‘You may be right.’
‘Did she ask you to find it? She has been petitioning everyone she knows, although she has had scant success so far. You see, until she produces an heir she has no influence, so no one is willing to waste his time by doing her favours.’
Chaloner knew that was the way things worked at Court, but was disgusted nonetheless.
‘Did you refuse her, too?’ asked Hannah. She saw his apologetic expression and grimaced. ‘That is a pity, because I have been extolling your virtues to her, although she tells me you have already been to Spain on her account. Speaking of which, why have you never mentioned it to me? It means we served the same mistress, which I would have been interested to hear.’
‘It was-’ He was about to dismiss the escapade as of no consequence, loath as always to discuss his work, but then remembered his new resolution not to drive her away with half-answers and lies, as he had previous lovers. He did not want Hannah to despair of him at quite such an early stage in their relationship. But he found he could not summon the words to explain what had happened to him. It had been one of the worst experi ences of his life, and he did not know how to begin telling another person about it.
‘It was what?’ asked Hannah, peering at him in the firelight. ‘Hot? Full of flies? Beautiful? Dull?’
‘Not dull.’
Hannah sighed. ‘Well, that is a start, I suppose. Spain is not dull. The Duke of Buckingham told me the opposite, and said he would not return there for a kingdom.’
‘You discussed Spain with Buckingham?’ Chaloner sat up, not liking the notion of such a reprobate engaging any decent woman in conversation.
‘I like him,’ said Hannah with a shrug. ‘He is kind, amusing and generous.’
‘Buckingham?’ asked Chaloner, wondering whether there was more than one of them.
‘I know he has a reputation for being a libertine, but he has his virtues, too.’
Chaloner lay back down and hauled up the bedclothes. He was still freezing, and was beginning to think he would never be warm again. ‘Next you will be telling me that Lady Castlemaine is chaste.’
She gave him a jab with her elbow that was rather too hard to be playful. ‘You have friends whom I consider dubious. Barbara Chiffinch for example. She is a sharp-tongued shrew and I have never liked her, yet you and she rub along famously together. She is old enough to be your mother.’
‘She gives me information that … helps my work. And she does remind me of my mother, now you mention it. She would have liked you. My mother, I mean. She played the viol.’
Hannah laughed. ‘You are trying your best to overcome your natural reluctance to discuss private matters, and the result is a jumble of statements that are supposed to be revealing, but that make no sense whatsoever. Your mother would have liked me because she played the viol? Really, Tom!’
Chaloner was not sure what to say. ‘I cannot talk about Spain. It was too … I did not think I would be coming back.’
She regarded him silently for a moment, then patted his chest. ‘Then we shall talk about other things instead. Do you know Sir Nicholas Gold? I like him very much, although his wife is a dolt. And I deplore that vulture Neale, waiting to step in and claim her the moment she becomes a widow.’
‘Is Gold ill, then? Set to die?’
‘He is just old, although I suspect he is not as frail as he looks. But Bess is not yet twenty, and will certainly outlive him. She will be one of the richest widows in London when he dies, and Neale wants to ensure he will be the one to snare her. Of course, he has his work cut out for him, because she is inclined to be flighty, and Colonel Turner is just one of many who compete for her affections.’
‘Is that so?’ Chaloner was more than happy to let her talk.
‘He gave her a crucifix, and regards her as more special than the others. Except for Meg, perhaps.’
‘Meg the laundress?’ asked Chaloner. She nodded, and he continued. ‘He was supposed to meet her for a tryst on Saturday night, but she never arrived. Have you seen her since then?’
‘No, why? Do you think something untoward has happened to her? She is a dreadful harlot — I have seen her smuggling lovers in and out of White Hall myself, on her laundry cart.’
Chaloner stared at her. ‘Do you think Turner found out she was unfaithful, and dispatched her?’
‘That would make him a hypocrite, would it not? Killing her for infidelity when he is in the process of sampling every woman at Court? But men are mysterious creatures, and who can fathom the illogical mush that passes as their minds? If he did kill her, I would be appalled, but not surprised.’
Chaloner continued to stare. ‘Has Turner … Did he … Have you …’
‘Has he made a pass at me? And did I succumb? Is that what you cannot bring yourself to say aloud? You should credit me with more taste, Tom — Turner is a rake.’
‘But a likeable one.’ He listened to the fire settling in the hearth, then said, ‘You pointed Margaret Symons out to me earlier. You said your husband commissioned a sculpture from her.’
Hannah pointed to a delicate figurine that stood near the window. ‘She made us that statue of Venus, which is as fine a piece as any in the royal collections. Why do you ask?’
‘I heard she liked art.’ Chaloner was aware that he was being less than honest, but he hesitated to confide in her for reasons he did not quite understand. It had been obvious the Queen had not told Hannah that Margaret had been invited to buy the stolen bust. Why was that? Did she not trust her with the information? Or had she just not considered the rumour worth the effort of translating into English? He closed his eyes tiredly. What was wrong with him? Why could he not give straightforward answers to the woman with whom he was trying to develop a meaningful bond?
‘You are holding back on me again,’ said Hannah, almost as if she had read his thoughts. She was smiling, but the mischievous gleam was gone from her eyes: he had hurt her feelings. ‘But no matter. You can answer some questions to make up for it. Why were you swimming in the Thames in the depths of winter?’
‘I became involved in a skirmish and fell in.’
‘You are no raconteur, are you?’ she said drily. ‘It was probably an exciting adventure, but you make it sound boring. However, it was my quick thinking with the excuse about the statue that saved you from being arrested, so you owe me some explanation.’
Briefly, Chaloner wondered why she should want to know, but he was exhausted, his defences were down and he was weary of being suspicious of everyone he met. So he struggled to supply an explanation she would accept, but that would not reveal too much about his business.
‘I was following two men down an alley. Then a pack of soldiers appeared, and jumping in the river was the only way to escape. Next time, I will settle for being skewered, because I am still freezing.’ Hannah wrapped her arms around him, although it did nothing to dispel the chill that had settled deep in his bones. He hunted for something to say that would let him change the subject without sounding as though that was what he was doing. ‘Bulteel asked to me to be godfather to his son. Should I do it?’
Hannah was silent for so long that he thought she was angry with him for not elaborating on the Thames incident. By the time she replied, he had dozed off, and her voice roused him from a dream in which he was swimming across the Painted Chamber while the Queen informed everyone that the waters would make him pregnant.
‘You should decline. There is something about Bulteel that is not entirely nice, although I have heard he is the most honest clerk in White Hall. I know it is an expression of friendship on his part, but I do not think you should accept it.’
‘Why not? You have just said he is honest.’