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She waited until they had dined and were sitting on either side of the parlor fire. “Are you back to stay, Uncle Ned?”
“Only for a while. I think there’ll be a rising up against the king.”
“You don’t want to be part of that. Not at your age.”
He showed his lopsided smile. “Did St. Olave’s vicar read the king’s declaration last Sunday?”
“He did not! He defied the royal order. He said that the king wants Roman Catholics to rule the great offices of state, and he could not say from the pulpit that it was righteous. The bishop of London himself has said he will not preach the sermon written by the king—even if it costs him his mitre.”
“It’s against the law,” Ned told her. “Never mind about not righteous.”
She shrugged. “You know I don’t take an interest in such things.”
“The bishops are supporting their clergy, and they’ve told the king that it’s illegal to open the ruling of the kingdom to Roman Catholics. The law says clearly that only men in the Church of England can rule, from magistrates to members of parliament. The king’s decree is against the law. But not even the king can change the English law by decree.”
“Uncle Ned…”
“It’s tyranny,” he told her. “If he moves openly against the bishops—the bishops of the Church of England—the people will take arms against him.”
“Then surely he won’t do it?”
“Aye, we’ll see,” Ned said with his old smile. “Everything to play for.”
“It’s not play for me,” she said crossly. “It’s bad for business. London is in uproar. I can only open the wharf for half the day. There’s trouble in the streets all the time, the lumpers run off and the apprentices break into the papist chapels and throw down the icons.”
“So it’s starting,” Ned said in a voice almost of wonder. “People are starting to resist. God bless us, it’s starting again.” He smiled at his niece. “It’s extraordinary. Just when I think we have lost liberty for a generation… it always starts again.”
HATTON GARDEN, LONDON, SPRING 1688
“I do hope you will be home this afternoon for tea,” Julia said to Rob as he rose from the breakfast table. She glanced down the table to Hester. “Go to your room, Hester, I need to speak to your father.”
Hester got up as she was ordered, curtseyed to her mother, and went to her father to kiss his cheek. “See you later,” she whispered to him.
When the door had closed on her, Rob asked: “I can come home at four o’clock, but it will take me out of my way. I was visiting the Bridewell this afternoon. Do I need to be here?”
“You do!” she said smiling. “Guess why?”
“Not for the pleasure of the Nobildonna’s company,” he said. “I don’t mind Matthew, if he’s coming with the girls.”
“What d’you mean you don’t mind him?” she exclaimed. “You’ve encouraged him to run in and out of this house with the Venice girls, and Hester has stayed with him every summer since he had Fairmere Priory.”
“It’s called Foulmire.”
“That’s not what it says on the gates.”
He sighed. “No matter. My point is that I do not like the Nobildonna. I told you, Julia, that I did not want a friendship with her. As it happens, I do like Matthew. He was raised by my mother and my sister like a son, I have always thought of him as a child of our family.”
“I am glad you like him,” she said. “He has become a most promising young man.”
“I agree. But why do I have to come home for tea?”
“He will be the heir of the Nobildonna, who stands very high in royal favor.”
“I don’t know how much that will help him, if the king continues to quarrel with his parliament, his judges, and his church.”
“He has inherited considerable wealth from Sir James.”
“I thought much of it was entailed.”
