Andrew Swanston - The King's Return

‘Where is he, Mr Hill?’

Thomas hesitated. He did not want to upset Agnes but she would know if he lied. ‘He is at Henrietta’s house. I believe she expects a reward for her part in our rescue.’

Agnes stared at him and a tear came to her eye. ‘Oh God. She could kill him. Mottershead’s only little. I must go there at once.’

‘No, no, Agnes, I wouldn’t do that. Josiah will be fine. Cook him a good breakfast for when he returns.’

Agnes dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. ‘If you say so, Mr Hill. But I do hope she’s gentle with him.’

Thomas wandered slowly and unhappily back to Piccadilly. He was tired, hungry and miserable. He had escaped physical injury but he had been a fool and was being punished. He only hoped that the punishment would not be permanent. If it was he would just have to pack his bags, bid farewell to Charles and Mary, rescue Lucy and creep back to Romsey.

He was let in by Smythe, who looked unusually miserable. ‘You look as wretched as me, John. Is something wrong?’

‘I’m not sure, sir. Mr and Mrs Carrington have left. They instructed me to inform the servants and to close the house after you’ve gone. I’m to take care of it until it’s sold. They said they wouldn’t be needing it any more.’

‘When did they leave?’

‘Two days ago.’

‘How strange. I thought they weren’t leaving until next week. Did something happen to change their minds?’

‘Not as far as I know, sir. Mrs Carrington has left a letter for you. It’s in the sitting room.’

The letter was on the mantel above the fireplace. It was sealed and addressed to Thomas Hill Esquire, in Mary’s hand. He broke the seal and unrolled it.

My dear Thomas

Please do not think too badly of us for departing without bidding you farewell. Having learned that there is a ship sailing from Southampton the day after tomorrow, we have decided to leave immediately. We will take the coach to Guildford, and from there travel on to Southampton.

England holds nothing for us now and we have instructed our lawyer to sell this house. Do use it as you wish until the sale is completed. I have sent a message to Joseph and will depend upon you to explain matters to dear Madeleine.

I will write again from Barbados.

Whatever the future brings you will always be in our thoughts, as we hope we shall be in yours.

God bless you.

Your most affectionate friends

Charles and Mary Carrington

Charles has asked me to remind you about going down on one knee. He says it never fails.

Thomas read it twice. How unlike Mary. The Stoner affair must really have unsettled her. ‘England holds nothing for us now’ – an oddly blunt expression – and the house to be sold. And ‘Whatever the future brings’ – most unlike Mary to express such a thought.

Sad as he was not to have been able to make his farewells, Thomas tried to understand. They were tired of London and they did not want to miss the ship sailing in two days’ time. He wondered how they had learned about the ship and how they knew there would be a cabin available for them. No doubt he would find out when Mary wrote again from the island.

In his bedroom, Thomas washed and changed. When he came down, the cook had prepared breakfast for him. He wolfed it down with three mugs of ale and told Smythe that he was going to visit Joseph Williamson and would be back soon. He found a carriage and set off for Chancery Lane. Tired and miserable or not, he must inform Joseph of Squire’s death and Morland’s innocence.

Williamson was at his own breakfast when Thomas arrived. ‘Good morning, Thomas. It is early for a visit.’

‘I have come to report that Lemuel Squire is dead. He shot himself.’

‘What? Squire dead? I imagined he was in Holland by now.’ Williamson put down the letter he was reading and stared at him.

‘He had been hiding in London, waiting for a chance to escape. We found him two days ago.’

‘We? You’d best sit down and tell me about it.’ As was his way, Williamson did not interrupt while Thomas told the story. He listened quietly, occasionally nodding as if making a mental note.

‘So,’ he said when Thomas had finished, ‘once again Mottershead has exposed you to unnecessary danger. First the Dartford marshes, now Drury Lane. A foul, evil place, riddled with crime and disease. What possessed you to go with him?’

‘God knows. Impetuosity, curiosity, lunacy. All three perhaps.’

‘Why didn’t you inform me? My men would soon have caught Squire.’

‘With respect, I doubt very much if they would have. The area is a warren of passages and alleyways and the moment a trained man had shown his face, Squire would have been spirited away to one of a hundred secret places. Without Josiah, Squire would still be in hiding.’

‘Perhaps. But he did not have to take you with him.’

‘I insisted.’ Williamson would recognize the lie, but he could not refute it.

‘Just like Dartford, eh? Your powers of persuasion are considerable, Thomas.’ Williamson stood up. ‘So. Squire dead and Stoner in the Tower awaiting a ship to Denmark. And Roger Willow has disappeared. I really cannot spare anyone to go looking for him, so whether he has run off from fear or fury we may never know. I have lost three good men, but a dangerous spy ring is broken and the ringleaders are no longer a threat. I should keep my head.’

‘Did you know that Willow was an actor, as Squire was?’

Joseph raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘I did not.’

‘Squire claimed so. Why do you suppose Squire took his own life?’

‘Fear, I imagine,’ replied Williamson. ‘Being half hanged, drawn and quartered cannot be a comfortable way to die and it is a death the king insists upon for traitors. Squire knew it, decided not to take the risk and shot himself. Any of us might have done the same.’

There was a knock on the door and Williamson’s footman came in. ‘A messenger is here from the Constable, sir.’

‘Ye gods, what now? I’ve hardly finished my breakfast and already I’m besieged by visitors. Show him in.’

The messenger handed Williamson a letter. He broke the seal and read it. ‘The Constable asks me to go to the Tower immediately. He does not say why. Are you up to coming with me, Thomas?’

‘Must I?’

‘Yes.’

At the Tower, they were met by a yeoman warder and taken straight to the Constable. ‘Thank you for coming, gentlemen,’ he greeted them, shaking their hands. ‘I fear that I have unwelcome news.’

‘Don’t tell me Stoner’s escaped,’ exclaimed Williamson.

‘He has not escaped, sir. He’s dead.’

‘By his own hand?’

‘I think not. I have asked the guard to join us. He will tell you what happened.’

Williamson was furious. ‘It had better be good, or the man will find himself in Newgate before nightfall.’

The guard was shown in and stood in front of them. He looked terrified. ‘Now, man,’ ordered the Constable, ‘tell Mr Williamson and Mr Hill what you told me. Leave nothing out.’

The guard took a deep breath. ‘It was last night, sir. The prisoner had two visitors at about six o’clock. An elderly man and a younger one, who I understood to be his son. The older man said he was the prisoner’s uncle and that they had brought him food and drink. I inspected their basket, which had a bottle of wine and some bread and cheese in it, and searched them for weapons. They had none so I let them in. Prisoners are permitted family visitors unless I have orders to the contrary. They were with the prisoner for about half an hour. When they left, they said he had drunk the wine and was sleeping.’

‘Did they say anything else?’

‘No, sir. I checked the prisoner at ten o’clock and found him lying on the bed with his back towards the door. I assumed he was asleep and did not disturb him.’