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“Wise?”
“To ensure that there is indeed a boy, born to Her Majesty in July. There can be no stillbirth. There can be no girl.”
He was silent for a moment, taking in her whisper. “That would be wise,” he said cautiously. “But it would be hard to accomplish?”
“Not impossible,” Livia said.
“I could take no part in it. I would be the first suspect.”
“No,” Livia said, hiding her contempt. “It would have to be one person, acting alone. Someone intimate with Her Majesty, who could watch over her constantly and attend the birth.”
“Such a person would be richly rewarded. Most richly rewarded. Nothing would be too good for them, on earth and in heaven.”
“Amen,” Livia said, hearing the words of the Lord’s Prayer and responding without thought. “What exactly?”
He shrugged. “Such a ministering angel could name her price.”
BRIDGETOWN, BARBADOS, WINTER 1687
The frigateAssistancecame into Bridge harbor with the truncated boom of a seventeen-gun salute, as the fort was too short onammunition to fire the full twenty-one guns. The half-drunk lieutenant governor of Jamaica, Christopher Monck, was welcomed ashore by the rattle of musket fire, as Ned took his bags from his cabin, and took his leave of the captain at sunset. He was directed to Johnnie’s warehouse—now, everyone knew of the Stoney Exchange.
Ned hammered on the warehouse door; he saw a light, and in a moment, Johnnie had opened the door, a torch held high.
“Good Lord!” he said. “Is that you, Uncle Ned? Did you come in on the frigate?”
“Aye. I told you I’d come,” Ned said, clapping Johnnie on the back. “Didn’t you believe me?”
“Of course. When d’you ever do the sensible thing, like stay home in safety?” Johnnie laughed, throwing open the door to lead Ned through to the back of the warehouse. “Uncle Ned, it’s good to see you! And up and walking and talking like nothing had ever happened.”
“Aye—it was your grandmother nursed me back to life, God bless her.”
“Amen. But didn’t you get my letter? Rowan is lost, Ned. I’m so sorry. I wrote at once.”
“I got it. You know for sure she died?”
“Her master told me himself. I went out to his plantation.”
“You’ve seen the body, they’ve found it?”
“If she fell and died in the thick forest, they’ll never find the body. I’m sorry, Uncle Ned, but her master had no hope. The pet dog ran off, and Rowan was sent to find him and never came back.”
Ned’s face was downturned; Johnnie could not see his hidden, lopsided smile. “She went after a pet dog, and she didn’t catch him? What sort of dog was it? Greyhound?”
“A little pug, I think,” Johnnie said. “Why? What does it matter?”
“Just seeing it, in my mind’s eye,” Ned said. “Rowan outrun by a pug.”
“Such a waste!” Johnnie said. “Such a waste of her life.”
Ned narrowed his eyes and looked at the younger man, at the lines around his mouth. “You’ve taken it hard,” he observed.
Johnnie shrugged. “It’s been madness from the very beginning!” he exclaimed. “Ma was dead against it, and my ma’s no fool. Rowan tricked me in Taunton and robbed me of my money. And then I thought I would chase out here and rescue her, like some kind of prince in a fairy tale, and I’m too late and now she’s dead, and for all I know, she never even cared for me, but played me for a fool from first to last. Played us both. A pair of fools who chased halfway around the world for a woman who wouldn’t even wait for us.”
“Wait to be rescued?” Ned cocked a crooked smile at his nephew. “No, she’d not have done that either.”
The next night Johnnie took his uncle out to dinner at his old boardinghouse and on the way home they looked in at the fort where the governor was being welcomed by an enormous feast laid on by the wealthiest planters. Course after course came in, casks of rum were broached and tasted, and dozens of bottles opened. Ned and Johnnie joined with the general goodwill, getting entry on the basis of their white faces. Ned was welcomed for news of England, which the planters called wistfully “Old England,” and Johnnie was highly regarded as a man who was bringing London fashion and London smartness to the town of Bridge.
Ned and Johnnie went back to the warehouse, inspired by the international brotherhood of the very drunk. Johnnie went to his bed in the half loft over the warehouse, and strung a hammock for Ned by the back door that faced the sea. Johnnie was asleep in moments, his snores echoing through the warehouse. Ned opened the door to hear the slap of the waves against the quay and smell the onshore wind, salty and warm.
