The King's Man (23 page)

"Ow!” May gave her sister a rueful look. “It's about Thamsine,” she said. “She made me promise not to tell and I'm a girl of me word."

Nan gave a snort of disgust. “Gawd, May, she could be lying dead in some ditch. You tell him."

"She told us that she was running away from a man what wanted to marry her for her money.” May said in a rush.

Kit nodded. “I know that much,” he said. “Did she mention the man's name?"

May shook her head. “No, but she said he were mean and vicious.” Her eyes widened. “You don't suppose...?"

"I don't suppose anything, May,” Kit said quickly, the same thought crossing his mind. He rose to his feet and took May's face in his hands, kissing her forehead. “You did right to tell me."

May looked relieved. “So you'll find her?"

He smiled. “Of course I will and I'm sure she will be just fine."

Kit stumped up to the parlor of Lucy's house, tossed his hat in a corner and sat down beside the parlor fire, toying with his pipe that lacked the tobacco to smoke. Lucy was not at home and he felt an odd sense of relief. Since his return from Paris, he had found Lucy's company cloying and a little demanding.

A timid knock on the door jolted him from his reverie. The kitchen scullion stood in the doorway twisting her hands in her apron. He didn't even know her name. Something plain—Mary or Jane?

"Beg pardon, sir."

"Yes?” he snapped.

She flinched, her eyes darting to the door. “It's not my place,” she began. “But I didn't think it were right."

Kit looked at her in irritation. He didn't need some petty domestic matter to solve. “What's not right ... um ... Mary?"

"Bess, sir."

"Bess. What's not right?"

"I'm a good girl, sir. Bought up a proper God-fearing Christian I am,” the girl gabbled.

"Bess...” Kit fought his impatience. If the girl was going to tell him something, he didn't want to scare her.

"There are things that happen in this house, sir. Men who come to call. When you're not here of course,” she added.

"Bess, that is none of your concern,” he said sternly. He didn't need to be reminded by a kitchen scullion that his mistress was free with her favors.

"I don't mean you, sir. You're different. You're a gentleman. Always nice to me but there are some...” She tailed off. “That's why I thought you should know, seeing as how she's a friend of yours."

"Who?"

"The music teacher."

Kit's heart skipped a beat. “Go on, Bess."

"Well there's been this man what's been calling while you've been away."

That hardly surprised Kit. Lucy had the morals of an alley cat.

"Do you know his name?"

Bess shook her head. “Really handsome, taller than you, darker too, wears his hair longer."

Ambrose Morton. Kit felt a surge of annoyance with Lucy. While he accepted the fact that other men kept her bed warm in his absence, it irked him that she had chosen Ambrose Morton.

"I don't like him,” Bess continued. “There's a way he looks at a person. Gives me the shivers."

Kit wasn't a woman but he had to agree. There was something in those cold, grey eyes that made his flesh crawl too.

"A couple of weeks ago, while you was away, the music teacher came to give Mistress Talbot her lesson. Halfway through the lesson he turns up. I were in the kitchen but I could hear them from down there. Terrible fight there was, furniture banging and I heard her scream."

"Mistress Talbot?"

"No, not her, the music teacher! I sneaked out of the kitchen and I saw him carrying her down the stairs. She's kicking and scratching but he's got his hand over her mouth."

"What happened to her, Bess?” Kit felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"He shoves her into a carriage and they takes off. I had to get back to the kitchen afore Mistress Mag saw I was gone."

"Can you tell me anything about the carriage? Did you see a coat of arms, anything to distinguish it?"

Bess shook her head. “It were just a plain carriage. Nothing special.” The girl looked at him anxiously. “Did I do right to tell you, sir?"

He forced a smile. “You did quite right, Bess. Here...” He tossed her a coin that she caught before smiling, curtseying and turning back for the kitchen.

Kit stood and crossed to the window, looking out at the bleak, cold evening. What was Lucy's involvement? And what in God's name was Thamsine's relationship with Ambrose Morton?

Then it all fell into place. Morton himself had as good as told him. He had the stories from both sides but he had never thought to connect them. Thamsine was Morton's runaway bride, the girl who had fled to London, supposedly with another man. Morton was the mean and vicious man that had wanted to marry Thamsine for her money. Now he had found her and the consequences for Thamsine could only be dire.

