‘It was my choice to go,’ said Eaffrey, before Chaloner could respond. ‘It was nothing to do with Thomas. He would never presume to tell me what to do.’
‘I shall, though,’ said Behn coolly. ‘It will be my right, once we are wed.’
Eaffrey stared at him. ‘That is an archaic attitude to take, Johan. As far as I am concerned, marriage is a partnership in which both sides are free to do as they please.’
‘Is that so?’ asked Behn, raising his eyebrows. ‘It is an unusual interpretation of matrimony.’
‘Eaffrey is an unusual lady,’ said Chaloner.
Behn opened his mouth to say something else, but just then Temple approached, all smiles as he raked his fingernails across his scalp, hard enough to leave red marks.
‘Ah, Behn,’ he said. ‘I intend to nominate you as the next Master of the Guinea Company. I like your progressive attitude to trade, and wish more of our members were like you.’
Behn inclined his head. ‘Of course you do, but we can oust the squeamish ones once I am elected. Together, we shall lead your country to untold wealth and mercantile power.’
‘In Africa,’ agreed Temple, nodding vigorously. ‘And in Barbados.’
‘You mean by promoting slavery?’ said Chaloner. ‘That will make our country great, will it?’
‘Of course,’ said Behn. ‘And anyone who does not see it is a fool.’
‘You promised you would have no more to do with that sort of venture, Johan,’ said Eaffrey quietly. ‘I told you I disapproved, and you–’
‘I said I would consider your request,’ said Behn, testily. ‘However, you are a woman, so you cannot possibly understand the complexity of the finances involved. Please excuse me now.’
He took Temple by the arm, leading him away for a private discussion. Almost immediately, he began to scratch his head.
Eaffrey’s face fell at the curt dismissal. She turned to Chaloner with tears in her eyes. ‘Johan and I have been growing closer for weeks now, and within moments, you manage to initiate two topics of conversation that see us voicing opposing and irreconcilable views.’
‘He is not worthy of you,’ said Chaloner simply.
‘That is for me to decide. You had better stay away from both of us in the future. You seem incapable of being civil, and I do not want to lose him over some petty quarrel instigated by you.’
She turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving Chaloner startled and unhappy.
Chapter 7
It was some time before the King and his entourage returned from St James’s Park, but when they did, all White Hall knew they were back. Dogs burst yapping into the Palace Yard, with horses clattering behind them. Armies of grooms, kennel-men and stable-boys surged forward to reclaim the animals, while courtiers milled around in a colourful, noisy gaggle. Scot was among the throng, deep in conversation with Brodrick and two lords Chaloner did not recognise.
The brightest and loudest of the throng was Buckingham, and Chaloner watched Bristol sidle up to him and indicate that he wanted to talk. Buckingham waved him away with an impatient flick of his hand, then slipped his arm around the waist of one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting. She was a pretty young woman, who was unashamedly delighted by the attention. The Queen watched with unhappy eyes, then turned to walk inside the Great Hall. She passed close to where Chaloner was waiting to waylay Scot, and gave him a brief smile as she went.
Scot broke off his conversation the moment he spotted his friend. Brodrick followed him, although the two nobles hurried to join the clot of drooling men who hung around Lady Castlemaine. She was giving her opinion about her new living quarters, delivering the verdict while wearing a gown so low-cut that nothing was left to the imagination.
‘We had some dashed good music last night, Heyden,’ said Clarendon’s cousin. His face was pale and puffy, and there was a curiously chemical scent on his breath that suggested he had not long stopped drinking. The whites of his eyes were yellow, and he rubbed his stomach as if it hurt. ‘I am tempted to offer my consort’s services to the Guinea Company, for their feast of Corpus Christi later this month. At the annual dinner, the playing was dismal, because the entertainment was arranged by Webb, who preferred tavern jigs to chamber music.’
‘Did you know Webb well?’ asked Chaloner, thinking that perhaps it was just as well he had lost his place to Greeting. He played for personal enjoyment, not to entertain audiences and, as a spy, he tried to avoid doing anything that would thrust him into a position where he would be noticed.
Brodrick shuddered. ‘God, no! Our paths crossed at the Guinea Company, but that was all – he hated music, you see. And not only was he vulgar, but he was argumentative, too. On the evening he died, I personally saw him squabbling with Temple, Buckingham, Lord Lauderdale, the Bishop of London, that yellow-legged creature of Bristol’s … ’
‘Willys?’ suggested Scot.
Brodrick snapped his fingers. ‘Willys! That is the fellow! Webb was a loathsome specimen. Do you not agree, Terrell? He was not someone you would have wanted in your Royal Society, eh?’
‘Indeed not,’ agreed Scot. He did not look at Chaloner. ‘After my lecture on grasses yesterday, I spent the evening with the scientist Robert Hooke, and he told me that Webb had also quarrelled with two of the men accused of stabbing him. He said it happened before everyone sat down to eat.’
‘Yes, their names were Fanning and Dillon,’ said Brodrick. ‘They were later arrested and convicted of the crime. Dillon is a Company member, and he brought Fanning as his guest – our current Master lets anyone join these days. Thank God he is due to step down, and we can appoint someone else. I shall vote for Johan Behn, I think – it is time we had a leader who is young and vigorous.’
‘Did either of you actually see Webb arguing with Dillon and Fanning?’ asked Chaloner.
Scot shook his head. ‘As I told you before, I was engrossed in a botanical discussion. I did not see Webb at all – quarrelling with Dillon, Fanning or anyone else. I am only repeating what Hooke said.’
‘I saw them at the festivities, but did not witness the row,’ said Brodrick. ‘I do not think Dillon and his guest stayed long – I remember them at the beginning of the evening, but not at the end. Perhaps they sneaked off to lie in wait for him. Or perhaps they went to a tavern in an attempt to blot the row with Webb from their minds. Who knows?’
Chaloner recalled that Dillon had denied being at the dinner, and was not sure what to think. Why had he lied? Was it because admitting to fighting with Webb that fateful night would have been incriminating? Or were there people at African House who were spreading tales about Dillon because they wanted him to be seen as guilty, perhaps to shield the real killer?
‘Do you know an actress called Rosa Lodge?’ he asked, turning his thoughts to his other duties – protecting Lord Clarendon from scandal.
Brodrick pointed at the woman the Duke was mauling. ‘Temple inveigled her an appointment to the Queen’s bedchamber. However, if you are hoping for a private performance, you will be waiting a long time – Buckingham is there first, and he is unlikely to relinquish her until she is all used up. What is so funny, Heyden?’
‘Bristol. Can you see his face?’
‘It is as black as thunder. Do you know why?’
‘Rosa Lodge was hired to seduce your cousin, and Buckingham has unwittingly ruined the plan – if she accuses Clarendon of raping her now, no one will believe her, because everyone can see she is wanton. Bristol will have to move on to his next plot, which entails telling Lady Castlemaine that it is Clarendon’s idea to move the King’s bedchamber away from her new quarters.’