Fire, page 24
‘I shall wait upon you on my return,’ I say.
I bow to him. He does not protest that this is excessive homage. Under the circumstances it may not be.
Will serves me tea.
‘There’s no need to reward me, sir,’ he says. ‘None at all. You pay me well enough anyway. Lawyers’ clerks don’t often get to shoot London Bridge in a wherry, then board a ship with half a dozen soldiers at their command. Anyway, the news that you are going to ask Lady Pole to marry you is reward enough. I congratulate you, sir.’
‘Not yet,’ I say. ‘I’m sure it must be bad luck to congratulate somebody before the deed is done.’
‘You were always meant for each other, sir. In that sense the deed was done long ago.’
‘Still, if you don’t mind, I’ll leave accepting those good wishes until I can do so on behalf of both of us.’
‘Of course, sir. You’ll need an early start tomorrow if you are to reach Clavershall West before nightfall. And I would advise returning here as soon as you can afterwards.’
‘Arlington wishes to discuss Hubert with me, but that will wait. Fortunately I can now testify to his innocence of both fire-raising and murder. Arlington will continue to hold him in prison until he is cleared by a trial or released without charges. There is no urgency there.’
‘You are right that Lord Arlington was never anxious to take action—one way or the other. He prefers the easy path, whatever that is. I am sure Mr Hubert is safe for a while, but if you wish him to take action against Lord Ashley, it would be as well that you were there to remind him what he needs to do.’
This sounds like further good advice from Will, but he has overlooked one thing.
‘Joseph Williamson will do that in my absence, Will. He at least is trustworthy. I shall return engaged to Lady Pole to find Ashley in gaol and Hubert free.’
Will nods. ‘I hope so, sir,’ he says.
CHAPTER
26
‘I trust you enjoyed your visit to London,’ my mother says, ‘and that your Mr Sparrow proved to be in considerable danger.’
‘Sadly he was in no danger at all,’ I say. ‘In the end, I spent a lot of my time on a boat on the Thames and I talked to two of the King’s ministers.’
‘You seem to think of nothing but your own pleasure. You are fortunate that I was here to speak to Aminta on her return from Royston.’
‘She’s back already? What did you say to her?’
‘Oh, there’s no need to look so horrified. I didn’t propose on your behalf. I merely reminded her that you were, in some ways, an excellent choice as a husband—not quite as malleable as one might like, but at least in possession of the good looks of my side of the family and with the prospects of inheriting the manor in due course. As a playwright, she’s unlikely to get a better offer. Men don’t like wives cleverer than they are—they are always at such a disadvantage in domestic matters that too clever a wife is not to be recommended. But if she gave up the theatre, then you and she might get along well enough.’
‘You said all that?’
‘Of course not. As a woman she would be aware of these things. It is only to you and Sir Felix that I need to spell them out.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘And what did she reply?’
‘She looked very thoughtful indeed. I think that you only need remind her of what I said and then ask her formally. If you discuss dates, then a wedding in the spring would be very nice.’
I find Aminta in the garden of the New House. It has become a little overgrown since my mother moved to the manor. The walk of pleached limes, once broad enough for two to stroll side by side, has become a tunnel of tangled branches that must be negotiated with great care. The topiary birds have grown plump and amorphous.
She too enquires about London. She seems grateful for my intervention on her father’s behalf. Like Will, she fears Arlington will stray from the straight and narrow path in my absence. We start a second tour of the leaf-covered lawn, arm in arm. But I am putting off what I came to say. I take a very deep breath.
‘Aminta,’ I say. ‘You will be aware that I have always held you in the greatest honour and respect and have been extremely fond of you since we first played in this garden as children …’
She gently disentangles herself from my arm and holds up her hand. ‘Is that the beginning of a proposal of marriage, by any chance?’
‘If you let me continue for a little longer, you would find out,’ I say.
‘And if I said that you would have to seek the permission of my father?’
‘I am pleased to say that I have discussed it with him. He raises no objections.’
‘Does he not? How thoughtful. And you have talked to your mother? She gives you a very good reference, by the way. If she were selling me a puppy, she could not have spoken more highly in its favour.’
‘I’m sorry—I told my mother not to say anything to you.’
‘But she was clearly aware of your intentions?’
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘And Will, your clerk? What does he think about it?’
I pause. I am aware that it will not do to say either that Will wholeheartedly endorses my plans or that he opposes them.
‘There is no need to answer that,’ says Aminta. ‘It is clear that he also knows far more about your marriage plans than I do. What about Arlington? Would he find it helpful if you were married? What about Mr Sparrow? What about that waterman who tried to drown you? Did he think it was a good idea? I can’t believe you didn’t mention it to him.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I say.
‘So, if not the waterman, who did recommend your current course of action? You have shown little inclination to propose until now.’
‘I’m sorry, Aminta. There were difficulties of which I would rather not speak.’
‘Really?’
This is getting me nowhere. I take a very deep breath again. ‘I was afraid … I was afraid you might be my half-sister.’
