Wright was outraged that someone should presume to tell him his business. ‘How dare-’
‘Clarendon wants him,’ snapped Kipps. ‘And you do not have the right to keep him waiting.’
Wright stepped aside with ill grace. Chaloner pushed past him rather more roughly than necessary, hard enough to make him stagger.
‘He is an odious fellow,’ said Kipps, once they were through the gate. ‘Do you know why he is not dismissed and someone more competent appointed in his place? Because he once carried an important message to the King during the civil wars. Anyone could have done it, but His Majesty remembers Wright, and this post is his reward.’
Chaloner liked Kipps, who alone of the Earl’s household had been friendly to him on his return from Tangier. He shrugged. ‘White Hall is full of such people.’
‘He is corrupt, too,’ Kipps grumbled on. ‘He hires out the soldiers under his command for private duties, such as acting as bodyguards or minding property. He pays them a pittance and keeps the bulk of the earnings for himself. Unfortunately, the extra work reduces their effectiveness at the palace — they are too tired to fulfil their proper responsibilities.’
Chaloner had never been impressed by White Hall’s security. And as the King’s popularity had waned since he had reclaimed his throne at the Restoration some four years earlier — mostly because of his hedonistic lifestyle and the licentiousness of his Court — he needed someone a lot more efficient than Wright to ensure his safety.
Chaloner and Kipps crossed the huge, cobbled expanse of the Great Court, which was a flurry of activity as usual. A number of courtiers had just emerged from Lady Castlemaine’s apartments, yelling drunkenly and accompanied by giggling prostitutes; the King’s mistress was famous for her unconventional parties. Elsewhere, clerks, guards and servants hurried about on more mundane business, and carts lined up to deliver supplies to kitchens, laundries, pantries and coal sheds.
‘Watch yourself when you see Clarendon,’ advised Kipps, pausing a moment to admire a duchess who was too drunk to realise that she had left the soirée without most of her clothes. More chivalrous men than he rushed to give her their coats, although they regretted their gallantry when she was sick over them. ‘Dugdale told him that you insisted on meddling in some fight on The Strand, despite the fact that you knew he was waiting.’
Chaloner groaned. ‘It is not true.’
‘I am sure of it. I wish Clarendon had not given him such power, because the man is a despot. Every night at home, I marvel that I have managed to pass another day without punching him.’
They were obliged to jump to one side when a cavalcade of coaches rattled towards them, the haughty demeanour of the drivers telling pedestrians that if they did not get out of the way they could expect to be crushed. Most of the carriages bore crests, and it was clear that the occupants considered themselves to be people of quality.
‘Adventurers,’ said Kipps disapprovingly. ‘Here for a meeting with the King who, as you will no doubt be aware, is one of their number. So is the Duke of Buckingham.’
Buckingham, the King’s oldest friend, was the first to alight when the convoy rolled to a halt. He was an athletic, striking man whose fondness for wild living was beginning to take its toll — his eyes had an unhealthy yellow tinge, his skin was sallow and he had developed a paunch.
‘He looks fragile this morning,’ Kipps went on gleefully. ‘He must have stayed too late at Lady Castlemaine’s soirée. I keep hoping he will debauch himself into an early grave, because his hatred for our Earl grows daily, and he is a powerful enemy.’
‘Are all these people Adventurers?’ asked Chaloner, staggered by the number of men who were lining up to enter the royal presence.
Kipps nodded. ‘They represent White Hall’s wealthiest courtiers. You see the short, pasty-faced villain? That is Ellis Leighton, their secretary, said to be the most dangerous man in London.’
‘Why?’ Leighton did not look particularly deadly, and when he moved, it was with a crablike scuttle that was vaguely comical, although Chaloner supposed there was something unsettling about the man’s button-like eyes, which were curiously devoid of expression.
Kipps lowered his voice, although there was no one close enough to hear. ‘Because he has amassed himself a fortune, but no one is sure how. And he has friends in London’s underworld.’
‘Is he a merchant?’
‘He calls himself a businessman, which is not the same thing at all.’
‘I see,’ said Chaloner, not seeing at all.
‘They are meeting today because one of their number has gone missing,’ Kipps continued. ‘Peter Proby has not been seen for a week, and they are worried about him.’
‘What do they think might have happened?’
‘I imagine they are afraid that he has been murdered.’
Chaloner regarded him askance. ‘Is Proby the kind of man to warrant such a fate, then?’
‘They all are,’ replied Kipps darkly. ‘They have cordoned off an entire continent, and decided that no one is allowed to profit from it except themselves. And the aggravating thing is that none of them have the faintest idea of what they are doing.’
‘You mean they do not appreciate the depth of the ill-will they have generated?’
‘Oh, I imagine they are perfectly aware of that, but being courtiers, they do not care. What I meant was that they have no concept of how to run such a venture. They are a band of aristocratic treasure hunters, whereas they should be a properly organised corporation.’
Chaloner was startled by the passion in Kipps’s voice. ‘You speak as though you resent their-’
‘I do resent it!’ declared Kipps through gritted teeth. ‘I should like to speculate in Africa myself.’
‘Join the Adventurers, then,’ suggested Chaloner.
Kipps sniffed. ‘I would not demean myself by treating with that dim-witted rabble. Besides, they rejected my application, although I have no idea why.’
Chaloner looked at the assembled men, recognising many. ‘Could it be that they comprise a large number of the Earl’s enemies? They will not want members of his household among their ranks.’
‘No,’ replied Kipps, ‘because his son is an Adventurer, and so is Dugdale. There must be another reason why they elected to exclude me, but I cannot imagine what it might be.’
It occurred to Chaloner that they may have taken exception to Kipps referring to them as a ‘dim-witted rabble’. ‘If they are as incompetent as you say, their venture will fail. And when it does, you can speculate to your heart’s content.’
‘Yes, but by then the Dutch will have secured all the best resources.’ Kipps sighed and gave a rueful smile. ‘Forgive me. I cannot abide ineptitude, and the Adventurers represent it at its worst.’
Eventually, Chaloner and Kipps arrived at the great marble staircase that led to the Earl’s domain. It was cold even in the height of summer, so it was positively frigid that day, and Chaloner shivered in his still-damp clothes. Kipps wished him luck and disappeared into the elegantly appointed room he had been allocated, where a fire blazed merrily, and wine and cakes had been set out for him.
Tiredly, Chaloner climbed the stairs, and continued along a passageway to the fine chamber from which the Earl conducted his official business. He smiled at the new secretary, William Edgeman, although his friendly greeting was not returned: Edgeman, a short, disagreeable man, was friends with Dugdale.
When Chaloner reached the door, he heard voices. The Earl’s was the loudest, but there were others, too. He knocked, but the room’s occupants were making so much racket that no one heard.
‘You will be in trouble,’ called Edgeman, smirking gleefully. ‘The Earl was furious when he heard that you deliberately ignored his summons in order to wander off with a corpse.’