Andrew Swanston - The King's Return

‘Indeed you did mention it. What an honour for her. She must be an exceptional seamstress to have been appointed to make the Duchess’s coronation gown.’

‘I believe she is. And an embroiderer, too. We are very proud of her. I just hope London does not turn her head. She is a lovely child, but unworldly and easily led.’

‘I am sure you will keep an eye on her while you are here,’ said Mary. ‘And what about you, Thomas?’

‘I live a quiet and virtuous life in Romsey with my books and my writing. I seldom venture far from my own bed and it was only your invitation that persuaded me to travel to London.’

‘Are you still living in the house you built by the school?’

‘I am, and happily the school thrives. It has thirty pupils and two teachers. I read my books, enjoy my cellar and bore my friends with earnest talk of philosophy and mathematics.’

‘Is that it, Thomas?’ asked Charles. ‘Nine years, and that’s really all you have to report? No affairs of the heart, no literary triumphs, no narrow escapes from the jaws of death?’

‘None. I fear that I’m really the dullest of men.’

Mary refilled his glass. ‘Nonsense, Thomas. No gentleman who has saved my life twice could possibly be dull.’

Thomas smiled. ‘You returned the favour, Mary, as I recall.’ He paused. ‘And what of Barbados? Does it still grow rich from its sugar?’

‘Much of it does,’ replied Charles. ‘We’ve been fortunate, although not as fortunate as some. You remember James Drax, I expect. His estate is now over a thousand acres and he makes as much from trading slaves as he does from his sugar. Extraordinary that an island with a population of no more than a tenth the size of London’s can generate such prosperity.’

‘And how is Adam, Mary?’ asked Thomas.

‘My brother is well. Fat and wealthy, and still unmarried. He did not care to leave the estate for the voyage. And he takes his responsibilities as a member of the Governor’s Council terribly seriously.’

Once the dam had broken, conversation flowed freely and they talked until the evening of Barbados and London, sugar and land, king and Parliament, peace and war.

Having been taken to Barbados by her brother at the age of twelve, Mary had never before visited London. She had spent the three weeks since their arrival for the coronation entertaining and being entertained.

‘I do so love the theatre,’ she declared. ‘Mr Moone was wonderful in The Traitor and so was Mr Betterton in The Bondman . Of course we have nothing like it at home. I would go to a new performance every night if Charles would escort me but, alas, the theatre is not to his taste.’

‘I can’t see the sense in boys pretending to be women. A fellow can hardly admire Ophelia’s bosom if she hasn’t got one. It was bad enough Mary dressing as a boy on the ship.’

Thomas raised an eyebrow. ‘Mary, why did you dress as a boy on the ship? Or would you rather not tell me?’

‘All the passengers had to put on a little entertainment. I wrote a short play. Charles played my father and I his prodigal son. It went down very well.’

‘Perhaps you’ll put on a second performance in London. I’d very much like to see Charles on the stage.’

‘Certainly not. Once was enough.’ Charles sounded horrified at the idea.

Mary turned to Thomas. ‘Would you escort me to the theatre, Thomas? The Changeling is playing in Salisbury Court. I should like to see it.’

‘Of course, my dear. When would you like to go?’

‘Go on Thursday next,’ suggested Charles. ‘I am dining with Chandle Stoner. He wants to tell me how well our investment is doing.’

‘Then that’s settled. The theatre for us, Thomas, and business for Charles. Perfect.’

‘By the way,’ went on Charles, ‘I have invited Chandle and his sister to join us for dinner after the coronation.’

‘His sister? I did not know he had one.’

‘Neither did I. I gather Louise is married to a Frenchman and lives in Paris. She is in London for the coronation and Chandle asked if she might accompany him. I could hardly say no.’

‘Of course not. No doubt she is charming.’ Mary turned to Thomas. ‘Did I mention that we are giving a small dinner party after the coronation? Joseph Williamson, who has arranged our seats in the Abbey, is coming, and his cousin Madeleine Stewart. And now Chandle Stoner and his sister. I do hope you will join us, Thomas.’

Thomas hesitated. Dinner with four strangers was not all that appealing but Mary might be offended if he made an excuse. ‘Of course. I should be delighted.’

‘Excellent. Joseph is an old friend of Charles. Not a great conversationalist but a man of influence. He has the ear of the king. I think you’ll find him interesting.’

‘I am sure I shall. And shall I find Miss Stewart interesting?’

Charles stirred himself. ‘You might, Thomas, you might.’

THE EIGHT YEARS since the new king had fled to France had been a strange time. While Thomas had been quietly establishing his school in Romsey, there had been no monarch, and for some of the time no Parliament, when the Lord Protector, Oliver Cromwell, and his Council had ruled the land. By dissolving Parliament, the great republican had alienated some of his staunchest supporters, and had made himself doubly unpopular by introducing new taxes to finance his war with Spain and appointing major-generals to collect them. Not only that, but he had allowed himself to be addressed as ‘Your Highness’.

Thankfully, Oliver’s successor, his son Richard, had quickly proved himself worthy of his nickname ‘Tumbledown Dick’ and had been bullied out of power and out of the country after a few months of dithering incompetence. But now everything had changed again. The new king would take his revenge on his father’s enemies and then, God willing, the country would begin to smile again.

As if to reinforce this hope, St George’s Day, 23 April 1661, had been chosen as the day of the coronation, and high up in the scaffold built for the occasion at the north end of Westminster Abbey Thomas Hill and Charles and Mary Carrington watched Charles II being crowned King of England and Ireland. It was a long ceremony, very long, and Thomas’s attention at times wandered. He found himself comparing the day to the one just over twelve years earlier when he had heard the news of the execution of the king’s father while he was indentured in Barbados. On that day, he had been dragged to the Mermaid Inn in Oistins to hear Colonel James Drax announce the king’s death and had seen and heard the landowners arguing about what the news would mean for them. It had been a loud, rough meeting, fuelled by ale and rum, which had ended for his tormentors, the Gibbes brothers, when Charles Carrington had deposited both of them on the floor with no more than an outstretched leg and a helping hand. Thomas smiled. Even now, he enjoyed the memory.

Westminster Abbey was rather different. As indeed was the new king. Unlike his limping, stammering, charmless father, the tall man in blue and gold who strode up the red carpet that ran the length of the aisle to a raised throne gave every appearance of being outgoing, relaxed and cheerful. The royal smile looked genuine enough, at least from where Thomas sat, as did the delight of the people in their new monarch. Like many, they had arrived at the Abbey to take their seats in the early hours of the morning. By the time the ceremony finished they had been sitting there with only occasional breaks for more than twelve hours. They watched courtiers, officials, lords, ladies, bishops and musicians proudly playing their parts in the spectacle, they listened while the king knelt to take the oaths and held their breath when asked if they knew of any reason why Charles Stuart should not be proclaimed King of England.