Marigold Chain (27 page)

‘
My
spirits,’ he continued plaintively, ‘are quite worn down. You can
have no notion of the problems one is surrounded with – my tact and
discretion are at breaking point. And now you tell me young Fawsley
is dead. It is too much. I really believe I must seek the Duke’s
leave to go to the country for a time before I become quite ill.
One does one’s best and one hesitates to complain but with the
Duchess about to give birth any day and the Duke so preoccupied
with Lady Denham – she wants him to own her publicly as his
mistress, you know – the burden of responsibilities falling on my
shoulders is quite crushing. I have even,’ he concluded pettishly,
‘had to miss two fittings with my tailor.’

‘
What a
shame,’ said Chloë automatically. She turned to the waterman, told
him to set her down at the Falcon Stairs and watched as he began to
steer cautiously across the river, her interest in Cousin Simon’s
idle discourse registering at several points below zero.

Pausing, Simon
eyed her with a measure of suave gravity and said, ‘I hope you will
feel able to offer my condolences to Alex. I hesitate to do it
myself – out of motives of the purest delicacy you, understand –
but one would not wish to be thought lacking in any attention.’

The barge slid
to a halt at the stairs and Chloë immediately stood up.

‘
Don’t
worry. I’ll tell him.’

‘
So
kind,’ sighed Simon. ‘He must be quite downcast. I do trust that he
hasn’t allowed the news to overset him. But then, he is so very
hardy, is he not? Not one to entertain sentiment. You have no idea
how I envy him. My own sensibilities are so very
strong.’

‘
Yes. I
noticed that. But Alex, fortunately, is too busy to be overset.’
She climbed out on to the steps and her voice became noticeably
astringent. ‘He hasn’t visited his tailor either. Thank you for the
ride. Goodbye.’ And before he could reply, she had turned and was
mounting the stairs.

*

At that moment,
Mr Deveril and Mr Beckwith, having returned from a two-day
expedition, were just entering the parlour. While Alex called to
Naomi, Giles sat down by the empty fireplace and stared
abstractedly up at the decorative over-mantel. Both men looked
extremely tired.

‘
I don’t
understand it,’ said Giles at last. ‘Whether by sabotage or
accident, it shouldn’t have happened.’

‘
No.’
Hands pushed deep in the pockets of his blue riding coat, Alex
gazed out of the window. ‘Chicheley thinks the same. He was
virtually in tears.’

‘
Understandably,’ agreed Mr Beckwith grimly. ‘Quite apart
from the wasted money, the replacement time will be considerable.
The
Loyal London
was due to
join the fleet within the week – but without guns she’s less than
useless. And if they wait to cast new ones, the fleet will be at
sea before they’re ready. If this is another attempt - - ‘ He
stopped as Naomi came in bearing wine and glasses.

She set it down
and hovered uncertainly, plainly wondering if she should pour.

Alex turned
round and waved her aside with sudden, irritable impatience. ‘Leave
it – we can manage.’ He watched her go and looked back at Giles.
‘Go on.’

‘
I was
going to say that if it
is
another instance of sabotage, it will prove uncommonly
effective.’

‘
Quite,’
said Alex dryly. ‘And if not, then our gun-makers are hellishly
careless. Either way, it’s equally incredible. Castings
occasionally prove faulty, we know – but not to this extent. And
how, without leaving any clue of your activities, do you tamper
with each of eighty guns so that every one appears perfect until
it’s test-fired?’

‘
God
knows. But if it was deliberate, someone made a damned good job of
it. They’d shattered like glass.’ Giles sipped his wine and then
went on, ‘It was in the smelting – it has to be. The proportion of
copper to zinc, perhaps – or maybe there were impurities in the
metal. I doubt that, though. Every timber and nail of that ship is
the very best quality – including, one would suppose, the
gun-metal.’

Mr Deveril sat
down and looked thoughtfully into his glass, the blue eyes shadowed
with fatigue. ‘So. We can rule out faulty materials – probably.
Workmanship then … also unlikely since no one man worked on all of
them. Which brings us back to – ‘

The door opened
again and Chloë walked in.

‘
Oh
Christ!’ said Alex. In one fluid movement, he was out of his chair
and across the room. ‘It’s not bloody open day. What do you
want?’

