Lords of Misrule (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 4)

by Stella Riley

  ‘Bloody apprentices – begging your pardon, Miss. Out for a lark and daubing daft slogans everywhere. Sir Nicholas said to paint over ’em.’

  Frowning a little, Lydia walked inside and found Nicholas checking an order-sheet while two of the men packed goods into a crate.

  ‘Apprentices, Nick? Or something else?’

  He froze, meeting her gaze with a frowning one of his own. Then, handing his lists to the nearest man, walked over to her and said curtly, ‘Obscenities. You don’t want to know.’

  ‘Were you going to tell me about it?’

  ‘Not unless it became a regular occurrence. And as of this morning, we have more important problems. Belcher’s have cancelled their order.’

  Lydia drew a sharp breath. ‘Why?’

  ‘They claim that a number of harnesses in the last batch we sent them were faulty. Since I processed the order myself, I know that they weren’t. Mr Potter’s gone round there now to try and straighten it out. If he can’t, I’ll go myself.’

  She thought for a moment.

  ‘It’s odd, don’t you think? Nothing since the incident with the ladder – and now two things in one day?’

  ‘Yes. It could be coincidence … but a little extra vigilance won’t go amiss.’

  Lydia nodded and, as casually as she could, said, ‘Mention it to Colonel Maxwell, if you think it worthwhile. He usually has a suggestion.’

  Nicholas grinned suddenly.

  ‘Yes. And it would be a shame to waste the opportunity.’

  She felt her cheeks grow hot.

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I think you know. I also think that if you simply invited Eden to supper, he’d come.’

  * * *

  The afternoon brought a note from Mr Hetherington that had Lydia running hot-foot round to his office.

  ‘What do you mean – the deeds to Duck Lane are missing? How can they be?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mistress Neville. I have had no occasion to look for them since your husband died and it was purely by chance that I noticed their absence yesterday when I took out your file to remind myself of the terms on which you lease Strand Alley.’ Mr Hetherington pursed his lips and tapped a quill against his fingers. ‘It is possible that the deeds were never in my possession and were somehow left amongst Mr Stephen’s other papers.’

  ‘They weren’t. I’ve been through everything twice. If the deeds were there, I’d know. And I’m as sure as I can be that I gave them to you along with everything else of a similar nature. Is it possible that they have been misplaced – perhaps put in the wrong file?’

  The lawyer drew himself stiffly to his feet.

  ‘Are you accusing my office of inefficiency, Mistress Neville?’

  ‘No. But if I was, that would be better than negligence, wouldn’t it?’

  He stared down on her.

  ‘I will instigate a thorough search – though I do not expect it to yield results. Fortunately, since you are resolute in your refusal to sell, the absence of those particular documents need present no immediate problem.’

  Lydia also rose.

  ‘Wrong, Mr Hetherington. They present a massive problem. For if I don’t have them and you don’t have them, it means that someone else does. And neither of us has the faintest idea who that person is – or to what use they may choose to put them.’

  * * *

  While Lydia was tearing the house apart looking for papers she already knew she wasn’t going to find, Colonel Maxwell ran into Major-General Lambert outside Westminster Hall.

  ‘Any progress?’ asked Lambert quietly.

  ‘No. I’m still waiting – as, presumably, are Colonel Villiers and his friends. I doubt I’ll hear anything until they’ve got what they believe is a true indication of the feeling within the House. And so far, I’d be surprised if even you know what that is.’

  ‘Things are gradually settling down. Aside from the most determined Radicals, the majority of members have now signed the Recognition and resumed their seats.’

  ‘So Gabriel has said. And that being the case, perhaps the Protector should have allowed matters to take their course instead of forcing Parliament’s hand.’

  Lambert sighed. ‘Possibly. But Oliver wasn’t prepared to risk what he considers to be vital issues. And events have now moved on. A committee has been formed to consider the Instrument with a view, possibly, to replacing it with a civil constitution – so I have hopes of achieving some workable balance.’

  ‘As do we all. But first you’ll have to end the tug-of-war between Westminster and Whitehall … and I wish you luck with that.’

