Susanna Gregory - The Piccadilly Plot

Chaloner did not need to be told. ‘I have uncovered a lot of connections between the cases,’ he hedged. ‘And Williamson is worried about what will happen if the plot to harm the Queen succeeds — concerned for our future relations with Portugal.’

‘It would be awkward, to say the least. Moreover, I do not want Pratt to die before he has finished my home. Are you sure you saw the thieves yesterday? Henry thinks you were mistaken.’

‘Of course I saw them.’

‘There is no need to snap,’ said the Earl sharply. ‘I believe you. It is a wretched shame you did not catch them, though. Was there anything that might allow you to identify them?’

‘They were disguised.’ Chaloner moved to what he considered more important matters. ‘I need some information, sir: the names of the last Portuguese governors of Tangier.’

The Earl regarded him askance. ‘What an odd request! But it is one I can grant, as it happens. The fellow with whom I had most correspondence — as I negotiated that part of the Queen’s dowry — was Fernando de Meneses. He was later dismissed for dishonesty.’

‘What does he look like?’

‘I never met him. However, I imagine he looks Portuguese.’

It was not helpful, and left Chaloner none the wiser as to whether the Queen’s new friend was an impostor. Of course, if Meneses stood accused of corruption, and so was unable to secure a post at home, then perhaps he had come to London to try his luck with a countrywoman who might not have heard of his shortcomings.

‘I am glad you came,’ said the Earl, when there was no response. ‘Because I want you to spend the afternoon at Clarendon House. It is the workmen’s day off, so it needs guarding. Frances and I will be there this morning. You can take over at two o’clock, and stay until Wright arrives at dusk.’

Chaloner struggled to control his temper. ‘I thought you wanted me to catch the brick-thief, expose the plot to kill Pratt, and find out what happened to Teviot. All before Wednesday. How am I supposed to do that when-’

‘You have had days to make enquiries,’ snapped the Earl. ‘It is not my fault you wasted them.’

‘I have not wasted them,’ countered Chaloner in something of a snarl. ‘You ordered me to Woolwich and the Tennis Court, both of which were stupid, futile exercises.’

‘You go too far!’ cried the Earl, shocked. ‘Perhaps Henry is right, and I should dismiss you in favour of someone more amenable. Or at least, someone who does not rail at me.’

Chaloner took a deep breath, knowing he had over-stepped the mark. He was also aware that it would not have happened if he had not been troubled by his home life and its attendant problems.

‘I am sorry, sir. But something deadly is planned for three days’ time, and we need to discover the identity of the man who is giving Fitzgerald orders before it is too late. It may involve Pratt, and-’

‘Then you can do it this morning and tonight,’ said the Earl, unappeased. ‘Protecting my new home is far more important than rumours of vague plots. It is the reason I brought you home from Tangier, after all. This is not negotiable, Chaloner. You will do as I say.’

Chaloner had no choice but to agree. His temper was even blacker as he bowed and took his leave. As he hauled open the door, Kipps tumbled inside. The Seal Bearer’s expression was distinctly furtive.

‘I was not eavesdropping,’ he blustered. ‘I just wanted to know if you had finished.’

‘Yes,’ said Chaloner brusquely. ‘He is all yours now.’

He walked to Chancery Lane Inn amid a cacophony of bells, as churches advertised their Sunday rites. The roads were full of people flocking towards them, along with those street vendors who declined to acknowledge that there were laws prohibiting Sabbath trading, and sought to provide for those who had time and money to spare. Other services had finished, disgorging congregations into the streets, while still more were in progress, so that singing drifted through their windows.

Chaloner reached Lincoln’s Inn and ran up the stairs to Chamber XIII.

‘There is a Collection of Curiosities near St Paul’s,’ he said, opening the door and speaking without preamble. ‘We should visit it, because a lot of people we need to interview will probably be there. We might even be able to determine which of the Adventurers wants the Queen accused of plotting to kill Pratt.’

‘Good morning to you, too,’ said Thurloe drily. He was sitting at the table, and Chaloner saw he was working on the same cipher that continued to defeat him — they had made a copy the previous night. ‘Do you expect me to come with you? Before my devotions in the chapel?’

Chaloner felt the business at hand was rather more urgent than religious ceremonies, although he knew better than to say so outright — Thurloe was devout. ‘You can go this afternoon. The Earl will be doing the same, so he can mind Clarendon House instead.’

‘He is reduced to guarding his own property, is he?’ Thurloe rose with a sigh. ‘Very well, we shall go to St Paul’s, although I shall have to don a disguise. The Court is unlikely to appreciate being watched by an old Parliamentarian spymaster.’

Chaloner sat by the fire as Thurloe changed his appearance with a range of pastes, powders and an exceptionally unattractive orange wig.

‘The more I think about it, the more I am sure that Elliot is alive and masquerading as Cave’s brother,’ Chaloner said, staring into the flames. ‘Both the curate and Kersey mentioned an unusually black wig — which Elliot had. And both said “Jacob” was large and loutish.’

‘But anyone can don a hairpiece,’ Thurloe pointed out. ‘While I could write you a list as long as my arm of “large and loutish” men. Lester would be on it — and we know for certain that he is alive.’

‘Why would Lester want Cave buried without a grand funeral?’ asked Chaloner impatiently.

Thurloe turned away from the mirror to regard him soberly. ‘To avenge Elliot — his shipmate and brother-in-law.’

‘No,’ said Chaloner irritably. ‘Lester is not Jacob.’

Thurloe went back to perfecting his disguise. They were silent for some time, Chaloner gazing moodily at the fire. Eventually, Thurloe indicated that he was ready.

‘Have you given consideration to Williamson’s request?’ he asked, as they walked across Dial Court towards Lincoln’s Inn’s main gate. ‘Will you work with him?’

‘No. I do not trust him, and the notion of taking orders from such a man …’

‘Take them,’ instructed Thurloe. ‘This is far too grave a matter to be affected by your pride. He has swallowed his by asking for your help. Do likewise, and help him.’

‘Then when I fall foul of him — an inevitability, given his prickly temper and our past quarrels — will you rescue me from his dungeons?’

Thurloe raised his eyebrows, and it was clear that he was thinking that Williamson was not the only one prone to bad tempers. ‘He would not dare incarcerate you. Clarendon would not stand for it.’

Chaloner recalled the hot words that had been spoken earlier. ‘I think he might.’

‘He is all bluster, but he appreciates what you do for him. His son does not, though. You should be wary of Hyde.’

‘You have warned me to be wary of a lot of people lately — Hyde, Lester, Fitzgerald. Indeed, half of London seems to be swirling with deadly villains according to you.’

Thurloe regarded him sharply. ‘They are dangerous, Thomas, and you are a fool if you discount my advice. You think Fitzgerald is less deadly than I have portrayed, and Hyde is too feeble to be a threat, while you like Lester.’