A Plague of Sinners by Paul Lawrence Read Free Book Online Page B

the basis he might be complicit in the illegal trade of wool, working with smugglers to sell the luxury goods they received in payment. So I followed him dutifully until he became curious, and apprehended me one day at the Exchange. Bythat time I was convinced of his innocence, since he spent most of his time arguing with a bellicose merchant whose customers lived mostly in the north of England. When I told him why I followed him he provided me with some intelligence as to the guilty parties. Though I did nothing with it, the men were arrested shortly after, for which Oliver professed his undying gratitude. Through Oliver I met Elizabeth.
    ‘Are you angry with your father?’ I asked.
    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘For we should have left London long ago. Yet Father will not have it.’
    ‘Why not?’ I wondered, thinking guiltily of Jane.
    ‘He does not say,’ Liz sighed. ‘But it is something to do with his business, some matter unresolved.’
    I squeezed her hand. ‘Well, I am glad for my sake that you stay.’
    She pulled her hands away and placed them on her lap, blinking again like she would cry. ‘Harry, I wish with all my heart that we could leave London. It is only because my father has the soul of a donkey that we remain. But for that James might still be with us.’ She dabbed at her eyes again. ‘Now is not a time for courting and currying favour. Now is a time to withdraw valiantly and weather out God’s storm. Once the clouds have parted and peace reigns again, that is the day to consider our lives and not our deaths.’
    A morbid speech, and not very romantic. Death and disease were ever present, and a life spent shivering in fearful anticipation was a life wasted.
    She lifted her chin and managed a weak smile. ‘I do enjoy your company though, Harry, while we remain.’
    ‘And I yours.’
    ‘I know so little about you.’ She stared deep into my eyes.‘I know you are peddled about the City as a pleasant prospect, yet in your case I cannot fathom the reason for it.’
    I had no idea what to say in response. Though her words cut like a short blade to my belly, I was struck by her candid nature. Courtship, in my experience, was usually a game of tedious riposte. The suitor was obliged to find ever new ways of paying compliments to the lady, who rarely displayed the same ingenuity in accepting them. I chose to interpret her meaning as relating solely to my prospects and not my personal qualities, the thought lightening my spirit. ‘I am a King’s man,’ I replied, hoping I masked my resentment.
    ‘Yes, Harry, I know that, but I don’t know what a King’s man is. My father is impressed, but I don’t know why, nor do I understand whether your role is important. There are hundreds of people, nay thousands I imagine, that perform duties on his behalf. Some of those duties are quite important and others more menial. The man that keeps his closet stool is a King’s man. What do you do for the King, Harry?’
    ‘Well.’ I sat up. ‘As of this moment I am investigating the death of the Earl of St Albans.’
    She took a sharp breath. ‘Thomas Wharton?’
    ‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘You know him?’
    ‘No.’ She shook her head, sharp. ‘Though I have heard of him. He was a scoundrel. Why are you investigating his death?’
    ‘Lord Arlington asked me to.’
    ‘I see.’ Her eyes began to well again.
    I was confused. ‘Why do you weep?’
    Her hair fell over her face. I restrained myself from reaching over to brush it off. She started to cry, for James I supposed. It made sense he may be plagued. If he believed himself to beinfected, then his motive for leaving was clear. The only place such a man might go would be a pesthouse.
    ‘Did James take money with him?’ I asked.
    ‘He took some clothes, not many.’ She held her fingers to her face. ‘And, yes, he took several pounds of his own money.’
    To pay his way, I reckoned. He would turn up at one of the pesthouses and declare himself to be of