‘Good morning, My Lord,’ gushed Temple. ‘I bring interesting news from Lincoln’s Inn.’
‘Is it about the garden?’ asked Bristol. ‘I already know that twisted old lawyer – Prynne – intends to take a rather pleasant wilderness and spoil it with some nasty design of his own.’
‘Oh,’ said Temple, crestfallen. He thrust his fingers under his wig and scratched. ‘Have you heard about Thurloe, too? How he is so dismayed by the proposed changes that he swallows all manner of tonics to calm himself?’
Bristol shrugged. ‘So what? How is such information supposed to benefit me? I know Thurloe has taken Clarendon’s side in our dispute, but no one cares what he does any more. His day is past.’
Temple’s eyes gleamed. ‘But think about it, My Lord. Thurloe is upset by what Prynne is doing, and Prynne has the King’s ear. If we can encourage Clarendon to intervene on Thurloe’s behalf, it will pit him directly against His Majesty, who will be irked.’
Bristol rubbed his chin, then smiled. ‘I like it, Temple. It will deepen the growing rift between the King and his Lord Chancellor without any risk to ourselves. I shall make sure Clarendon hears about Thurloe’s distress, and recommend he acts before the poor man pines away from sorrow.’
May stepped forward and handed over the missive he carried. ‘This is from Surgeon Johnson, sir. It has just arrived, so I decided to bring it to you at once. I thought it might be important.’
Bristol broke the seal. ‘It is about the Private Anatomy he offered to arrange for me – I am obliged to wait a few days, it seems. Johnson! The man is a buffoon. Do you know what he did on Saturday? I made some idle quip – drunken quip, if you want the truth – about breaking into Clarendon’s office to look for evidence that he had been embezzling public funds, and would you believe he actually went off and did it? I was appalled – supposing he had been caught, and everyone assumed I had put him up to it! How would that have looked?’
‘Not good,’ agreed Temple. ‘Did he find anything?’
‘Nothing – except a letter from Thurloe recommending Goddard’s Drops as a cure for fainting.’
‘Goddard’s Drops,’ mused Temple, scratching again. ‘It might be code – Thurloe was a Spymaster, after all. We may be able to … can you smell onions?’ He looked round him.
‘Not really,’ said Bristol, sniffing the air. ‘And I like onions.’
‘I think the Court surgeons might have had a hand in the disappearance of that beggar’s body,’ said May. He shoved a fingernail under his hat and wiggled it back and forth. ‘My sources tell me that a number of people bribed the guards to see the corpse, and that Wiseman was among them.’
‘I was among them, too,’ said Temple. ‘Cost me a shilling, which was a waste, because someone had tied a bag around its head, so I could not see the face. I did not make off with the corpse, though, and I imagine Wiseman is far too wrapped up in himself to play pranks on others.’
‘Temple is right, May,’ agreed Bristol. ‘I imagine Clarendon stole your dead beggar – you have taken my side against him, so he probably wants to discredit you. You did look like a complete ass when Spymaster Williamson came to view the thing, and you were forced to admit that you had lost it.’
May’s expression was dangerous. ‘Heyden probably did it, then, on Clarendon’s orders. I swear on my mother’s grave that I will see that man hanged! So, since they have attacked me, I shall attack them back: I will raid Clarendon’s offices for you, My Lord, and I will find all the evidence you need to bring them both down. I am a spy, after all, and experienced in such matters.’
Bristol shook his head. ‘No – Williamson might find out, and I need you in his camp. You provide me with a good deal of very useful information, and I cannot jeopardise that without good cause.’
‘Then I have another suggestion.’ May was disappointed with the decision, and Chaloner wondered why he had elected to throw in his lot with Bristol when his master, Williamson, struggled to remain neutral. ‘The King will not keep his current bedchamber for long – there are plans afoot to place him in new apartments overlooking the river, which means Lady Castlemaine’s chambers will not be as close to him as she imagines. Her move will have been for nothing and when she finds out she will be livid.’
Temple removed his wig and used both hands to rake his scalp. ‘Really? Are you saying the King’s relocation is Clarendon’s idea?’
‘Actually, it is the King’s,’ replied May, rubbing his own head. ‘He wants to use the old rooms as a laboratory. However, there is no reason why Lady Castlemaine should know that. You should tell her this is Clarendon’s latest attempt to keep her away from her royal lover.’
‘That is an excellent idea!’ exclaimed Bristol, fingernails clawing under his night-cap. ‘Lord, will it put the cat among the pigeons!’
‘And quite a cat, too,’ said Temple approvingly.
‘I shall ask Buckingham to tell her,’ said Bristol, taking off his cap and scratching vigorously at the sparse hair underneath. In his tree, Chaloner began to feel itchy, but resisted the urge to move lest he gave himself away. ‘She believes anything he says. I had better catch him before he gets at the wine, though. I need him at least half sober when I confide, or he will forget what he is supposed to do.’
All three moved away, scratching in unison. Chaloner waited a while longer, then abandoned his hiding place when he saw Eaffrey and Behn, who had come to see if they could help Lady Castlemaine with her furniture. He was pleased to see Eaffrey looking happy, although less pleased to note that Behn seemed to be the cause. Behn greeted him cautiously when she introduced him as Heyden – and Chaloner was relieved when Behn did not appear to associate him with the elderly upholsterer.
‘I understand you are a member of the Guinea Company,’ said Chaloner affably, determined to be more courteous to the surly Brandenburger than he had been in his last disguise, out of respect for Eaffrey. ‘And you knew the subscriber who was murdered last month.’
‘Matthew Webb,’ said Behn, nodding. ‘He was a very dear friend.’
‘Really?’ asked Chaloner, his good intentions slipping a little. ‘I heard you quarrelled, and that you left the gathering early because of it.’
Eaffrey glared at him, but Behn waved a powerful hand to indicate that he had taken no offence. ‘Webb and I were going to let people believe we argued, but it was actually a ruse – to weaken our rivals. It was Webb’s idea. He was a clever man, and I miss his company.’
Chaloner stared into the bright-blue eyes and had no idea whether to believe him. ‘Is that why you spend so much time with his wife?’ Eaffrey glanced sharply at him. ‘You miss his company?’
‘The grieving widow,’ said Behn, with an expression that was unreadable. ‘I have made it my duty to visit and offer condolences. It was a vicious attack, and I shall delight in watching the killers hang.’
When Behn was distracted by a screech of rage from Lady Castlemaine, who objected to a servant informing her that her new chambers were now too full to hold any more looted furniture, Eaffrey glowered at Chaloner. She had been irritated by his remark about Silence Webb, and the accusation of infidelity that was implicit in it. ‘Let us talk about something else,’ she said shortly.
‘Very well,’ said Behn, turning back to Chaloner. ‘Eaffrey has told me about the adventures she shared with friends – such as you – in Holland. However, it is wrong to put women in danger.’