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He flicked the letter across the polished surface of the library table, waited for Rob to serve them both from the cut-glass decanter that stood on the shelf beside the books, and took a large gulp.
He watched Rob as the younger man read the letter. Rob’s face, already grave, became stony.
“As you feared,” the older man said.
“Yes, sir. But better that we know now than later.”
“Agreed. But why is she so obliging as to inform us now?”
Rob did not flicker. “I have no idea. I imagine that a better offer has come up.”
“And the young man himself?”
“Will have no say in the matter. She is a woman of extraordinary willpower and no scruples at all.”
“Unnatural,” the Alderman said.
“Quite.”
The two men were silent. “I am sorry,” Rob said. “I apologize for my part in this, though it was so long ago.”
“You warned me. I was wrong not to listen. I didn’t think yourdoubts were good enough reason to turn down Avery House and the entrée to court.”
Rob shrugged. “I’m glad that we know before this abomination could go ahead.”
“Will Hester be grieved?”
Rob shrugged. “Yes. Of course. But better that she should grieve now, than later over a misbegotten child.”
“You’ll tell her?”
“I’ll tell her this evening after dinner.”
The Alderman nodded. “And what will you say? And to Julia? The lawyer’s letter limits the information you can reveal.”
“I’d not want them to know, even if I were allowed to say!” Rob said with revulsion. “Good God! What a picture to paint for a young woman! I’ll just say that the lawyers could not agree, that Matthew’s inheritance from Sir James Avery was not what we were led to believe. That they are asking for too much in a dowry. I don’t have to explain myself to them, if you and I are in agreement.”
“We are,” the Alderman said heavily. “We are. I shall tell my daughter, and you may tell yours. Neither of them will question their fathers.”
REEKIE WHARF, LONDON, SUMMER 1688
Alys was on the quayside as Captain Shore came from the house, his bag in one hand. She handed him the cargo manifest and he bent his head for her kiss.
“Godspeed,” she said, as she always did. “Calm seas and steady winds bring you safe home, Abel Shore.”
“Amen,” he replied and strode up the gangplank, and they ran itin behind him. “You shut the wharf and keep yourself indoors,” he bellowed to her as they cast off and the water widened between them. “Get the chest to Alderman Johnson’s safekeeping and lock up the house till these troubles are over. Get yourself down to Foulmire if you need.”
She nodded and waved and watched until his ship was turned by the barges into the stream, caught the current, and started downriver. As soon as the ship was underway she had two strong lumpers escort her with the wharf strongbox in a hired carriage to the Alderman’s bank at Cheapside. Alys feared a fire from a rioter’s torch as much as she feared theft from them breaking in. Every night there were gangs roaming the streets and shouting for the exposure of the false prince, the tearing down of the throne, and the freeing of the six bishops who had followed the Archbishop into the Tower for defending the Protestant faith.
A group of lads halted the carriage, and Alys lowered the window, while the lumpers inside grasped their cudgels.
“Free the bishops! Liberty!” they shouted.
“Aye,” Alys agreed pleasantly.
“You are with us? Or are you a papist?”
“I am with you, and my own uncle is with William of Orange’s army,” she told them.
