by Stella Riley
* * *
With Amy’s wedding fixed for November 26th, it was fortunate that the King’s return from Scotland brought the Queen’s household back to Whitehall in time for Kate to request immediate leave of absence and arrive back in New Palace Yard at the eleventh hour. She walked in just before supper to a barrage of questions and half-teasing, half-congratulatory remarks on her appearance from everyone except Celia and Amy … and then spent an enjoyable evening listening to Eden’s glowing description of his son and Toby’s enthusiasm for his work, in between talking politics with her father and delivering her own witty exposé on life at Court.
It was therefore not until much later that she was finally alone with her mother and able to say simply, ‘You sent me away to be polished. Will I do?’
‘Very well indeed,’ smiled Dorothy. ‘Have you enjoyed it?’
‘Most of the time – and, in general, more than I’d expected. The only unpleasant part has been discovering that this quarrel between Parliament and the King has left all the things we take for granted hanging by a thread. But you live with that thought every day through Father – so we won’t speak of it now. And instead I’ll tell you that I’ve been kissed by the man Celia wouldn’t marry, that the gown I intend to wear tomorrow was a gift from the Queen herself and that Kit Clifford wants to marry me.’
For a moment, Dorothy merely looked at her. Then she said calmly, ‘I see that the changes are only skin-deep. Do you love him?’
‘I don’t know. I’m comfortable with him and I enjoy his company and I realise that I could do much, much worse. But I’m all too aware that his family is no less involved with the Court than Celia’s – and I don’t want to make the same mistake as Eden.’
Dorothy thought for a moment. ‘Eden’s problems are caused less by Celia’s background than by her nature – and, from what I’ve seen of him, Mr Clifford is a very different kettle of fish. On the other hand, things have worsened in the last year and people are beginning to take sides – so a difference of allegiances could become a serious obstacle.’ She paused. ‘I suppose the only advice I can give you is to weigh these things in the balance. If you find that you love him, you’ll regret allowing the present quarrel to come between you. If you don’t, there’s no question to be answered. Mere liking does not make a marriage.’
Kate nodded. ‘That’s more or less what I’ve told him.’
‘And he’s willing to wait?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I suggest that you stop worrying and allow matters to take their course,’ said Dorothy. ‘And now … what was it you said about Celia’s rejected suitor?’
* * *
On the following morning, and despite the pandemonium caused by preparing Amy for her wedding, Kate became aware of a certain hostility radiating towards her from Celia. She said nothing until Amy was satisfactorily arrayed in forget-me-not silk and then, snatching a moment’s privacy with Tabitha, said, ‘I know Celia and I have never really got on – but have I done something new to upset her?’
‘Well, of course,’ came the faintly surprised reply. ‘You’ve spent four months at Court and come back more stylish than she is herself – and she hates it. So does Amy, come to that.’ And then, ‘Do you like my locket? Ginny gave it to me.’
‘I was under the impression,’ remarked Kate, examining the pretty thing, ‘that you and Gianetta had fallen out.’
‘We did. But then we made it up again. And Mr Santi says she’s been a bit more polite recently – so she must have taken some notice of what I said.’
‘You’ve seen him?’
‘Yes. He came to dinner last week.’ Tabitha grinned and gave one last tweak to her pale pink taffeta. ‘You’ll be able to see him yourself, shortly. He’s bringing Ginny to the wedding.’
And that, thought Kate sourly, was no more than she should have expected.
Precisely what Luciano del Santi should have expected was something he found himself unable to decide. He’d been prepared for changes. What he found he hadn’t been prepared for was something that – for no good reason he could see – amounted to a complete transformation. Throughout the ceremony and the round of kissing and congratulations that followed it, his eyes brooded on the elegant creature in the daring bronze and amber gown; and by the time they sat down to the wedding-breakfast, he was still no nearer finding an answer.