  * * *

  That evening whilst waiting for Nicholas to join them for supper, Gabriel announced that he was moving back into the house near the Tiltyard.

  ‘Not that I haven’t enjoyed your hospitality,’ he explained, ‘because it’s been a pleasure. But the house is more convenient for Westminster and I’m expecting Venetia to join me in the next couple of weeks … certainly, I hope, by the end of the month.’

  Eden nodded. ‘Well, until she arrives, you can still sup here any time you like. Or any time you have a need to air the frustrations of your day.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll remember it.’

  The door opened and Nicholas came in saying, ‘I’m sorry. Have I kept you waiting?’

  ‘It’s of no consequence,’ shrugged Eden. And, as they took their seats at the table, ‘You’re not usually as late home as this.’

  ‘No. It’s been a peculiar day. You might say, fraught.’

  ‘Something’s happened? At the lorinery?’

  Nicholas nodded, busy piling his platter with pickled cabbage and slices of roast pork.

  ‘This morning we found rude messages daubed all over the gate. And an hour later --’

  ‘What messages?’ asked Eden tersely.

  ‘The sort calling Lydia the kind of names I’d rather not repeat and accusing her of various perversions involving cripples.’

  ‘Hell,’ said Gabriel, surprised. And then, reading Eden’s face, ‘This has happened before?’

  ‘That – and worse.’ And to Nicholas, ‘What else?’

  ‘One of our regular customers cancelled an order – faulty workmanship, they said. I thought it was just an excuse to delay payment because I’d overseen the packing of that consignment myself and there was nothing wrong with it. Only when I went round there, Hal Belcher showed me the evidence. Bridles coming undone … bits bent out of shape and with roughened edges and so forth.’ Nicholas drew an exasperated breath. ‘I think I talked Belcher into giving us another chance. I hope so, anyway.’

  ‘Does Lydia know?’

  ‘Everything except the damage to the harnesses. Potter was still at Belcher’s when she came and I didn’t see it myself until later.’

  ‘Is she worried?’

  Whatever Nicholas might suspect and whatever he’d said to Lydia, he wasn’t about to betray her to Eden so he said smoothly, ‘Enough to ask me to mention it to you.’

  Eden glanced at the clock, a fancy gilded thing Tobias had brought back from Genoa. Too late to go calling on a respectable woman – widow or not. He said, ‘I wish you’d let me know earlier, Nick. You could have sent me a message.’

  ‘Sent a message to you where, exactly?’

  ‘All right.’ He’d been on the move for most of the day. ‘Point taken.’

  ‘You’ll see her tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Yes. Early – before she sets out for Duck Lane.’

  ‘Good,’ said Nicholas. And restored his attention to his supper.

  Gabriel, having listened to the conversation with interest and drawn certain conclusions as a result, said reflectively, ‘The little widow’s an unusual woman. I like her. Why would anyone want to hurt her?’

  ‘Good question.’ Eden frowned at his plate as if it held the answer. ‘Today may merely have been coincidence … but I wouldn’t like to rely on it. Damn.’

  Amuseme
nt and speculation lurking in his eyes, Gabriel said, ‘The world can be a tricky place for a woman alone. I gather the husband was a good deal older – but she must miss his protection, nevertheless.’ He paused and then added casually, ‘Still … she’ll be able to choose a younger man this time. I don’t imagine there’ll be any shortage of volunteers.’

  ‘There aren’t.’ Eden looked up, his face hard. ‘Your bloody half-brother being one of them.’

  * * *

  The next morning, Colonel Maxwell was hammering on Mistress Neville’s door at a few minutes past eight o’clock. With his usual urbane impassivity, Henry Padgett opened the door but, before he could speak, Eden said, ‘I know it’s early but will you ask if Mistress Neville can see me?’

  Although Mr Padgett had only been occupying his current position for a short time, he had enough experience to know which were privileged visitors and which were not. He was also aware that Mistress Neville had been up half the night turning the parlour into a sea of papers and that she had virtually screamed at Nancy when the maid offered to help tidy up. Consequently, he bowed slightly and said, ‘I’m sure Madam will be happy to do so, Colonel – if you would but give me a moment?’

