The Last Confession of Thomas Hawkins - [25]

On the first landing we passed a fine porcelain chamber pot, the lid left carelessly askew. I wrinkled my nose at the stench. We must have reached the living quarters. So – I was to meet Mrs Howard in her private rooms, with a pounding headache and stinking of horse blanket. Excellent.

At the top of the stairs, Budge relieved me of my sword and dagger, then led me into a small antechamber. The walls were covered with tapestries and silk hangings that shone softly in the candlelight. Silk rugs covered the burnished oak floors. A tall cabinet held a collection of books bound in green leather and embossed with gold. The room was so rich and opulent – and such a contrast from the back stairs we’d just climbed – that it took me a moment to breathe. And all this for the king’s mistress. Perhaps Mrs Howard was in better favour than Eliot thought.

Budge knocked on a door at the far end of the room and disappeared into a second chamber, leaving me alone. I took the opportunity to practise my speech, pacing the rug with a soft tread. ‘Lady Howard – I trust you are recovered from your ordeal. I was honoured to come to your aid, my lady – but I regret that I am now caught in troubles of my own…’ I faltered, and stood still, a question forming in my mind.

How had she found me?

I had not given her my name. She had scarcely seen my face in the dark. Enough to say, what? That I was a young gentleman. Long-limbed. Dressed in a black suit and red waistcoat.

So. How had she found me?

James Fleet. It was the only possible answer. Mrs Howard had hired him, after all – using Budge as her messenger, no doubt. Fleet must have given my name to Budge and told him where to find me. That was unsettling.

And now I began to suspect that there was a deeper game being played here. My task had been to meet with Mrs Howard that night and hear her story, no more. So how was it that I found myself being smuggled into the king’s palace in the middle of the night?

I had no time to think further on the matter. Budge reappeared, followed by Mrs Howard. She was dressed in a rose-pink gown fitted close to her waist, a short strand of pearls at her throat. Her thick chestnut hair was tied in a simple knot and decorated with a piece of lace. She must be nearing forty, but she seemed much younger – blessed with a fresh complexion and a graceful figure. And very pretty indeed.

I bowed low. ‘My lady.’

She inclined her head. The terror of the attack in the park was long buried – her expression was mild, her blue eyes steady. I’d heard that her nickname at court was ‘The Swiss’ because she remained always calm and neutral, both in her appearance and her opinions. The Swiss. It suited her.

‘Mr Hawkins. How kind of you to come.’ Her voice soft and seemingly quite sincere. But she was a lady of the court. She must have had a good deal of practice, seeming sincere. She held out a slim, gloved hand. I bowed again and kissed it. As I stepped back, I searched for the woman I had seen in the park. But this Henrietta was quite composed, her smooth features set in a polite mask. Was this what pleased King George? A pretty bauble, bland and sweet. Well, he was said to be a dull sort of fellow.

‘How brave you were,’ she said, eyes brightening with admiration.

I decided she was not quite as bland as I had first thought. ‘It was an honour to serve you, madam.’

‘There are few men fearless enough to stand against my husband in his rage.’

‘Your husband!’ I cried, before I could stop myself. That monster was her husband? I could scarce believe it. I tried to remember what I knew of Charles Howard. He’d been a servant to the old king, I thought. A drunken rake by all accounts, with a cruel temper… but I had not realised how cruel. The man I had met in the park had been half-wild.

‘I thank you, sir, for saving me from him. I was sure he meant to kill me. He has threatened it before.’ Her voice was quite steady, but as she spoke she folded her hands together. A subtle sign, but one I had seen at the gaming tables. She was afraid, and fighting with every breath to conceal it. So terribly afraid – even here in the palace.

She drifted towards a tapestry on the wall. I put my hands behind my back and followed her, playing the gentleman. She had taken so much trouble to hide her feelings, it would be ungallant to expose them. ‘A fine piece,’ I nodded, though I did not care a fig for tapestries. Could I dare hope she had summoned me here solely to thank me? That would suit me very well, if she might hurry it along. Although payment would not go amiss.

I thought of Gonson, gathering his evidence. I did not have time to admire old needlework, even with someone as pretty and intriguing as Henrietta Howard.

‘Madam, I am glad you are recovered. But I am not sure how I may assist you?’

Her lips parted in surprise. ‘Oh! I have not summoned you here, sir. It is my mistress who wishes to speak with you.’

‘Mr Hawkins,’ Budge called across the room. ‘Her Majesty the Queen is waiting.’

The queen. I knew of course that Mrs Howard was a Woman of the Bedchamber, but had not thought for a moment that it was her