O’Brien was the first to arrive. He held a gun, and his boyish face was lit by a viciously cruel expression. It showed his true nature as the pitiless villain who had ordered the deaths of Teviot and his garrison, Proby, Lucas, Turner, Congett, Meneses and all the others who had died since he had taken exception to the Adventurers’ monopoly on African trade.
His eyes lit on the open chest, and he released a strangled cry of disbelief before running towards it. Fitzgerald arrived moments later, also armed with a dag. Chaloner tensed, willing him to step inside too, but the pirate only leaned against the doorframe.
‘The treasure!’ shouted O’Brien furiously. ‘You said it would be safe here — that you stole the only key from Pratt, and no one else would be able to get at it. But some has been stolen!’
‘Impossible,’ countered Fitzgerald. ‘No one knows it is here except you and me. Unless you-’
O’Brien’s eyes blazed as he leapt to his feet. ‘Are you accusing me of cheating you?’
‘It is not an unreasonable assumption,’ Fitzgerald flashed back. There was a tremor of fear in his voice but he held his ground. ‘Our venture was more costly than we anticipated, and the returns so far have been disappointing. Of course you might try to-’
He took several steps back as O’Brien stalked towards him, and Chaloner knew he had to act now or they would both be out in the corridor — at which point he and Thurloe would die. He leapt forward, shoving Fitzgerald as hard as he could. The pirate cannoned into O’Brien, and Chaloner started to close the door. But Fitzgerald recovered quickly, and hurled himself against it.
Chaloner’s strength was all but spent, and he felt the door begin to open, even when Thurloe raced forward to help — fury had given the pirate a diabolical might. It was then that he realised he was still holding George’s powder. With nothing to lose, he flung it in Fitzgerald’s face, hoping the footman had not been lying when he claimed it would render his former master helpless.
The pirate jerked away in surprise, and for a moment nothing happened. Then he sneezed. He blinked furiously and sneezed again. And again. Chaloner and Thurloe leaned all their weight on the door, which slammed shut, allowing the lock to click into place.
Suddenly, there was a yell from the stairs. Chaloner and Thurloe exchanged a glance of horrified dismay. Brinkes must have battered his way free at last. Weaponless, they turned and stood shoulder to shoulder, bracing themselves for the onslaught.
‘There you are!’ said Williamson, skidding to a standstill. ‘When we found Brinkes locked up but no sign of you two, we feared the worst.’
‘Fitzgerald and his master are safely secured,’ said Thurloe, indicating the strongroom with a nonchalance Chaloner was sure he could not feel. ‘However, I recommend you leave them there for a while. You may find them less feisty once the air has grown thin.’
Epilogue
Early November 1664
It was a fine, clear morning when Williamson married Kitty O’Brien in St Margaret’s Church. It was a small ceremony, with only Swaddell and Doines to act as witnesses. Chaloner slipped into the shadows at the back and watched, thinking that he had never seen the Spymaster look so pleased with himself, although Kitty’s expression was more difficult to read.
‘Congratulations,’ he said, as the happy couple walked up the aisle together.
Williamson inclined his head. ‘I was shocked to learn that my oldest friend was complicit in that vile affair — especially as he was already rich and had no need for more money. But before he hanged himself in my cells, he told me to look after Kitty. Today is the fulfilment of that promise.’
‘I was shocked, too,’ said Kitty, while Chaloner struggled to determine whether Williamson had had a hand in O’Brien’s alleged suicide. ‘But that is all in the past, and we must look to the future. I shall accept Leighton’s offer to join the Adventurers tomorrow. My husband … my first husband spent too much of our money on his wild schemes, and I must recoup my losses.’
‘But the Adventurers still trade in slaves,’ Chaloner pointed out. ‘That has not changed.’
‘No, it has not,’ said Kitty. She smiled, an expression that did not touch her green eyes. ‘But perhaps I shall be able to change them from within.’
They walked away, leaving Chaloner staring after them unhappily. Since the events that had culminated at Piccadilly, he had been in low spirits. He had recurring nightmares about the strongroom, his home life continued to be a trial, and he felt guilty for abandoning Lester. Thurloe pointed out patiently that any attempt at rescue would have meant his own death, but that was of scant comfort.
His work for the Earl did nothing to help, either. As there were no mysteries to investigate, he was obliged to pass the time in routine duties that put him in the company of Dugdale and Edgeman. The Earl had been furious when he had learned they were Adventurers, and they blamed Chaloner for their exposure: they set out to make his life miserable, and they succeeded.
One morning, as Dugdale railed at him for wearing a grey coat instead of the blue one he had stipulated, Kipps appeared. His fist shot towards the Chief Usher’s face and there was a dull smack as the two connected. Chaloner stared at the Seal Bearer in astonishment.
‘What did you do that for?’ howled Dugdale, hand to his nose. ‘Are you insane?’
‘A maid called Susan was just here, asking after you,’ replied Kipps, eyeing him with dislike. ‘She told me you paid her to spy on Chaloner. In his own home.’
Dugdale swallowed uneasily. ‘I did it to protect the Earl. And I would not have had to do it at all if Chaloner had been cooperative. I asked him for progress reports, but he fobbed me off with half-answers and lies. What else was I to do?’
‘Why were you so desperate to know what I-’ began Chaloner.
‘Because he is jealous of the Earl’s faith in your abilities,’ snapped Kipps. ‘But that does not excuse him from corrupting a silly girl to spy on a colleague. It is not the act of a gentleman, and I shall ensure all White Hall knows it. Moreover, if I catch him doing anything like it again, I shall hit him even harder. That goes for you, too, Edgeman. I know you were in it together.’
‘You do not care about Chaloner,’ sneered Edgeman, although he took refuge behind Dugdale as he spoke, unwilling to suffer a similar fate. ‘The reason you punched Dugdale is because he told Leighton not to let you join the Adventurers. You have always resented that.’
‘I would never enrol in that band of scoundrels,’ declared Kipps, although the flash of anger in his eyes said Edgeman was right. ‘I do not approve of monopolies. However, if he recommends against me joining anything else, a bloody nose will be the least of his problems.’
‘I am not sure that was wise,’ said Chaloner, when Edgeman had helped Dugdale away. ‘The Earl does not approve of his retainers thumping each other. Why do you think I have never hit the man myself? It is not because of my superior self-control, I assure you.’
‘What is he going to do about it?’ shrugged Kipps. ‘Tell the Earl? If he does, he will be sorry. But they have learned their lesson. They will not bother you again.’
Chaloner suspected they would just be more subtle in their hounding of him, and doubted Kipps’s intervention had done him any favours. But the punch had been a declaration of allegiance and he was heartened by it — it meant he was no longer alone and that there was someone he could call a friend in the unsettled, unpredictable world that was White Hall. Kipps’s next words promptly reversed any improvement in his mood, though.