A Conspiracy of Violence (48 page)

‘It was you who told them my name?’ asked Chaloner, regarding Metje in horror, scarcely believing she could do such a thing,
regardless of what else had passed between them.

North cleared his throat uncomfortably when Metje declined to answer. ‘A few days ago, Downing told me he had entrusted the
Brotherhood’s secrets to you. Naturally, I asked why
you
should be the recipient of such confidences, and he said you had been Thurloe’s man for the past ten years. Thurloe! A traitor
to the King!’

‘But it does not mean Thomas is also a traitor,’ objected Temperance. ‘Lots of men worked for the old government – it does
not make them rebels.’

‘Hush, child,’ said North gently. ‘You do not know what you are talking about.’

‘I have known for some time that you seduce Metje on a nightly basis,’ said Faith coldly to Chaloner. ‘But I
overlooked the matter, because we are fond of her. In return, though, I suggested she look more closely at the man on whom
she bestows her favours. I advised her to question the odd hours you keep, the mysterious people you meet and the tales you
tell her about your kin.’

‘When I did as she said, I learned our life together was a tissue of lies,’ said Metje, finally looking at Chaloner. ‘It was
a shocking blow to learn the man I slept with was a
spy
.’

It had been a shocking blow for Chaloner to learn he was not her only lover, but he did not think this would be a good time
to mention it. He spoke Dutch, in the hope of appealing to some ember of affection for him. ‘You cannot stay with these people,
Meg. Leave now, while you still can.’

‘Speak English,’ said North sharply. ‘It is rude to gibber in a foreign language.’

Metje was pale, and Chaloner suspected she continued to speak her native tongue without realising she was doing so. ‘You deceived
me for years, Tom, so do not look at me as though this is my fault.’

‘But the child—’ Chaloner saw the way Faith’s finger tightened on the trigger, and kept to English.

‘There is no child. I wanted to know the truth about you, and Faith said a pregnancy would make you relent – which it did.
But you must understand why I lied to you. I was frightened and confused, and needed to know which of you to marry – who would
be safer. I seldom make good choices where men are concerned. My father always said one would bring me to a bad end, and he
was almost right. You were a spy, and Philip was married already.’

‘Philip?’ asked Chaloner, wondering whether he would
wake up and find the whole thing was a dreadful nightmare. ‘Surely, you cannot mean Captain Evett? I thought his new love
was Sarah Dalton.’

‘Sarah?’ asked Temperance, struggling to follow the bilingual discussion. ‘She would never entertain a man like Philip Evett.
She likes soldiers, but not silly, weak ones like him.’

‘Mr North belongs to a brotherhood,’ Metje went on, still in Dutch. ‘He introduced me to Philip, and we became … I thought
he was the answer to my prayers – wealthy, strong, able to protect me.’

Chaloner’s thoughts were in chaos. Hill had edged towards him and was sitting too close; he tried to elbow the man away as
he attempted to distil sense into what Metje was telling him. ‘Then you were the woman with Evett when he visited Lee. I suppose
you are the reason he speaks Dutch – after a fashion – too. He said he learned in exile, but he was lying. Christ, Metje!
What have you done?’

‘Do not listen to him,’ ordered Faith. ‘He is a seducer, and you should believe nothing he says. Look what he did to Temperance.’

Chaloner glanced at Temperance, but could see nothing amiss. ‘Is it the coin tricks I showed her?’ he asked, confused. ‘I
assure you they were nothing—’

Faith’s face was a mask of barely controlled fury. ‘We learned today that she is with child, and I have seen the way you look
at her. You are lucky she pleaded for your life, or I would have blown your head from your shoulders the moment you knocked
at our door.’

Hill immediately began to pray in an unsteady voice, while Temperance stared at her feet, cheeks burning with shame. Chaloner,
looked from one to the other in disbelief. ‘You are … with
Hill
?’

‘It was
him
!’ shouted Hill, jabbing both forefingers in Chaloner’s direction, abruptly abandoning his devotions. ‘Not me. I would never
lie with lonely members of my flock in chapel after prayers.’

Temperance began to sob, and Chaloner wondered whether the man had been obliged to drug her or make her insensible with strong
wine first.

‘Since she could not have you …’ said Metje softly, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken.

Chaloner tugged his thoughts back to Metje and her other lover. ‘I almost caught you with Evett – twice. The first time was
when he and his men tried to entice me down an alley. And the second time was when he came half-dressed to the door when I
called on him unexpectedly. I should have known you would not walk all the way to White Hall to buy a poultice for North’s
nose. You waved the apothecary’s receipt …’

She winced. ‘It was a shopping list. Please do not talk about this any more.’