‘Because you thought Sir Felix might be your father?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you have now been reassured?’
‘Yes.’
‘That Matthew Grey is my father and Sir Felix yours?’
‘You knew?’
‘It didn’t take any great intelligence to work it out.’
‘Didn’t it?’
She looks at me pityingly. ‘You had only to ask me. I always thought that you looked like Marius.’
‘I see.’
‘So, now we’ve cleared that up, would you like to tell me why should I wish to many you? Your mother assures me that you can be trained and taught to roll over at my command rather than Arlington’s. She points out that you will inherit the manor when your stepfather dies, thus returning me to the house I was born in. She stressed that dull men can actually make very good and loving husbands. She sees us growing old together here in Essex, you managing the estate, me supplying her with grandchildren.’
‘As I said, I told my mother …’
‘You should not blame her. I really think she made the best case possible—certainly much better than your own statement that you honoured and respected me and that nobody you’d spoken to recently thought it was a bad idea.’
‘Fine,’ I say. ‘My mother has described the goods correctly. Do I have a sale or not?’
For the first time Aminta smiles. ‘I like you, John. I like you a lot. It’s just that … do you really think that marriage is all I want? Do you think that my dearest wish is to spend the rest of my days here in Essex, running a house—a very nice house, I grant you—and looking after your children? The London theatres will soon be reopening. A little fire won’t stop us. I have a new play almost finished. There are actually people out there looking forward to seeing it, simply because it will have my name on it. I think I can be the best playwright of our age—or the best writer of comedies, at least. And if I can’t be either of those things, I can still try to be the best writer I can be. But I need to be in London. I need to be at rehearsals. I need my actors and actresses around me. I need to talk to other playwrights. I can’t do all that in a nice house in Essex, chastising the maids and wiping up sick.’
‘I see,’ I say.
‘Please don’t look like that. One day I may want a puppy not unlike you … Just give me a little more time to think about it. A few days. Maybe a few weeks. A month or two at the most. I’ll stay and finish writing the new play here. Then I’ll come back. But you need to go to London now because in the end Arlington can’t be trusted to do the right thing and you can be. Go tomorrow if you can. Then be patient. I’ll write to you there.’
‘I’m sorry I spoke to my mother first …’
‘If it helps, I have to admit that I consulted my father on what I should do if you did propose.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘He said it was up to me, but that you couldn’t be worse than Roger Pole.’
CHAPTER
27
‘I knew that I should have done it myself.’
‘On the contrary, Mother, I made a perfectly good case. Aminta wishes to pursue her craft—or at least, she needs longer to think about whether now is a good time to get married.’
‘There is no bad time to get married. Just bad choices of husbands, as many women know to their cost. But get the choice right and all times are good.’
‘I am to return to London and await Aminta’s decision.’
‘I think that very imprudent of both of you. The thing stands on a knife-edge. It would be better you were here when she makes up her mind. The problem is, you see, that you are not very memorable. And your good features are not easy to fix upon. She needs frequent reminders.’
‘I have to go. A man’s life may depend on it.’
‘Well, you might stay until tomorrow at least. Your stepfather still imagines he is dying. I have informed him he is mistaken, but it would oblige him and me if you would remain long enough to see which of us is right.’
The following morning my mother is reluctantly forced to admit that she is wrong. Even the doctor cannot disprove my stepfather’s conviction that he has hours to live. By midday the matter is resolved beyond any further objections that my mother can raise. Before there can be any wedding, there will have to be a funeral.
‘The will is quite clear,’ says my mother, tapping the sheet of paper in front of her. ‘The house and estate are held in trust for me until my death, when you inherit. I think it would, on reflection, have been wise of me to take a countersigned copy of the will with me when I went to see Aminta. It’s much better to have things in writing. I have known mothers lie quite brazenly about such matters, and girls are right to be cautious of husbands who come without a proper warranty. But it might have been difficult to explain to your stepfather why I needed to borrow the will.’
‘Aminta is not in any way influenced by money,’ I say. ‘She will marry, if she marries at all, for love.’
‘Then she would be wise to fall in love with somebody who has money. Your father—I mean Matthew Grey in this instance—had very little money. I had hoped that he would make some as a surgeon but he was, in that respect as in so many others, a great disappointment to me. I don’t know why he had to sneak away with that Clifford woman in the way he did. Neither Sir Felix nor I would have raised any objections had they done it perfectly openly. I suppose he felt that it was the right way to do it. It would sometimes have been interesting to know what was going on inside his little head.’
‘So does that make you lord of the manor, Master John?’ Ben Bowman asks, pushing an overflowing tankard across the bar.
‘I don’t think so,’ I say. ‘I’m just a trustee for my mother.’
‘That’s a pity, because I wasn’t going to charge you for that if you were lord of the manor.’
‘I’ll inherit it all eventually,’ I say. ‘But it’s my mother who is lady of the manor.’
‘That’s nice for you both then. And I’m sure your mother will enjoy the free ale whenever she stops by,’ he says. ‘But in the meantime that’ll be a halfpenny, cash only—I’d like to give you credit, but only the lord of the manor gets that. You can’t be too careful with common folk, can you?’
