‘Poor Swiss has not left her rooms for weeks,’ the queen added, unmoved. ‘And His Majesty is quite furious. He describes his fury to me at great length, every evening. It is an intolerable situation.’ She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she stared directly into mine with a fierce, unblinking gaze. ‘You will resolve it for us, Mr Hawkins.’
‘Your Majesty…?’ Sweat trickled down my back as the room closed in on me.
‘Come now, sir – I did not summon you here to admire your calves, handsome as they are.’ She gave Henrietta a sidelong glance. ‘My dear Howard, you have entertained us with your celebrated wit long enough. Pray leave us.’ She flicked her hand to the door.
Mrs Howard gave a low curtsey, then two more, and backed from the room without a murmur of protest. I had to struggle not to run after her – flee the room, the palace, the city, without turning my head once. I knew what this audience had become – an interview for a position I did not want and could not refuse.
‘You are a trifle pale, Mr Hawkins,’ the queen said. ‘Is it your mother’s Scots complexion, or are you palpitating in my glorious presence?’
‘Both, Your Majesty.’
She smirked. ‘A glass of claret for the boy, Mr Budge.’
Budge brought me the claret in a crystal glass that sparkled in the candlelight. I drank it gratefully.
‘You were a friend of Samuel Fleet,’ the queen said.
‘He was my cell mate.’
‘He was my servant. Odious, treacherous little man. I was quite fond of him. He resolved a few trifling situationson my behalf.’
My heart thudded hard against my chest. Fleet had confessed to me – shortly before he died – that he had been a spy and an assassin for many years. He’d also told me that he had collected too many secrets along the way – that he had thus become too useful to kill and too dangerous to keep alive. So he had been thrown in gaol to rot. I’d guessed his master was powerful, that much had been plain. I’d never suspected his master was the queen.
‘It is a great pity Fleet died in gaol.’ Her lips tightened at the inconvenience. ‘He must be replaced. His brother believes you might serve.’
Fuck James Fleet to hell – I should have guessed this was his doing. ‘Your Majesty, I fear I would be a grave disappointment-’
‘-Come now, sir. I cannot abide false modesty. You discovered Mr Fleet’s killer, did you not? And you fought off Mr Howard unaided. Have you not realised you were being tested that night? Well. Perhaps that is disappointing.’
‘Forgive me, Your Majesty…’ I fell silent, gathering my thoughts. Mrs Howard had not arranged the meeting? No – of course not. It had been a bold move to engage James Fleet and organise a secret assignation in the middle of the night. Mrs Howard was not a bold woman. The queen, on the other hand…
She smiled. ‘I was curious to see if Mr Howard’s threats were genuine. So we fixed his wife to a hook and dangled her in front of him. Fleet’s brother ensured that Howard learned of the meeting. I must say we did not expect events to turn quite so violent. Poor Budge lost a tooth. And he had such a charming face.’
Budge gave a lopsided grin.
‘I have grown tired of Mr Howard’s insolence. Samuel Fleet would have resolved the matter in a heartbeat.’
I thought of the deal I’d made with James Fleet – his promise of one simple meeting, a chance to earn my own money. He had known all along that Charles Howard would attack Henrietta’s carriage. Had known too that I was being tested to replace his late brother as the queen’s private spy.
‘I am not Samuel Fleet, Your Majesty.’
‘No indeed,’ she laughed. ‘Let us be kind and call Mr Fleet an eccentric.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘And a little too clever. You, Mr Hawkins, are just clever enough.’
It was not the finest compliment I had ever received. But under the circumstances, I had to agree with her. If anything, she was being generous.
The queen picked up a sheet of paper. ‘Mr Howard must be stopped. Here is a list of his favourite taverns. Gaming houses. Brothels.’ She handed the list to Budge, who handed it to me.
A hollow feeling grew in my chest. ‘Your Majesty. I cannot… I am not an assassin…’
The queen looked astonished. ‘For shame, sir! I am not asking you to murder the man – what an extraordinary notion. He’s the brother of the Earl of Suffolk. You must befriendhim, Mr Hawkins.’
Befriend him? I thought of Howard tearing at my throat, snarling in fury. Upon reflection, perhaps murdering him was preferable.
‘Once you are on friendly terms, he may let down his guard. You must learn his secrets. Some weakness we might use against him. Seek him out, Mr Hawkins. Apologise for your encounter in the park. Earn his trust. Encourage him in his most bestial behaviour. He knows you are a violent man – he’ll appreciate that.’
‘Your Majesty, I am not in the least violent.’
She plucked another letter from the pile. ‘From Sir Philip Meadows. You stayed at his lodge last autumn, I believe. He says you were a charming guest… until you broke a man’s nose.’
I gritted my teeth. ‘I was provoked, Your Majesty.’
The queen’s eyes glittered. ‘And were you provoked when you shot a man dead, out in Snows Fields?’
She held my gaze. There was a dark, almost eager smile on her lips. The smile of a woman who has just slid a blade between a man’s ribs – softly and with great precision.
‘That… I was forced to defend myself.’
‘The first shot saved your life, of course. But the second?’ She tapped the spot between her brows. Where Kitty had aimed and fired. ‘What do you think, Budge?’
‘He must have stood over him, Your Majesty. Reloaded his pistol. Shot him right between the eyes.’
‘Murder, then.’
Budge threw me an apologetic glance. ‘Your Majesty.’
The blood was pounding in my ears. I stayed silent, breathing hard. I couldn’t trust myself to speak. Any word could be a betrayal.
The queen leaned forward. ‘Do you deny this story? That you shot and killed a man last autumn, out on Snows Fields?’ Her voice was soft – almost tender.
I swallowed, mouth dry. The fire crackled and sparked. On the mantelpiece, a gilded clock struck the quarter hour. ‘No, Your Majesty. I do not deny it.’
There was a long, heavy pause. And then she smiled. Somehow – miraculously – I had given the right answer. The queen studied me closely, as if I were some new addition to the royal zoo. Then she lifted a final paper from the pile – a short note clearly written in haste. ‘Budge has been gathering information on you for some time. This message came to us two hours ago. There is a warrant planned for your arrest at dawn tomorrow, for murder. There is a witness. A disreputable one,’ she conceded. ‘But your neighbour swears he heard you confess to it.’
Burden. ‘Damn him!’ I cried, forgetting myself. ‘That is a lie!’
‘I should hope so,’ the queen replied, amused by my outburst. ‘I should hope you are a good deal more discreet than that, Mr Hawkins. We shall send word to the magistrate to destroy the warrant; Budge will arrange that tonight.’
I bowed deeply. ‘Your Majesty. I am in your debt.’
‘You are indeed.’ The queen pinched her lips. ‘Be sure to repay it, Mr Hawkins. His Majesty is vexed by this tiresome business. And when my husband is vexed we all suffer. You will find something for us, to stop Mr Howard’s threats. Within the week.’
I bowed again in understanding. She did not say it, but the implication was perfectly clear. If I did not solve the king’s vexing problem in the next few days, I could expect no further protection from Gonson and his arrest warrants. There was just one thing I couldn’t fathom. I hesitated, afraid I would cause offense. ‘Your Majesty. Mrs Howard…’