‘No,’ said Chaloner firmly. ‘It is too dangerous. Leave it to me.’
‘For once, I agree,’ said Maude fervently. ‘I shall do as you say, and so will Temperance. I am no coward, but there is no point in asking for trouble, and I would hate to see the club in flames.’
Chaloner gazed at her. ‘It is that bad?’
‘Worse,’ declared Maude. ‘Mr Leybourn will just have to take his chances — and hope he lives to learn his lesson about women like Mary Cade.’
‘There is one thing we can do, though,’ said Temperance. ‘William once told me he keeps all his money in a sack under a floorboard, because he does not trust bankers. You must persuade him to take it elsewhere, Tom. Mary and her cronies might lose interest in him once it is no longer available.’
Chaloner had known about Leybourn’s careless attitude towards his life-savings, but it had slipped his mind. He supposed he should steal it, to keep it safe until his friend had come to his senses. ‘I will devise a way to stop them getting it,’ he said, deliberately vague. He did not want to involve Temperance and Maude in a plan that would almost certainly involve burglary.
‘Good,’ said Temperance, ‘but do it discreetly. Do not give the Hectors reason to suspect you are responsible, or you may end up in one of the Butcher’s pies.’
‘Where are you taking that bundle of clothes?’ asked Maude in the silence that followed Temperance’s unsettling remark. ‘To the rag-pickers? They are in a sorry state, so I doubt you will get much for them.’
‘They only need to be mended,’ objected Chaloner, rather offended. ‘I was going to buy thread-’
Maude inspected them critically. ‘Only a seamstress of the highest calibre will be able to salvage these! You had better leave them with me.’
‘They are all I have,’ said Chaloner, hoping she would not decide they were beyond repair and throw them away. He could not afford to replace them.
‘Do not worry. You can trust me — with a needle at least.’ Maude winked disconcertingly at him.
‘Meanwhile, we shall lend you something that does not make you look like a Parliamentarian fallen on hard times,’ said Temperance, businesslike and practical. ‘Our customers often leave garments behind, so we actually possess an impressive wardrobe.’
‘I cannot visit White Hall wearing clothes abandoned in a brothel,’ objected Chaloner, thinking about what might happen if an owner recognised them.
‘We will pick you something bland,’ replied Maude, rather coolly.
She heaved her ample rump out of her chair and returned a few moments later with a green long-coat and breeches. The coat had buttons up the front, on the pockets, and along the sleeves. She insisted that he also wear boot hose — leggings with lace around the knees that hid the top of his boots — on the grounds that not to do so would look peculiar. The ensemble was finished with a clean white ‘falling band’, a bib-like accessory that went around the neck and lay flat on the chest.
Maude regarded him appreciatively. ‘What a difference a few decent clothes can make to a fellow! You have gone from impecunious servant to a man of some standing.’
‘You look nice,’ agreed Temperance, smiling. ‘I might even make a play for you myself.’
Chaloner glanced sharply at her, but saw she was teasing him. She had been enamoured of him once, but had since learned that she did not want a husband or a protector telling her what to do. And he certainly had no intention of dallying with a brothel-mistress.
When Chaloner left the bordello, the rain had stopped, although dark clouds suggested there was more to come. Everything dripped — houses, churches, trees, the scruffy food stalls in Fleet Street, carts and even horses. The usual clatter of hoofs on cobbles was replaced by splattering water and sloshing sounds as people made their way through lakes of mud. Even the pigeons roosting in the eaves looked bedraggled, and the black rats in the shadows had coats that were a mess of spiky wet fur.
When he passed a cook-shop, delicious smells reminded him that he was hungry, so he decided to visit White Hall to claim his back-pay first. He was horrified to learn from the clerks in the Accompting House that he had not been on their records since June. Sure there had been a mistake, he went to the Stone Gallery, and found the Lord Chancellor in earnest conversation with a dark, brooding man who wore the robes of a high-ranking churchman. Chaloner waited until the cleric had gone before approaching the Earl.
‘Sheldon agrees with me,’ confided the Earl gleefully, rubbing his hands together. ‘That will show Parliament who is right!’
Chaloner had no idea what he was talking about, and supposed he would have to read the old newsbooks after all. ‘I am pleased to hear it, sir,’ he replied.
Unfortunately, the Earl knew a noncommittal answer when he heard one. ‘You do not know him, do you! You must settle down and learn something about your own country, not race off to foreign parts at the drop of a hat. Sheldon is the new Archbishop of Canterbury. He has just promised to make a stand against religious dissenters with me. It is good news.’
‘Is it?’ Chaloner did not think so. There were a lot of people who did not want to conform to the Anglican Church’s narrow protocols, and he felt it was unwise to alienate such a large segment of the population. He was sure such a rigid stance would come back to haunt the Earl in the future.
Clarendon’s expression hardened. ‘Yes, it is. There are far too many radical sects, and their false religion is an excuse for sedition and treason. The fires of fanaticism burn hot and wild if left unchecked, and we must douse them while we can. And if you disagree with me, you are a fool.’
‘Yes, sir.’ It was always safer not to argue with anyone where religion was concerned.
Clarendon eyed him coldly. ‘Well? What do you want? Have you come to tell me the name of Newburne’s killer?’
‘I think it may be more complex-’
The Earl held up a plump hand. ‘Do not make excuses. I am tired of being treated with disrespect by all and sundry. Buckingham and his young blades mock me; the King’s mistress flaunts her latest bastard in my face; and you insult me whenever we meet. I have had enough of it.’
‘Perhaps I should stay in White Hall, then, to learn about your enemies’ plans to-’
‘No!’ snapped the Earl. ‘You will assist L’Estrange, as I ordered. I need his goodwill, because he controls the newsbooks, which means he also controls the hearts and minds of London. Ergo, discovering Newburne’s killer is important.’
Chaloner suspected Muddiman controlled a lot more hearts and minds than L’Estrange. ‘He does not want my help, sir. He said to thank you for your kind offer, but to decline it politely.’
The Earl’s eyes narrowed. ‘That means he has something to hide. You will look into this.’
‘I will try my-’
‘No!’ shouted Clarendon, loudly enough to startle several passing nobles. ‘You will not try, you will succeed. And to add an incentive, I shall not put you back on my payroll until you do. I deleted you when you abandoned me for the Queen — why should I pay a man working for another master? — and you will only be reinstated when you have proved your loyalty by exposing Newburne’s killer.’
‘You doubt me, sir?’ Chaloner asked, stunned that the Earl should be suspicious of him after he had risked his life on several occasions to further the man’s cause.
‘I doubt everyone these days. I know you have helped me in the past, but that was then and this is now. If you want to work for me again, you must prove yourself in the matter of Newburne.’
Chaloner was tempted to tell him to go to Hell, but then what would he do? The Earl offered the only opportunity for intelligence work — at least, until the Queen recovered from her illness. And even then it was possible that Chaloner’s foray to the Iberian Peninsula had been a single commission, and she would have her own people for more routine business. Besides, he suspected Her Majesty’s main concern would be the King’s mistresses, and he had no wish to spy on them. Some were infinitely more deadly than the Butcher of Smithfield.