Marigold Chain (19 page)

Giles stirred
thoughtfully. ‘You said … unless you were mistaken. I gather that
means the evidence is negligible?’

His
Highness nodded. ‘With the exception of two minor incidents which
I’ll come to presently, the evidence – if you can call it that – is
just a collection of costly organisational blunders. You’ll find
reports on each of them here.’ He tapped the pile of papers. ‘I
suggest you both read them thoroughly at a later date. But if you
want an example of the type of thing I’m referring to, let’s
consider the battle of Lowestoft last June. Having put the Dutch to
flight, our fleet gave chase with the Duke of York’s ship,
the
Royal Charles
, leading.
Like myself, James had been on deck for some eighteen hours so when
the worst was past, he gave orders for the pursuit to continue and
retired to his cabin. His flag-captain did the same and the ship
sailed on under the command of John Harman. During the night,
Harman received orders via Henry Brouncker that he was to slacken
sail and abandon the chase – which he did, followed by the whole
fleet. Next morning, with the enemy well past our reach, it turned
out that the Duke had given no such order. It had been a
fabrication of Brouncker’s own and, not surprisingly, it cost him
his position in the Duke’s household.’

‘
Just
that?’ said Alex dryly. ‘No further reprimand?’

‘
No. The
matter was raised in Parliament but Brouncker was never brought to
trial.’ Rupert paused and then went on, ‘For the rest, we come to a
staggeringly large amount of trivia. The kind of thing one puts
down to mismanagement, coincidence, poor workmanship, accident,
carelessness or even plain, old-fashioned bad luck. It’s only when
you add it all up that it starts to look as if we’re either jinxed
or the target of sabotage. When you read the reports you’ll see how
many messages are delayed or incorrectly delivered; how many of our
supplies are misdirected, damaged or lost in transit – or even
never sent at all; and how many time-consuming accidents appear to
occur in our dockyards. But what convinced me that all these
incidents were part of an organised campaign were the two events I
mentioned earlier.’

He flicked
through the heap and extracted two sheets of paper.

‘
Three
weeks ago a fire broke out in the store-house at Harwich.
Fortunately, Silas Taylor and his lads quenched it before it did
much damage and I filed a report of it in my collection. After all,
fires
do
break out from time
to time – and especially when the weather is as dry as it’s been
recently. So I thought little of it until last week when another
fire broke out at John Longrack’s timber-yard … and this time our
arsonist friend wasn’t so clever.’ Rupert leaned back in his chair.
‘It was the day after that little shower last week and he must have
had trouble getting the wood to take so he crossed the yard and
fetched some pitch. That was when he was seen by someone who
thought he was pilfering. When it became plain what he
actually
was
doing, our
ham-fisted friend set up a hue and cry instead of quietly knocking
him on the head. The result was a mad chase three times round the
timber-store before somebody stopped it by releasing a loaded
platform of logs.’ He paused and added triumphantly, ‘The
fire-raiser was one Joseph Cotterell – and he’d been employed at
Harwich at the time of their fire.’

Alex rested his
fingertips together and regarded the Prince over them.

‘
I was
about to say that we could start with him … but something tells me
that we can’t.’

‘
You
can’t,’ agreed Rupert. ‘When the logs came down he was rolled out
like pastry. Sadly, you’re going to have to start on a much wider
field.’

‘
How
wide?’ asked Giles.

‘
If all
our troubles are connected, there must be one man in charge of
operations and, from the diversity of his activities, he has access
to a fairly extensive range of Naval matters. There are a number of
people of whom this is true and it’s possible to identify them.’
Rupert pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. ‘To the best
of my knowledge, all of their names are on that list. I hope so
anyway.’

‘
So do
I,’ said Alex, his eyes skimming down a column of some twenty
names.

Rupert grinned
and stood up, stretching.

‘
So there
you have it. If I’m wrong, I’ll be grateful if you prove it. If
not, I want a name backed by indisputable evidence. And most of
all, I want the man.’

