The King's Man (25 page)

"Enjoy your stay, Lucy."

For reply, he heard her spit. He smiled at the door and turned away.

"Come, Thamsine,” he said, bending down and lifting her into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder.

"Watcha doing? You can't just take her. What am I going to tell me superiors?” The wardress sounded agitated.

Kit looked around the grim chamber. “Next woman that dies, tell them her name was Annie Morton. Perhaps this will help smooth the way.” He tossed the wardress the remains of Lucy's purse. “Now see us out,” he ordered.

The other inmates howled and clawed at his legs as he marched through.

"You know, for a thin woman with no meat on your bones, Thamsine Granville, you certainly weigh enough,” he whispered.

"How did you find me?"

"It wasn't easy. It would have helped if you had told me the whole story on the day we met. Then I would have known who Ambrose Morton was and what a threat he was to you."

Her shoulders heaved as the sobs came in an unchecked flood. He settled her in the corner of the Hackney coach and gave the driver the order to go. In the dark of the coach's interior, he took Thamsine in his arms again, holding her close.

"You don't smell very good,” he whispered in her ear.

A small vibration of laughter rewarded him. “You do. You smell of sweat and horses."

"It's been a busy day."

"Where are we going?"

"To The Ship for the time being."

"He knows I lodge there."

"He may well know that, but it will have do for the moment. I've nowhere else to take you."

Thamsine's slight body became a dead weight and he knew that shock had claimed her and that she had fallen asleep or slipped into the self-preservation of unconsciousness.

The coach drew up at the Ship Inn. Kit lifted Thamsine out and carried her through the back entrance to the inn.

Roused from their beds, and still in their nightclothes, the girls came clattering down the stairs.

May gave a sharp cry. “You found her! Oh Cap'n Lovell, what's happened to her? What'd he do to her?"

Kit marched past her and continued up the stairs to Thamsine's chamber.

"She'll be all right. She just needs cleaning up and rest,” he said as he laid her on the bed.

May busied herself lighting a fire and he sat down on the bed beside her, chafing at her icy hand, trying to bring some life back to her.

"Thamsine? Talk to me, Thamsine."

Her eyes flickered open and she smiled.

"Kit,” she whispered, drowsily, “I'm so tired.” Her eyes closed again.

Nan brought a foul-smelling tallow candle closer. She shoved Kit aside with her hip. “Get lost. I'll see to her."

Kit crossed to the fire and stood staring into it, while behind him Nan and May stripped Thamsine of the damp shift.

"Where's she bin to get into this state? She's cold as death,” Nan said.

"Bedlam."

"Bedlam! Who put her there?” Nan expostulated.

"It's a long story,” Kit replied wearily.

"It was him, weren't it?” May muttered darkly. “The one that wanted to marry her."

"Yes."

"Who is this cove?” Nan's eyes narrowed malevolently.

"A man called Ambrose Morton. You may have seen him. Tall, dark haired, handsome..."

"Describing yourself are we?” May said.

Kit gave an ironic laugh and turned to look at the girls. “I'm only quoting someone else. If he does come here, he's not to find her. Is that understood?"

Nan shrugged. “If you say so. There's plenty of hidey holes in this old place. He'll not find her."

"Not much we can do about her hair except cut it!” May held up the filthy, matted mess. “Pity. It's such lovely hair."

The girls had found a plain nightdress and when they had cleaned Thamsine up to the best of their ability, they dressed her unresisting body in it and with Kit's help settled her into the bed.

"So why'd you bring her here and not to yer fancy mistress?” Nan asked.

"My ‘fancy mistress’ is a duplicitous bitch,” Kit said savagely.

Both girls both looked around at him. “So you've left her, ‘ave you? Not before time. I always said she was no good.” Nan said.

"You never met her,” Kit said, bemused.

"I saw her wiv you and I formed me own opinions. You should've left her long afore this. This one,"—Nan jerked her head at the bed—"now she's more than right for you. Well, I'm going back to me own bed. We'll leave her to you, my lovely."

"She could do with a bit of warming up!” May gave him a wink.

Kit sat down beside the bed and picked up Thamsine's hand, noting for the first time the slender musician's fingers and the fine bones. Her eyes fluttered open and her fingers tightened on his. She had begun to shiver uncontrollably, her teeth chattering.

