Susanna Gregory - The Piccadilly Plot

‘Yes, but I am her secretary,’ countered Hyde haughtily. ‘I am different.’

‘What did the letter say?’ asked Chaloner, declining to argue. ‘And where is it now?’

‘It reiterated all the same nonsense as the first three. I put it on the fire.’

‘Good,’ said Chaloner, pleased Hyde had done something right at last. ‘Are you sure the whole thing was burned? No readable fragments were left?’

Hyde shot him a look of pure dislike. ‘Of course I am sure. But I cannot waste time chatting to you. I have an important Adventurers’ meeting to attend.’

The Queen’s quarters comprised a suite of rooms that were cold in winter and hot in summer, and while a few chambers afforded a nice view of the river, most overlooked a dingy courtyard near the servants’ latrine. Chaloner went through the formalities of admission with Captain Appleby, then climbed a staircase that was nowhere near as fine as the one that led to the Earl’s offices.

‘There you are, Tom,’ said Hannah, emerging from a plain and rather threadbare antechamber. ‘I was beginning to think you might have forgotten. Where have you been?’

‘Hyde found another letter today.’ Chaloner ignored the question and said what was on his mind. ‘In the Queen’s purse. Does he often rummage around in those?’

Hannah gaped. ‘He certainly should not! I would not appreciate a man rifling through mine, not even you. They are personal.’

Chaloner was thoughtful. Had Hyde gone where no man should dare to root because he wanted to protect the Queen, or because he was eager to see her in trouble? And there was the question that kept nagging at him: had Hyde planted the letters there himself?

‘He said it was in a different purse from last time,’ he went on. ‘Yellow, rather than red.’

Hannah stared at him. ‘The Queen never uses the red and yellow ones — she does not like them. Her favourites are the green and white.’

Chaloner smiled. ‘Which is indicative of her innocence — if the letters were hers, they would have been in the purses she uses, not in the ones she dislikes.’

‘All well and good,’ said Hannah worriedly. ‘But it means someone villainous has access to the Blue Dressing Room — the chamber where she keeps such accessories. I shall have to work longer hours, to see if I can catch him.’

‘Please do not,’ begged Chaloner, alarmed. ‘It might be dangerous.’

‘It would be worth it.’ Hannah raised her chin bravely, reminding Chaloner of why he had married her. ‘The Queen is worth ten of anyone else in White Hall — except the Duke and you.’

Chaloner supposed it was a compliment, although he was not flattered to be likened to Buckingham. ‘I have a number of clues,’ he lied. ‘So there is no need to risk yourself just yet. But we had better make a start before Hyde comes back.’

‘He has gone for the day. Why do you think I suggested you come now? I wanted to show you how Her Majesty gets letters without him leaning over my shoulder and contradicting me at every turn. He really is the most frightful bore, and I wish she had a different secretary.’

So did Chaloner. He followed her through another grimly barren chamber, to one that was luxuriously appointed, with paintings by great masters and a wealth of fine furnishings.

‘Hyde’s office,’ explained Hannah disapprovingly. ‘He has far nicer things than the Queen.’

Chaloner searched it, going through the standard procedures to identify secret hiding places, aiming to discover anything that might prove Hyde was the author of the letters. He was aware of Hannah watching some of his checks in astonishment, no doubt wondering how he had come to learn them, but she grinned her delight when he located a secret drawer in a bureau. It was not a novel hiding place, but one in keeping with Hyde’s unimaginative but overconfident character.

Unfortunately, it contained nothing but sketches of Lady Castlemaine sans clothes. The Earl would be unimpressed to think of his son poring over such images, but it was irrelevant as far as Chaloner was concerned. Hannah picked up one of the drawings and studied it disparagingly.

‘Her knees are too big.’

‘If Hyde is responsible for writing the letters, then he has left no evidence here,’ said Chaloner, replacing all as he had found it. ‘Who else has access to Her Majesty’s wardrobe?’

‘All her ladies-in-waiting, along with a host of maids, laundresses and seamstresses — some twenty or thirty women in all. No men, of course — that would be unseemly. You interviewed them when you were last here. Clearly none struck you as sly, or you would have said something.’

‘What happens when letters arrive for the Queen?’ While Chaloner did not believe the staff would have initiated such a plot of their own volition, most would have planted the missives in exchange for money. Loyalty was cheap at White Hall, where wages were low and often paid late.

‘They are given to Captain Appleby downstairs, and he brings them to Hyde.’

‘And Hyde reads them all?’

‘He opens them all, but the ones that are personal he is supposed to pass on without perusing. Of course, he is a nosy fellow and scans the lot. Except the ones in Portuguese, which are beyond him.’

‘Then what?’

‘Then, if he thinks she should see them, he places them on this silver platter, and conveys them to her. He deals with the routine correspondence, of course — petitions, bills and so forth.’

Chaloner had learned nothing helpful, and was about to leave when a door opened and the Queen stepped through it. Meneses was with her, along with several ladies-in-waiting, who scampered away with indecent haste when they saw that Hannah was available to take over as chaperon.

‘I hope he does not stay long,’ Hannah whispered resentfully to Chaloner, ‘because there is nothing more tedious than listening to conversations in a language you do not know.’

‘Hannah tells me you have been in Tangier, Thomas,’ said Katherine pleasantly. She spoke Portuguese, and Chaloner suspected the pleasure she always exhibited when she met him derived from the fact that she was not obliged to struggle in English. ‘I hope you liked it. It was part of my dowry, and the King says it will soon become one of England’s most prized possessions.’

‘Perhaps, Your Majesty,’ Chaloner replied evasively, wanting neither to lie nor hurt her feelings.

Meneses regarded him through narrowed eyes. ‘Who are you? You speak our language like a Spaniard, but you do not look like one.’

‘He is Hannah’s husband,’ explained Katherine. ‘I suppose he does sound like a Spaniard, now that you mention it. I have never noticed that before.’

As Spain and Portugal were mortal enemies, speaking Portuguese with a Spanish accent was clearly undesirable, and Chaloner would have to remedy the matter when he had time.

‘Meneses has been to Tangier, too,’ said Katherine conversationally. ‘In fact, he was one of its governors, before it was handed to the English. I am sure you will enjoy talking to each other.’

Meneses’ smile was tight. ‘Alas, my sojourn there was brief, so I have little to say about it.’

‘Come, My Lady,’ said Hannah, taking the Queen’s arm and clearly intent on separating her from the man she did not like. ‘You promised to show me the new dances you have learned — the ones you will use at tomorrow’s ball.’

The Queen laughed, a pleasant sound that was rarely heard, and allowed herself to be led away. She loved dancing, and could nearly always be diverted by it.

‘The Queen is a dear, sweet creature, but easily confused,’ said Meneses, when they had gone. ‘You will ignore her chatter. She does not know what she is talking about.’