S. Parris - Treachery

Sidney looks up from his position by the window and nods. His armed men arrived this morning and he has lodged them at a hostelry outside the town walls out of his own pocket; the sooner they are on the road to London with Dom Antonio, or staying at Buckland Abbey at Drake’s expense, the better for him. I feel a pang at the thought of the women leaving; the prospect of remaining in Plymouth with my own plans still uncertain seems far less attractive in Nell’s absence.

‘At least we know that Doughty had nothing to do with Dunne’s death,’ I say. ‘I am certain he was telling the truth when he said he believed Dunne took his own life.’

Drake and Sidney exchange a glance.

‘We have some news there,’ Drake says.

Sidney crosses the room to lean on the mantel. ‘You have missed all the excitement,’ he says.

I look at him. ‘You are right — all the time I was tied up waiting for a barrel of gunpowder to blast my head off, and crawling through a tunnel under the sea and climbing a well shaft to be set upon by a pack of dogs and armed men, I was thinking to myself, how I wish I were not missing all the excitement.’

Drake smiles.

‘Savile has confessed,’ Sidney announces, with an expression that suggests he claims the credit.

‘Well — not quite,’ Drake says. ‘He has confessed to everything except the murder. That is our sticking point.’

‘Then — what has he confessed to?’ I look from one to the other, confused. ‘What happened?’

‘Sir Philip caught them in the act,’ Drake says. It is difficult to tell from his expression whether he approves of Sidney’s actions or not.

Sidney shrugs. ‘I did what I said we should do the other day. I had come back here yesterday evening to fetch some belongings for Lady Drake, while you were all occupied with the rescue attempt.’ His voice is light as he says this, but I hear the implicit reproach; I wonder if Drake does.

Sidney had embraced me with obvious relief when I returned to the Star, but the pleasure of seeing me alive seems to have been shortlived and quickly tarnished by his usual resentment at being left behind with the women and denied a chance to prove himself. He has not asked me anything about my experiences last night. I know him too well to be wounded by his apparent dismissal; all the same, I find I am gritting my teeth as he embarks on an account of his own heroics.

‘I happened to see Savile heading for the stairs to the second floor,’ he continues, with evident relish. ‘I took it upon myself to follow him. I thought if he was cornered and could no longer deny his relationship with Martha Dunne, he would be compelled to admit to the murder in the face of all the other evidence. The button, the nutmeg and so on.’

‘So you just walked into their bedchamber?’ I say, amazed.

‘Yes.’ He grins. ‘I gave them a little time to get warmed up. They had stationed that bovine maidservant outside the door to keep watch. She tried to tell me her mistress was indisposed. I said, I’m sure she is, and strode right past her. They hadn’t even locked the door.’ He shakes his head, as if he pitied anyone foolish enough to make such a simple mistake.

‘And you found them in media res ?’

‘Not exactly. They were still clothed, thank God,’ he adds. ‘But I caught them in a close embrace — enough to make it difficult to explain away. I confronted them then and there with everything we had guessed about their affair and the pregnancy.’

‘That was dangerous,’ I say, and have the satisfaction of seeing Drake nod in vigorous agreement. ‘What was to stop them simply denying it all?’

‘They did at first. At least, she did.’ He makes a face. ‘That woman is hard as flint. God knows what Savile sees in her.’

‘The prospect of her imminent inheritance, perhaps?’

‘Huh. Well, they tried to deny it, of course. She conceded that she was pregnant but said the child was her husband’s and that she would have me arrested for slander if I dared to suggest otherwise. Sir William was an old friend of the family, she claimed, who was comforting her in her grief. With his breeches unlaced? I asked.’ He folds his arms across his chest, clearly delighted with himself. ‘Pair of fools. Then I delivered the coup de grâce . I said we had sufficient evidence to have Savile arrested for the murder of Robert Dunne.’

‘But we don’t,’ I say, glancing at Drake. His lips are pressed together.

‘They weren’t to know that,’ Sidney says, defensive. ‘Savile proved the weaker, in the end. He was already rattled by the fact that we had uncovered their little secret — when he thought he was to be accused of murder, he caved in altogether.’

‘Not altogether,’ Drake corrects quietly.

Sidney glances at him, irritated. ‘He said he would only explain himself to Captain Drake. So I insisted he come to my chamber where I could keep an eye on him while I sent a messenger to fetch Sir Francis from the Hoe — I told Savile he could not be trusted not to flee. He was scornful then — an innocent man had no reason to flee, he said, and in any case he would not go anywhere while his funds were tied up in this expedition. But he gave in and came with me nonetheless.’

‘Funds he had a good mind to withdraw, he said, if this was how he was respected by other gentlemen,’ Drake adds, giving Sidney a pointed look. I understand his anger; Sidney had gone against his express wishes and accused an important investor of committing murder, without any conclusive proof, and in the process had drawn Drake away from the operation to save the life of his wife’s cousin. While Drake is too much of a diplomat to reprimand a man of Sidney’s status, he clearly resents having been forced into this position. ‘By the time Sir Philip’s messenger arrived, there was little more I could usefully do to help you, Bruno,’ Drake continues, turning to me. ‘The armed men were under Carleill’s command, so I returned to the Star to deal with this development. It was fortunate that the accusation of murder, though rash, had shaken Savile. He had not realised we knew so much already — he was willing to admit his guilt in some parts, the better to insist on his innocence of the main charge.’

‘Then he still maintains he did not murder Dunne?’

Drake nods. ‘He conceded this much — that he and Martha Dunne were lovers, and had been for the best part of a year. He had promised to help her.’ He stops and purses his lips. ‘He assured me he would give up the whole truth, provided I did not report it to the authorities.’

‘And what was his version of the truth?’ I ask.

Drake looks weary. ‘Best you hear it from his own lips. I should like your view on whether or not he is lying.’

An armed guard stands by the door to Savile’s room, lolling against the wall. He jerks quickly to attention as Drake approaches.

‘I asked Sir William to remain here until I decided what to do about the situation,’ Drake tells me, in a low voice. ‘He is not happy about it, as you may imagine. He feels he is as good as under arrest.’

‘Then why has he agreed to it?’

‘Because he has the wit to realise that, if the inquest accepts Dunne’s death as murder, there is sufficient evidence to make him the principal suspect.’

‘Though probably not to convict him.’

‘Well, exactly — that is our problem. I could call in the coroner and the town authorities, but with a man of his status it would not be a simple matter. If I take that course, he will send for a lawyer from London. We could be delayed weeks.’ He stops outside the door and pins me with a frank look. ‘And of course he will withdraw from the voyage, along with his investment. He has made that clear. You will appreciate that Sir Philip has put me in a very difficult position. I cannot help wishing he had consulted me first.’