He slammed his fist on the windowsill in frustration. He didn't even know where to find Ambrose Morton, let alone Thamsine. He trawled his memory for every conversation he had ever had with Morton. Turnham Green. Morton said he had lodged with a friend at Turnham Green. A lawyer at Turnham Green. For the life of him he could not remember the name but it would not be too hard to find a lawyer living in Turnham Green.

Kit snatched up his hat and gloves and strode out of the house.

Kit's hired horse had a mouth as hard as rock and seemed in no hurry to reach the pretty village of Turnham Green, about an hour's ride on a good horse from London. However, the steady pace allowed Kit time to think and by the time he reached the village, he had remembered the name of the lawyer that Lucy said she had known. Knott. An appropriate name, he thought, for the tangle he found himself in.

The name of the village rang in his memory as the site of the first confrontation of the war, when the King marching on London had been turned back at Turnham Green. Such a monumental day had left no echoes in the quiet streets and after some judicious enquiry he found the Knott's neat house a little way out of the village, set well back from the London Road.

He knocked on the door and a timid maid answered it. She asked his name and showed him into a tidy parlor. The plain, unadorned furniture glowed with many polishings and a bowl of early spring flowers sat squarely in the centre of the table. Kit touched the fragile blooms.

A man entered the room, shutting the door behind him. Kit's eyes flicked over his unprepossessing appearance. He stood barely middle height, his thin body concealed behind dark clothes. His straight, graying hair had been brushed over the top of his pate to conceal the balding hairline. His pale face bore a downcast expression, which to judge from the lines was habitual.

"Captain Lovell?” he enquired.

Kit bowed. “Master Knott."

"What business brings you to my house?"

"I am looking for a friend, a Mistress Thamsine Granville."

The man's thin lips trembled slightly. “I cannot help you, Captain Lovell."

The door opened and a slight woman entered the room. Like her husband she wore plain clothes, her graying hair covered by a neat, white cap.

"Captain Lovell,” she said, “my name is Jane Knott, I am Thamsine Granville's sister."

"Your servant.” Kit bowed.

Her sister? He scanned Jane Knott's face for some resemblance to her sister and found none. A massive bruise marred the right side of her face and he cast the husband a quick glance, wondering if such a man was capable of violence against a woman.

"Roger.” Jane turned to her husband. “Captain Lovell is a friend. He is the only one who can help her."

Her husband opened her mouth, but she put a hand over his.

"Please, Roger. Thamsine needs our help.” She turned to Kit. “Please sit, Captain Lovell."

Kit removed his gloves and took the proffered chair at the table. The Knotts sat straight-backed on the hard chairs, across from him as if he were interviewing them.

Kit held up a hand. “Mistress Knott, you must understand I know little of Thamsine's history. I am trying to piece it together."

Jane's eyes widened. “But I thought you were friends?"

Thamsine had her reasons not to trust him, Kit thought bitterly.

"We have an unusual relationship,” he said. “More of a working relationship that I care not to go into here.” Then realizing by the shocked looks on both the Knott's faces, he hastily added. “I assure you it was quite respectable.” Whatever ‘respectable’ meant. “Do you know where she is now?"

Jane's lip trembled. “No.” Her hand closed over her husband's. “He took her away. Even Roger doesn't know.” She shot her husband a quick sideways glance and he nodded unhappily.

"He?"

"Ambrose Morton."

Kit said nothing. The couple shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. He decided that what he saw were two people overwhelmed by events and beset with conscience.

Kit looked at Jane Knott. “Your face, Mistress Knott? Is that Morton's handiwork?"

Jane's fingers shook as they rose to her bruised face.

"My wife showed more courage than I did, Captain Lovell,” Knott said unhappily. “I have been a fool in so many ways."

He clasped his wife's hand and lifted it to his lips.

"It would help,” Kit said, “if I were to know the full story."

"I only know what Thamsine has told me,” Jane said. “You must understand, the war separated us for too long."

"Tell me what you know then,” Kit said, with enormous patience.

