Sea Change (39 page)

'I don't believe it.'

'It is hard to believe, certainly. But it is true. The confession was made in person to Sheriff Lanckaert. Mijnheer Aertsen was also present.'

'It is true,' said Aertsen through gritted teeth.

'Why? Why would she do such a thing?'

'To save an innocent man from hanging was the reason she herself gave. Was it not, Aertsen?'

'Ja.'

'I'm not going to hang?'

Dalrymple shook his head. 'You are not.'

'But Estelle?'

'Worried about her, Spandrel?' asked Walpole.

Yes. He was. Almost in spite of himself, he was suddenly very worried indeed. 'She will hang? Instead of me?'

'As in our country,' Dalrymple replied, 'a wife who murders her husband is not hanged, but, er, burned at the stake.'

'Oh my God.'

'Fortunately,' said Walpole, 'it needn't come to that.'

Spandrel turned to look at him. 'What do you mean, sir?'

'We have a proposition for you, Spandrel. Get on with it, Dalrymple, for pity's sake.'

'The circumstances are complicated as well as delicate,' said Dalrymple, choosing his words with palpable care. 'Mrs de Vries's confession establishes the primary guilt of her husband's secretary, Zuyler, who, according to Mrs de Vries, has since—'

'He's dead,' said Spandrel.

'Quite so.' Dalrymple smiled tolerantly at him. 'To proceed. Mrs de Vries could not be tried without your conviction first being quashed. Such a public admission of judicial error would be…'

'Damned embarrassing,' said Walpole.

'The embarrassment is not all ours,' snapped Aertsen.

'He's referring to Mrs de Vries's confessed reason for the murder.' Walpole looked at Spandrel and shrugged. 'A certain green-covered book.'

'The contents of which we would prefer, especially at this sensitive juncture of national affairs, not be bruited abroad,' said Dalrymple. 'You follow?'

'I…' Spandrel glanced at each of the four men in turn and was no clearer about their intentions. 'I'm not sure I do.'

'Our proposition,' Dalrymple continued, 'is simply this. If your conviction were allowed to stand, but you somehow… escaped from custody… again…' He paused, marshalling his thoughts, it seemed, setting aside his scruples. 'Mr Walpole and I have persuaded the Dutch authorities to release you, Spandrel. Formally, you will have escaped. Informally, you will be allowed to return to England on the clear understanding that no attempt will ever be made to re-arrest you, provided that you never visit Holland again.'

'You'll let me go?'

'You have it, Spandrel,' said Walpole. 'It must almost be worth the fright of being condemned to hang for the relief of learning you don't have to after all.'

Spandrel was tempted for a moment to tell Walpole how very far from being worth it the experience had been. But there was a puzzle here he did not understand. He was naturally eager to snatch this unexpected chance of life from the jaws of death. Yet he had the strange impression that the two Englishmen and the two Dutchmen were almost equally eager that he should snatch it. And one of them was de Vries's own son. 'What about… Mrs de Vries?'

'The V.O.C. will look after her,' said Dalrymple.

'How will they “look after her”?'

'Mijn stiefmoeder,' said Gerrit de Vries suddenly, 'doet wat ik zeg.'

'Mijnheer de Vries has succeeded to his father's position within the V.O.C,' said Dalrymple, smiling awkwardly. 'He has interceded with them on his stepmother's behalf.'

'I don't understand,' Spandrel protested. 'What has the V.O.C.—'

'Your understanding is not required,' Aertsen cut in, so loudly that his voice echoed in the shadowy recesses of the chamber. 'Do you accept the proposition?'

'I…'

'She'll come to no harm,' said Walpole, with a re-assuring grin. 'My brother wouldn't hear of it.'

'Do you accept?' Aertsen repeated.

'Yes. I do.' A sudden fear that his salvation was about to be rescinded gripped Spandrel. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean— I'm grateful, sirs, more grateful than I can say. I accept… unreservedly.'

'Of course you do,' said Walpole, a grin still fixed to his face. 'Who wouldn't?'

'Mijn stiefmoeder,' growled Gerrit de Vries, 'is mijn zaak.'