‘
When do
you join the fleet?’ asked Giles.

‘
A week
today. Albemarle and I are taking up our command at the Nore –
though I doubt we’ll put to sea for a while. Any further
information of the kind you have there will come to you by way of
Hayes, my secretary – you can trust him absolutely. And when I’ve
gone, if you need official backing, you’d best go to Lord
Arlington. But don’t let him override your judgement.’

Mr Deveril
looked up from the list, his eyes perfectly guileless.

‘
This
list of Naval know-alls is incomplete,’ he said gently. ‘One
hesitates to mention it – but Your Highness does not appear to be
on it.’

Rupert looked
back, irritation mingling with amusement.

‘
My
Highness is thirsty,’ he said. ‘So why don’t you apply your
scintillating wit to something useful - and go and open a
bottle.’

~ * * * ~

Monday, April
the twenty-third was a day of public rejoicing as befitted the
feast day of Saint George and the anniversary of the King’s
coronation. For Alex and Giles, a week into their list and so far
achieving nothing but an awareness of the scale of the task, the
day was notable only for the departure of Prince Rupert and the
Duke of Albemarle for the Nore.

Having read and
re-read Rupert’s notes, they still had no real clues to follow but
knew that the Naval Office in Seething Lane contained information
pertaining to most related matters. Alex duly despatched Mr Lewis
to keep an eye on it while he and Giles began on the Naval
Commissioners. Mr Beckwith went off to Chatham to investigate Peter
Pett and Alex checked out Sir Thomas Harvey.

Both of them
drew a blank, the first of many. But Matthew, placidly keeping his
finger on the pulse of the Naval Office, was able to offer a piece
of advice.

‘
If that
Clerk of Acts isn’t on your list, he ought to be. His name’s Sam
Pepys and I doubt there’s much goes on in the Office that he don’t
know about.’

At the end of a
week Mr Deveril had found out a good deal about Mr Pepys but none
of it indicated any dealings in treason.

‘
He’s
honest,’ he told Giles with a grin, ‘in the only ways that matter
to us. In other respects, he’s a lecherous old goat. You’d be
amazed what that man can do in a moving carriage or even in a
doorway. And he’s got women all over London – respectable matrons
too because he doesn’t seem to fancy the common harlotry.’ He
laughed. ‘Even if our Samuel had the inclination to try a little
sabotage, I doubt he’d find the time.’

Giles smiled,
then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

‘
Fortunate fellow. I often think,’ he said languidly, ‘that I
must be missing something. Cross him off then – and Chicheley too
while you’re about it. He’s in love with his work – cannon, saker
and culverin. Who’s next?’

Alex struck out
the two names. ‘Four down, sixteen to go. Christ! This could take
months.’

‘
True. I
should think though, that we might cross off York and Albemarle.
It’s hardly likely to be either of them and every little
helps.’

‘
All
right. Fourteen then. At this rate, it will still take us nearly
two months.’

Mr Beckwith
sighed and opened his eyes.

‘
Have you
ever thought,’ he asked, ‘that it might not be any of
them?’

Alex looked
back reflectively.

‘
Have you
ever thought that it might be someone employed in one of their
households?’

Giles closed
his eyes again.

‘
I have
been trying,’ he complained gently, ‘
not
to think of it.

*

Whitehall was
still officially mourning the death of Luiza Maria of Braganza and,
in addition to the usual trappings, the Queen had ordered that the
ladies of the Court should dress their hair plainly and discard
their patches. For those accustomed to, or dependant on, such aids
this was a hardship of no mean order and a good many tongues
remarked on the interesting fact that certain accredited beauties –
notably my lady Castlemaine – looked a good deal less striking
because of it.