Jane swallowed. “I am somewhat older than Thamsine and her brother. My mother died when I was eight and my father remarried. Thamsine was born when I was eleven and Edward two years later,” Jane began. “Shortly before the war I married Roger.” Jane looked at her husband and smiled. “At much the same time, Thamsine became enamored of our neighbor, Ambrose Morton. He was twenty, she was but fourteen. He wooed her with considerable passion and she begged my father for a betrothal, which he granted."

"What did Ambrose Morton want with Thamsine?"

"Her dowry was generous enough but what she stood to inherit from her mother's estate was considerable,” Knott said. “Her mother was the daughter of one of Elizabeth's merchant venturers. He amassed a fortune in his lifetime and under the terms of his will, it passed to his daughter Elizabeth, Thamsine's mother, and then directly to her children. Edward and Thamsine were to share it. After Edward's death, of course, it all passed to Thamsine."

"The Morton family has been less fortunate,” Jane continued. “They are a Catholic family. Ambrose's mother was a spendthrift and what little was left of their fortunes she squandered."

Kit sighed as it all became clear. “So Thamsine's fortune, enhanced by her brother's death at Worcester, was very attractive but Mistress Knott, you said they were betrothed before the war? That is twelve years ago."

"You must understand,” Jane said hurriedly, “that the war divided us. Roger sided with Parliament...” She cast her husband a quick, sideways glance. “...my father for the King, so I did not see Thamsine from early 1642 until late last year, when she came to us seeking help, which...” She paused, her eyes unhappy. “...we were not able to give."

Kit narrowed his eyes but let the comment pass.

"So what had happened between Thamsine and Morton?” he said.

"She told me she broke the betrothal in 1646 after coming across Morton in the act of...” Jane swallowed. “...rape."

Kit stared at her. He tried to feel shocked and surprised but couldn't. Morton enjoyed taking women by force. He had intimated as much in one of their conversations.

"And after that?” Kit moved on.

Jane shrugged. “Morton went to the Continent. My father, stupid besotted fool, married Isabelle Morton and Ambrose Morton came home. After Edward's death, Ambrose and his mother persuaded my father that Thamsine was not capable of inheriting such a vast estate in her own right. My father changed his will, making Ambrose her guardian and at the same time executed a deed of betrothal between Thamsine and Morton. He bound her to that monster for life. After our father died early last year, Thamsine did what she could to delay the wedding but Morton grew impatient. One night he tried to force her...” Jane took a deep breath. “She was only saved by Annie."

"Annie?"

"Ambrose has an imbecile sister, of whom he is very fond."

That surprised Kit. He could not imagine Morton being fond of anything or anyone.

"Annie gave Thamsine Ambrose's pistol and she shot him. She thought she had killed him so she ran for her life, to us here in London. Only we let her down.” Jane looked at her husband who looked away.

Jane continued, “Morton had only been grazed by the pistol ball. He came here looking for her but Thamsine saw him and managed to escape."

"We ... he spent the last four months scouring the streets of London looking for her,” Roger Knott concluded.

Kit looked from one to another. There was more here than Knott was telling. He viewed the man coldly. “I'm sorry, Master Knott, but I don't understand your role in this. Surely as Thamsine's closest relative, you should have protected her. What does Morton use to persuade you to be his lackey?” Kit's voice was hard.

Knott looked up. He had gone a shade paler. His tongue circled his thin lips.

"Tell him,” Jane's voice was soft but beneath her gentle demeanor, Kit felt an iron will. Jane Knott knew her husband well.

"Blackmail, Captain Lovell.” Knott looked at his wife and clasped her hands tightly. “I have told Jane all and she has forgiven me."

"What did you do that warranted blackmail?"

"An indiscretion, some letters, involving a lady of the town."

"Her name?"

Knott shook his head. “It is no concern of yours."

"Lucy Talbot?” Kit supplied the answer without really knowing where it came from.

Knott's head came up, his eyes wide with fear. “Captain Lovell, you must understand my position. I hold a post with the Government. If word were to get out—the scandal would ruin me."

Kit looked at the man with distaste. It gave him no pleasure to know he had ploughed a furrow already seeded by this pathetic model of manhood. “So what has become of Thamsine?"