'What—'

'Enough,' declared Aertsen, frowning at de Vries. 'We have said enough.' He rose abruptly from his chair, took a key from his pocket and tossed it onto the table. 'Can we leave you to end this as agreed, Dalrymple?'

'Most certainly, Aertsen.'

'Thank you. Mijnheer?' Reluctantly, it seemed, and with a scowl at Spandrel, de Vries also stood up. 'Laten we gaan.' Aertsen glanced round the table. 'Good evening, gentlemen.'

The two men strode off into the shadows that shrouded the door, which was heard to open, then slam shut behind them. Silence settled over the unlikely gathering. Walpole scratched under his wig. Dalrymple adjusted his cravat.

'What is to happen, sirs?' asked Spandrel.

'What is to happen is that you are to pick up that key,' said Dalrymple. 'It opens the back door of this chamber, beyond which steps will lead you to a store-room, where someone has negligently left a window unfastened. You will climb out of the window, cross Dam Square and make your way up the near side of Damrak to the harbour. A boatman will be waiting for you near the tollhouse. You will identify yourself as William Powell.'

'Powell?'

'That is correct. The boatman will row you out to a pinnace sailing tonight for the Texel roadstead, where she is to deliver mail to an East Indiaman, the Tovenaer, shortly to embark for Java. The master of the Tovenaer has instructions to deliver you by launch to any convenient port along the south coast of England and to furnish you with money for your onward journey. At that point, you will become a free man, in fact if not in name.'

'And Mrs de Vries?'

'Is already aboard the Tovenaer. But she will not be leaving the ship… until it reaches Java.'

'Is that what you meant by the V.O.C. looking after her?'

'Reading between de Vries's pouts and grimaces,' said Walpole, 'I reckon his stepmother knows more about the V.O.C.'s inner dealings than's good for their peace of mind. Hence her banishment to Java. Which is good for our peace of mind as well, in view of all she knows about the South Sea Company. You're a nonentity, Spandrel. But the fair Estelle? Her trial? Her execution? Too much attention. Far too much. For everyone. So, we've compromised. You go free. She goes … a long way away. And we breathe more easily. You're a lucky man!'

'Thanks to Estelle.'

'Yes. That's the damnably unaccountable part of it. You and I both know what she's given up. How much she's given up. And it might have cost her her life. Her life, for yours. Not a bargain that my brother gives me to believe a woman of her character would dream of entertaining. But she has. Why? She doesn't love you, does she?'

'No. She doesn't love me.'

'And there's nothing you can do for her.'

'Not a single thing.'

'So, why did she do it?'

'I don't know.'

'I should ask her, if I were you.'

'Yes.' Spandrel reached unsteadily for the key. 'I will.'

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Homeward Bound

The Tovenaer made way slowly as she headed out into the North Sea. The weather was clear and settled, sunlight dancing and sparkling on the gentle swell. The following wind was scarcely more than a breeze. It was a fine early summer's afternoon, the last afternoon, as it had threatened to be, of Spandrel's life, but instead the first of the rest of a life restored.

Spandrel and Estelle de Vries stood on the quarterdeck, watching the Dutch coast drift away behind them. It was the first time they had been allowed to leave their cabins since Spandrel's dawn arrival from Amsterdam, the master of the vessel, Captain Malssen, following the instructions in this regard of a senior V.O.C. merchant, identified by Estelle as Gustaaf Dekker, who was also aboard. Dekker apparently no longer feared the two might jump ship or play some other trick on him and was content to leave them to their own devices. This was thus also Spandrel's first opportunity to thank Estelle for what he still found it hard to believe she had done.

'You saved my life,' was the lame but simple truth he finally put into words. 'I shall always be in your debt.'

'And you will always be in my heart,' said Estelle, smiling at him. 'Even though you don't believe I have one.'

'I believe it now.'

'But it's a surprise, isn't it?'

'I admit it is.'

