by Holly West
I went upstairs and Charlotte helped me prepare for bed. Alice had warmed the blankets and I slid down under the covers, certain that sleep might never come that night. I was surprised when, some time later, Alice woke me by jostling my shoulder roughly.
“M’lady,” she said breathlessly. “It’s Mr. Barber. He’s been attacked!”
* * *
I sat up, confused. My mind was sluggish from sleep.
“Hurry, m’lady,” Alice said. “I think he’s badly hurt!”
I jumped out of bed and ran into the hall. Charlotte peeked her head out her bedroom door. “What’s happened?”
I hurried downstairs without acknowledging her. “He’s in the drawing room,” Alice said. The two women followed close at my heels.
I found Lucian sprawled on the couch, unmoving. Charlotte let out a little scream and I ran to him, kneeling beside him. “Lucian,” I said, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge.
He didn’t respond and for one terrible moment I thought he was dead. “Lucian, speak to me!” A second later he moaned and his arm flinched. I let out my breath, dizzy with relief. “Oh, thank God.”
But it was clear his injuries were severe. Both eyes were closed, and one of them was swollen as though a fat purple slug had been lain atop it. The skin on his cheek and above his brow had broken open and was seeping blood, and his ear appeared to be cut.
“Alice,” I said, without taking my eyes off my brother, “get some water and towels, and put a kettle on the fire to boil. Charlotte, go upstairs and fetch Sam.”
I did not notice the man standing in the doorway until he cleared his throat. I stood up and spun around to face him.
“Who are you?” I demanded. His greasy black beard was speckled with bits of food and his clothing hung in tatters on his thin frame. Though Lucian was none too choosy about who he kept company with I could not imagine this man was his friend. He held a wilted hat in his hands, twisting its brim.
“My name is Barnes, m’lady. I was with this man when the fight started and he asked me to bring him here.”
“What fight?” I asked. Lucian moaned again and I moved back toward him. “Lucian, are you all right?” He stayed quiet.
Barnes spoke up. “We was coming out of the Rose and Thistle when all’s a sudden a gang of men came out from around the corner and pounced on him.”
“And how is it you came away unhurt?” I asked, standing up. I moved closer to him and nearly gagged on the smell of stale beer and filth. “Did you just stand there and watch it happen?”
“I did try to pull him outta the way, and they pushed me aside. ’Twas four against two, and he was already down. I didn’t see the use in the both of us getting knocked.”
“So I see my brother keeps company with cowards now. Is that all you can tell me?”
“I heard one of them say this was a warning to his cunt sister to stay away from matters not her business.”
He said this last bit with a lewd smile on his face as though he enjoyed saying the vulgar words to me. I slapped him hard across the cheek.
“Aww, ma’am, there was no need for that,” he whined, rubbing the spot. “I’m the one who brought him here after all. Without me he would’ve been left for dead.”
“Get out of my sight, you miserable dog,” I said.
He didn’t move. “That’s no way to repay a kindness.”
“Get out!”
Sam—I hadn’t realized he was even there—strode over and took Barnes by the arm. “C’mon, you,” he said, pulling him toward the door.
I returned to my place beside Lucian, who was finally regaining consciousness. Alice brought in a bowl of water with some linens and knelt on the floor next to me, soaking a towel in the water.
“Wipe the blood from his face,” I said, loosening his neckband and unbuttoning his shirt. There were purplish-red marks on his chest that reminded me of those on Sir Edmund’s torso. The thought of my brother suffering the same fate as Sir Edmund made me lightheaded.
Sam came back into the room. “I dare say Mr. Barnes won’t be coming back any time soon.”
I left Alice to tend to Lucian so I could speak privately to Sam. ”Who do you think might have done this?” I asked quietly.
“Could’ve been anyone. If Lucian was out drinking tonight he probably insulted any of a dozen men.”
I shook my head. “Barnes told me it was a warning to me to mind my own business.”
