Andrew Swanston - The King's Return

‘I have considered it, naturally. There were similarities. But, as I have said, Babb had nothing to do with any government department. I believe he was merely the unfortunate victim of a robbery.’

‘Yet the other two deaths have alarmed you.’

‘I confess that they have. If our enemies knew about the two men, what else might they know?’ Seeing a tiny smile play across Thomas’s face, Williamson asked, ‘You smile, sir. May I know about what?’

‘I was thinking, as I often do, about something said by my favourite philosopher, Michel de Montaigne.’

‘And what might that be?’

‘ The public weal requires that men should betray, and lie, and massacre . It’s as true of one side as another, don’t you agree?’

‘That may be so. But you will not be asked to betray, lie or massacre. Merely to decrypt intercepted letters which may provide intelligence about threats to our king and to our national security. Will you do it?’

Thomas hesitated. ‘This has come as a surprise, sir. Kindly allow me a little time to consider. You shall have my answer tomorrow.’

‘So be it. I shall await your reply. If you accept, we will agree a suitable fee and I shall be able to tell you more. Would the Carringtons allow you to stay on while you are carrying out the work?’

They would, of course, although Mary would have something to say on the matter when Thomas told her what he was going to do. ‘I should have to ask them, sir.’

‘Naturally. Thank you for coming.’ Williamson rang a bell on his desk and the footman came in. ‘Please show Mr Hill out.’

‘Yes, sir. And Miss Stewart has arrived.’

‘Madeleine? I wasn’t expecting her.’

‘No, sir. She has called with some fruit for you.’

‘Then I had better thank her.’ He turned to Thomas. ‘You remember my cousin Madeleine, of course. She keeps an eye on me. Always telling me to eat better food and to drink less claret.’

‘It will be a pleasure to see her again. And most unexpected.’

In the hall Madeleine stood with a large basket of oranges and apples. She smiled warmly at Williamson. ‘Good morning, Joseph. I trust I’m not disturbing you. One can find so many different fruits and vegetables in the markets now and I thought I would bring you some. And Mr Hill. What a pleasure.’ She curtsied to Thomas, who bowed in return. ‘Shall we have the pleasure of your company in London for long?’

Thomas caught the look that passed between the cousins. The artful young devil, he thought. Not as unworldly as he pretends. Well, two may play that game. ‘I am not yet decided, madam. London has its attractions, but my home is in Hampshire. Good day, Mr Williamson, Miss Stewart.’

‘Good day, Mr Hill.’

When he arrived back in Piccadilly, having taken a longer but quieter route from Chancery Lane, Thomas found that he had visitors. His niece Lucy, accompanied by a well-dressed young man with long fair hair, was sitting by the fire with Charles and Mary. The young man rose and bowed politely. Lucy jumped up and held out her arms to her uncle.

‘There you are, Uncle Thomas. Arthur and I thought to pay you a visit after our walk in St James’s Park.’ Lucy kissed him and turned to her companion. ‘Arthur, this is my uncle, Thomas Hill. Uncle Thomas, this is Arthur Phillips.’

Thomas stepped forward and took the outstretched hand. Arthur Phillips smiled. ‘An honour to meet you, sir. Lucy has told me much about you.’

Thomas raised an eyebrow. ‘And how are you enjoying London, Lucy?’

‘Until the coronation, I saw nothing of it. The duchess’s gown kept me occupied, and Lady Richmond insisted that I go out only with an escort and for no more than an hour at a time.’

Unbeknown to Lucy, when Lady Richmond, a lady-in-waiting to the Duchess of York, had requested that she come to London to work on the duchess’s coronation gown, Thomas had agreed only on condition that his niece was very closely chaperoned at all times. Much as he adored her, his niece was a spirited young lady, and especially since the death of her mother quite capable of thumbing her nose at custom and propriety. ‘I am relieved to hear it. And since the coronation?’

‘I have been asked by Lady Richmond to stay on for a while. She wishes me to embroider some furnishings for her new house.’

‘I see. And do you wish to stay on?’

Lucy glanced at her companion. ‘I do.’

Thomas stroked his chin. ‘I am not sure, Lucy. Perhaps –’

‘Nonsense, Thomas,’ boomed Charles, ‘of course Lucy must stay on. One cannot have too many pretty girls around if one wishes to stay young. And Arthur will take good care of her, won’t you, Arthur?’

‘I should welcome the opportunity, sir, if Mr Hill agrees.’

Handsome, polite and charming, thought Thomas. I’ll never drag the girl away. ‘Tell me more about yourself, Arthur.’

Arthur Phillips made short work of it. His family were from Wiltshire, as was the Duchess of York’s father, now the Earl of Clarendon. His lordship had graciously procured for young Arthur a post in the Navy Office in Seething Lane, where he was clerk to Mr Temple, supervisor of the refitting of the Navy’s warships. The Duke of York being Lord High Admiral, it was through Lady Richmond that Arthur met Lucy.

‘And do you hope to make a career in the Navy Office?’ asked Thomas.

‘If I am considered suitable, I do, sir.’

Damn me, thought Thomas, modest as well. Not that Thomas generally thought very much of modesty. An overrated quality, frequently false, usually boring and often confused with humility, which was quite a different matter. Still, pleasing enough in this young man.

For an hour or so they talked, and only after Lucy and her new admirer had left did it occur to Thomas that his niece had been without a chaperone. When he mentioned it, Charles looked sheepish. ‘Sent her home. Looked like a painting I once saw of Guy Fawkes. Enough to give a fellow nightmares. Told her Mary would do the chaperoning. Hope you don’t mind.’ Charles clapped Thomas on the back and described Lucy as ‘perfectly charming’ and Arthur Phillips as ‘an excellent young fellow’. He made it sound as if they were to be married the next morning.

THOMAS WAITED TWO days before sending his reply to Williamson. It was a discourtesy he would not normally have countenanced, but he reckoned it evened the score between them. Oranges or no oranges, Madeleine’s arrival at her cousin’s house had been no coincidence, although he would have agreed to deputize for Dr Wallis anyway, just as he had agreed to travel to Oxford all those years ago. Williamson was right. It was the challenge. Much as he disliked London and missed Romsey, he could not resist it.

And this time it was also the thought of seeing more of Madeleine Stewart, for all that his eligibility was as doubtful as Charles had pointed out. Despite the uncomfortable feeling that he was being drawn into a play in which he had no business taking part and which might well end unhappily, he sent Williamson a letter agreeing to carry out the work asked of him until the end of the year, unless Dr Wallis was released earlier from his chaplaincy duties.

When Thomas was met by Williamson at the entrance to the Post Office in Cloak Lane, beside him stood a man of about fifty who reminded Thomas of a suspicious spaniel – long black wig, large brown eyes and mouth turned down towards his chin. Williamson greeted Thomas warmly and introduced his colleague. ‘Mr Hill, may I present Mr Henry Bishop, Master of the King’s Post.’ Bishop bowed politely, but said nothing. Thomas immediately sensed antipathy between them.