Silence And Shadows Collection

Chapter 2-2

When Thomas stepped out from the shadows, he became the second person at Whitehall to know I could speak, though I said nothing further once I knew he was there. I wondered if, indeed, I could. Yet I was not brave enough to find out then. He readily gave his word it would go no further. And I find I trust him.

Raphael

RaphaelI watched Susannah Gresham walk away, hearing the duchess’s slight gasp when she did so rather impolitely. Though when I turned to look, her expression was quite serene once more. ‘As I told you, Duchess, she’s not interested in me.’

‘Pah. Don’t be so lily-livered.’ She tapped my arm with her fan. ‘At least now you have been introduced. You can proceed from here.’

‘She could not wait to escape me.’ I sounded tiresomely self-pitying, even to myself.

‘If you covet her, Raphael, you must pursue her. For she will not pursue you.’

‘How? When she is so rarely at court?’

She shrugged, impatiently. ‘Make friends with her friends. Have her make your portrait. There are ways and you shall find them if you are eager enough to win her.’ She tapped me with that fan again. Quite sharply, this time. ‘Now, my dear, I must return to my friends. Good luck to you.’

myI bowed. ‘Duchessa.’ And then I was left quite alone. I took a glass of arrack from a passing footman, swallowed it in one long gulp, and made to follow Susannah and her companions through the door they had left by. I crossed myself before stepping out. ‘Dio aiutami.’ Not behaviour recommended at a protestant court where papists were loathed with a peculiarly English kind of relish. I moved out into a shadowy yard, encountering a vague whiff of s**t. I had heard courtiers thought nothing of availing themselves of any dark corner and made a careful note to avoid stepping anywhere near one. I could see only one person present, and it was neither Susannah nor Tom. ‘I look for my friend, Thomas Monkton,’ I lied, bowing to Samuel Carter again. I had not spoken with him earlier though we had been introduced.

DuchessaDio aiutami‘Signor Rossi,’ he said, returning my bow.

The light from the open door now shone directly on him, allowing me to appreciate his quite startling beauty. Fine features. Large almond shaped blue eyes framed by long dark lashes. Of course, my attention had been focused elsewhere at our first encounter.

He pointed to a closed gate. ‘Monkton has just left for the privy apartments. With the King about to leave the entertainment, his rooms must be searched before he enters them. I believe he requested him particularly, though he was off-duty tonight.’

‘Tom must search the King’s rooms? He hasn’t told me of this duty.’

‘It is more ceremonial than practical. Just something the Lieutenant of the Yeoman Guardsmen does, apparently. Susannah has gone with him to make her salutations there rather than have to waylay him while he tries to escape the melee.’

‘Thomas tells me he is a keeper of the King’s peace at court, which means despatching guardsmen to deal with most matters, leaving him to herd the aristocracy. I have never really understood what he means by this herding. I can only picture him harrying a crowd of grand people with several eager sheepdogs under his command.’

Samuel laughed. ‘I just met him for the first time tonight, but that seems entirely feasible.’

I laughed too, until a shadow appeared across him when someone else stepped out into the court through the door behind me. I had caught his look of dismay before his face fell into shadow.

‘James.’ His voice was ice.

‘Carter. Sorry to intrude on …’ He looked from one to the other of us. ‘Whatever this is.’

James Villiers. Of all the people I had wished to avoid tonight, he was at the top of my list. Merda. ‘I had hoped to find Thomas Monkton, but he has business with the King.’ I said into a silence, which now felt dangerous.

MerdaVilliers’ eyes stayed on Samuel. ‘Thomas Monkton now is it, Carter? Safely married, too. How sensible of you at last. But what luck. An encounter with a pretty morsel who will suffice instead, no? Add a little spice, no?’

His speech was just as mannered as his bearing.

Samuel took a step towards him, smiling. ‘We’re not all as fetid as you. No maidens to coerce, James? No boys to corrupt. To swive?’ His tone was light though his words held menace.

Villiers’ hand went to his sword, his polished façade quite fallen away. ‘Silence or you’ll regret it. I shall make certain of it, you calumnious knave.’

Samuel laughed, appearing quite unconcerned.

Then, as he began to draw with real intent, Catherine Gresham rushed into the yard, cannoning into him. ‘Stop, you fool. Don’t you know to use a sword within the palace precinct can be high treason against the King? Do you wish the traitor’s death?’ She seized his arm as his sword dropped back into its scabbard. ‘Come. We’re leaving now the King has retired and Monmouth is left holding court as though he is a true prince and not just another damnable bastard.’ She shook her head. ‘Jesu, how have I got such a son.’

After his mother had swept him away, I turned to Samuel. ‘I see you have as low a regard for James Villiers as I.’ Which, in truth, seemed an understatement.

He laughed, again. ‘Indeed. And I am sorry you had to witness our hostilities.’

‘Signore.’ I bowed and left him there alone to wait for Susannah. Lily-livered indeed.