‘Evett gave you a lamp,’ said Chaloner, as more facts became clear in his mind. ‘Do you know why? So it would illuminate my
room and make it easier for him to kill me with his grenade.’

There were other clues, too. He recalled singing her praises to Evett, comparing her to a painting by Rubens, and she had
cited the compliment back to him when he had given her presents – Evett had reported the conversation. Then there was her
vivid account of the masque: Evett had taken her to watch it through the holes in the corridors – and it was the night she
had arrived cold and unusually late in Chaloner’s rooms. She had also taken to speaking English instead of Dutch when she
was half asleep, and she had visited the Tower menagerie,
suggesting Evett swallowed his distaste for its furred inhabitants and escorted her there.

‘Philip is a gentle man,’ she said quietly. ‘The apprentices threw the bomb – they lobbed one at the chapel too, although
it did not ignite.’

‘That is what you were supposed to think.’ Chaloner felt sick as he watched her work with deft fingers. She had made such
devices before. Hill pressed something into his side, making him wince. He tried to move away, but there was nowhere to go.
He reverted to Dutch. ‘I do not know what these people think they are doing, but it will end in disaster. Leave them, while
you can.’

North stepped forward, club raised. ‘I told you to speak English. Do you want to die?’

‘Father!’ cried Temperance, jumping towards him. ‘You promised!’

Hill jabbed again, urgently and hard enough to hurt. When Chaloner put his hand to the spot, he felt metal. The preacher was
trying to pass him his gun. He took the weapon and held it behind his back, although he barely registered what he was doing.
There was a lurching sensation in his stomach when he considered the implications of Metje’s relationship with Evett.

‘But this means you killed Clarke! I said the killer was unfamiliar with White Hall and its customs, and I was right.
You
lured him to that corridor and killed him.’

‘You do not need to answer, Metje,’ said North, wielding the cudgel menacingly.

‘It does not matter,’ said Metje. She looked Chaloner in the eyes. ‘Yes, I killed Clarke. Mr North needed to know what he
had learned about the Seven, but he refused to tell me. We were lucky: the Earl assigned Philip to investigate his death,
and you were told to look for
Barkstead’s treasure. We were able to provide Mr North with details of both cases.’

‘I am weary of talk,’ said Faith. She came to loom over Chaloner. Hill cringed away, but she ignored him. ‘We shall have silence
now, if you please.’

‘Do not speak, Tom,’ said Metje softly in Dutch. ‘She wants you dead because of Temperance’s condition, and you should not
give her an excuse.’

‘What do you intend to do?’ asked Chaloner, unwilling to sit still while they manufactured the devices that would hurl his
country into another maelstrom of civil war.

‘I warned you,’ said Faith, taking aim.

‘Stop,’ ordered a stern voice from the doorway. It was Thurloe, with Leybourn behind him, and both carried firearms. ‘Your
nasty games are over, madam.’

Faith moved faster than anyone would have expected of such a thickset woman, and screwed the barrel of her gun against Chaloner’s
temple before he could stop her. She forced him so firmly against the wall that the hand with Hill’s pistol was trapped uselessly
behind him.

‘Put it down, Thurloe,’ she said calmly. ‘Or I will blow away your agent’s head.’

‘Do not do it, sir,’ warned Chaloner. ‘They intend to kill the King.’

‘We do not,’ said Faith, leaning even more heavily against him, to squash him to silence.

‘You do,’ said Chaloner in a gasp. ‘Evett said—’ ‘Evett is not party to all our secrets – not because he is disloyal, but
because he is apt to make stupidly careless remarks, as he seems to have done to you, since you are here challenging us. However,
our real plan is to leave these grenades in a place associated with
Thurloe and Ingoldsby, and Downing will see to it that they hang. Downing believed my letter purporting to be from Livesay,
just as he did my missive in March, which told him where Barkstead might be found on a certain night in Holland. Now, put
down the weapon, Thurloe.’

‘No!’ shouted Chaloner in despair, when Thurloe placed his gun on the floor and Leybourn followed suit. North hurried forward
to collect them, and Temperance’s sobs became louder and more distraught. ‘Now they will kill you, too.’

Thurloe did not reply, and Faith’s eyes glittered. ‘It is not pleasant, is it, Thurloe? To see those you love in danger? Remember
that when you face the King’s mercy at Tyburn.’