She stared at
him. ‘Nothing that can’t wait.’ And turned to leave.

It was Giles
who stopped her.

‘
Don’t
go,’ he said. ‘He’s just tired. We both are. Do you want me to
leave?’

She turned
back, shaking her head. ‘No. It’s merely that the Queen has asked
me to join her household and I’ve accepted. She’s going to
Tunbridge Wells the week after next and wants me to go with her. I
thought Mr Deveril might like to know.’

‘
At any
other time,’ drawled Alex, ‘Mr Deveril would be fascinated. But not
just now because we’re really rather busy. So if there’s nothing
else?’

For the first
time in months, Chloë lost her temper.

‘
Not
quite,’ she said unsteadily. ‘I’ve a message for you. Your cousin
sends his condolences and congratulates you on your lack of
sensitivity. He wishes he had it. As it is, he’s tortured with
sartorial anguish because he’ll have to appear at Trinity House in
a red coat. I wonder,’ she finished lethally, ‘if your family has a
monopoly on dramatic trivia?’

And she walked
out.

Giles swung
round to face Alex. The ice-blue gaze held a strange expression but
Giles ignored it. ‘For God’s sake! I know you’ve had no sleep for
the best part of two days but do you have to be so bloody
nasty?’

‘
Apparently, I do,’ snapped Alex. ‘And I don’t have to excuse
myself to you. So now I suggest you try applying your brain to what
she just said. Cousin Simon is on his way to Trinity
House.’

‘
What’s
new about that?’ Mr Beckwith’s voice was tight with control. ‘He’s
on York’s staff.’ And then stiffened as the significance of it
dawned on him.

‘
Precisely,’ said Alex. ‘He’s on York’s staff.’ He met Giles’
eyes steadily and there was a long, heavy silence. ‘It’s like
finding the last piece of the puzzle has been in your hand all the
time.’

Giles turned
away with a dismissive shrug.

‘
An
over-statement, surely? As Chloë pointed out, Simon’s mind doesn’t
function beyond the confines of his wardrobe. I agree that we
should check on him, just as we’re checking others – but I imagine
he’s no more likely to be our clever friend than one of the King’s
spaniels.’

‘
Don’t
under-estimate him,’ said Alex. ‘Remember that before ‘59 he moved
in Parliamentary circles but had the wit and address to effect a
perfectly timed
volte-face
.’

‘
And he
holds your father’s estates and you don’t like him,’ supplied
Giles, ‘so you’d find it convenient to brand him
traitor.’

‘
I don’t
deny it – which is why I want us to discuss it very carefully.’
Alex dropped his hands on the table and rested his weight on them.
‘We know our man is close to York – and who is closer than Simon?
He knows everything the Duke knows, has access to any document you
care to name and is trusted despite a very dubious past. If he were
really as effete as he seems, what use would he be to York? And his
father was one of Richard Wyllis’ closest friends.’

There was a
pause, then Giles said, ‘A lot of people liked Wyllis – Rupert, for
one. And since the Sealed Knot was betrayed all of seven years ago,
I’m inclined to believe your notion of a connection between that
and the present situation is a trifle fantastic. I’m sorry, Alex. I
think you’ve got to accept that you’re just biased.’

With a violent
twist, Alex wheeled to face him, eyes blazing with weary
frustration.

‘
So are
you – in the opposite direction. Why can’t you trust my judgement
for once?’

‘
Because
you’re too damned clever,’ replied Giles truthfully. ‘But it isn’t
your judgement I’m questioning. It’s your motives and eventual
intentions.’

‘
Why?
Because I’m sometimes rude to my wife and undisguisedly jealous of
my cousin? Because I don’t serve honour the same way you do, you
believe I don’t serve it at all – never mind to the best of my
ability?’ Alex’s mouth curled in something not quite a smile. ‘So
my temper and behaviour are frequently are not all they might be –
I’m impatient, intolerant and generally not fit to live with – my
God, don’t you think I know that? But we’ve known each other for
fifteen years, Giles. I may not have many virtues, but surely I
have enough to be credited with at least
some
proper feeling. So why is it so bloody
difficult for you to at least give me the benefit of the
doubt?’