* * *

The next morning, I sat at my workbench examining the diamond pendant I had just attached to complete the necklace. With the stones mounted in the more delicate setting the duchess favoured using a repeating bow motif set with diamonds and sapphires, I was more than pleased with the result and slipped it into a velvet bag. That the sun had finally broken through the slab of cloud, now marbled with streaks of blue, flooding the workshop with light through the skylight, confirmed it. I would deliver the necklace to her myself today. I had never done so before but, as I wished to talk with her about Susannah, it offered the perfect opportunity.

‘Giuseppe.’ He looked at me from his place further along the bench where he examined another batch of new gems with the aid of a magnifying lens. His skill at this more than matched my own, though I doubted my father would approve of such delegation. ‘I’m going to Whitehall.’

He frowned. ‘You tell me this, why?’

‘Well, you are my man. By rights you should accompany me.’ Something that happened only rarely when I came to think of it. In truth, only if he wished to.

‘You needing a nursemaid, now, bambino?’

bambinoI laughed. Any visage less like that of a nursemaid was hard to imagine, especially as he was in need of a shave and had been for some days. ‘Have we been sent decent stock this time?’

He rocked his hand, noncommittally. ‘Well, not cack, anyway.’

cack‘Not shit.’ I echoed. ‘Not s**t will have to do.’ He had returned to his task and no longer gave me his attention. ‘Giuseppe.’

He looked at me again. ‘Che cosa? You want me f*****g do this s**t or no?’

Che cosaHe knew quite well how little I enjoyed the job myself. ‘Indeed, I do. But first I’d like you to have my coach sent round.

He stood hands on hips. ‘You say all them–’ He gestured at the gems. ‘All them must go in stanza forte then out again coz you no shout “coach” yourself, you little gobshite?’

stanza forteGobshite? What? The word ‘coach’ was yelled at the top of his voice, drawing startled glances from the men and boys working at other benches, and was probably sufficient to have it readied for me without any further action needed. This proved correct when the sound of hooves on cobbles could be heard as the horses were brought out from the coach house stables in the mews behind the workshop.

Gobshite? What?Giuseppe grinned and made an elaborate bow. ‘At your command, carissimo padrone. Sempre.’

carissimo padroneSempreThere was some appreciative chuckling, which I pretended not to hear as I went out to the coach. Unfortunately, this was replaced by the bellowing of oxen slaughtered in the shambles, telling me the direction of the wind. My father knew nothing of London when he purchased the Cheapside house or its particular proximity to Smithfield Market.

The traffic was unusually heavy, so my journey to the palace took rather longer than anticipated. Rory sensibly chose not to risk Thames Street, a notorious bottle neck. I trusted him to find the quickest route to King Street as I stared out at a rare sight of old London that had somehow escaped the fire: ancient houses, stories added haphazardly, leaning in towards each other almost blocking out the sky. This soon gave way to new piazzas and the regal terraces of The Strand until, reaching the mansions of Bedford Street, we came to a halt, finding the road ahead blocked by an overturned wagon.

With the air now full of furious shouts rather than the ceaseless clatter of hooves and rumble of iron-rimmed wheels over cobbles, my mind wandered away and, of course, alighted upon Susannah Gresham. Where else? And for the umpteenth time, I relived the events at last night’s ball. How could the duchess not see there was no hope for me with her? It was not just a question of finding a way into her life. There would be little point to that if she did not welcome me when I arrived there. Yet I could not help but hear the duchess call me ‘lily-livered’ once again. Maybe she was right. I straightened my back. I would not give up without a fight. Susannah barely knew me thus far, and I did not regard myself as difficult to like. In truth, I had much evidence I was not.

At last, the coach began to move again and in no little time we were approaching St James’s Park. Feeling in need of fresh air and exercise now the sun was fully out, though the air was frigid, I told Rory to wait there for me. I walked down The Mall between the lines of winter elms and entered the park, making my way towards the palace. I did question, briefly, whether it was entirely wise when I carried a piece of valuable jewellery about my person, but it was well hidden in a body-belt designed for that purpose and I had my sword, though I had little skill with the wretched thing. It would be a different matter after dark, of course. St James’s Park became a changed place then. A carnal place I had been informed but had no personal knowledge of this. Though I doubted such activity took place in the depth of this freezing winter.

I arrived at the Park Gate quite unmolested and was admitted after showing the duchess’s warrant to the sentry there. Still recalling last night’s encounter as I passed the privy gardens, I thought once more of Samuel Carter. Susannah had seemed very close to him. Her oldest and dearest friend she had said. Was there more than friendship there? I felt a sudden cramping in my gut at the thought she already loved another. Then stepping over a fresh dog turd, the stink made me think of James Villiers. I laughed out loud, pleased such a stench should bring him to mind. There was most certainly history between him and Carter. I was rather intrigued to discover what it might be. Perhaps the duchess might enlighten me?