A shadow appeared at the window. ‘Kelyng is outside with Thurloe’s porters,’ said Chaloner, glancing at it. ‘Put down the
gun, Faith.’

North looked alarmed, but Faith was made of sterner stuff. ‘Kelyng? Helping the man he hates above all others? Do not be ridiculous!’

Chaloner glanced at Thurloe and was shocked to see defeat. ‘Kelyng came to you—’

‘We thought he was trying to trick us,’ explained Leybourn in a voice filled with self-disgust. ‘So we locked him in a cupboard
and came to investigate on our own.’

‘Sit down,’ said Faith, abruptly releasing Chaloner and waving her pistol at Thurloe. Chaloner flexed his fingers and leaned
forward, hoping he would be fast enough to put his own weapon to good use – and that it was loaded. Faith was the most dangerous
person in the room, so she would be the first to die. ‘All of you in a row. No, not you, Temperance.’

Defiantly, Temperance sat next to Chaloner. ‘I do not know what you are doing, but I want no part of it.’

Faith hauled her daughter to her feet, then held her across her own chest in an awkward hug. Chaloner cursed silently. He
could not be sure of hitting Faith when Temperance was pinned in front of her.

‘You will understand in time, child,’ said North kindly, keeping Thurloe’s gun for himself and passing Leybourn’s to Henry.
‘Our revenge is a holy, just thing.’

Chaloner frowned in confusion. ‘Revenge for what, Livesay?’

Thurloe glanced at Chaloner as he sat. ‘He is not Livesay, Tom. There is a fleeting likeness in their shape and manner of
dress, but that is all.’

Faith laughed harshly. ‘Livesay is dead, burned in the ship he thought would carry him to safety, although I have borrowed
his name to write notes to men like Downing and Dalton. We might never have learned about any of this, were it not for Livesay.
He turned to religion in his guilt and confessed everything to his preacher.’

‘Not me,’ said Hill in a squeak. ‘I know nothing about any of this.’

‘Another minister,’ said North. ‘He was an old friend, and he wrote to me about it – in exchange for a donation to his favourite
charitable concern, of course. Even men of God have their price.’

Chaloner looked at the burn on North’s face. ‘Did
you
ignite Livesay’s ship?’ He thought about what he had heard, and answered his own question. ‘Yes, of course you did. You said
someone had put gunpowder in the ship’s
forward hold
. How would you have known such a detail, unless you had placed it there yourself ? You have an affinity for explosions –
there are grenades here, and
you set Dalton’s house alight. I saw you running away with his gunpowder under your cloak. Snow did not see you, but that
is because you used the back door – barring the front one first, to make sure no one would be able to go in and extinguish
the fire. You wanted Dalton’s body burned, to conceal the fact that he had been stabbed. I suppose Hewson’s corpse gave you
that idea?’

Faith pulled an unpleasant face. ‘I could have saved myself the bother. Dalton would have killed himself anyway, had we waited.
He was preparing a firebomb to kill his wife, and was so agitated that he was all fingers and thumbs – not a good way to be
with explosives. But, like Livesay before him, he told us a lot about the Seven before I dispatched him to Hell.’

‘I suppose that is why Metje – and Evett – kept encouraging me to work for Dalton in preference to the Earl,’ said Chaloner
bitterly. ‘They claimed he offered better prospects, but in reality they wanted me to provide them – to provide
you
– with details of his activities. Likewise, Metje urged me to work for Thurloe when she learned I had been his spy, even
though I told her it was dangerous and I wanted to see our daughter … But why did you always insist that Livesay was dead?’

But he did not need North to answer. The truth was that impersonating a man almost everyone else thought was dead had been
a good way to send Dalton mad.

‘No more questions,’ snapped Faith. ‘Thurloe’s unexpected appearance means we need to review our plans. I cannot think with
all this chatter, so sit quietly, or I will shoot you.’

‘When Praisegod Swanson sent the—’ began Chaloner. Faith jammed the barrel into his temple and pulled the trigger. There was
a sharp click. The gun had misfired.
Temperance screamed and tried to struggle free. Chaloner started to draw his pistol, but could not be sure of shooting Faith
while Temperance flailed. Then he saw the shadow in the window again – a silhouette with a bandaged head. It was Bennet, and
he was busily winding a crossbow, clearly intending to shoot someone inside the room. When the man glanced up and glared directly
at him, Chaloner had the feeling he would be Bennet’s first victim.