Her hair was intricately dressed … but that wasn’t it; nor was it the fact that someone had apparently taught her the art of darkening her eye-lashes. And presumably the lines of cheek and jaw, neck and shoulder, had always possessed that delicate, cameo-like purity. So what was left? That graceful, swaying walk? Yes, perhaps. And something else that – since it could not be learned – must have been there all along, though he’d never previously noticed it. The dangerous, indefinable quality that – for want of a better word – he had to call allure.
The procession of dishes came to an end and the boards were drawn to make room for the dancing. Amy frolicked down the room with her Geoffrey and Dorothy did her duty by Mr Cox senior – now entering the first stages of inebriety. Kate, the signor observed sardonically, had steered Tabitha and Gianetta into the furthest corner for a purpose one did not need to be a genius to work out; and that, considering how carefully she was avoiding him, was not without a certain ironic humour.
‘You’re supposed to kiss the bride, shake the groom by the hand and tell everyone what a handsome couple they make,’ said a pleasant voice beside him. ‘And if you were a really good fellow, you’d follow it up by dancing with one of the Cox girls.’
Luciano’s gaze encompassed the groom’s good-natured but undeniably homely sisters and returned blandly to Richard’s face.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to hold me excused. I rarely dance.’
‘Rather look at Kate, would you? Well, I can’t say I blame you. But you’d better be careful. She says your eyes are like knives and it’s high time someone told you it’s rude to stare.’
‘Time was when she’d have told me so herself. Or has Court life made her too much of a lady to say what she thinks?’
Richard laughed. ‘Not a chance. She’s probably on her best behaviour for the day – or living up to that dress. Either way, Dolly assures me that the changes are purely superficial.’
‘Should I be comforted?’ asked the Italian dryly. And then, ‘Do you intend to let her go back to Whitehall?’
‘I haven’t decided. It mostly depends on what response the King makes to the Remonstrance. You know that it’s been passed?’
‘By a mere eleven votes and with a lot of unseemly jostling. Yes. What I don’t know, however, is what Pym expects to gain by raking over old grievances.’
‘That’s what Falkland says. Pym, on the other hand, argues what he calls the necessity of the times.’
‘Meaning that now the Providence Company is bankrupt, he and the other shareholders can’t be arrested for debt while Parliament is sitting?’
‘Meaning,’ corrected Richard with irony, ‘that the Moderates are fast gaining control of the House and Pym daren’t let the King raise an army to send to Ireland because the Irish are claiming royal authority for their rebellion. So his answer is to blast the King’s reputation to perdition. And the unfortunate part of that is that, amidst all the dross, the King has actually given him the grounds on which to do it.’
‘Daniel O’Neill’s plot to march on London last summer? Yes. I’ve heard that one.’ Luciano paused and then said thoughtfully, ‘O’Neill’s a name we’re hearing a lot of recently. They say, for example, that Phelim O’Neill is poised to take Drogheda. Is your brother-in-law still in Dublin?’
‘To the best of my knowledge, yes. We keep hoping one of the fugitives will bring us a letter but there’s been nothing so far. Fortunately, Ivo’s thick as thieves with Dan O’Neill and Ormonde and the rest of them – so he ought to be safe enough. Or so I’ve been telling Dorothy.’ Richard stopped and smiled ruefully. ‘But enough of that
. How are your affairs progressing?’
‘They’re not,’ came the flat reply. ‘Since seeing the trial record – which, as I told you, was less than useless – I’ve opened up other lines of enquiry, put pressure on any number of financially embarrassed gentlemen and achieved precisely nothing. In short, I seem to be banging my head against a brick wall.’
Richard considered him for a moment and then said, ‘What would you do with the information if you had it?’
‘You mean – would I commit murder and mayhem?’ The ghost of a smile dawned ‘No. But what I would do isn’t likely to be much less destructive.’
‘I see.’ Richard drew a long breath and finally made up his mind. ‘Then you’d better go and see a man called Samuel Fisher in Lambeth. I couldn’t get him to actually admit it – but I think he may have been the prosecuting counsel.’
