Page 10 of Exile's Return
They passed a masked woman and two young children in the gallery. The woman, cloaked and clad in unrelieved black, had both children firmly by the hand. The younger child, a boy, looked up and gave Daniel a curious stare.
‘Good day to you, Mistress Fletcher,’ the innkeeper greeted the woman.
The woman glanced at the two men and Daniel had an impression of brown curls framing a small, heart-shaped face, although the fashionable black velvet mask concealed her features. He stood to one side to let her pass. The boy looked back, staring at Daniel before the woman twitched at his hand and he hurried to keep pace with her.
‘Nice lady,’ the innkeeper said as he unlocked a door that led off the gallery, ‘but those poor little mites lost their father a day or two ago.’
‘Lost?’ Daniel raised an eyebrow.
‘Had his ‘ead lopped off on Tower Green. He were an Earl or some such, so it’s the axe for him, not the rope like us common folk.’
Daniel stopped. ‘The name of the man?’
‘Elmhurst. Lord Elmhurst. Always stayed ‘ere when he came to London.’
‘What did he do?’
‘Traitor, they say. Traitor to what, I ask. These are strange times, my friend.’
Daniel glanced over the gallery in time to see the hem of the woman’s dark cloak disappear under the gateway.
‘Who is the woman?’
‘Some kin of the earl. Mistress Fletcher’s her name. Brought the children down a month ago and took the best room in the house. Every day she took ‘em up to visit with their father.’ The landlord’s lips tightened. ‘Now ‘e’s dead and I’ve not seen coin for bed and board this last week past. ‘Ere’s the room. Hope it suits.’
Daniel agreed to take the room and as the door shut on the landlord, he laid his hat and gloves on the table and walked over to the window. He had deliberately asked for a room facing the street and he looked down into the bustling thoroughfare below as he undid the knot on his cloak.
A small figure huddled in the doorway of the shop across the road from the inn, skinny arms wrapped around bare knees. Daniel shook his head. Show a beaten pup some kindness and it would follow you to the ends of the world.
‘I’m not your saviour, lad,’ he said aloud and straightened, craning his head to look down the street.
The woman and the two small children were walking back toward the inn. The elder child, a girl, dragged her feet as the woman pulled on her hand. The boy seemed content to bounce along beside his guardian, chattering away despite the lack of response from the woman. She walked with her slender shoulders bowed as if the very weight of the world rested on them.
The lure of treasure had been part of his life for the past five years and Daniel could not dismiss the thought that somewhere at Charvaley Castle there was such a hoard. What did Agnes Fletcher know of Elmhurst’s recent involvement in royalist plots? Did the key lie with this woman?
Daniel considered her slight form, wondering what the velvet mask concealed. He imagined the Earl would not have chosen an ill-favoured wench to be his mistress. If indeed she had been his mistress. The thought intrigued him.
She stopped at a pie vendor and a few coins were exchanged for pies. Steam rose into the cold air from the warm offerings and the children looked up at her with wide, expectant eyes. They did not notice Matt, still crouched in the doorway, watching the transaction with a hungry look on his thin face.
Clutching their warm pastries, Agnes Fletcher and her two young charges hastened across the road and were swallowed up by the entrance to the inn.
Daniel walked back to the table, folding his black cloak neatly across the back of a chair. He yawned and glanced at the inviting bed. A few hours of rest were called for after the miserable crossing from the continent. Even after five years aboard the French privateer he still suffered seasickness.
He pulled off his boots and coat and lay down, letting the well-stuffed mattress envelop him in goose down. With his hands behind his head, he contemplated his next move.
A little further investigation into the subject of Mistress Agnes Fletcher may be called for, he decided as his eyelids closed.
Chapter 5
As she watched the two children tossing a leather ball to each other, Agnes pulled the hood of her cloak up in an attempt to break the cold wind that blew off the river. She was running out of ideas to occupy two very bored children while they waited on the faceless men in Whitehall to decide their fate. Without the daily routine of visiting their father, they spent the morning in lessons and in the afternoon braved the cold, cheerless streets.
How long will they keep us waiting? The children need to be home among familiar faces and routines, not here in this dangerous, verminous city.
Yet it had been three days since James’s execution, and still she waited for permission to leave the city. What was there to decide? She was the children’s aunt, there could be no question that she would be a suitable guardian. The longer the decision took, the more her hope evaporated, along with the contents of her purse.
She had sold a ring James had given her to help ameliorate their condition, but that small cache of coins had all but run out. She barely had enough coins for a couple more meals, let alone the outstanding board owed to the innkeeper. Her fingers circled the chain around her neck. It would break her heart to part with the locket, but if needs must…
Lizzie’s patience with her small brother proved to be finite and after he fumbled the ball in his pudgy fingers once again, she let out a squawk of indignation.