“It’s going to be all right, Isabel. We’ll find who did this.”
Alice continued to wipe Lucian’s face tenderly with a damp cloth, murmuring softly to him. Charlotte knelt beside her, wringing one cloth out while handing Alice a freshly rinsed one.
I went to Alice and gently nudged her. “You can both go back to bed now,” I said. “I’ll take care of him.”
Lucian had been attacked because of me. It hadn’t occurred to me that in my dogged search for my diary, I was risking anybody’s safety except my own. But now my brother lay here, perhaps dying, because I’d refused to listen to anyone’s warnings.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Wednesday, 23 October 1678
I woke up and for a moment had no recollection of where I was or what had happened the night before. Dull light crept in from the windows and my neck was sore, the result of spending the night in a chair. My eyes darted to Lucian.
He was sitting upright and drinking from a mug. He gave me a wry smile.
“About time you woke up,” he said.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve just been spit from the bowels of hell. How do I look?”
“Shall I bring you a mirror?”
“It’s probably best if I remember myself as I was.”
Alice entered the room carrying a bowl and linens. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you, m’lady,” she said, setting the items on the table. “Shall I bring you breakfast?”
“Tend to Mr. Barber first,” I said. She knelt beside him and began soaking a cloth in the bowl then gently swabbed his face. Every so often, he flinched and moaned. “Aye, Mr. Barber,” she said. “It’s not so bad as all that.”
“My skin feels like it’s going peel off,” he said.
“You’ll be looking like yourself in no time, sir.” She finished her work and stood up. “I’ll bring your morning draught now, m’lady.”
“Thank you, Alice.” To Lucian I said, “You seem chipper enough this morning. Do you remember what happened?”
“I remember being at the tavern…not much more than that. If it weren’t for the fact that my body feels like a pugilist’s bag, I’d say it was a fairly typical evening.”
“A fellow named Barnes brought you here. Who is he?”
“I don’t know anyone named Barnes.”
“He told me he left the tavern with you and you were both attacked by ruffians. But he didn’t have a scratch on him.”
Lucian thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. The movement must’ve caused him some pain because he grimaced. “I can’t recall.”
“He said four of them jumped out from a dark corner and began hitting you. He claimed he tried to pull you away from them but they pushed him aside.”
“Barnes was probably a thief who happened upon me at the wrong time.”
“Did you have any money on you?”
“Of course not,” he said, smiling. “Another criminal thwarted.”
“He probably hoped the night would not be a total loss and brought you back here thinking I’d give him a reward. Instead he got a slap.”
“At least he got something for his troubles.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch.
“Lucian, he told me that one of the attackers said the beating was meant as a warning to me.”
“I’m sorry, Isabel, but I don’t remember much else. I could do with more sleep, I think.”
A moment later he was snoring, and I watched as his chest gently rose and fell. I wante
d desperately to wake him, not because I was so anxious for information—though I was—but because seeing him there, asleep and vulnerable, made my heart ache. If he was awake and talking, that meant he was alive.
A lump formed in my throat. What damnable person had done this? Buckingham? Michael Godfrey? Had Lord Pembroke recognized me that night at the Red Lion Tavern and taken his revenge? My own need for retribution overwhelmed me and yet there was no one I could exact it upon. I clenched my fists in frustration.
Later that morning I sent Sam to fetch Nicholas Cambridge. When the young surgeon arrived he appeared much improved compared to when I’d seen him a few days ago. He gave Lucian a careful examination, dressed his wounds, then pulled me aside.
“Will he recover?” I asked.
“I suspect two broken ribs. Don’t let him move around too much. Keep his wounds clean and make sure he rests for several days. It’s important he does not overexert himself.”
“And if I do all that, he’ll get better?”
Cambridge did not answer immediately. “You must understand he’s been terribly hurt,” he said finally. “Do as I’ve advised, and call for me if his wounds begin to fester.”