Very slowly, Mr
Beckwith rose and looked at him.

‘
In the
general way, it isn’t. In this instance, however, I think you must
admit that the facts are against you. Frankly, I think it’s a
combination of our useless efforts and wishful thinking. And I’m
not helping you conduct a personal witch-hunt.’

‘
I see.’
The moment of appeal gone and already regretted, Alex’s tone became
completely impersonal. ‘Then I’ll just have to help myself, shan’t
I?’

*

It was
much later that evening before Mr Deveril finally found the
opportunity for a quiet chat with Mr Lewis. He explained his
theories in much greater detail than he had troubled to do for Mr
Beckwith and when he had finished he looked into the shrewd black
eyes and said with only faint mockery, ‘So there you have it. My
Cousin Simon – if it
is
my
Cousin Simon – is sitting hidden, secure as Zacchaeus up his tree.
What
we
have to do is shake
him out of it.’

The seamed,
weather-beaten face remained expressionless.

‘
And did
you,’ asked Matt, ‘have any idea of how? Bearing in mind that if
it’s
not
him and you show
your hand, the little maggot will take to the heather and leave you
worse off than you are now?’

‘
Quite,’
said Alex with a grim smile. ‘You wouldn’t also like to point out
that I’m allowing my imagination to run away with me – that I’m
merely prejudiced?’

Mr Lewis moved
as though to spit and then thought better of it.

‘
No. Are
you?’

The smile
became a shade less grim. ‘I don’t think so. At least, I hope not.’
There was a pause, then, ‘Very well. I wondered,’ said Mr Deveril
invitingly, ‘if you’d like to come house-breaking with me?’

Finally Matt
spoke.

‘
Why
not?’ he asked with dour humour. ‘Why not? It’s about the only
lunacy we haven’t tried before.’

*

Five nights
later, with cloud obscuring the waning moon, two black-clad figures
in soft boots made their way discreetly to the Strand and scaled
the wall of one of the houses there. Once inside the garden they
stopped for a moment, apparently listening, and then separated
without a word to circle the darkened house until they met again at
the rear.

‘
Anything?’ asked Alex.

Matt shook his
head. ‘No lights and quiet as the grave.’

‘
Right.
My side, then – and into the library.’

Silently, they
made their way round to the east wing of the house and then Alex
led the way slowly along it, counting windows as he went. At the
fifth one he stopped and, producing a slim but stoutly handled
knife from his pocket, inserted it carefully into the casement and
proceeded to work at the catch. Standing beside him, Matt kept a
watchful eye on either end of the house and strained his ears for
sounds from within. The click of the latch as it yielded to the
knife seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness and he turned his
head to find Mr Deveril grinning at him in the faint silvery
light.

‘
Having
broken, we can now enter,’ he said with what Matt privately thought
an inappropriate degree of levity. ‘You know what to
do?’

‘
Aye.’
They’d been over it so often that Mr Lewis could have set it to
music.

‘
Good.’

Turning back to
the window, Alex began to prise it open with his fingernails until
it swung outwards with a mournful groan. Then, drawing aside the
heavy curtain, he peered in; the room was in darkness and
apparently empty. He nodded curtly at Matthew, placed one foot on
the sill and, grasping the frame, levered himself easily up and for
the first time in eighteen years, entered the home of his
childhood. Then he took the lantern from Mr Lewis so that he could
follow.

When they were
both inside, Alex signalled Matt to hold back the curtains while he
trod quietly across to the door, placed his ear to it and then
opened it to look briefly into the hall. It was blackly silent and,
closing the door again, he turned the key in the lock and returned
to Matt’s side.

Mr Lewis pulled
the casement to, drew the curtains closely together and only then
did he light the lantern. A soft, golden glow illuminated the room,
touching the heavily-carved furniture and high shelves full of
books and rolls of parchment. Matt glanced swiftly around him,
allowing his eyes time to become accustomed to the light. Mr
Deveril was already standing beside a large oak desk,
systematically discovering which drawers were locked and which not.
Only the top left one appeared to have been secured, all the rest
opening easily to his touch. Alex smiled to himself, beckoned Matt
to join him and drew from his pocket a string containing an
assortment of keys, specially collected over the last few days.