‘I am not a novice in business,’ objected Temple indignantly. ‘I knew what I was doing, and he was mistaken about the outcome of that particular arrangement. It would have made me wealthy, and I was deeply sorry that his death rendered our contract null and void.’
‘Well, there you are, Chaloner,’ murmured Scot a little later, when people were taking the opportunity to stretch their legs by walking around the table. ‘Two more suspects for Webb’s murder: Behn, whose “friendship” may not have been all he declared, and Temple, who had been beguiled into signing something that might have seen him destitute.’
‘You were at that Guinea Company dinner, William,’ said Eaffrey, pausing for a moment with a sniggering girl on either side of her. ‘Did you see Temple almost sign away his fortune? I thought he had more sense than to put his name to deeds without considering their repercussions, and you must ask yourself whether you want him managing Alice’s money.’
‘I did see Webb and Temple together, but I slipped away too early to see how their discussion concluded. Webb must have produced these writs later, when Temple was befuddled with wine.’
‘You left early?’ asked Chaloner, when Eaffrey had gone. ‘I thought you said you spent the evening holding forth about plants.’
‘I did not say I left early – I said I slipped away too early to know what happened,’ corrected Scot pedantically.‘I was enjoying my botanical debate, but even trees could not distract me from the lice in Terrell’s hair-piece, and after a while, I simply had to go. I should have returned it to the wig-maker, but Williamson wanted me in place quickly and there was no time. I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to throwing this whole business to the wind and never adopting a disguise again.’
‘Not even when Peter Terrell presents his botanical researches to the Royal Society?’
Scot smiled. ‘I will be in Surinam. Someone will read my dissertations to the learned gathering.’
‘I visited your husband’s tomb in St Paul’s,’ said Chaloner to Silence, when everyone had reclaimed his seat, and the footmen were concluding the meal by serving a syllabub – a dish popular at Court, because the King claimed it refreshed the mouth after riding and love-making. ‘Clarendon sent me.’
‘How kind,’ said Silence, leaning across him to claim more dessert. ‘They could not fit him in the crypt, so they slipped him in with a bishop instead. He would not have minded; he liked bishops.’
‘He did not,’ stated Brodrick, overhearing and so preventing Chaloner from probing Silence to see if she was aware that Webb was not interred at all. ‘He detested the lot of them. I can see why: they are worse than Puritans for prim morals.’
‘I like a little fun myself,’ said Temple amiably, taking more wine. ‘And the latest fashionable way to do it is to purchase a Private Anatomy from the barber-surgeons. Has anyone– Ouch!’
He gaped at Alice, who had apparently kicked him under the table. Then gradually, it dawned on him that the one he had commissioned had involved the husband of the woman who sat opposite him. He had the grace to look disconcerted, although Silence did not appear to notice what was going on.
‘I have never attended such an event,’ she said. ‘Matthew tried to buy one, but the barber-surgeons fobbed him off with some tale about a leaking roof. Can you specify which corpse you want? I would be very interested in seeing inside a Dutchman, because their innards are made of cheese.’
‘We shall be at war with Holland soon,’ remarked Eaffrey, trying to raise the discussion to a more intelligent level. ‘Especially if the Guinea Company tries to poach its slaving monopoly.’
‘Good,’ said Temple, rubbing his hands. ‘We shall show the cheese-eaters a thing or two,’
‘War with the Dutch should be avoided at all costs,’ argued Chaloner. ‘They have bigger and better ships, a navy in which its sailors are paid, and their weaponry is superior to ours. We would be foolish to take them on in open battle.’
‘That is an unpatriotic statement,’ declared Alice. ‘Are you a traitor, then, who believes England is inferior to other nations?’
‘In some respects we are,’ said Chaloner, aware of Scot glaring at her across the table. ‘And to claim otherwise would be to do Britain a disservice. We cannot win against the Dutch at sea.’
‘Speaking of Dutch matters, did you hear that upholsterer is mortally ill?’ asked Temple. ‘If he dies, Bristol says it will be murder, because Clarendon struck the old fellow when he was defenceless.’
Brodrick made a disgusted sound. ‘Vanders is not dying. I saw him today, in perfect health.’
‘Pity,’ said Temple. ‘I would like to see Clarendon swing for murder. He is a tedious bore, and–’
‘He is my kinsman, sir,’ interrupted Brodrick icily. ‘And I suffer no man to insult him.’
‘I am sure no harm was meant,’ said Eaffrey quickly. ‘And we should not let the quarrel between Bristol and Clarendon spoil our evening. Let us talk about something more pleasant.’
Behn accepted the challenge. ‘Would you like to invest in my new ship, Temple? It will carry some very valuable cargoes, and you look like a man who is not afraid to be bold in the mercantile world.’
‘New ship?’ asked Chaloner.
‘It was Matthew’s,’ explained Silence. ‘It was doing no one any good sitting in a harbour with its holds empty, so Mr Behn and I made an agreement.’
‘And what will this vessel carry?’ asked Chaloner coldly. ‘Sugar again?’
‘Slaves,’ replied Behn, startling the spy with his bald honesty. ‘That is why anyone who invests with me will be rich. There is a good market for slaves in Barbados and Jamaica, and there is plenty of money for those willing to take a few risks. Do you have any spare income you want to invest?’
‘Not for that purpose,’ said Chaloner quietly. ‘And nor does any decent man.’
‘This is not suitable dinner conversation, either, messieurs,’ said Scot, seeing Eaffrey look stricken. ‘Have I told you about Bristol’s oignon gardens? He has acres devoted to the plants, and walks among them, savouring their scent.’
‘That is a lie – one put about by Clarendon,’ said Temple immediately. He cut across Brodrick’s indignant response and addressed the Brandenburger. ‘You can put me down for a few hundred, Behn. I never let a good business opportunity slip past.’
‘Blood money,’ said Chaloner, disgusted. He saw the hurt expression on Eaffrey’s face and saw he should keep quiet if he did not want to spoil her party.
‘Brodrick?’ asked Behn, fetching ink, pen and paper from a nearby cabinet. ‘How about you? Do you have womanish principles, or are you a man?’
‘I am not sure–’ began Brodrick uneasily. It was common knowledge that he had no money of his own, which was why he clung so firmly to his cousin’s coattails.
‘I shall invest with you, Mr Behn,’ said Alice, shooting Chaloner a spiteful glance. ‘I am not afraid to speculate in the world of commerce, and my Richard tells me it pays to be bold.’
The evening wore on. Silence held forth about music in a way that told Chaloner she was entirely ignorant on the subject, and he found the best thing to do was nod and smile but not listen. He caught Scot’s eye and the bleak expression on his old friend’s face told him he was not having much success with furthering brother Thomas’s cause, either. The meal came to a merciful end when Silence went face-down in her finger bowl. Chaloner rescued her from an ignominious death, although Brodrick suggested leaving her to drown. The spy struggled to lift her enormous weight, but Behn was the only one who bothered to help him.