‘I play this game,’ said the Queen, smiling. ‘But not here. Too cold. My chambers has fire.’
With open unease, the soldiers escorted her, Hannah and Chaloner to the room in question. Once there, they did not close the door all the way, but stayed to peer through the crack, ready to dash in the moment there was any hint of a threat. Chaloner was pleased they took their duties seriously, because the Queen was the one person at Court whom he thought was worth protecting.
Hannah handed him a blanket, and the Queen gestured he was to sit opposite her, by the fire. As he warmed up, he began to shiver, almost uncontrollably, and it was difficult to keep his teeth from chattering. Hannah knelt between them, poking the flames with a stick, while the Queen studied him with dark, sad eyes. Politely, he waited for one of them to speak first.
‘We shall use my language,’ the Queen said in Portuguese. ‘I do not have the opportunity very often, now the King has sent my tiring women home. Incidentally, I never thanked you for travelling to Spain on my behalf this summer, or for sending me all those intelligence reports. My brother the king was able to make good use of them, and the result is a cessation of hostilities.’
‘But an uneasy one, ma’am,’ replied Chaloner in the same tongue. He saw Hannah regarding him in astonishment, and supposed he had never mentioned his skill with languages. ‘It will not last.’
‘I pray that it will,’ said the Queen, crossing herself. ‘Now, what were you really doing in the Shield Gallery? It was nothing to do with locating my husband’s bust, because there are no clues to be gained from studying an empty room, especially so long after the original theft. And your explanation does not account for the fact that you are soaking wet.’
Chaloner was not sure how much to tell her. ‘The investigation led to a skirmish that saw me fall in the river,’ he replied, not about to admit that the ‘investigation’ he had been following had nothing to do with statues.
‘Well, I am glad you are safe, because there is something I want you to do for me.’
Chaloner experienced a lurch of alarm. The Earl had almost dismissed him the last time he had accepted a commission from the Queen, and had made it clear that he would not countenance it happening again. Of course, that was before the Earl had appointed a rival investigator. Perhaps this time he would not care.
The Queen interpreted his silence as acquiescence. ‘My marriage contract stipulated that I was to have forty thousand pounds a year for my household expenses. The money was deposited in the Treasury, and I was to apply for funds as and when I needed them. I am not extravagant, like … like other women. My expenditure for this year amounts to less than four thousand pounds.’
It was common knowledge that ‘other women’ — namely Lady Castlemaine — could go through that in a single night. Chaloner waited for her to continue, wishing he could stop shivering. Meanwhile, Hannah frowned; the rapidly spoken Portuguese was excluding her from the discussion.
‘I should have thirty-six thousand pounds left, but when I requested funds to travel to Bath — to partake of the healing waters — I was told it had all gone.’
‘What happened to it, ma’am?’ Thirty-six thousand pounds was a staggering sum to go adrift.
‘That is what you must find out. All I know is that the money has disappeared, and I am prevented from accessing the waters that may help me conceive.’
She looked away, and Chaloner’s heart went out to her. He recalled the rumour that she was barren, and could not do the one thing the King demanded of her: provide him with an heir.
‘This is important to me,’ she continued softly. ‘I want you to find out what happened to my money, and then I want enough of it back to let me go to Bath.’
‘I am not qualified for this task, ma’am,’ said Chaloner gently. ‘You need someone to go through records and other expenditures. If your lost money was in silver pieces, then I might be able to hunt it down for you, but this is a crime of embezzlement, and will only be solved by someone skilled at interpreting complex accounts.’
The Queen’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘No one wants to help me. I have appealed to the King and the bishops, but they all hate me, because they think I am infertile. But when I offer to immerse myself in stinking water — a desperate remedy, but I will do anything to fulfil my duty — the government refuses to advance me the money. What am I to do?’
Chaloner felt wretched. ‘I would help if I could, but it would be like asking Hannah to translate the Bible into Portuguese. She does not have the necessary skills, despite her devotion to you. It would be beyond her — and identifying accounting errors is beyond me.’
The Queen wiped her eyes, and attempted a smile. ‘And I imagine you are busy with the missing statue anyway, and have no time to devote to a trifling matter like mine. You served me well once, and I suppose it is unreasonable to expect more. But I can do something for you.’
‘You can?’ Chaloner hoped it was not arresting him for declining to do as he was told.
‘Your master would like to find the bust, but Williamson is determined to reach it first. However, the Earl has always been kind to me, whereas Williamson is cold and aloof. I want the Earl to win this race, so I shall tell you something that might bring about a result that will please me.’
‘No,’ said Chaloner firmly. ‘Williamson is vindictive and ruthless, and you should not risk his wrath for any reason. Keep your secret — do not become involved in his affairs.’
‘No one else would decline free information on the grounds that it puts me in danger,’ said the Queen bitterly. ‘But I am going to tell you anyway. I trust you not to tell Williamson the source.’
Chaloner wished he was more alert, because he could not think of a way to stop her. He opened his mouth, but she raised her hand to prevent him from speaking.
‘My servants gossip in front of me, in the mistaken belief that I cannot understand a word they say. I overheard one mention that my husband’s statue has been offered for sale to a clerk called Greene.’
Chaloner gaped at her, forgetting himself as his thoughts whirled. ‘Who offered to sell it to him?’
‘They did not seem to know. Then they went on to say that he declined in horror, and so the same proposal was made to a woman named Margaret Symons. Will this information help you?’
‘It might,’ said Chaloner gratefully. ‘Thank you.’
Chapter 6
When the Queen declared she was tired at last, and was ready to try sleeping again, Hannah was released from her duties. Chaloner escorted her home, and she invited him to stay. He accepted partly because her house was always warm, but mostly because he felt a need for human companionship. The Queen’s painful loneliness had upset him, and he wished there was something he could do to help her.
‘What was she telling you?’ asked Hannah, when they lay in bed a little later. He was still chilled to the bone, and was holding her more tightly than was comfortable for either of them. ‘I had no idea you could speak Portuguese.’
Her profile was etched against the light from the fire, and Chaloner gazed at it. ‘I had no idea you could not. How can you serve her, if you do not know her native tongue?’
‘She is Queen of England, Tom. She must forget her old language and customs, and embrace the new ones — unless she wants people accusing her of spurning things English. And she has enough hatred directed at her already, for not getting pregnant. She cannot afford more.’
‘Poor Katherine,’ said Chaloner softly, his heart going out to her.
‘Did you hear her household allowance has gone missing?’ asked Hannah, full of indignation. ‘She tried to impress everyone with her frugality, using a mere fraction of what she is entitled to take, only to find someone has stolen the rest. I suspect Lady Castlemaine, personally. She probably ran up some gambling debts, and the Queen’s thirty-six thousand pounds was used to pay them off.’