His reply was too low for me to catch most of it, but I could see that he was using the arm he had hold of to shake her roughly as he spoke, greatly jeopardising my pie, which almost slid from the plate she was holding onto the floor.
‘. . . have you arrested, you ranter whore. Don’t ithink I won’t.’
To this she made no answer, but I could see .she had gone white. He released her. ‘We’ll discuss this outside,’ he said roughly, and turned away.
She came over to serve my food, but as she put it down on the table her hand shook, and the plate rattled, although her voice, when she asked me if I needed more beer, was hard and flat. I said that I did not, and she left me without another word. I saw her go to the door the man had left by, which led to the yard where the empty kegs were stored.
I shrugged and turned my attention to the pie. I had enquired what it was before ordering; the reply that it was ‘cock-a-leekie’
had left me none the wiser, but now, as I punctured the crust with my knife, it released a spurt of fragrant heat, revealing several soft, steaming pieces of potato, some pale garters of leek, slivers of chicken in a creamy broth, a good scattering of thyme, and even a few pieces of a dark currant-like fruit which I soon discovered were preserved plums.
However, there was something spoiling my enjoyment, and that was the knowledge that all the time I was inside eating a cock-a-leekie pie, the woman who had made it was outside, giving herself to a man she had clearly wished to refuse. She might be at fault, but I had not liked the look of the fellow, or the way he had shaken her arm, and I suspected that he was probably being no more gentle with her now.
Sighing, I put my plate to one side, got to my feet, and went to the yard door. Outside, it was dark, but I heard a noise from behind a pile of kegs to my right. I shouted ‘Who’s there?’ A woman gasped, the sound instandy cut off, as if by a hand around the throat. I shouted, ‘Bring the watch here, ho! Here’s fornication in the streets!’ - a phrase which surprised even me, until I remembered that these were the words shouted by the night beadles as they toured the streets in the small hours, looking for any mischief. I must have heard them a dozen times beneath my own window as I slumbered.
From behind the kegs there was the jingling of a sword belt, a muffled oath, and then the unmistakeable sound of a hefty slap. Hannah cried out; footsteps ran off, and I went behind the kegs to investigate.
She was sprawled on the ground where she had been hurled by his blow. From the way her skirts were rucked indecently around her waist, I had been too late to prevent the act which both parties had gone there to carry out; but perhaps, at least, I had prevented her from coming to further harm.
‘Thank you,’ she said flatly.
I noticed the absence of a ‘sir’. But perhaps in the darkness she
did not recognise me. Then she held out her hand. That too surprised me: on* the Continent it would have been unthinkable for a servant to put out her hand to a gentleman. But she was clearly in need of it if she were to get to her feet, so I took hold of it and pulled her up..
‘Thank you,’ she said again when she was standing. She rubbed her cheek where the man had slapped it. I could see from the way she looked at me that she was wondering what I was now going to ask of her for helping her.
‘You owe me no thanks,’ I said. ‘Nor anything else for that matter.’ I turned to go.
‘Signor Demirco,’ she said.
I stopped.
‘If you tell Titus Clarke what you have heard tonight, I will be dismissed.’
That was all. There was no question asked, no request made. She simply stated a fact, and left it for me to decide what to do.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say, ‘You should have thought of that before.’
But I did not. I simply nodded, and went back inside. And when Titus brought me another pint of beer, I found that I had no inclination to tell him what had passed between Hannah and her beau. It was, I told myself, simply none,of my: business.
Louise
While the king swims, Lady Arlington walks me down the Stone Gallery, the longest and most ornate of the cloistered courtyards within Whitehall.
‘Those are the king’s apartments,’ she says, pointing. ‘The houses on the other side are for favourite courtiers. And here,’ she pauses significandy, ‘a new set of rooms is being prepared.’
She opens some wooden doors. Inside, four men in short wigs, court painters, are working on a fresco. On the opposite wall, a tapestry in the French style is being hung by men on ladders. Another workman, a cabinetmaker, is installing an inlaid bookcase of walnut and maple with the help of an apprentice. The smell of wood shavings and fresh paint hangs in the air. As we enter the men duck their heads respectfully, then go back to what they were doing.
‘What a beautiful room,’ I say truthfully, going to the window. The tall panes remind me of Versailles. Beyond is a pretty garden containing a large glass sundial, with the long glittering lake of St James’s Park beyond.
‘It’s for you.’
I turn round, astounded. ‘For me?’
‘He is having it refurbished specially. And look.’ She crosses to another door and opens it. It leads to a set of stairs. ‘He can visit you directly from his own apartments.’
‘Without anyone knowing, you mean?’
Lady Arlington nods. ‘There may be times when he wishes to be discreet. To begin with, at least.’
I stare at her. ‘But I would never permit him to visit me in that fashion unless he were my husband.’
‘Don’t be a fool, Louise,’ she says softly. ‘You must do what
is necessary, just as pretty girls have always done with kings. The only question is, what will you get out of it.^* Your Majesty.’ She sweeps into a curtsey, and for a moment I think she is mocking me. Then, turning, I see that the king has come into the room.
T was told you were here,’ he says impatiently. ^Do the rooms meet with your approval.^ They will be finished by the weekend. Perhaps you will do me the honour of moving into them.’
T cannot—’ I begin, but Lady Arlington is quicker.
‘That is very timely, sir. We are beginning some rebuilding works next week, so Louise would have had to leave us in any case.’
‘Sir,’ I say, ‘I cannot possibly accept these quarters. They are far too good for a lady-in-waiting.’
‘On the contrary. It is you who are far too good for them.’ Charles is gazing at me with an intensity I find unnerving. ‘Walk with me,’ he says quietly, casting a glance at Lady Arlington. ‘Let us talk a litde.’
He leads me out into the Stone Gallery, and Lady Arlington walks fifteen paces behind us, pretending to be engrossed in the statues.
For a while, though, we do not talk much at alii, the king only pointing out to me where various courtiers five. Then he produces a key and unlocks a small door.
‘This is my privy garden,’ he says, closing and locking the door behind him. Lady Arlington, I notice, is still on the other side of it. ‘For my use alone.’
‘It must be hard for Your Majesty to find solitude.’
‘In truth, I never used to seek it. It is only since her death . . .’ He glances at me. ‘Tell me, Louise. You said she let you read our correspondence? ’
‘That is so.’
He says with a studied lack of interest, ‘Then what do
you know about Dover? Besides that my sister was very ill, I mean?’
This is dangerous ground, but there is no point in denying it. T know about the treaty. Madame took me into her confidence from the outset!’
T see.’ He touches his moustache. ‘Then presumably you are aware that it is a secret known only to a handful of other people. In this country there are six, besides myself Seven, now you are here. Were it to become known more widely, it could affect the whole course of my reign.’