Temple and Brodrick were among the first to arrive, talking and laughing to each other in a way that made them appear to be good friends. Chaloner was uneasy, wondering why Clarendon’s cousin should so suddenly seek out the company of a man who was so open in his disdain for the Earl – especially as it had only been a month since one had hit the other with a candlestick, and only three days since they had sniped and bickered at Eaffrey’s dinner party. Perhaps Thurloe was right after all, and Brodrick was not the loyal kinsman he claimed to be. Holles was with them, cautious and watchful. He spotted Chaloner and raised an eyebrow, although the spy could not tell whether the ‘greeting’ was friendly or otherwise. Chaloner nodded back, trying to decide why Holles should choose to attend such an exhibition; the colonel had openly admitted to being squeamish.
Williamson was also there, May at his side. May’s gaze fell on Chaloner, and he muttered something that made the Spymaster laugh. Scot, clothing and manners adjusted to Peter Terrell, flitted here and there, exchanging bows with people he thought might speed his brother’s release. When Eaffrey arrived with Alice and Behn, he went immediately to kiss her hand, and Chaloner saw her mutter a prayer of relief that he was safe. Without thinking, Alice ran to hug her brother, to show Eaffrey was not the only one who had been worried about him. ‘Terrell’ hastened to pass off the gesture as a joke, but Chaloner saw that Temple was suspicious. Realising with horror that she had almost given Scot away, Alice tried to pretend it was a case of mistaken identity. Her garbled ‘explanations’ were making matters worse, so Chaloner went to intervene.
‘Did you enjoy yourself this morning?’ he asked, saying the first thing that came into his head. It was meant to be an innocuous enquiry that would divert attention away from Scot, but he had forgotten she had missed the hanging because her clothes were caught in the seat.
She glared at him. ‘Not as much as I would have done, had the condemned man been you.’
He winced. ‘You have a savage tongue, Alice.’
‘She is a tad sharp,’ agreed Temple. Chaloner grimaced a second time; he had not meant his comment to be overheard. Temple turned to Brodrick, laughing. ‘Did I ever tell you that her brother sent me a letter offering a vast sum of money if I agreed to leave her? I shall not take him up on his invitation, because it is common knowledge that Alice is the only Scot with any cash, and were I to accept his “generous” settlement, he would almost certainly default on payment.’
Alice gaped at him, while Terrell was suddenly nowhere to be seen. ‘William was going to pay you to abandon me?’ she demanded, aghast. ‘Why did you not mention this before?’
Temple shrugged. ‘It gave me cause to laugh for an hour, and then I forgot about it. He is irrelevant, anyway. I like you well enough, and your money will allow me to buy that plantation I want. What more can a man ask? Bristol spoke to the King on my behalf yesterday, and His Majesty said I can have you, should I feel so inclined.’
Alice’s hearing became highly selective; she smiled broadly. ‘You intend to marry me?’
Temple shrugged again. ‘Why not? We each have something the other desires – you will acquire a handsome husband with a glittering future in British politics; I will get a woman with plenty of ready cash. Well, what do you think? Shall we do it?’
‘Yes!’ she cried, eyes shining. ‘I accept!’
‘You old romantic,’ said Brodrick to Temple. ‘There is a silver tongue on you, no doubt about it.’
Temple inclined his head graciously, then sauntered away with his new friend, leaving his bride-to-be gazing after him in delight.
‘I wish you much happiness, Alice,’ said Chaloner, feeling he should say something nice to mark the occasion. He wondered what Scot would say when he learned his sister was lost.
‘And I shall have it, too,’ she replied, sounding as though there would be trouble if she did not. ‘What are you doing here? Did you come because you heard us talking about Webb’s dissection at Eaffrey’s party, and you wanted to see one for yourself?’
‘How did the surgeons acquire Webb’s body?’ asked Chaloner, curious to know how such an odd occurrence had been explained to the spectators. ‘It was supposed to have been buried in St Paul’s.’
Alice watched Temple take his seat. ‘My Richard made a joke to Surgeon Johnson, remarking on the irony of him commissioning a Private Anatomy, when a man who had tried to cheat him was newly dead. He asked whether it was possible to combine the two, and we were both rather startled when Johnson replied – quite seriously – that he would see what he could do.’
‘Then what?’
‘A few days later, he said he had devised a way to acquire Webb’s corpse, but that it would cost extra. He said merchants’ entrails are oilier than those of normal men, so more money is needed to clean up afterwards. I agreed to pay the difference, because Richard was so eager to see inside Webb. You look disapproving. Why? It was all perfectly ethical.’
‘Was it?’
‘Of course. Webb’s body was lent to the surgeons after his funeral, and what is left of him will go back inside his cathedral tomb. That is what Johnson told us. He asked us not to mention it to Silence, though, because she was not invited to the cutting, and he did not want her to take offence. And now you must excuse me, or I will lose my place next to Richard.’
She slipped away, leaving Chaloner full of questions. He was watching Samuel Pepys and a host of navy commissioners ushered into seats of honour, when Wiseman approached and spoke quietly.
‘Do not think too badly of our Company, just because of Lisle and Johnson. It is full of good men. Lisle is vocal about the amount of time he spends with the poor, but many others do an equal or greater amount of charitable work – they just do not brag about it.’
‘We shall probably never know how many people Johnson killed,’ said Chaloner, not of a mind to be forgiving about such heinous activities.
‘No, probably not,’ admitted the surgeon. He sighed. ‘But the audience is growing restless, so I had better begin my demonstration before there is a riot. People are always impatient to see me at work. Are you going to stay? My invitation to you still stands.’
‘I have seen more than enough surgery and anatomy for one day, thank you.’
Wiseman grimaced. ‘I did what I thought was right, Heyden, and I would do the same again. Thanks to me, men can rest easy in their coffins tonight, knowing they will stay there.’
He went to stand next to the dissecting table, to make sure all was in order. Willys had arrived, and lay with a cloth bag tied firmly around his head. The barber-surgeons were taking no chances of it slipping off and revealing his identity. Then the lecture began, and Chaloner became interested, despite himself. After a while, he saw Eaffrey slip away from Behn, and indicate with a discreet flicker of her eyes that she wanted to speak privately. He waited a few minutes, so they would not be seen leaving together, then followed.
Outside, the air was clean and fresh, a pleasant change from the stuffy atmosphere in the Anatomical Theatre, where every man and some women puffed away on pipes, and the odour of overheated bodies, unwashed clothes and the corpse mingled unpleasantly. In the sunshine, Chaloner could smell newly scythed grass and warm earth.
‘Thank you for finding William,’ said Eaffrey, when he joined her in the Great Parlour’s cool, cloister-like undercroft. ‘I knew you would not let me down. I cannot tell you how worried I have been. What happened?’
‘He fell into the hands of men who wanted to make an exhibition of him,’ replied Chaloner vaguely. His sleepless night was taking its toll, and he was too tired to embark on complex explanations. Scot could decide how much he wanted her to know about his escapade himself.