'For me too. After all I've done. If you'd asked me, I'd have said there wasn't any burden my conscience couldn't bear in exchange for a life of ease and pleasure. That's what Walpole gave me. And that's what I could have gone on enjoying.' She breathed deeply as the mizzen-sails filled and flapped above them. 'All I had to do was forget my promise to Captain Mcllwraith. Oh, and I had to forget you as well, William, which I couldn't seem to do. I begged Walpole not to send you to Amsterdam. I pleaded with him as I'd never pleaded before and never would have again. But he refused me. He told me it was a matter of… political expediency. But there he lied. The truth was that he was jealous of the place you hold in my affections. And angry, of course, because he believed you'd endangered his son. He sent you to Amsterdam out of spite. And he thought there was nothing I could do to save you. Well, he was wrong, wasn't he?'

'Did you know what you were risking? Worse than the noose — the stake.'

'Risk agrees with me. Besides, I felt sure it wouldn't come to that. Don't over-estimate the sacrifice I've made. I left Walpole a note, telling him I still had a copy I'd made of the contents of the Green Book, which, while not as damaging as the original, would still cause him a great deal of embarrassment if it fell into the wrong hands.'

'Do you have a copy?'

'Leave me with some of my secrets, William, please. The possibility that I had a copy was enough for Walpole to send his brother racing after me. Poor Horace has but recently negotiated a troop loan with the Dutch Government. He wouldn't have wanted them to think better of it, as they well might have if they'd felt the British Government had placed them in an intolerable position. The Dutch are no friends of King George. As Elector of Hanover, he has trading ambitions in the Baltic which they keenly resent. A copy of the Green Book could be a potent addition to their armoury. Trade is, after all, their lifeblood. I was married to one of them. I know how their minds work. When you were first arrested last year, you were accused of working for the Marquis de Prie, weren't you?'

'Yes. But—'

'Ysbrand was in secret communication with de Prie on behalf of the V.O.C

'What?'

'How much do you know about the Barrier Treaty of 1709?'

'Nothing. I've never even heard of it.'

'Be grateful I have. It granted the Dutch control of a series of fortresses along the border between France and the Spanish Netherlands — now the Austrian Netherlands — as a barrier against future invasion. The Dutch are supposed to be paid an annual subsidy towards the maintenance of the fortresses by the Flemish provinces they're sited in. Those subsidies are in arrears, amounting to many millions of guilders. The V.O.C. was worried — still is — lest de Prie persuade the Emperor to establish a Flemish East India Company to compete with them. Ysbrand was Flemish by birth and thus the obvious choice for a secret mission to negotiate a compromise with de Prie. The V.O.C. would use its considerable influence in the States General to have the arrears written off if de Prie would use his influence to have the idea of a Flemish East India Company quietly forgotten.'

'How do you know all this?'

'I've been the wife of an eminent Dutch merchant. And the mistress of a pre-eminent British politician. I know more than either of them thought I had the chance of learning. Secrets aren't for telling. They're for storing against the day you may need to threaten that you'll tell them. That's why I told Sheriff Lanckaert last year that you'd admitted to travelling to Amsterdam by way of Brussels. Partly to incriminate you, of course. But partly also to let the V.O.C. know that I could, if I chose, reveal their secret dealings with de Prie, causing a rupture within the States General.'

'What a deep game you play.'

'Oh yes. Deep and dark. A man may have me as his mistress, if he is rich and powerful enough. But I am ever my own gamestress. I judged how it would be. Neither Walpole nor the V.O.C. could afford to let me answer for the crime to which I confessed, for fear of what I might make them answer for. So, I do not burn and you do not hang. I am sent away and you are allowed to escape.'

'But you've given up so much, Estelle. Ease and pleasure. You said so yourself.'

'All for you, William. I wasn't certain I could when I left England, you know. But when I stood outside the Stadhuis and watched you being condemned to—'

'You were there?'

Estelle nodded. 'I was. And when I saw the weary, hopeless despair on your face as the death sentence was passed, I knew I had to do my best for you. You didn't abandon me in Rome, did you, small thanks though you had for it? Well, I couldn't abandon you. It was a bewildering discovery to make about myself. That there really was someone in the world I cared about, even though he's neither rich nor powerful, nor ever likely to be.'