas promised to be here,’ Leighton was saying. He sounded annoyed, and Chaloner was under the impression that the pair would be in trouble when he next saw them. ‘I wanted them to work on O’Brien, and persuade him to join us.’

‘I hope no harm has befallen them,’ slurred Congett worriedly. ‘Especially after Proby …’

‘A vile business,’ said Leighton, with a marked lack of feeling. His button eyes glittered. ‘And now poor Grey is missing, too. He disappeared en route to a brothel.’

‘If I did not know better,’ whispered Congett, ‘I would say someone is targeting Adventurers.’

‘Why would anyone do that?’ Leighton’s face was impossible to read.

‘Well, I do not believe Proby threw himself off St Paul’s,’ replied Congett. ‘I think he was pushed — murdered. And I think there will be more deaths to come.’

‘Nonsense,’ snapped Leighton. ‘There is no evidence to suggest such a thing, and we all know he was upset when his wife died. But this is no subject for a fine evening. Let us talk of happier matters. Have you heard that the price of gold has risen again? It is good news for our company.’

Once the discussion turned fiscal, Chaloner wandered away. He went to where a quartet of musicians was playing. They invited him to join them, and he was soon lost in a complex piece by Lawes. He came back to Earth abruptly when he became aware that he was the subject of scrutiny.

‘I had no idea you were so talented,’ said Spymaster Williamson.

‘It is a pastime, no more,’ lied Chaloner, standing and nodding his thanks to the musicians. He was horrified to have exposed such a vulnerable part of himself to a man he did not like.

‘Personally, I have never cared for music,’ said Williamson. ‘I prefer collecting moths.’

‘Do you?’ asked Chaloner, startled. ‘There are plenty in the curtains. Shall I shake them out?’

Williamson smiled. ‘It is a kind offer, but I am more interested in the rarer varieties. You will not forget to visit me tomorrow, will you? There is something important we must discuss.’

‘There you are, Joseph!’ came a voice from behind them. It was Kitty, radiant in a bodice of blue with skirts to match. Something sparkled in her auburn hair — a delicate net with tiny diamonds sewn into it. ‘We have been looking for you.’

She grabbed the Spymaster’s hand, and they exchanged a look of such smouldering passion that Chaloner was embarrassed. He was amazed, not only that a fine woman like Kitty should have such poor taste in men, but that Williamson should unbend enough to embark on a liaison. Or had it been Kitty who had done the seducing? Then O’Brien arrived, and she tugged her hand away.

‘I was just telling Chaloner about my moths,’ said Williamson smoothly. ‘He is very interested.’

‘Is he?’ O’Brien flung a comradely arm around the Spymaster’s shoulders, addressing Chaloner as he did so. ‘Williamson always enjoyed peculiar pastimes, even at Oxford. Now those were good days! It was just one invitation after another.’

‘It was,’ agreed Williamson, although with considerably less enthusiasm. ‘Of course, Chaloner was at Cambridge. Perhaps that explains his unaccountable liking for music.’

‘I adore music,’ said Kitty warmly. ‘Especially Locke. He is my favourite composer.’

He was one of Chaloner’s, too, and he felt himself losing his heart to Kitty. Then she and O’Brien began a lively debate about the best compositions for the viola da gamba, while Williamson listened with an indulgent smile. It was obvious that he was fond of both, and Chaloner wondered what would happen when O’Brien learned about their betrayal.

As the evening progressed, Kitty showed herself to be vivacious, intelligent and amusing, with a talent for making people feel at ease. It was clear that her servants worshipped her, while her guests positively fawned. O’Brien encouraged her to shine, and Chaloner soon understood why: the man wanted to be accepted into high society on the basis of their popularity, not because they were rich. It was pitiful, yet there was something charming about his eager naivety, and Chaloner hoped he would not be too badly savaged by the ruthless vultures of Court.

‘Thank you, Leighton,’ he was saying, clapping his hands in unbridled pleasure. ‘We should love to attend a reception on a ship next week. However, you must promise that you will not spend the entire evening trying to convince us to become Adventurers.’

‘It would be to your advantage,’ said Leighton immediately. ‘You could double your money.’

‘And what good would that do?’ asked O’Brien, laughing. ‘We already have more than we can spend. Besides, the Adventurers deal in slaves, and we do not approve of that.’

‘No,’ agreed Kitty vehemently. ‘It is a wicked business. But I firmly believe that the trade will founder eventually, and then anyone who participated in it will live in shame.’