Silence And Shadows Collection

Chapter 3-2

After some time, hearing footsteps approaching, I sat back to conceal my knowledge of their deceit. I stood for Sam to take me in his arms and kiss me on both cheeks. Connor moved away, discreetly. Sam was impeccably dressed, as always, though I thought his colour a little higher than usual.

He tilted his head, scrutinising me with a hard-blue stare. ‘What can I do for you, Susannah?’

I felt my face flame. How foolish my haste seemed to me now. I could barely bring myself to tell him. My heart swooped, suddenly fearing I really could no longer speak even to him. I watched his eyes soften, reading my distress. ‘Forgive my intrusion. Had I known you had company, I would never have disturbed you.’ Greatly relieved, I told him all.

‘Very well. Let’s go and try this experiment of yours.’

I took has hand and squeezed it. ‘Thank you. And thank you for not scolding me for my impulsiveness.’ He kissed my forehead and took a cloak from the hall press to place around me.

We hurried across the deserted street and soon entered another receiving hall very little different to the one we had just vacated. Sam followed me upstairs to the drawing room, staying close behind until I stopped, causing him to collide with me. I drew a sharp breath. Catherine and James were seated where my father and I had sat earlier and of him there was no sign. I moved away, closing the door. They obviously found our sudden appearance amusing as peals of laughter accompanied us walking away towards the stairs. ‘Studio?’ I whispered. ‘Or perhaps we should leave it for now so you might return to your guest.’

‘I’m here. It’s worth a try.’

I climbed the two flights ahead of him again, feeling increasingly uncomfortable for dragging him away from … well, from whoever shared his bed. I opened the door and stopped once more. Papa lay on the couch kept there for his sitters waiting between firings, snoring softly. The room was always warm from the kiln.

Sam put a finger to his lips. ‘Let’s not wake him.’

‘No.’ I agreed, moving back onto the landing. ‘Sweet Jesu, do you think he sleeps there every night?’

‘I don’t know whether to hope he does or hope he doesn’t.’

‘Whilst she sleeps in my mother’s bed.’

He drew me into his arms. ‘I’m so sorry, Sukie.’

‘This is why I must be able to speak to him.’ I pulled away and took a deep breath. ‘Now you, my dear, must return to your friend who will be despairing of you.’

He smiled, a little smugly. ‘I think not.’ He touched my arm. ‘I’ll see myself out. You should take refuge in your chamber.’

Which, after watching him descend, is precisely what I have done. Though I cannot help wondering who Sam might be returning to. Is it someone known to me, perhaps? I give myself a few moments to test my feelings about it. I love Sam and he loves me. We are now like brother and sister, though we have not always been. I bite my lip. Am I jealous? Should I be? I sigh. It seems too complicated, so best left alone.

Diary: February 6, 1676

Diary: February 6, 1676And so, to other matters. I have begun my portrait for the King and must note here my ease with this sitting compared to my earlier one. I smile as I write, pleased my diary is fulfilling its purpose. For, despite everything, knowing this fills my heart with hope.

On my visit to make the watercolour, he was in a fine mood. Louise de Kérouaille was with him in the privy presence chamber, bright with all those silver tables and cabinets gleaming in the morning sunshine. She paid him just the sort of compliments needed to give his countenance the good-humoured glow I needed from him, knowing exactly what she was doing … and so, of course, did the King.

When I held up a note saying: ‘Thank you, Your Majesty, I have all I need,’ he came to stand beside me, lifting my painting carefully to examine it before handing it to his mistress.

‘Oh, but you are such a pretty King today.’ She chucked him lightly under the chin.

I did not think pretty a word that could ever be used to describe him, but it sounded well in her soft Breton tones and clearly pleased him.

He handed it back to me. ‘You’ve done well, Susannah. We look forward to the end result.’

‘A gift for me, non?’

I had thought it a gift for Castlemaine. I smiled a little to myself, glad I need not witness that confrontation. Perhaps I should make two? I might suggest it, but what about Nell? I could find myself producing countless copies. I decided the King must resolve the matter himself.

Diary: February 7, 1676

Diary: February 7, 1676Jesu, despite yesterday’s optimism, I again feel close to despair as though trapped in one of those awful nightmares where limbs are impossible to move, however desperate the situation.

My next visit to Whitehall proved more noteworthy, though not because of the portrait. I was dissatisfied with the drape of the indigo silk fabric I had used as a background behind the King and needed him there to ensure his positioning was correct against the changes I made before I could begin the enamelling. He was affable, telling me of all the work he was having done on his yacht, even inviting Sam and me to sail with him and Monmouth when the better weather arrived. When I only smiled, noncommittally, he seemed not to notice.

I was soon away, satisfied finally, and heading back on foot to Henrietta Street. As I walked along beside the bowling green, I saw Raphael Rossi leaving Richmond House looking exceedingly pleased with himself and not a little dishevelled. So, I had won my wager. I briefly wondered whether to catch him up and see if he would offer me the use of his coach once again but decided, under the circumstances, not to. I pulled my cloak more tightly about me in the piercing wind.