Kit pulled the blankets higher but to no effect. It seemed he had little choice but to follow the twins’ advice. He stripped down to his breeches and shirt and climbed into the bed beside her, folding her in his arms.

As the heat from his body began to permeate her, the shivering lessened and she slept, curled within the circle of his arms as if she had always belonged there. He held her tighter. He'd never known this thing called ‘love’ could be so painful. His heart ached for her but strangely, despite her proximity, he felt no carnal desire, just the pleasure of holding her, being near her, keeping her safe. He kissed the top of her head, closed his own eyes and let sleep wash over him.

Kit hunched his shoulders into his cloak as a bitter wind blew up the river, bringing the small boat with the red sail in to dock at St. Katherine's. He stamped his feet with the cold and blew on his hands. A plank had been flung across the gap between the boat and the dock and De Baas, immediately recognizable from his hawk-like visage, pranced across it.

"
Mes cheres
,” he exclaimed, grasping Henshaw and Kit to his perfumed person. “I have brought him."

A second man had crossed the plank and stood beside De Baas, a slight figure, his face shadowed by the wide-brimmed hat. Despite himself, Kit shivered, feeling a dark malevolence in the stillness of the man. He felt as if the unseen eyes bored into his soul. Kit had killed men but it had always been in the heat of battle or self-defence, never in cold blood. He wondered what sort of person would undertake such a calling.

"Monsieur Debigné, my English friends Henshaw and Lovell."

The Frenchman bowed but did not speak.

Henshaw cleared his throat. “There is an inn nearby where our friends wait. I suggest we adjourn there and we can advise you of the plan."

Gerard and Vowells had taken the private parlor. A luncheon of cold meat and cheese encircled a map. The men bent over it.

"Cromwell is accustomed to visiting Hampton Court Palace every Saturday,” Henshaw said. “We've been watching him. He takes the same route every time.” His finger traced the road from London to Hampton. “He travels by coach with a guard of twenty men. Wiseman and I have reconnoitred the route and we believe an ambush can be laid here.” His finger jabbed. “It's heavily wooded and there is a bend in the road which will force the coach to slow."

Kit translated for Debigné then asked, “How many men? To my mind, we will need at least forty. Vowells?"

"I have three times that number,” Vowells spoke in badly accented French.

"Experienced?” Debigné spoke for the first time.

Vowells shrugged. “Some."

"Forty men is a large number to secrete,” Debigné commented.

"It can be done,” Henshaw said. “Our target is Cromwell. A select few will go in with the sole purpose of dragging Cromwell from the coach and Ireton if he is with him. Monsieur, you know your job. I do not need to tell you what must be done."

Debigné nodded. “It will be fast."

"Once it is accomplished, we make haste for London. Vowells, you and Fox will have the ‘prentices here and here,” Gerard pointed to places on the map within striking distance of Whitehall. There will be chaos when news of the Protector's death hits the streets. We act fast. Ireton, Thurloe, you have the names, must all be secured."

"And what is your alternative plan?” Debigné asked mildly.

"Alternative?” Lord Gerard looked up at the Frenchman then at Kit to check that he had heard the word correctly.

"What if Cromwell does not choose to visit Hampton Court on this particular day?” Debigné asked.

"Why would he do that? He always does it."

Debigné shrugged. “Something may detain him?” He looked around the circle of faces, “He may get wind of the plan."

"Only those of us within this room know these plans,” Lord Gerard said firmly. “Every man here is to be trusted."

Debigné straightened. “That is good,” he said. “When next we meet we talk about an alternative plan. Now gentlemen, I am weary from the voyage. Baron?"

"Where are you staying?” Kit asked.

Debigné's cold eyes met his. “I make my own arrangements. You may leave a message with Baron de Baas and I will contact him."

After Debigné and De Baas left, the conspirators turned to their usual occupation of wine and cards. Kit excused himself. He could learn nothing more of any use and there was nothing more he could contribute. There were other things he needed to accomplish before the day was done and the first required a ride to Turnham Green to tell Jane Knott that her sister was safe.

