‘Is there a Mrs Hodgkinson?’ he asked, of the printer. ‘Is she a member of this Army of Angels?’
‘She lives in the country,’ said the printer. He shot a defiant look at L’Estrange, making Chaloner wonder whether she had been sent there for a reason.
‘Other Angels include Mrs Allestry and Mrs Nott,’ continued Brome, ignoring L’Estrange’s furious sigh at his continued revelations. ‘And then there is-’
‘The wives of the booksellers?’ interrupted Chaloner, his mind reeling. ‘The booksellers L’Estrange fined in his capacity as Surveyor of the Press?’
‘Their unfortunate marriages make no difference to their ability to highlight printing errors,’ said L’Estrange haughtily. ‘And they are pleased to help me, because I reduced their husbands’ fines substantially, out of the goodness of my heart. They are indebted to me.’
‘Apart from the Army of Angels, security is very tight,’ said Joanna, trying to be helpful. ‘All unpublished proofs are locked in a chest in Mr L’Estrange’s office. They only leave the building when they go to Mr Hodgkinson for printing.’
‘The government contract is important to me,’ added Hodgkinson, when Chaloner turned towards him. ‘I am not so rash as to risk losing it by selling news to Muddiman. My compositors produce one copy — for proof-reading — in advance of the main print-run, and I bring it to L’Estrange myself.’
‘We have a little ritual,’ said L’Estrange scathingly. ‘I lock it in my chest, and he watches.’
It was Hodgkinson’s turn to become defensive. ‘Damn right I do! I do not want to be accused of letting news escape to our rivals. I cannot imagine a worse fate than to fall foul of the Spymaster.’
‘Who has the key to this chest?’ asked Chaloner.
‘I do,’ said L’Estrange, holding it up. ‘And Newburne had the only other in existence. But this is none of your business, and I resent the implication that we are lax-’
‘Where is Newburne’s key now?’
‘I would like the answer to that question, too,’ said Brome. He flinched when L’Estrange whipped around to scowl at him.
‘It is not just your livelihood, but ours, too,’ said Joanna, going to stand next to her spouse. She swallowed uneasily when L’Estrange fixed her with his glittering eyes, and her fingers tightened around her husband’s arm. But she took a deep breath and finished what she wanted to say. ‘Henry and I have worked hard for this shop, and we love it dearly. Please answer Mr Heyden’s questions, or run the risk of Williamson asking them instead.’
‘Williamson!’ jeered L’Estrange unpleasantly. ‘How will he find out about any of this?’
‘Because I shall tell him,’ said Joanna defiantly. ‘I would rather you were cross with me than have Williamson thinking Henry and I are traitors. I will tell him about this Wenum fellow.’
Chaloner watched L’Estrange seethe with impotent rage, and was impressed that such a timid woman had mustered the courage to defy him. He suspected, however, that she had fired all her cannon with the threat, and that a serious counter-attack from L’Estrange would see her crumble. Fortunately for Joanna, L’Estrange was less adept at reading people.
‘You would not dare,’ he breathed, but there was uncertainty in his voice.
‘Would she not?’ asked Brome, putting his arm around her. His voice dripped pride. ‘There is strength in my Joanna, so you had better do as she says.’
‘I do not know where Newburne kept his key,’ L’Estrange snapped. ‘But his funeral is tomorrow, so I shall ask his widow.’
‘Good,’ said Joanna. ‘But be sure you do not forget, or I will pay a visit to White Hall.’
In the absence of anyone else to pick on, L’Estrange homed in on Chaloner. ‘Here is a shilling. I do not usually pay for news in advance of publication, but I want you gone from my office — permanently. I resent your accusations and the way you have turned my staff against me.’
‘I shall take my article about the pirates of Alicante to Muddiman, then,’ said Chaloner.
L’Estrange had been in the process of stalking from the room, but he stopped dead in his tracks, and his hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. With a weary sigh, Brome stepped forward.
‘What Heyden meant to say was that he will be obliged to come to your office for as long as he has information to sell you,’ he said quietly. ‘He did not intend to sound insolent.’
‘You had better pay him double, though,’ said Joanna. She was buoyed up by her victory, and the rabbit face wore a small smirk of triumph when the editor turned to gape at her. ‘I have it on good authority that Muddiman pays two shillings for decent intelligence. And tales about pirates from Alicante come into the category of “decent”, I would say.’
L’Estrange seemed about to give her a piece of his mind, but she met his glower with a steady gaze, and it was he who backed down. He tossed a second shilling at Chaloner.
‘Here,’ he snarled, before rounding on the Bromes. Both flinched, and Joanna’s bravado began to slip. ‘But this is as far as your nasty rebellion goes. Any further insurgence and I shall take my business to another bookseller. I will not tolerate phanatiques in the ranks.’
He stamped from the room.
‘You were magnificent,’ said Hodgkinson to Joanna. ‘I always said L’Estrange would be lost were it not for your common sense, and today you proved it yet again. Forcing him to cooperate with the Lord Chancellor is good for us all, and you did the right thing by standing up to him. Both of you.’
Brome rubbed his eyes with shaking hands. ‘My nerves are frayed, and I need the medicinal effects of a dish of coffee. We shall go to Haye’s Coffee House and Heyden can write about the pirates there.’
‘Good,’ said Joanna. ‘Mr L’Estrange will be back to collect the advertisements soon, and we do not want him to find Mr Heyden still here. I have had enough turmoil for one day, thank you!’
While Brome went to fetch his coat, Chaloner smiled his thanks at Joanna for getting him the extra shilling. She beamed back at him, all teeth and gums. He found himself beginning to like her, appreciating how difficult it must have been for such a timid woman to oppose a charismatic bully like L’Estrange. Hodgkinson was doubtless right in that the Bromes kept L’Estrange from doing too much damage to the newsbooks — and to himself — but Chaloner doubted it was easy. He was glad he was not obliged to keep the man in check, sure it would tax his diplomatic abilities — such as they were — to the limit. The shop door rattled suddenly, and a fat, red-faced merchant waddled in.
‘May I help you?’ asked Joanna. She patted the rabbitear braids at the side of her head, and smoothed down her apron as she walked towards him. ‘We at the newsbooks are always ready to-’
‘I want to place an advertisement,’ declared the man. ‘I lost a grey gelding from the Queen’s Arms, Feversham, and everyone should know there is a reward for information leading to its safe return.’
Joanna began to write. ‘Your name, sir? And where do you-’
‘James Bradnox of Vintners’ Hall. Mr Wright told me he placed a notice in The Newes, and his nag was home within a week.’ Bradnox addressed Hodgkinson and Chaloner, assuming them to be customers, too. ‘These advertisements mean it is difficult for stolen animals to be sold on the open market — traders know what is currently missing, see. Newsbook notices are five shillings well spent.’