Free Death in St James's Park by Susanna Gregory

‘You cannot believe anything you read in those. Personally, I am of the belief that it is Fry who has been agitating the apprentices. The King should let me lead a party of militia to root him out. Then we could hang, draw and quarter him in Smithfield, as a warning to other would-be traitors.’
    Chaloner shuddered, feeling there had already been too much blood shed for politics. Reluctantly, he re-entered the affray, where he was immediately accosted by a drunken courtier with foolish opinions about the Dutch. Time passed so slowly that he went to the clock Hannah hadrecently purchased at great expense, and shook it, to see whether it had stopped working. Something dropped out on to the floor, and there was a metallic twang as pieces sprang loose inside.
    ‘I should set it down and disavow all knowledge, if I were you.’
    The speaker was le Notre, his eyes bright with amusement. Chaloner did not want to do as he was told, but unless he intended to hold the clock all night, he had no choice but to put it back on the table. He did so carefully, wincing when its face tilted at a peculiar angle inside the case.
    ‘When Hannah notices, tell her O’Neill did it,’ le Notre continued. His French had a lazy, aristocratic drawl that suggested he was rather more than a designer of gardens. ‘She should not pursue a friendship with him anyway. Or his wife.’
    ‘Why not?’ asked Chaloner, taken aback by the presumptuous advice.
    ‘Because they hate nonconformists, and will make bad enemies if they discover her religion.’
    Chaloner was uncomfortable. It was not illegal to follow the Old Faith, but it was strongly discouraged, and Hannah would find herself barred from all manner of places and occasions should her conversion become common knowledge. ‘She is not—’
    ‘The Queen invited me to her private chapel this morning, and I saw Hannah accept the Host from the priest,’ interrupted le Notre. ‘But do not worry, I am not a man to betray a fellow Catholic. However, you should warn her against the O’Neills.’
    ‘Very well,’ said Chaloner, wondering whether she would listen. ‘Thank you.’
    ‘Your King promisedreligious tolerance when he reclaimed his throne, but it has not come to pass. Indeed, I read in your government’s newsbook –
The Intelligencer
– this morning that he has ordered his country to dispense with Lent this year. Dispense with Lent! Whatever next?’
    ‘On what grounds?’ asked Chaloner, who had not had time for reading that day.
    ‘The article did not say. It merely reported that the King “doth for good reasons think that in this present year, no proclamation do issue forth for the strict observance of Lent”. I imagine these “good reasons” are so that it does not curtail his merry lifestyle.’
    Chaloner made no reply, loath to engage in treasonous discussions with foreigners.
    ‘Lord Castlemaine will put him right, though,’ le Notre went on. ‘He has written a book, an apology for Catholics, which will be published next week. Will Hannah purchase a copy?’
    ‘Will you?’ Chaloner was not about to answer a question that might see his wife in trouble.
    Le Notre smiled. ‘Yes. Palmer is an intelligent man, and will have sensible things to say. But I must not monopolise you, Monsieur Chaloner. Good evening. I hope our paths cross again.’
    Chaloner did not. The Frenchman was far too outspoken for him.
    Hannah’s soirée finished very late, and for once Chaloner was grateful that they had a large body of servants, because there was a lot to clean up. Unfortunately, they did so noisily, and although Hannah seemed oblivious to the racket, it kept him awake well into the small hours. He supposed he could have ordered them to be quiet, but it seemedunreasonable to demand silence so that he could sleep when he imagined they would like to be abed themselves.
    He had his revenge the following morning, though, waking long before dawn and clattering in the kitchen until Joan