Susanna Gregory - The Piccadilly Plot

‘Was she fey-witted when she married Elliot?’

Lester shrugged uncomfortably. ‘She has always been a little … unworldly. I did not want her to wed him, but she was in love, and I did not have the heart to withhold permission. I wish I had, though, because he did not make her happy.’

‘My wife tells me you play the flute.’ Chaloner would have liked to express his sympathy, but was unsure what to say, so he changed the subject to one he thought Lester might prefer instead.

Lester smiled. ‘Williamson was waxing lyrical about your skill on the viol today, so perhaps we should try a duet. We shall do it after we have saved England from that damned pirate Fitzgerald. It will give me something to look forward to.’

Chaloner met Kipps when he arrived at White Hall, but the Seal Bearer looked him up and down in horror when he heard he was bound for the Queen’s quarters — the scuffle with Doines had taken its toll on his finery. There was also a coffee stain on his cuff, although he could not recall spilling any. Kipps whisked him into his office, and set about polishing his shoes and brushing the muck from his coat. He also lent him a clean shirt and a pair of white stockings.

‘I have been hearing about the Adventurers today,’ said Chaloner while he changed, intending to find out what Kipps knew about them. ‘I understand they-’

‘Thieves and scoundrels,’ declared Kipps uncompromisingly, scrubbing so vigorously at a sleeve that Chaloner feared he might make a hole. ‘What gives them the right to sequester an entire continent for themselves, forbidding anyone else to trade there?’

‘Presumably the fact that the King is a member, and he can do what he likes.’

‘I thought that was why we had Parliament,’ snapped Kipps, uncharacteristically revolutionary. ‘So monarchs cannot make decisions based on brazen self-interest. What have you been doing to get yourself into such a mess? Surely a conversation about the Adventurers was not the cause?’

‘Commerce is a dirty subject,’ replied Chaloner wryly.

‘It is where the Adventurers are concerned,’ agreed Kipps. ‘I am glad they rejected my application to join, because they are treasure-hunting aristocrats, not businessmen, and their venture will founder from lack of fiscal acumen.’

‘What about the Piccadilly Company?’ probed Chaloner. ‘Would you join that?’

‘Never heard of it,’ replied Kipps briskly. ‘You have one stocking inside out, by the way. God’s blood, Chaloner! No wonder Dugdale considers you slovenly. And if you will not wear a wig, then at least remove the blades of grass from your hair.’

He fussed until he was satisfied, unwilling for the spy to leave in anything less than pristine condition. Aware that the process had taken some time, Chaloner set off across the Great Court at a run, but was obliged to skid to a halt when he heard someone calling his name.

It was Hyde, the Earl puffing along in his wake with Frances on his arm. Dugdale was behind them, nose in the air and looking more regal than his master. From the other side of the courtyard, Buckingham aped the Earl’s portly waddle, and his rakish companions burst into peals of laughter. Hyde glowered, but it was Frances’s admonishing look that shamed them into silence.

‘Will you let them mock our employer so, Chaloner?’ demanded Dugdale indignantly. ‘Why do you not draw your sword and punish them for their effrontery?’

‘Because the King will not be happy if I slaughter his oldest friend, his mistress and several of his favourite barons,’ replied Chaloner shortly. He did not have time for this sort of nonsense.

‘There is no need for impudence,’ said Dugdale mildly, although his eyes showed his anger.

‘I suggest we incarcerate him in the palace prison for a few days,’ said Hyde, eyes narrowing. ‘That will teach him to mind his manners.’

‘That is a good idea,’ nodded Dugdale. ‘They are cold, dark and full of rats.’

Chaloner regarded him sharply. Was it coincidence that he should mention rats and dark places, or did the Chief Usher know what had transpired in Clarendon House the night before?

‘Your incautious tongue keeps bringing you trouble, Chaloner,’ said the Earl, raising his hand to prevent his son from adding more. ‘I understand you accused Pratt of stealing, too. I wish you had not. What if he takes umbrage and decides not to finish my home?’

‘He will do no such thing, dear.’ Frances patted her husband’s arm soothingly. ‘His pride will not let him abandon a half-finished masterpiece.’

‘And architects are vain,’ agreed Hyde. ‘I know, because I trained as one, and met lots of them.’

‘It was hardly training , Henry,’ remarked Frances. ‘A few months on a-’

‘We were discussing Chaloner’s claims,’ interrupted Hyde sharply, clearly furious at being put in his place by his mother. ‘I do not believe he saw these thieves. I think he invented them, to encourage us not to dismiss him.’

‘We will never do that,’ said Frances vehemently. ‘I feel much happier now he is home, looking after our interests.’ She turned to her husband. ‘And so do you, dear. You said so only last night.’

‘Well, yes, I did,’ acknowledged the Earl. Then he scowled at Chaloner. ‘But that was before he failed to lay hold of these villains.’

‘I can find someone better,’ said Hyde stiffly. ‘Someone who will follow orders and keep a civil tongue in his head. Of course, he will not be a spy, but espionage is sordid anyway, and-’

‘It is sordid,’ interrupted Frances. ‘But it is also necessary. And no one will dismiss Thomas, because he is better at it than anyone we have ever known.’

She took the Earl’s arm and pulled him on their way, inclining her head to Chaloner, who was not sure whether he had just been complimented or insulted. The twinkle in her eye led him to hope it was the former. Dugdale followed, leaving Chaloner alone with Hyde.

‘I am glad we met,’ said Chaloner, although he chafed at the passing time, and hoped Hyde would not prove awkward to interview. ‘I understand you witnessed Newell’s death today.’

‘I decline to discuss it,’ said Hyde curtly. ‘And you cannot make me.’

Chaloner was sure he could. ‘I only wanted to ask who else was there.’

‘Lots of people,’ snapped Hyde. ‘Men often demonstrate new weapons in St James’s Park on a Saturday morning, and I was there with Leighton and the O’Briens. It is one of London’s favourite pastimes. Well, favourite among respectable people. I doubt you have ever been.’

‘How close were you when it happened?’

‘Quite close — touching distance.’ Hyde’s expression was suddenly bleak, and Chaloner realised that distress, not mulishness, was the reason for his reluctance to discuss the matter. When Hyde next spoke, it was more to himself than the spy. ‘The weapon was a type I had never seen before — and not one I am inclined to purchase, either, given that demonstration of its capabilities.’

‘I am sorry,’ said Chaloner sympathetically. ‘It cannot have been easy to witness.’

Hyde shuddered, and his manner softened slightly. ‘No. But never mind Newell — I have something much more important to tell you. I declined to mention it in front of my father, because I do not want him worried, but I found another letter this morning.’

‘Where?’ asked Chaloner.

‘In the Queen’s purse again,’ replied Hyde. ‘Which means she must have put it there, because no one else goes in it. It was in a different one from last time — that was red, and this one was yellow.’

‘ You went in it,’ Chaloner pointed out. ‘So logic dictates that someone else could, too.’