Most Secret (25 page)

“‘An English admirer begs leave to speak with Madame.’”

“Yes. On the success of your mission depends the issue of whether Madame d’Orleans shall be permitted to visit this country a few days hence. Should it befall according to plan, on Monday of next week our men-o’-war
Royal Standard
and
Rupert
will sail for Dunkirk to escort her to Dover. Meanwhile, in a French ship called
La Gloire,
Madame d’Orleans pays a brief visit to Calais for the express purpose of a meeting with my messengers. Why, you will ask?”

“But I don’t ask!”

“God’s fish, why not? Dunkirk and Calais are no great distance apart. My cousin Louis believes a meeting will attract less attention so. He also thinks Calais to be his ‘fortunate town,’ as I have heard him call it. When Madame d’Orleans shall be at Dover, where I propose to meet her next week, the King of France will be throned in state at Calais should we have need to—to confer with him. Eh, the dignity of my cousin Louis! Now, Mr. Kinsmere …”

“Sire?”

“At the quarter hour to midnight, then, you and Bygones Abraham will return here and receive what you are to carry. You already have a horse, which will not be needed. Another horse will be provided; it will be saddled and waiting in the Great Court at midnight precisely. At the top of King Street, near my father’s statue, Captain Mather of the Horse Guards Blue will also be waiting. Captain Mather will ride with you east through the City and across London Bridge to Southwark, where he will put you on the road to Dover.

“From London to Dover is something under eighty miles. Here,” and the king fished through his pockets, “here, writ on a scrap of paper which the late Rab Butterworth has
not
seen, are the names of three inns between London and Dover. At each of these inns a fresh horse will be provided when you show your ring. Arrived at Dover, you will seek Grand Neptune Wharf and an inn called the Easy Mariners. Here you will find a French shipmaster, Captain Souter, whose English is fluent as Mr. Abraham’s French. Captain Souter will carry you across the Straits, and tell you what to do on the other side. Is all that clear?”

“Very clear.”

“Repeat your instructions.”

Kinsmere did so.

“That is well; the rest I leave to you. I need not stress the difficulties or dangers in your path. Ride hard, but beware of traps; there are those would stop you at any cost. Nor need I stress—”

All were wrought to such a pitch that all started when there was a light knock outside the door to the hidden stairway. King Charles rose and opened it, revealing the dogged but still uneasy face of Ensign Westcott.

“Well, man? Have you found—?”

“Humbly craving pardon, Your Majesty, but we must be permitted a little
time!
”

“Have I pressed you so sharply?”

“No, Your Majesty, but—! The search goes forward; the palace is a large place; there are those in the Gallery who protest at being questioned or examined. None has been discovered in any fashion blood-stained, but this is only a question of time.”

“What of Salvation Gaines?”

“He has not been seen, or made attempt to leave the palace; indeed, with all guards warned, he can’t escape; but this also, if I might urge it upon you, is only a matter of time!”

“Return to the search, then.”

“Right willingly, Your Majesty, and at once. However, you did ask for
this
.”

Across the palm of his hand he held out a knife with a bone haft; haft and blade had been washed and then scoured with sand. King Charles took the knife as the door closed, and turned it over in his fingers. It was a lightweight knife with a blade some six inches long, very sharp and tapering to a sword point.

“Body o’ Pilate!” said Bygones Abraham. “If Your Majesty looks to find initials—”

“No; I but wondered at the nature of the weapon. It is not truly a weapon. Such knives are carried by most scriveners. My clerks use them for cutting quills.”

“Mr. Scrivener Salvation Gaines. Oh, ecod, do we need more proof than this?”

“No more proof, but the man himself. And we will have him.”

With a twitch of repulsion King Charles threw the knife on the desk, where it clattered down beside the thick sheets of writing paper and the two gold-and-sapphire rings.

“And now, Madam Landis and gentlemen, since I myself have much work which must be finished before midnight, I will beg leave to be excused.
You
, madam, trouble me not a little. Though I apprehend no great danger to yourself, yet you have learned more of these plotters’ affairs than it is good for any woman to know. I had better send you home in a glass-coach, with running footmen to make sure you suffer no harm.”

“If I may speak, sire,” interposed Kinsmere, “would it not be possible for Dol—for Madam Landis herself to remain here until midnight?”

