Susanna Gregory - The Piccadilly Plot

‘I suspect he is right to order an investigation into the Cave-Elliot affair, though,’ Lester went on soberly. ‘I have been considering the matter, and I believe it may be connected to the murder of one Captain Pepperell. Have you heard of him? He was stabbed in Queenhithe two Mondays ago.’

Chaloner stared at him. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘Because it is odd that two sea-officers should die in suspicious circumstances within a week.’

‘London is a big place. People are unlawfully killed here every day.’

‘But the matter stinks! I have already learned that Cave sang duets with O’Brien, who seems a decent fellow, and Fitzgerald, who is a damned pirate! I cannot abide the breed. Privateers should be hanged at the yardarm, and-’

‘What else do you know about Fitzgerald?’ Chaloner headed off what promised to become a rant.

‘Is being a pirate not enough?’ demanded Lester. Then he relented. ‘Tonight, I heard him say that something terrible was going to be common knowledge tomorrow. He also mentioned gravel.’

Chaloner regarded him narrowly. ‘What is gravel?’

Lester’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Small bits of stone, man! How much claret have you had?’

‘It must mean something else, too. Fitzgerald is in London to recoup his losses after losing a ship full of treasure. He will not do that by trading in grit.’

‘If it is code for another commodity, then it is one I do not know.’

‘Have you heard whether Fitzgerald is working for anyone else?’ asked Chaloner.

Lester shook his head, but was more concerned with his own enquiries than in answering questions. ‘I suppose I shall have to visit all Elliot’s old haunts to ask whether Pepperell was ever with him, because I am sure I shall discover a connection between them. It will not be easy, though. I do not have a way with words, and both were average men, difficult to describe.’

Chaloner had taken a liking to Lester, although he could not have said why. Perhaps it was his hearty, bluff manner, or the stance he had taken over the slave trade. Regardless, he sensed a decency in him that was missing from virtually everyone else at Temperance’s club.

‘I will send you something that might help. It will arrive tomorrow.’

‘What is it?’

Chaloner smiled. ‘You will have to wait and see.’

Lester drew him into an alcove when Brodrick lurched past. Behind the Earl’s cousin, clinging drunkenly to his waist, was Dugdale with Edgeman clutching him, all three in a state of semi-undress. Chaloner was sure the Earl would be appalled if he could see them. Then came several Privy Councillors and five Members of Parliament, singing a popular tavern song at the tops of their voices as they danced along in a single, weaving line. They jigged out of the front door, took a turn around the courtyard, and trotted back in again before aiming for the kitchens. The screech of outrage from the French cook would have been audible in Chelsey.

‘It is good to know our country is in such capable hands,’ said Lester contemptuously. ‘God save us! Is this why I risk my life in the navy? So these monkeys can sit in authority over us?’

‘Easy! It is hardly sensible to bawl treasonous remarks when half the government might hear.’

Lester rubbed his eyes. ‘My apologies. Incidentally, Williamson said that if I saw you, I was to urge you to go to his office. Normally, I would tell you where to put such an invitation, but I have a bad feeling about whatever is unfolding in Piccadilly. I recommend you oblige him.’

Chaloner nodded, but had no intention of following the advice as long as Thurloe was helping him. If the ex-Spymaster proved lacking, then he might see whether Williamson was prepared to trade information, but he was certainly not ready to go down that road yet, aware that there would be a price for collaboration — and he was not sure whether it was one he would be willing to pay.

Chaloner was about to leave the club and go home when he remembered that he had not paid his respects to Temperance, and while they were not the close friends they once were, he was loath to hurt her feelings. He found her in an antechamber with Wiseman. The surgeon was asleep, and she was in the process of covering him with a blanket.

‘He is exhausted, poor lamb,’ she whispered, although if Wiseman could slumber through the drunken revels in the parlour, then she had no need to lower her voice. ‘Because of that terrible business with Sir Edward Turner. Richard was the first medicus on the scene, you see.’

Temperance was a large young woman, who should not have worn gowns designed for those with slimmer figures. She had once owned glorious chestnut curls, but had shaved them off to don a wig, which was seen as more fashionable. The upshot was that she was fat, plain and bald, although Wiseman did not seem to mind, because they had been lovers for months.

‘What terrible business?’ asked Chaloner, recalling how he had seen the obese Adventurer not many hours before, watching the King dine in the Banqueting House. The spectacle had made Turner hungry, he recalled, while his thin friend Lord Lucas had been sickened by the sight of such plenty.

‘You will hear about it tomorrow. All London will be appalled by the news.’

Chaloner stared at her. Could this be what Fitzgerald had mentioned? ‘Tell me about it.’

Temperance smoothed Wiseman’s hair back from his face in a gesture of infinite tenderness. Chaloner felt a mild twinge of envy; Hannah was never so loving with him.

‘Turner’s house caught fire, and he and his household were roasted alive.’

‘How many?’ asked Chaloner, his stomach churning.

‘Turner and his wife, their three children and six servants. Lucas was staying with him, so he was caught in the inferno, too. Still, we should not be surprised. The last time Turner came here, he quarrelled with Fitzgerald, and only a fool does that.’

‘Are you saying Fitzgerald is responsible?’ Chaloner wondered whether the man had set the blaze himself, or whether he had hired a minion to do it while he cavorted at the club.

Temperance glanced around in alarm. ‘Not so loud, Tom! I do not want him coming after me .’

‘You cannot be afraid of him — he is one of your patrons. You would not admit him if-’

‘I wish I could refuse him entry, but I do not dare. He is a pirate, and you cannot be too careful with those. They are depraved monsters, who love to kill and maim.’

‘If he did set Turner’s house alight, he will be punished for it. Spymaster Williamson-’

‘Will never get the evidence he needs to make a case. And if you do not believe me, ask Mr Thurloe. That is why he never managed to bring Fitzgerald down.’

‘I do not suppose you have heard rumours about Fitzgerald working for someone else, have you?’ asked Chaloner hopefully. ‘That another man dictates his actions in London?’

Temperance shook her head. ‘But if there is such a fellow, I should not like to meet him. He would have to be very evil and powerful to control a pirate.’

The food-fight in the parlour was getting out of hand. The ceiling and walls were now heavily splattered, and so were most of the guests. Chaloner saw Congett pick up a huge pot of brawn, and quickly pulled Temperance out of harm’s way, wincing when the bowl crashed into the wall behind them and dented the plaster. There was a wild whoop of glee at the resulting mess.

Smiling indulgently, as if she considered these foolish, middle-aged men her unruly children, Temperance led Chaloner to the small room near the kitchen where she and Maude counted their nightly takings. There were already several full purses on the table, and their ledger registered more money than Chaloner earned in a month. She flopped into one of the fireside chairs, removed her wig and reached for a pipe. She was not yet two years and twenty, but the eyes that studied Chaloner through the haze of smoke were far older.