‘True,’ acknowledged the Earl. ‘So Pratt and his assistant Oliver can take responsibility during the day, and I shall hire Sergeant Wright to do it at night — he has more than enough men to protect Pratt and guard my house. That should leave you plenty of time to unmask the assassin — and to lay hold of these wretched burglars before they steal anything else.’
‘Very well, sir.’ Chaloner turned to leave.
‘Wait,’ said the Earl. He grimaced. ‘Much as it pains me to admit it, Henry is wrong, and you and Brodrick are right — the Queen would never conspire to kill my architect, not even to repay me for neglecting her these last few months. But that does not mean Pratt is safe. You must learn who sent that letter and prevent something dreadful from unfolding — Pratt dead and the Queen blamed.’
‘I shall do my best, sir.’
Chaloner was preparing to take leave of his employer when Edgeman the secretary arrived to remind the Earl that it was time to attend a meeting of the Tangier Committee. The Earl indicated Chaloner was to help him up — gout and an expanding girth meant he was not as agile as he once was — and Frances rose to leave, too, unwilling to linger in her husband’s place of work when he would not be there.
‘I suppose you had better tell me what you learned in Africa,’ said the Earl, waddling towards the door. ‘I know you wrote me a report, but I could not be bothered to read it.’
‘I did, and it was very interesting,’ said Frances, making Chaloner warm to her even more. ‘Your assertion that Tangier is a hard posting, miles from the centre of power at White Hall, does explain why honest men refuse to accept jobs there. Only the dross, who cannot get anything else, are-’
‘A hard posting?’ interrupted the Earl uneasily. He turned to Chaloner. ‘Do you think the Portuguese cheated us when they gave it as part of the Queen’s dowry, then?’
As the man largely responsible for negotiating the royal marriage contract, he was the one who would be blamed if that transpired to be true. And Chaloner thought it was — he strongly suspected the Portuguese had been rather glad to be rid of it.
‘The harbour is not all that was promised,’ he hedged. ‘It is too shallow for warships, and is open to northerly gales. But the garrison is building a mole to protect it, which should help.’
‘A mole is a sea wall,’ interposed Frances, eager to show off the knowledge she had gleaned from reading Chaloner’s commentary. ‘And when it is finished, it will provide British ships with a safe haven in the Mediterranean. This will re-establish us as the greatest maritime nation in the world, by letting us control the Straits of Gibraltar.’
‘The problem is that only a fraction of the money we send is spent on the mole,’ explained Chaloner. ‘Most is siphoned off by corrupt officials. The new governor, Sir Tobias Bridge-’
‘A damned Parliamentarian,’ grated the Earl. ‘I argued against appointing him, but he was the only person willing to do it.’
‘What happened to his predecessor?’ asked Frances of Chaloner. ‘Lord Teviot? We heard rumours about his death of course, but I felt we never had the truth of it.’
‘He took five hundred soldiers to chop down a wood,’ Chaloner replied, thinking that she was right to be suspicious: there had definitely been something odd about what had happened that fateful day in May. ‘His scouts told him it was safe, but in fact a large enemy force was waiting. Teviot repelled the first wave, but then he made a fatal mistake.’
‘He skulked back to the town?’ asked the Earl, his interest caught. ‘Instead of pursuing them, and showing the devils what British infantry can do?’
‘The opposite. He thought he had managed a rout, when it should have been obvious that he was being lured into a trap. All but thirty of his men were killed.’
‘And Teviot died too,’ sighed the Earl. ‘I did not like him personally — he was arrogant, greedy and stupid — but no one can deny his courage.’
‘The fact that his scouts told him it was safe bothers me,’ said Chaloner, more to himself than his listeners. ‘I raised the matter with them when we travelled home together on Eagle, but they refused to discuss it.’
‘Then perhaps you had better look into that affair, too,’ said the Earl. ‘As you point out, good men are not exactly queuing up to accept duties in Tangier, and if rumours about dangerously incompetent staff start circulating, no one will ever volunteer again.’
‘You want me to go back?’ asked Chaloner, heart sinking. He had hoped to be home for a while.
‘Not before you have caught my thieves and exposed whoever plans to kill Pratt. But if these scouts are in London, then there is no need for foreign travel. You can question them here.’
‘But I have questioned them, sir. They were unwilling to talk.’
‘Then try harder. I am sure you have cracked tougher nuts in the past. That gives you three different assignments, which is a lot, but I am sure you will manage. However, remember that the most important one is catching the villains who keep raiding my house.’
‘No, most important is the plot involving the Queen and Pratt,’ countered Frances. ‘I do not want our architect murdered by an assassin. Or the poor Queen held responsible for it.’
‘He will give all three equal attention,’ said the Earl, although the tone of his voice made it clear that there would be trouble if his own concerns were not given priority. Chaloner bowed again, thinking unhappily that none of the enquiries filled him with great enthusiasm, and he would be lucky if he solved one of them to the Earl’s satisfaction.
In the corridor outside, the Earl’s retainers were waiting to escort him to his meeting. His seal bearer stood ready to lead the way, and his secretary and gentlemen ushers had lined up to process behind him. All wore his livery of blue and gold, and made for an imposing sight.
‘You cannot join us, Chaloner,’ said the Earl, looking pointedly at the spy’s soiled and crumpled clothing. ‘So you may escort my wife home instead.’
‘Not yet, though,’ said Frances. ‘I should like to see the great lords of the Tangier Committee make their appearance. I adore a spectacle.’
But she was to be disappointed. Her husband was the only man who stood on ceremony, and the other members arrived in a far more modest fashion. Most had not even bothered to don wigs, and badly shaven heads were the order of the day.
One person had taken care to look his best, however. He was Samuel Pepys, an ambitious clerk from the Navy Board. Because Chaloner was standing with Lady Clarendon, Pepys deigned to acknowledge him, although his eyes widened in shock at the spy’s dishevelled appearance.
‘Tangier’s residents say Teviot was the best of all their governors,’ he was informing the man at his side. ‘But to my mind, he was a cunning fellow.’
‘He died gallantly, though,’ replied his friend. ‘But never mind him. Tell me why you object to paying what Governor Bridge has demanded for the mole.’
‘Because of the casual way he presents his expenses,’ explained Pepys. ‘We should demand a better reckoning. Lord! How I was troubled to see accounts of ten thousand pounds passed with so little question the last time the Committee met. I wished a thousand times that I had not been there.’
‘Perhaps my husband was right to ask you to look into Teviot’s death,’ said Frances, after Pepys and his companion had entered the building. ‘If such vast sums really are being sent to Tangier with so little accounting, then it will be easy for the unscrupulous to line their pockets. And to some villains, five hundred lives is a small price to pay for personal profit.’
‘If so, then I shall do all I can to avenge them,’ promised Chaloner.
‘But not today,’ said Frances kindly. ‘You were only married a month before sailing to Tangier, and you have been desperately busy since you returned. Spend the rest of the day with Hannah.’