‘Susannah. Hold-up.’

I spun around to see Sam and Thomas Monkton walking together some way behind. I waved and waited for them. They arrived smiling; Sam kissing my cheeks, Thomas my hand.

Sam put his arm around my waist. ‘This is well met, indeed. I am to take Thomas to Henrietta Street, having discovered he has business with your papa and now I can take you home as well. Let’s get to my carriage and out of this damnable wind.’

Here, of course, I would have spoken had Sam been alone. Instead, I nodded, smiling my gratitude.

Inside his coach he looked from me to Thomas and back to me again. ‘I wonder, would you object to me explaining your current predicament? The one we recently sought to explore?’

I felt heat on my face that the lieutenant should be made aware of my belief, until two nights ago with Papa, that I had chosen my silence as a means to hurt. Still, I needed to know if it could be broken, and Thomas had already heard me speak. I nodded, suddenly afraid. What if I could not?

After explaining the sorry thing, Sam pulled me into his arms. ‘Close your eyes. Imagine we’re alone.’

I turned my face hard against his chest, the scent of him as familiar to me as my own.

He rubbed my back, gently. ‘How went it with the King today?’

I hardly dared to try, managing but a feeble clicking sound from my throat before bursting into tears. I cannot doubt I deserve this, for it seems an entirely fitting punishment for such cruel intentions, does it not?

‘Perhaps you try too hard, Mistress,’ Thomas said. ‘Don’t distress yourself.’

I had just about recovered my composure when the carriage turned into Henrietta Street. Thomas took his leave at my house, and I remained with Sam until Joseph dropped us at his door. We did not speak until we were alone in his drawing room where he poured and handed me a glass of claret before sitting on the couch beside me. I took a long drink, enjoying how quickly the alcohol arrived in my blood. ‘That went well.’

He smiled, ruefully. ‘Didn’t it, though.’

‘I made something of a spectacle of myself.’

‘No. Not at all.’ He put his glass down and took my hand in his. ‘You really are much too hard on yourself, you know.’

I closed my eyes, allowing my fragmented thoughts to settle. ‘I feel as though, somehow, I have secretly … and I mean secretly to myself if that’s possible. That I’ve done this to free myself from the guilt of it. Somehow my mind is doing this, so it can seem I have done nothing wrong.’

He tilted his head, still holding my hand and stroking it with his thumb. ‘Whatever the cause, Sukie, there is clearly nothing to be done at the moment. And torturing yourself over it seems particularly unhelpful to me.’

So here I am no further forward and without any idea of what to do next. I can speak, yes, yet it seems only to Sam. Sweet Jesu, how can this be?

Raphael

RaphaelAfter her letter came several days later, I awaited her arrival that same evening with all the anticipation of a virgin schoolboy expecting that state about to change. Yet such excitement did not prevent me apprehending how much my father would be enraged if he knew my conduct risked alienating the King. Perversely, a small part of me wished him aware Frances Stuart, Duchess of Richmond and royal mistress, desired me. For I could not forget how he had belittled me as a man, even trying to deny me agency in my own life.

To avoid the formality of the dining room, I had Giuseppe organise an intimate dinner in the drawing room, making sure I offered her the best Florentine fare and finest of wines. Fortunately, the cook had accompanied us at my father’s insistence, enabling us to entertain patrons just as we would at home.

When she arrived dressed as a man, a small gasp escaped me on opening the door, glad I had done so myself. She wore a perfectly tailored set of the most fashionable male attire, her hair hidden beneath a fine wig. I smiled. ‘Signore mio, benvenuta.’ I knew such disguises were in vogue at court where women seemed to find them thrilling. Perhaps for the response it provoked in men? Which I was beginning to discover for myself.

Signore mio, benvenutaShe smiled, too. ‘I don’t have quite the height for it.’

I led her inside before bending to kiss her on the lips. It was extremely disconcerting. I handed her cloak to Giuseppe, who managed to maintain his persona of an obsequious manservant, which was quite a feat under the circumstances. I showed her up to the drawing room, where our table was made ready for us. The other servants had been instructed to remain below stairs. ‘Mi fa piacere vederti.’

Mi fa piacere vedertiShe seated herself on a couch beside the fire, stretching out her legs clad in russet breeches and pale grey silk stockings, her heeled shoes were of black leather with silver buckles … and tiny.

She watched me looking at her, accepting a glass of Chianti. ‘I’m happy to see you, too, Raphael.’ She gestured towards herself. ‘But unsurprisingly, you’re somewhat startled by my appearance.’

I ran my hand up the inside of her thigh. ‘I’m beginning to see some advantages, cara mia.’ When she touched my cheek with icy fingers, I leaned in to kiss her properly. ‘How soon must you return?’