I sat in a chair next to Lucian for the rest of the day, watching every breath and praying fervently for my brother’s survival. Sam, Charlotte and Alice all entreated me to get some rest or to go for a walk to get some fresh air, but I wouldn’t leave Lucian’s side.
He woke up several times throughout the day, taking a few sips of water or a bite of bread, but quickly fell asleep again. By suppertime, however, he was more alert and for the first time since Cambridge’s visit I relaxed a bit, allowing myself the small hope that he would indeed recover.
Lucian told me he remembered some of what had happened the previous night. “I left the tavern and I wasn’t as drunk as usual—it seems my credit has run out at the Rose and Thistle. I was almost home when someone grabbed me from behind and pushed me to the ground. I couldn’t tell how many there were. There were so many kicks and punches it could’ve been ten men.”
“You didn’t see any of their faces?” I asked.
“No, but when they’d finished having their way with me, one of them bent down and spoke directly into my ear.”
“What did he say?” I said.
Lucian paused. “He said I should tell you to mind your own business or there’d be worse to come.” He laid his head back on the pillow. “Pray tell, Isabel, what have you gotten yourself involved with?”
I had never intended to tell Lucian about Mistress Ruby and, even now, I hesitated. But it was unfair to keep such an important detail from him when he’d paid such a high price for his ignorance.
“It’s time I told you the truth,” I said.
* * *
“Have you ever heard of a woman named Mistress Ruby?” I asked.
“Everyone’s heard of her. But I’ve never found the need for a visit.” He scrutinized my face. “Have you?”
I nodded. “When Ian died, he left me with no income and many debts.”
“But I thought he left you scads of money—”
“Ian gambled money away as quickly as he received it. Before he received it, more often than not.”
“Don’t tell me you went to an evil old fortuneteller like Mistress Ruby to buy a magic spell to bring you fortune. And if you did, I can see you’re doing well enough for yourself. Tell me where I can find her.”
“Around the time of Ian’s death, I visited an astrologer and the advice she gave me proved helpful.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That’s not important. After Ian left me penniless, I knew I had to find a way to earn my own money or I’d soon be back in Marshalsea Prison. I returned to the astrologer and asked her how I might make my living by similar means as she did. With her assistance, I set up a business for myself.”
Lucian’s one good eye opened a bit wider. “Wait a minute—you’re not saying—are you Mistress Ruby?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true.”
He sat there, incredulous, and for once, speechless. Then he said, “How long?”
“About six years now.”
“Well, Isabel, you certainly know how to surprise a fellow.”
“Charlotte and Alice don’t know,” I said. “You must never tell them. I’m only telling you about it because of the attack.”
“What does Mistress Ruby have to do with it?”
I took a breath and let it out slowly. “Sir Edmund came to see me—Mistress Ruby, I mean—the night before he disappeared. He told me about Titus Oates and the papist plot against the king. He was afraid for his life.”
“Did you know he was going to die?”
“I don’t possess any special powers, Lucian. I’m still the same sister you’ve always had. I read his palm and told him I saw no evidence he was in any danger.”
“Ha!” Lucian said. “Some fortuneteller you are. If I ever need advice, remind me to find someone else.”
Considering the dubious counsel I’d given Sir Edmund, this was likely a wise choice on his part. “Shortly after Sir Edmund’s visit, someone broke into my room at Coal Yard Alley and stole a diary containing information about every customer who’s sought my services.”
Lucian let out a low whistle. “I’d like to get my hands on that. Imagine the fun I could have at Whitehall with that information.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Precisely.”
“Care to give me any names?”
“This is serious, Lucian.”
“But it would make me feel so much better.” He thrust out his bottom lip, displaying his most pitiful pout.
“I told you all of this so that you’ll be more careful,” I said. “I’ve been investigating Sir Edmund’s death because a page from my diary was found in his pocket. And now it seems that whoever the culprit is attacked you in an effort to silence me.”
