‘Why should Lord Arlington come after me?’ Jane blinked. ‘I’m a servant. What have you told him?’
‘Nothing,’ I protested. ‘He doesn’t need me to tell him anything. He has an army of spies that do that for him. Believe me, he …’ I found myself frozen, mouth half open, leaning forwards, arms extended. How could I help her understand the enormity of the threat without frightening her out of her wits?
Jane narrowed her eyes and breathed deeply. ‘What have you done?’ she asked, suddenly quiet.
‘I told you he sent us to Shyam to find James Josselin,’ I reminded her, bracing myself. ‘Well, we found him, but didn’t capture him, for there is a good chance he is innocent. Arlington told us to watch for
Josselin outside Holland House but I went inside to see if the Earl of Clarendon might help.’
Jane folded her arms.
‘It was a trap. Arlington’s men were watching us all the time.’
‘Then he will dismiss you,’ Jane nodded calmly, ‘and not pay you the money he has never paid you anyway.’
I shook my head. ‘No. He will cut us in half upon an instrument of torture he calls a Spanish donkey.’
Jane’s pale face turned whiter.
I held up my hands. ‘Before you ask, I don’t know how I got myself involved, but now I am and so are you.’
‘What will you do?’ she asked, eyes brimming.
‘Find James Josselin,’ I replied, meeting her gaze. ‘We know where he is. We’ll talk to him and all will become clear.’
My assurances provoked more tears, but the pool soon emptied and she wiped her nose upon her sleeve.
‘Cocksmouth,’ she said again, glowering. ‘You have no relatives other than your mother?’
‘Thank the Lord my mother doesn’t live in Shyam,’ I replied, sensing her rage simmering once more.
She shook her head. ‘You expect me to go to Cocksmouth, by myself, with child.’
‘If I come with you it will solve nothing,’ I protested. ‘We have to find a way of placating Arlington.’ Or killing him, I thought, surprising myself. ‘Besides, you will not be going by yourself.’
Her fingers tightened about her dress. ‘Who?’
‘Lucy Dowling,’ I tried to smile. ‘She is a nice woman.’ Attractive too, for her age. Much more attractive than her husband. ‘They will be here soon to pick you up. You are leaving in an hour.’
‘An hour!’ she snorted. ‘I cannot leave without saying goodbye to my family.’
‘You can,’ I said, firmly. ‘Your family mustn’t know. If they know then they will talk.’ For all her family chatted like sparrows. ‘I will tell them you will be back soon.’
She shook her head again, angry. ‘You are such a liar.’
‘Aye.’ I wrinkled my nose. ‘You are right. But we will be back afore ye know it. Perchance you won’t even reach Cocksmouth before we catch you up and bring you back home.’
Her eyes brimmed again. ‘I don’t want to have my baby in Cocksmouth.’
‘Nor do I,’ I agreed, heartily. ‘We’ll be back in London long before that.’
She clenched her fist and pointed it at me. ‘You promise me, Harry Lytle.’
‘I promise,’ I said. ‘Now I must go. Next time I see you I will have sorted everything out.’ I waved a hand with more confidence than I felt and strode purposefully back towards Newgate.
That went well, I congratulated myself, though my soul felt wooden.
Now all we had to do was find James Josselin.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Its common unto Comets to bring dryness, and such consequences as proceed from thence, viz. droughts, little rain, the death of fishes, barrenness, Winds, Wars, or Fights.
I had experienced many types of different wind, from the light and fluffy, to the heavy and strong, but never such a wind as this. It blew the heat of the day into men’s faces, drying the eyes and throat, carrying a fine mist of dust through the air.
Dowling walked sullen. He hadn’t mentioned God for almost an hour, which was some relief, but I worried he saw nothing beyond the end of his nose, so sunk in misery he seemed. We headed west, away from Red Rose Lane. We spent the best part of two hours searching for Josselin, without success.
I attempted to rouse the shaggy beast. ‘He’ll show up later,’ I said. ‘No doubt he has errands to run.’
‘Who knows what he is plotting?’ Dowling replied. ‘We both know Josselin is a little mad.’
A small procession turned out of Swithin Lane ahead of us, four soldiers struggling to keep up with a tall, blond man wearing a silly hat.
‘Withypoll,’ I gasped, flinging myself backwards against the wall of the nearest house, my feet sinking into the teeming gutter. They didn’t even glance in our direction, marching with such purpose I wondered if they had trapped Josselin.
‘We ought to follow,’ I said, though the prospect chilled me.
More lines appeared on Dowling’s forehead.
I shook his arm, and extracted a foot from the stinking mess seeping into my shoes. ‘Come on.’
They proceeded back down the same streets we had walked earlier this morning. When Withypoll turned onto Friday Street, I hurried my pace, alarmed they ventured so close to my neighbourhood.
Two men loitered upon the corner, neither gentlemen nor vagabonds, just standing there with no obvious intent. The soldiers drew their swords as they turned the corner, chasing behind him. One ran awkwardly, boots too large for his feet. They jogged down the middle of Friday Street, turned left on Watling Street, and into Bread Street, my street.
When a neighbour called my name, I held a finger to my lips, afore I stopped still, not twenty paces from my own house. Withypoll pounded my front door with gloved fist. Jane would be gone already, surely?
‘What have you done, Harry?’ asked a stout fellow with black bristle covering his face and ears, brow lowered in expression of intense curiosity. ‘What have you done?’ He glanced up at me, half afraid, half amused. ‘You robbed the crown jewels?’
‘Did you see Jane leave?’ I whispered, hoarse.
He stared down at the cobbles and scratched his head.
Withypoll kicked the door, without success. Then he gestured to one of the soldiers and they kicked together, cracking my door down the middle at third attempt. All five of them stormed into my house. I heard crashing, loud noises, the sound of breaking furniture.
Dowling laid a hand upon my shoulder. ‘We must go.’
I punched his arm. ‘What if Jane is in there?’
‘Lucy came hours ago,’ Dowling replied, staring ahead.
Withypoll emerged, eyes blazing, cursing loud enough for all of London to hear. He stamped his foot on the ground and kicked the wall of my house. The soldiers appeared behind him, like frightened sheep, heads bowed.
I turned to Clinton, my neighbour. ‘William, ask them why they’ve come,’ I whispered. ‘Seem willing. If they ask you where I am, tell them you heard I was gone to Colchester. Look simple and they’ll believe you.’
‘Right enough,’ he nodded seriously and set off. I prayed he wouldn’t look back for encouragement.
He approached the smallest of the soldiers, and tapped him on the shoulder. He exchanged a few words, then returned towards us, Withypoll’s eyes fixed upon his back. I sunk into the doorway, Dowling following my lead.
Clinton winked as he passed, shuffling at his normal pace. Withypoll watched him disappear over the hill before sighing, hands on hips. He spoke sharply to the soldier closest to him and followed after Clinton, towards us. I slipped my hand behind my back and turned the handle of the door behind. Mercifully it opened, and we slipped quickly into the house, closing the door behind us.
‘Hello, Harry,’ a familiar voice sang out. Clinton’s wife, same shape
and size as he, but with more hair upon her rounded head. ‘You look a mess.’
I surveyed my clothes, stained, torn and misshapen. ‘I haven’t been home for a while.’
‘Why not?’ she exclaimed, too loud for my liking. ‘Jane will mend those breeches and wash those clothes.’ She squinted. ‘I don’t think she’d be pleased to see you out in such a state.’