‘As you know, I’ve been the Colonel’s steward since he moved here, sir. The Colonel was a good man, sir, but the estate could have been managed better. He never wanted to drain that big lower field. But we’d be able to grow a lot more corn if we did. It would be worth an extra fifty pounds a year to you. Maybe you might consider …’
‘Just do it,’ I say.
‘Thank you, sir. I shall. And I’d fell some of the timber in your wood over yonder, if I were you. That’s good English oak, that is. It would more than pay the cost of drainage.’
‘Do that too then,’ I say.
‘Thank you, sir. I think we’ll have the estate profitable again by the time you inherit it.’
Well, at least I do have options other than drafting wills and sneaking down dark alleyways for Arlington.
‘That won’t be for a long time,’ I say. ‘My mother’s family has been waiting almost eighty years to get the manor back. She won’t be letting go of it before she has to.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it. My great-grandfather worked for hers. Are you going back to London soon, Mr Grey?’
‘Yes, the estate seems to be in good hands with you here. I have comforted my mother, to the extent that it was required, for some weeks. I really must go back.’
‘Lady Pole used to live here, I think, sir?’
‘Yes, before the Colonel bought it from her father … from Sir Felix.’
‘I saw her walking in the grounds the other day. You’ve no objection, I assume?’
‘Of course not. Oh, and I think you can stop locking the gate to the Park. It shouldn’t inconvenience us much if the villagers want to take a short cut.’
‘I’ll do that, sir. Said she was writing a play, Lady Pole did. Have you ever heard of that before, sir? A lady writing a play?’
‘She writes them very well. She’s quite famous for it in London.’
He shakes his head. It confirms his worst suspicions about the capital.
‘She had no message for me, I suppose?’
‘No, Mr Grey. She did not. She stopped and exchanged a few words, but she had no messages. So will I see you here tomorrow, sir?’
‘No. I think I’ll hire one of Ben’s horses and get an early start in the morning. It’s a long way from here to London.’
‘You are a good agent, Grey,’ says Lord Arlington, ‘but I do understand the ways of the court better than you. I’ve had time to think about things since I last saw you. Ashley is a difficult man, it is true, but he is not an enemy. The Earl of Clarendon conversely is an enemy, and one against whom one cannot have too many allies. I can’t afford to drive Ashley into Clarendon’s camp. Not if we are to bring Clarendon down and free the King from his influence.’
‘But if Ashley were in the Tower or in exile it would not matter whose camp he was in,’ I say.
‘The King is reluctant to have him arrested for encouraging a Catholic plot. It might suggest that the fire was not an accident as the King has claimed.’
‘I can see the difficulty. But Ashley did plot with Peidloe and the other conspirators to burn London down.’
‘The fire started in Farynor’s bakery. Everyone knows that. Mr Graunt’s actions in cutting off the water supply may have made life more difficult for the firemen, but Farynor and our Lord Mayor between them could probably have managed to destroy London very well without his assistance. It would not be convenient to take action against Lord Ashley at the present time.’
‘So, you place expediency above justice?’
‘I’m glad we understand each other so well.’
‘Then I see no point in continuing this conversation,’ I say.
‘Excellent. We can let the matter rest,’ says Arlington. ‘That is certainly the King’s wish.’
‘And Mr Graunt …?’
‘ … was quietly released last week.’
‘Will it not seem odd,’ I say, ‘that no action has been taken when people learn that the water supply from the New River Head was cut off on the night of the fire?’
‘There is a rumour that it was, but no proof.’
‘But we know it was.’
‘You won’t find it in writing anywhere.’
‘Surely the minutes of the New River Company meetings will show it?’
‘Why would they wish to do that?’
Arlington, as so often, has a point there.
‘And Hubert?’ I ask. ‘Will he also be quietly released?’
‘That would be difficult, since he was hanged yesterday.’
‘Hanged?’
‘That is what happens if you are found guilty of a serious crime such as setting fire to a city.’
‘But we’ve just agreed—it was an accident. Surely the judge could see that Hubert was mad?’
‘Of course he could. So did Lord Chancellor Clarendon—even that fool didn’t believe a word Hubert said. Everyone who met Hubert knows he was innocent. But he pleaded guilty. There is no mechanism for the court to dispute that. And Lowman’s evidence was damning. Of course, it was mainly about how clever Lowman had been to trick Hubert into showing him how he set fire to the bakery. And how clever Lowman had been in disproving Hubert’s ludicrous story about the Swedish ship. But all that combined with the confession—Hubert could only be convicted and hang. It’s unfortunate, but there it is.’
‘Lord Ashley had told him that as long as he insisted on his guilt, no harm would come to him.’
‘Ah, that would explain it then,’ says Arlington. ‘I’m informed that, at the very last, Hubert seemed to change his mind, just as the rope was placed round his neck. Perhaps he’d finally worked out that Ashley was not going to help him. But it was, of course, much too late then.’