  Eden nodded and waited, tapping his gloves against his thigh until the major-domo returned and ushered him into the parlour. And then he stopped dead, staring at the chaos before him.

  ‘What on earth happened here?’ he demanded crisply. ‘Have you been burgled?’

  ‘No.’ Lydia looked up from where she knelt on the floor. ‘I was looking for something.’

  Her face was pale, her eyes strained and her hair was hanging down her back, tied in a ribbon. In contrast to her usual composure, she looked almost distraught.

  Eden walked over to her and held out his hand.

  ‘Come and sit down.’ And when she was perching, rigid with tension, on the edge of a chair, ‘Now take a deep breath and tell me about it.’

  ‘I can’t find the deeds to the lorinery. Mr Hetherington ought to have them – I’m sure he had them – but he says not. He promised to look but --’

  ‘Stop a moment. Who is Mr Hetherington?’

  ‘My lawyer. He dealt with Stephen’s will and everything. But I saw him yesterday and he said he’d noticed the deeds were missing but he wasn’t concerned because he thought I had them. But I don’t. I knew I didn’t and I told him that. I’d already been through Stephen’s papers more than once and I knew the deeds weren’t there. Only I couldn’t help looking – hoping I’d been mistaken and they’d turn up. But they haven’t.’

  Eden sat down facing her.

  ‘Then the lawyer will find they’ve been in his office all along,’ he said calmly.

  ‘Perhaps. But what if he doesn’t?’

  ‘He will.’ In all the time he’d known her, Eden had never seen Lydia Neville looking even remotely fragile … but she did so now. Frightened, strained and somehow smaller. He reached out and took her hands, feeling her fingers cling to his. ‘And worrying yourself silly won’t help.’

  ‘I know. But somehow – on top of everything else yesterday – it all seemed too much.’

  ‘That’s understandable. Nick told me what happened and we’ll come to that later. But first we need to address the matter of the deeds – systematically and logically. Yes?’

  She nodded, grateful for the warmth of his hands and the feeling of relief his presence brought. She drew a long, unsteady breath and, attempting to recover some self-control, said, ‘Yes. You’re right, of course. I’m sorry. I don’t usually panic.’

  ‘I think I may be said to be aware of that fact,’ he smiled. Then, releasing her hands, ‘Have you had breakfast?’

  Lydia blinked. ‘No. I couldn’t face it.’

  ‘Neither have I – and I most definitely could face it.’

  ‘Oh!’ She stood up. ‘I’ll order food immediately – though not, perhaps, in here.’

  ‘Definitely not in here. But if you’ll be good enough to feed me, I’ll help you restore order.’

  He watched her go, his easy expression slipping away. In truth, he wasn’t particularly hungry but recognised that giving her something to do would help. If those deeds really were lost … if, God forbid, they had fallen into the wrong hands and Lydia’s ownership of the premises was ever challenged, she was going to be faced with a well-nigh insoluble problem.

  And that wasn’t the only thing bothering him. All the time he’d been holding her hands and those wide, anxious eyes had been gazing into his, he’d had the devil’s own time not pulling her on to his lap and folding his arms round her. In truth, he’d wanted to kiss her … and not, as should have been the case, merely to give her comfort. He’d wanted it for himself. What worried him was how much he’d wanted it.

  While he watched her pick at some bread and cheese, he talked about other things; the news from Westminster; the surrender of Glencairn in Scotland … and finally, the imminent arrival of Colonel Brandon’s wife and children.

  ‘You should meet Venetia,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘She’s as direct as you are. God alone knows how she managed to pass muster at Whitehall where lies and flattery were the order of the day. Ah.’ He stopped. ‘I should probably warn you of a couple of things. Venetia was once one of the Queen’s ladies and, despite being married to Gabriel, she’s still a Royalist at heart. Don’t ask me how that works – I only know that, between them, it does. She’s also exceptionally beautiful.’

  ‘Oh. That sounds rather … daunting.’