Silence stretched out on invisible threads and shock drained the blood from Luciano del Santi’s skin. At last, in a voice that was oddly remote, he said, ‘You’ve found someone who knows something? How? And why? Why put yourself to so much trouble?’
‘Well, as to that, it wasn’t so arduous,’ replied Richard. And related his conversation with John Maynard. ‘For the rest … I suppose you might say I was curious.’
‘Ah.’ The colour began to seep slowly back into the Italian’s face. ‘Of course. You wanted to find out whether or not I’d told you a pack of lies. How foolish of me not to have anticipated it.’
‘It’ll be foolish of you to start letting your damned temper get the upper hand,’ retorted Richard crisply. ‘If you really want to know, I never doubted you’d done anything but tell me the truth as best you knew it. But you were only a child then, for God’s sake! What did you expect me to think? What would anybody think? And whether or not you’re happy with my motives, the result may well be a trail worth following. So don’t sharpen your tongue on me, Luciano. I won’t put up with it.’
For a long moment, the fathomless eyes stared imperviously back at him. Then, their expression changing, Luciano said stiffly, ‘You’re quite right – and I apologise. It’s just … I’m not accustomed to receiving help. At all. And particularly without either asking or paying for it.’
‘I’m aware of that. It’s why I didn’t mention the matter until I could be sure it was of use.’
‘Then … I can only thank you.’ And on a tremor that might have been laughter, ‘But have you the remotest idea what you’ve done? I spend two years preparing the ground and another two stumbling into dead–ends … and then you come along and blithely announce you’ve found the counsel for the prosecution.’
‘No justice in the world, is there?’ grinned Richard. ‘And correction; I may have found him. The signs certainly point to it; mainly the fact that, if you go to see him, he’ll know who you are – but also the Buckingham connection. But perhaps I’d better start at the beginning?’
Luciano listened attentively to Richard’s account of his meeting with Samuel Fisher and, at the end, said reflectively, ‘He obviously knows something. And I’d say you’re right about there being a link to Buckingham. The charges against my father included assassination threats – which he obviously didn’t carry out. If the Duke was Fisher’s patron and Fisher heard the case, it would explain why, after Buckingham actually was murdered, his name was removed from the transcript I was given. It doesn’t explain the rest of the omissions … but it does suggest that, it was Fisher who altered the trial record – and that it’s therefore possible he still has the original.’
‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘What is he like?’
‘Fisher? Old – but not, he’ll doubtless inform you, senile. He’s got gout and dropsy and doesn’t look as though he has four pence for a groat – which is why, if he tells you anything at all, he’ll make you pay through the nose for it. And that brings me to the most useful piece of advice I can offer.’
‘Yes?’
‘Drench yourself in chypre and take a pomander with you. The stench in that house is enough to make a dog vomit.’
* * *
Although unable to prevent herself being acutely conscious of his presence, Kate successfully managed to avoid Signor del Santi all day. It was just sheer bad luck, therefore, that she should run into him in the hall where he was awaiting Gianetta prior to leaving.
‘Going already?’ she asked cordially.
‘Indeed.’ Lounging against the wall with his usual consummate grace, Luciano surveyed her lazily and allowed his eyes to linger briefly on her décolletage. ‘If you were waiting for me to ask you to dance, I’m afraid you’ll have to hold me excused.’
‘I wasn’t – and I will. It just seems a pity for you to miss all the bawdiest jokes.’
‘Since I’ve already given you my views on that subject,’ he sighed, ‘I can only call that remark fatuous.’
Kate smiled brilliantly and proceeded to turn her mistake to good account.
‘Which it would be – if, of course, I could possibly be expected to remember every word you utter.’
‘Ah – now that’s much better. I could almost believe that.’
‘Try harder.’
‘Court life appears to have given you a cutting edge,’ he remarked idly. ‘But as you see – I still live.’ He waited, watching a hint of colour stain her cheeks. Then, smiling back at her with sudden, deadly charm, he said, ‘Tell me, did Gianetta manage to produce enough sordid details for you – or are you still in the market for more? Because if so, I suggest that next time to apply to me directly. You’ll find that my recall is much clearer. In fact, dear Kate, I can safely promise to give you more than you bargain for.’