“It would be more than possible. It shall be so arranged.”

“And if I may speak—?” cried Dolly.

“Yes, Madam?”

For all her air of would-be ease, Dolly had flinched and gone pale when the knife was handed over. She still would not look at it, but she would not look at Kinsmere either. She rose from her chair, taking the cloak off its arm. Candlelight lay softly on her brown hair; it warmed the returning colour of face and throat and shoulders. Yet there was something on her mind.

“You invited me here,” she said, “but to provide an excuse for your absence from that place where they play the music. That’s all it was!”

“Only in part, I assure you. The pleasure of your company—”

“I am of no use or service to anyone, least of all to
him.
Well, I know that; I don’t complain! But I think I had better leave.”

“Come!” said the King. “It would be most unseemly, madam, were I forced to show sternness and issue commands. I had flattered myself that
I
was behaving as a noble fellow should; don’t destroy the consolation. God’s fish, what’s this? Here are two young people on a summer evening …”

“Bah! Twice bah! three times bah!”

“You have well over two hours before midnight. You have the whole broad palace to roam in; you have a set of rooms at your disposal. If you fail to employ the time profitably, madam, you are not the woman I think you are. And I have but one last word.” Hearing a stir in the Great Bedchamber below, he raised his voice. “Mr. Chiffinch!”

Up the steps from the Great Bedchamber marched a hook-nosed Hercules in a brown periwig, somewhat bleary around the eyes.

“This is Will Chiffinch, my First Page of the Back-Stairs, whom you may intrust absolutely. Will, may I make you known to Mistress Dorothy Landis, Mr. Roderick Kinsmere, Mr. Bygones Abraham?—Do you follow me, Mr. Chiffinch?”

“Attentively, sire.”

“See to it that one of my glass-coaches shall be ready for Madam Landis in the Great Court at midnight, to convey her to her lodgings off Bow Street. Let it be near the place where Mr. Kinsmere’s horse is tethered. For the moment, Mr. Chiffinch, kindly escort this lady, and these gentlemen to the Shield Gallery. I pass all my hours in a shady old grove. Hey, St George for England!”

The king chuckled to himself. He sat down at the desk. In the last glimpse they had of
him,
turned dark and cryptic once more, he had stretched out a hand towards the pen tray, and was humming the tune of the distant strings.

Chiffinch led them across the Great Bedchamber and the withdrawing room. When he had bowed them out into the dusky Shield Gallery, shutting the double doors, they stood for a moment in silence. Dolly, cloak across her arm, looked sulkily at a pair of dying wall candles.

“Within two and a quarter hours,” announced Bygones Abraham, “a boat o’ brisk boys will call for this old hulk and take him down to my old friend and bottle companion, Captain Nick Murch of the
Saucy Ann.
Meanwhile, as befits a man of reflection, I betake myself to the Gallery; I drink a cup or two at leisure; I  ’em at their cards. What of you two?”

“Now wherefore,” demanded a ladylike Dolly, “does this man say ‘you two’ as though Mr. Kinsmere and I were together?”

“Because we
are
together,” said the villain of that name, “and for as long as may be. Dolly, will you walk with me?”

“No, I will not.”

“Dolly!”

“We-el … Walk where?”

“Surely there must be gardens here? Gardens, that’s to say, apart from that cursed Volary one of knives-in-the back, where two of minds attuned may gain a breath of air and a look at the moon in peace and comfort?”

“There are gardens in plenty,” returned Bygones. “There’s the whole of St. James Park. There are also knives behind trees.”

“If you mean Dolly’s friend Salvation Gaines …”

“
My
friend Salvation Gaines?”

“I affected sarcasm, madam, as you affect things that are foreign to your nature. As for Salvation Gaines, they will have him at any minute!”

“Will they, lad? How if they don’t?”

“They will take him, I say! He is a murdering hypocrite; he would kill me if he could; but he is no ghoul or warlock to alter shape and walk past the guards.
Can
he escape, do you think?”

“It may be not,” snapped Bygones, firing up. “Still! Venture this night into open spaces, any open spaces; you’ll go scarce ten paces ere you are again detained and examined by the military, which is no notion o’ pleasure for anybody. If so deeply you crave air and the moon, minds attuned or not, get you both to the balcony overlooking the private landing stairs!”