  ‘To you? Perish the thought.’ Eden grinned at her. ‘But enough of that. With regard to the situation at Duck Lane … Nick has seen the goods your customer claimed were faulty and, from what he told me, all the signs are that they were tampered with after leaving the lorinery. That is something that can be investigated and prevented in future. The daubings on your gate are another matter. Nick will be on the alert for further incursions and so, on a personal level, should you be. Have you told Aubrey about it?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘He stayed at Shoreditch last night. He does that sometimes.’

  ‘Then he’d better stop doing it,’ came the inflexible reply. ‘As for the mystery of the missing deeds …we’ll go and tidy up your papers and, while we do, we’ll formulate a plan. How does that sound?’

  ‘Sensible.’ Without quite being sure why, Lydia felt suddenly shy; then shyness became embarrassment when she recalled how she’d clutched at his hands as if she was drowning. ‘Thank you for coming this morning and for – for being so kind. You’ve made me feel much better. But you don’t need to help clear up the mess. I can do it.’

  ‘I’m sure you can. And if you’d rather deal with it in private, then --’

  ‘It isn’t that. It’s just that I’ve no business taking up your time when I know how busy you must be.’

  ‘As it happens, I’m not busy at all right now. I’m still assigned to Major-General Lambert – on paper, at least – and all he requires of me at the moment is that I talk to a few people on his behalf.’ Men who Venetia might know. Now there’s a thought worth pursuing. Or then again, maybe not. Involving Venetia in nefarious Cavalier activities is likely to result in Gabriel putting my head through the wall. ‘I have nothing pressing to do this morning so I can stay – or not. As you wish.’

  Lydia stared at him, helpless to deny what she felt and praying it didn’t show.

  If you knew what I really wish, you’d be half-way to Scotland by now.

  ‘Then I’d be grateful for your help. Thank you.’

  Standing once more amidst the sea of papers, Eden said, ‘Is this as random as it looks?’

  ‘Almost,’ she sighed. ‘Everything falls into one of four basic categories and I began by trying to keep them separate but then panic set in and I forgot.’ She looked down a little sadly on the mess she’d made. ‘In truth, I could have got rid of most of it months ago. I don’t really know why I haven’t.’

  ‘Presumably, because you weren�
�t ready. So, for now, I suggest we just sort it into the various piles and you can go through it properly at a later date. Agreed?’

  ‘Yes. Agreed.’

  For a time the silence was only broken by the rustle of paper while Lydia tried not to notice the tanned, well-shaped hands systematically sifting and sorting. Then, as areas of the floor once more became visible, Eden held out a heavy brass object some six inches long.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Oh.’ She gave a wry laugh. ‘I’d forgotten about that. It’s a key of some sort – though it doesn’t fit any lock I know of. But Stephen thought it important and made me promise to keep it safe – so I have. There’s a box for it somewhere.’

  Eden had already found the box and the scrap of paper lying at the bottom of it.

  ‘And these?’ he held out several sheets covered in apparently random groupings of numbers and letters.

  ‘I don’t know. Stephen was good with numbers. For example, he could reconcile a ledger in less than half the time it takes me. But he liked mathematical puzzles as well and during the last few months when he was bedridden, he covered endless pages with that sort of thing. I never had the faintest idea what he was doing.’

  Eden had a fair idea of what the late Mr Neville had been doing but, keeping his tone casual, he said merely, ‘I like playing with puzzles, too. If I promise to return them, would you mind if I took these away to look at them?’

  Her brows rose in mild surprise.

  ‘Not at all. Do you think they actually mean something?’

  ‘They obviously meant something to your husband,’ he replied. ‘So that makes them of interest, wouldn’t you say?’

  And even more interesting is why the late Mr Neville spent the last weeks of his life devising and perfecting ciphers.

  ~ * * ~ * * ~

  ELEVEN

  Over the next few days, a number of things happened.

  Six women from Strand Alley, all of them well-known to Lydia, moved into the room she’d prepared – bringing with them a great deal of laughter and numerous baskets filled with the tools of their trade.