To Chloë, whose
only concession to cosmetics was the skilful darkening of her
lashes and whose hair, by comparison, was always dressed simply, it
made little difference. However, she had come a long way from the
girl who, four months ago, rarely spared a thought for her
appearance. A latent instinct for colour warned that her hair,
which appeared garish against most bright shades would render
pastels insipid and that she must therefore choose very carefully.
Most greens suited her, as did the darker hues of turquoise, and a
cream and amethyst shot silk proved moderately pleasing. But Chloë
knew there was one colour that would do more for her than any other
and the period of Court mourning gave her an excuse to try it.

The resulting
creation, a dramatically simple gown of supple black satin, was
everything that she had hoped; indeed, it was more, for it even
produced a reaction in Mr Deveril. For the very first time, the
ice-blue gaze rested on her as if it saw more than the usual,
mildly tedious responsibility. There was even, thought Chloë
incredulously, an element of approval in it.

‘
My God,’
said Alex at length. ‘If Rupert was here, he’d be drawing you as
Circe.’

And despite the
mocking tone, she knew it was a compliment

She also knew,
from the stares and turning heads at Whitehall, that it was not
prejudiced – a thought which should have pleased her a great deal
more than it did.

Less pleasing
still was the unhealthy pallor of the Queen’s face. Like Chloë,
Catherine also wore black but, unlike her, it did not suit her and
though her smile was a warm as ever, she looked tired and wan.

At the other
end of the room, Lady Sarah Marsden dismissed her own personal
little court and moved with all the graceful intent of a praying
mantis towards Mr Deveril; and Alex, seeing her coming, neither
advanced nor retreated.

‘
Well, my
dear.’ The kitten’s eyes were bright with speculative amusement.
‘Your wife is making progress. Your doing, I suppose? But you’ve a
long way to go, I think, before she’s more than merely
presentable.’

‘
Jealous,
Sarah?’ he enquired pleasantly.

She laughed and
shrugged elegant shoulders.

‘
Of the
object of a drunken carouse? Hardly!’ Her eyes trapped his and held
them. ‘She has nothing that I lack – or could not have if I
wished.’

‘
She has
a brain.’

This shaft
missed its mark altogether. Sarah raised her brows and said,
‘Really? I noticed that, since she couldn’t be a Court beauty,
she’s decided to set up as Court Jester – but a brain? And if she
had, what good would that be to you?’ She smiled sweetly. ‘You
always used to have mundane requirements but high standards. So the
last thing you want is a wife whose looks are no more than passable
but who has the potential to shake your self-conceit.’

‘
The
woman who could do that,’ he remarked agreeably, ‘hasn’t been born
yet. Something I fancy that we have in common.’

Again, his
meaning escaped her and flicking open her fan she said, ‘We’ve many
things in common, Alex. In fact, we’re very alike, you and I.’

‘
No. You
may be like me – though I don’t see how – but I, thank God, am
nothing like you.’ His glance strayed around the room. ‘I don’t see
your devoted spouse here tonight.’

She looked up
into the cool, impassive face and said in a tone limpid with
innocence, ‘No. He’s in the country. He won’t return until
Saturday.’

The pale,
translucent eyes widened. ‘Sarah! You’re not, by any chance,
propositioning me, are you?’

And her
ladyship, who – for the first time in her beautiful life – was
doing just that, dropped her fan. Alex grinned and, with a smooth
bow, retrieved it. ‘You can’t imagine how flattered I am.’

With an effort,
she pulled herself together while the ambiguity sailed over her
head.

‘
And so
you should be – if it were true. As it is, I’m merely offering you
the chance to admit you were wrong in your attitude to my marriage
and to escape the tedium of your own … for which I feel partly
responsible.’

‘
You’re
too kind. Do you think I deserve it?’

‘
Probably
not,’ she replied with superb confidence. ‘But I’m willing to give
you the benefit of the doubt. Tomorrow evening I shall be alone. If
you call, I will receive you.’

Mr Deveril
turned the fan pensively between his fingers.

‘
You have
a fascinating view of my character that is entirely your own,’ he
told her gently. ‘I don’t change my mind from minute to minute. And
I myself hardly change at all.’