“So who do you think did it?”
“I don’t know. I suspect Sir Edmund’s brother Michael, or perhaps the Earl of Pembroke, but there are others.”
“Why the Earl of Pembroke?”
“Sir Edmund had him prosecuted for killing a man in a tavern brawl. Pembroke was granted privilege of peer and wasn’t punished, but he didn’t like it much all the same. He publicly threatened to extract his revenge on Sir Edmund right there in the courtroom.”
Lucian nodded. “Sounds like Pembroke.”
I told him about my subsequent meeting with Pembroke at the Red Lion Tavern and he laughed when I got to the bit about losing my wig.
“It couldn’t have been Pembroke,” Lucian said when I’d finished. “He was arrested a few days ago and he’s been locked in the Tower ever since.”
“Could he have hired someone to do it?”
“He hasn’t a friend left in London at this point. Who else?”
“Buckingham,” I said, biting the side of my cheek.
Lucian clicked his tongue. “That’s ridiculous. He’s got no reason to touch me. We’re friends.”
I looked at him pleadingly and took his hand. “You know as well as I do there are no such thing as friends at Whitehall. At any rate, it seems my days as a fortuneteller are over. Last night, Danby’s men came to my room looking for Mistress Ruby. I managed to evade them, but it won’t be long before they come calling again. I can’t go back there.”
“What will you do?”
“Don’t trouble yourself over it, I’ll think of something. Just promise me you’ll be careful. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you.”
He put my hand to his lips and kissed it. His uncharacteristic tenderness made another lump rise in my throat. “Dear sister,” he said. “I promise that you shall be troubled by me for many years to come.”
Chapter Thirty
Thursday, 24 October 1678
I slept fitfully that night and finally gave up the hope of getting any real rest in the wee hours of morning. I
got out of bed and tiptoed downstairs to check on Lucian. Alice had dozed off in the chair and Lucian slept soundly, his breathing stronger than it had been the night before. His face was no longer contorted in pain and he looked almost peaceful.
I thanked God for keeping him safe one more day.
I returned upstairs to prepare myself and an hour later observed my appearance in the mirror. Using clothing borrowed from Alice’s meager wardrobe, a disheveled brown wig, and a wide-brimmed hat, I’d outfitted myself as a maiden, in from the countryside to sell my wares. I slipped out of the house before anyone else awoke.
The sun had begun its ascent and the streets of London were coming alive. I’d filled the basket Alice used for shopping with strawberries and oranges and as I walked toward Hartshorn Lane, I tried to balance it on my head, as was the custom. I marveled at the other women I passed, wielding their burdens as though they were featherlight, but after spilling its contents twice, I gave up and carried the basket in my arms. When I finally got to the mouth of Hartshorn Lane, it was already bustling with tradespeople. I sat down on a stoop to catch my breath before continuing on to the Godfrey residence.
Once there, I found that Sir Edmund’s body had been removed. There were no guards, no speakers, and no spectators. Nevertheless, I skipped the front door in favor of the servant’s entrance at the back, giving it a hard knock. A plump young serving girl opened the door.
“I’d like to speak to the lady of the house,” I said, retrieving my long-lost country accent for the occasion.
She glanced at my basket. “We’ve all the fruit we need,” she said.
“But I grow the finest strawberries in all of Kent,” I said. “If you’ll only let me speak to your mistress, I’m sure she’ll buy.”
A smarter girl would have shut the door in my face rather than disturb her mistress with such a silly matter, but this lass merely shrugged her shoulders and left me to wait in the open doorway. After several long minutes in the cold, I wondered if she’d forgotten about me. I stepped into the warm kitchen, leaving my basket of fruit outside.
The kitchen was empty, but the large iron pot hanging over the fire indicated that breakfast was cooking. The serving girl or someone else would be back soon, but for the moment, I had unfettered access to the house. If I wanted to search for my diary, I’d have to be quick about it.