“Where is that?”

“Oh, ecod! I drew it to your attention this morning. Straight along to the eastern end of the Shield Gallery here, and open the door. ’Tis where the maids of honour stand to throw flowers during water processions; but at this hour ’twill be as deserted as any place you could wish for, strike me dead!”

“Bygones, my compliments and thanks. Madam, this way; accompany me.”

Dolly swore she would not, and then promptly went with him. She put on her cloak and adjusted the vizard mask. In silence, Dolly flinching away when their arms touched, they marched to the other end of the gallery and found the door.

They were on a balustraded balcony high above water. For all the fact that smoke drifted at them, that the river could be called little less than a stately sewer, it was a spot to stir anyone. Small craft slid past against the dark Thames, with little lanthorns burning at masthead; the distant Surrey shore lay unveiled in pale light; and above Whitehall Palace hung the old chipped battle lanthorn of the moon.

“Dolly, what’s the matter?”

“There is nothing the matter! And what do we do here? Do you so truly desire to look at the moon?”

“I desire to look at
you
.”

He removed her mask, which she snatched away and thrust into a pocket of her cloak. In that light her face was pale and her eyes, at close range, seemed enormous.

“As though anyone,” Dolly cried, “could wish to look at me! When I am only blundering and silly—when I am of no use or value—”

“You are of the world’s value, sweet heart. Because you are the loveliest sight in God His creation; because you are all good nature and dear nature; because head and heart were both lost when I saw you; because …”

“Don’t do that!”

He disregarded her. “Would you prefer that I refrained from touching you?”

“No, you know I would not! Continue, dear idiot; for ever and ever! But what do we do
here,
I say? You have rooms at the palace, someone remarked?”

“I have, though I never asked for ’em, and they are not far away. Would you go there with me?”

“Would I go there with you? Dear God, would I
not
go there with you? Try me, then; oh, please try me!”

And so, it appears, they stumbled their way back along the Shield Gallery. Of the ensuing two hours I have never heard a precise description, nor is one required. But it was an interval of ecstasy, which neither of them ever forgot. Certain persons are so well suited to each other that nothing else seems at all important. They made discovery of this; they discovered it again, and yet again. Time fled past on exchanged wings, or stood still when necessary.

“Is it so ill a thing, Dolly, that I am not a penniless wandering mountebank? That I have no need of frilled shirts or any shirts; and, to say a truth, would not be seen dead in a cloak with a pink satin lining? Is this so ill a thing?”

“No, it is not. I thought it was, but it is not. Nothing matters, dear heart, except—”

“Dolly …”

“Yes! Yes, yes,
yes!
”

It was with a shock as of cold water that they heard Old Tom ring the quarter hour to midnight. Presently, after a series of farewells, Dolly got up and scrambled into her clothes by moonlight.

“Are you in such haste to leave, madam?”

“Haste to leave? I would stay for ever! But
you
cannot. Strike a light and dress yourself. You are late already; the time—”

“Where do
you
go?”

“But to inquire if the coach be ready. I will see you away; never fear. And yet, sweet heart …”

“No; you have said it; time presses; go!”

Kinsmere, now more in love than he would have believed possible, found that this interfered with speed of dressing. But other clothes were in the saddlebags: a leather jerkin, fustian breeches, and boots to which he affixed the spurs. He wore his usual sword belt, but slung a dagger sheath under his left arm. Finally he buckled a cloak round his shoulders, and discarded his periwig for a broad-leafed hat which fitted his own hair.

It had finished striking midnight when he strode out into the Shield Gallery, on his way to get last instructions from the king. Just outside the door he met Bygones Abraham, dressed in much the same fashion except for spurs, and lumbering in the same direction.

“Well?” Bygones demanded, with a somewhat sinister inflection.

“Mighty well!”

“I am glad ye find it so. I don’t, nor do many others. They have not taken Gaines.”

“Not taken Gaines?”

“Nay, or any man who might ha’ killed Butterworth.
Is
the fellow a ghoul or a warlock, ecod, that he can alter shape and fly out the window? If so, my fine adventurer, look sharp on the Dover road!”