Free A Conspiracy of Violence by Susanna Gregory

when he had not the faintest idea where they might
     be purchased, suspecting he would be caught out in an instant. However, Thurloe’s visitors seemed keen to rid themselves of
     him, and nodded approvingly when Sarah ushered him into the next room, leaving the door decorously ajar. Downing immediately
     began a malicious diatribe about ungrateful staff, and only desisted when Thurloe regarded him with unfriendly eyes. Then
     their voices dropped to inaudible murmurs, suggesting business was underway. Chaloner perched on the edge of the bed, while
     Sarah kindled a lamp.
    ‘Do not sit there,’ she advised. ‘You will spread muck on John’s clean blankets, and he will not like that at all.’
    Chaloner moved to the hearth, watching her take one of Thurloe’s night-caps and drop it in a pot that was warming over the
     fire; the ex-Spymaster was fastidious and liked hot water available all day. She rolled the steaming garment into a ball and
     handed it to him. He regarded it blankly.
    She sighed impatiently. ‘For your leg, to ease the ache.’
    ‘There is nothing wrong—’
    She slapped it into his hand. ‘Take it – unless you
want
to give Downing cause to jibe you.’
    ‘Thurloe will no more want grime on his night-cap than he will on his bedclothes.’
    ‘We will burn it when you have finished. He has a dozen, and will not miss one. My husband seemed to recognise you, and he
     is usually good with faces. Where could you have met?’
    ‘Nowhere,’ replied Chaloner. He knew for a fact he had never encountered the man before – he would have remembered the orange-scented
     linen and the fellow’s lumpy nose. ‘He is confusing me with someone else.’
    ‘Perhaps so. He is not himself at the moment – too many financial worries, I suppose. What shall we talk about? Cinnamon?
     Or would you prefer to tell me your problems?’
    Chaloner was startled. ‘What problems?’
    ‘Downing hates you, and you are unlikely to secure another post as long as he refuses a testimonial. My husband will offer
     you work, but it will only be a matter of time before Downing makes him change his mind – he is a slippery, conniving fellow,
     and my husband always yields to him eventually. Were you one of John’s spies? Is that why Downing is afraid of you?’
    ‘I am not a spy,’ replied Chaloner firmly. ‘And Downing is not afraid of me – I only wish he were, because then he might keep
     his nasty opinions to himself.’
    She took the cap and soaked it in the water again. ‘It is no secret that John once employed an army of agents – or that some
     of them now want places in the new government. Downing sent him information about the political situation in the Netherlands,
     and I assume youdid the same, since you worked with him and you speak Dutch. Well? Am I right?’
    ‘You have a vivid imagination,’ said Chaloner, smiling because he did not want to offend her. ‘I was just a clerk.’
    She regarded him critically, head tilted to one side, then continued as if he had not spoken. ‘Downing professes himself to
     be a Royalist now, and is keen to eradicate all evidence of his former loyalties. John will say nothing about him, because
     he and Downing share too many secrets. But can Downing be sure
you
will not? I suspect the answer is no, and
that
is why he is wary of you.’
    Chaloner wondered if she was right. He and Downing had never liked each other, although they had kept their antipathy decently
     concealed until events in March had brought their true feelings to the surface, but it had never occurred to him that Downing
     might see him as a threat. He hoped she was mistaken: Downing was the kind of man to make life very difficult for those he
     considered a nuisance.
    ‘Then why is he here?’ he asked. ‘Meeting Cromwell’s old Secretary of State is not the best way to go about eliminating ties
     with the former regime.’
    ‘John has been asked to provide reports about Britain’s relations with