He chose a horse with a better temperament and made good time to the village. With the practice of years, he took up a position where he could watch the house in Turnham Green unobserved. He had no wish to see Roger Knott so he dispatched a boy with a short, cryptic note that only Jane Knott would understand.

Jane, wearing a cloak and hat and carrying a basket, left the house. Kit slipped from his hiding place and followed her at a discreet distance. She bought vegetables and some meat from the local stallholders and, carrying her basket, walked down to the riverbank. When he was certain she was out of sight and earshot of the village he closed the distance between them.

Jane sat on the bank of the river, her knees drawn up to her chest, like a child.

"Mistress Knott?"

She jumped like a startled rabbit.

He held up his hand and sat down beside her. “I'm sorry to startle you."

"Your note was somewhat vague,” Jane said, “but I hoped it was you."

"I have just come to tell you that I found Thamsine."

Jane looked up at him. “Is she...?"

"She is alive and unhurt.” He paused, uncertain of how much to tell her. “He had confined her to Bedlam."

Jane put a hand to her throat. “Oh surely not that awful place?"

"She would have been dead or mad within weeks,” Kit stated. “He used the name Annie Morton to secure her. His sister, I presume?"

Jane nodded. “Yes, poor Annie. Is Thamsine all right? He didn't...?"

"Apart from a few bruises and shock she seems unharmed and she is safe with friends for the moment."

Jane closed her eyes. “Thank God. Morton came to the house this morning in a fearful temper. He and Roger left for London two hours ago."

"Morton needs your husband again."

Jane lowered her eyes. “I know. He and your friend Lucy Talbot hold him fast. He is so afraid of scandal. He would be ruined."

"And what about you?” Kit frowned. “Mistress Knott, he is an adulterer of the worst sort. Have you never considered leaving him?"

She looked horrified. “Those who God has joined together let no man put asunder,” she said. “And there are the children ... no, I could never leave him. Despite what he did, he does love me, Captain Lovell."

"I understand,” Kit said.

"I know you've found Thamsine and she is safe for the moment, but it will not end there, Captain Lovell.” Jane accepted his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. “It won't end until Ambrose Morton is dead or...” She looked at him.

"Or...?"

"Or Thamsine is wed to another,” she said. “My father's will does not name Ambrose Morton. It states that the estate passes to Thamsine upon her marriage. Marriage will free her.” She grasped his hand. “Captain Lovell, do you love her?"

She mistook his silence, her voice faltered as she said, “I suppose love doesn't matter. If you care for her at all, even if it is just as a friend, marry her."

Kit spread his hands. “Mistress Knott I can't marry her! My life is ... complicated."

Her eyes widened. “Do you have a wife, Captain Lovell?"

He shook his head. “No..."

Jane's tone became desperate. “I am certain she loves you, Captain Lovell, and it would be the one certain way to free her from Ambrose Morton.” She smiled grimly. “Surely you must see that it would not be to your disadvantage either."

Kit's shoulders straightened. “I am not so far lost that I would marry her for her fortune, Mistress Knott. That would make me no better than Morton."

"But you don't deny it would be helpful?"

"Of course it would be. An heiress for a wife would be the answer to my prayers."

"Then marry her and be done with it, Captain Lovell,” Jane said. “If you don't and something happens to her, you will regret it for the rest of your days."

He nodded. “That is a hard choice you give me, Mistress Knot. I'm not certain that you understand me at all!"

She dropped her eyes. “Then I'm sorry if I misunderstood the nature of your friendship with Thamsine."

He took her hand and pressed it to her lips. “I will think on it. In the meantime I will wish you a good day, Mistress Knott."

He took his leave of her and rode slowly back to London.

The lights of the Ship Inn pierced the gloom of the evening. Already the sound of raucous laughter spilled into the street. Kit stopped for a moment in the street outside and looked up at the flapping sign. It seemed a strange place to call home.

Jam looked up as he entered and jerked his head in the direction of the chest Kit had sent him to Holborn to fetch from the maid, Bess.

"What news from Holborn?"

"Place is in an uproar. The girl had your chest at the kitchen door. I could hear her mistress howling from the street,” Jem shuddered. “My betting is he took none too kindly to finding his bird had flown."