* * *
A seemingly rapturous reception having been organised for him by the newly elected Lord Mayor of London, King Charles felt best able to demonstrate his disdain for the Remonstrance by ignoring it. He therefore made no official visit to Parliament and presently retired to Hampton Court, pleading a sore throat. Kate, alerted to this move by a frantic note from Venetia, sought and finally obtained Richard’s reluctant permission to return to her post. Celia, who had been counting on passing a few pleasant evenings at Whitehall before being dragged back to Thorne Ash, threw a tantrum of monumental proportions and was only pacified by Eden’s weary promise to take her to Hampton instead.
‘She doesn’t change much, does she?’ said Kate trenchantly to Eden in the midst of her final preparations to depart. ‘In fact, I’m tempted to say that she’s getting worse.’
‘Then I suggest you hold your tongue,’ he retorted. ‘Just try to remember that Celia is my wife – and, unless you learn to like her, you and I can’t ever be close again. Is that what you want?’
‘No. And though you won’t believe it, I’ve really tried to find something in her worthy of respect. Only I can’t – so the best I can do is to be civil to her. Which is more than she appears to be doing for you; and that’s what I can’t tolerate.’
‘There’s no question of your tolerating it. It isn’t your business.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No,’ he said, sticking doggedly to his point. ‘She’d be your friend if you’d let her.’
‘You mean,’ returned Kate acidly, ‘that she’d be happy to have me worship at the shrine. She doesn’t have friends – she has votaries.’
‘Jealous, Kate?’
‘You know I’m not. I’m just wondering how she’s going to get on now that her chief hand-maiden is married and gone. After all, there’s no denying that Amy was an absolute god-send in certain respects.’
‘That’s enough!’ Eden was suddenly angry. ‘You’re so awash with blind prejudice you can’t even make a few allowances. Celia’s just had a baby, damn it!’
‘Don’t tell me. It’s Celia herself you need to remind. I don’t think I’ve heard her mention Jude above once – and she doesn’t seem exactly desperate to get back to him, does she?’
It was only then, looking into his eyes, that she f
inally realised that he knew all of this but could not bear the hurt of acknowledging it. Feeling suddenly rather sick, Kate sought for some means of undoing the damage … but too late. With a muttered curse, Eden pivoted on his heel and slammed out of the house.
* * *
Within twenty-four hours of resuming her duties at Hampton Court, Kate was informed that they were all returning to Whitehall. London, it appeared, was suffering a recession caused by the growing maritime trade of the Dutch – added to which the cost of paying off the Scots had been enormous and investments were currently being lost hand over fist in Ireland. Or so said a deputation of aldermen who came to beg the King to bring his Court and its purses back to the City for the Yuletide season. And His Majesty, knighting the worthy petitioners one and all, was magnanimous enough to agree; thus leaving his courtiers no alternative but to have their boxes re-packed and causing Kate to reflect that at least Celia ought to be pleased.
The move was accomplished with what Kate was fast coming to recognise as the usual chaos. Items were forgotten until the last moment or mislaid altogether; tempers grew frayed and Lucy Carlisle quarrelled with the Duchess of Richmond about which of them was to have the privilege of guarding Her Majesty’s correspondence chest. Kate kept her tongue between her teeth and attended to the duties assigned to her with ruthless efficiency.
Once back in Whitehall, she soon became aware that the strain of the early autumn had been replaced by a sort of half-confident, half-nervous excitement. The confidence was inspired by the fact that the King’s party in the House now apparently rivalled Pym’s in size and also by the exuberant buoyancy evinced by Lord Digby; the nervousness came from speculation about what reply His Majesty would eventually make to the Remonstrance, coupled with fear that the Parliament’s attempts to take control of the Militia away from the King would precipitate a crisis.
