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“And your son, Matthew?” Julia asked brightly. “Such a promising young man! Has he nearly finished his studies? Will he be attending court?”
“Of course, I expect him to receive some sort of post, at court or abroad. He has this house, Fairmere, but a young man needs his own house in town. He’s in chambers in Lincoln’s Inn at the moment.”
“Avery House?” Julia ventured.
Livia smiled. “Of course: Avery House in time.”
Prospects of social rise shimmered like a mirage before Julia. “They’re very young yet,” she said irrelevantly.
“Both of them, far too young to think of marriage!” Livia smiled, equally insincere. “But it’s natural for a good mother to look ahead.”
“Yes,” Julia agreed. “Indeed, yes.”
It did not occur to Julia that night to ask why such a devoted mother as Livia had left her son at Reekie Wharf. It was not until after a night filled with dreams of the queen’s drawing room, and Hester with her club foot magically straightened, walking without a limp down the aisle of the queen’s chapel, marrying into the aristocracy, that she asked her husband to give her a moment before he went down for breakfast. Julia had a tray with her breakfast cup of chocolate and some pastries on her bedside table; she gestured that Rob should sit in a little chair opposite her bed.
“I have to go down,” he said unwillingly.
“I just want to know how Lady Avery came to know your family,” she said.
He had expected the question sooner or later. “You know that she trusted Matthew with them when he was just a baby? She didn’t want to take him to Yorkshire.”
“They were not his wet nurses?” Julia was horrified at the thought. “They did not actually…?”
“No, no. She came to the wharf when she first came to London. She had their direction from me. You know that we knew each other in Venice. Her husband, the Signor Fiori, was my patient.”
“Oh, Venice,” Julia said vaguely. “But was there not some trouble between you?”
“A disagreement,” he said. “Very bad. But she went to them anyway. She didn’t tell them what she had… how she had offended me.”
Julia was not interested in Rob’s past. “So she stayed at the wharf before her marriage to Sir James Avery?”
“Yes,” he said shortly. “Ma and Alys took such a liking to Matthew, he was a tiny baby then, that when she wanted to leave him with them for the first months of her marriage, they kept him; and then he just stayed on. She visited once, I think; she paid for his keep and his education. Sir James was his manucaptor at Lincoln’s Inn.”
“His what?”
“His patron, his guarantor. He is his stepfather.”
“Sir James acknowledges him as his stepson?”
“Yes, as you see. And she got a royal favor—Matthew chose the house that he wanted.”
“And who is his father?”
Rob checked in his smooth explanation. “She took the name of Picci, and now Matthew spells it the English way: Peachey,” he said awkwardly.
“His father was a Venetian prince?”
“Her first husband was Signor Fiori.” He evaded the question, but she did not notice.
“And anyway, as the queen’s companion…” she said vaguely.
“We will not befriend her,” he said shortly.
“My dear, we could not!” she explained. “Any invitation would have to come from her, from the palace.”
“My dear friend, I am so pleased to you have met you.” Livia advanced on Julia with her silk-gloved hands held out. “It’s been such a delight! But I promised Her Majesty my prompt return.”
“Of course,” Julia said. “We should not detain you.”
