Read Online A Conspiracy of Violence by Susanna Gregory - Free Book Online Page B

scowl.
    ‘Why did you decline to write their testimonials?’ the woman asked. ‘Because you do not want other wealthy households to harbour
     deadly Roundheads under their roofs?’
    ‘I gave them all testimonials, except Heyden here,’ replied Downing curtly, not liking the tone of her voice. He glowered
     at her, while Chaloner recalled how he had thought Thurloe overly cautious five years before, when he had insisted that Downing
     should not know his real name. Now he was greatly relieved by it. In fact, Thurloe was the only man in London who did know
     and, given the rabid Parliamentarian convictions of one of his uncles – the most widely known and outspoken member of his
     family – Chaloner hoped to keep it that way.
    ‘And what did poor Heyden do to incur your displeasure?’ asked the woman with arched eyebrows. ‘Provide an alternative bed
     for these Royalist lasses?’
    ‘Sarah!’ exclaimed Thurloe, shocked. As a devout Puritan, although by no means a fanatic, lewd jests were anathema to him.
     ‘Please!’
    ‘I do not like his handwriting,’ replied Downing stiffly, although a shifty expression in his eyes indicated she was near
     the truth. ‘And he made two mistakes with my accounts – minor ones, it is true, but a clerk must strive for accuracy.’ He
     glanced at Thurloe, passing the message that if errors were made in this, then could Chaloner’s espionage reports be trusted?
    ‘Two small errors in the five years he served you is hardly serious,’ said Thurloe reproachfully. ‘And his other skills must
     have been of value to you – his fluency in Spanish, French and Dutch, for example.’
    ‘Dutch?’ asked the stranger with a sudden eagerness. ‘How well can you speak Dutch?’
    ‘Like a native, so they said,’ replied Downing before Chaloner could answer for himself. ‘He jabbered incessantly in the filthy
     tongue when he was in Holland, and I dislike servants having discussions I cannot understand. You never know what they might
     be saying about you.’
    ‘
I
do business with the Dutch,’ said the man. He raised his handkerchief to his lips again. ‘It is rare to find an Englishman
     who knows their language. Perhaps I might have a place for you, Heyden. Visit my house on the Strand next week. Thurloe will
     tell you how to find it.’
    ‘Once or twice, there was uproarious laughter,’ Downing went on darkly, shooting the fellow a glance full of comradely warning.
     ‘I am certain he was cracking jokes at my expense – making sport of me in the knowledge that I had no choice but to sit there
     and grin like a half-wit. Think very carefully before you make any decisions, my friend.’
    ‘You told me to do all I could to impress The Hague’s burgesses,’ said Chaloner, neither denying nor confirming the charge.
     ‘So that is what I did. And that particular alliance brought you a lucrative treaty, so I do not think you should complain
     about how I came by it.’
    ‘You insolent whelp!’ exclaimed Downing, struggling to his feet. ‘How dare you speak—’
    ‘Sit down, Sir George,’ interrupted Thurloe sharply. He gazed steadily at the spluttering diplomat until he complied, then
     turned to Chaloner. He was angry, objecting to sparring matches carried out in his presence. ‘You are pale, Thomas; perhaps
     you have taken a chill. Go to my bedchamber and lie down. I will see you when my business is completed.’
    ‘I shall bring you some more tonic,’ offered Sarah, going to fetch the jug and indicating Chaloner was to precede her into
     the adjoining chamber. ‘I am not very interested in hearing their tedious discussions, and would rather have you tell me where
     I can buy good cinnamon.’
    ‘Leave the door open so we can see you, then,’ instructed her husband. ‘And keep your voice down. We do not want a noisy analysis
     of condiments distracting us.
Our
business is important.’
    Chaloner was uneasy. He did not want a woman quizzing him about spices