A plague on mr pepys, p.26
A Plague on Mr Pepys, page 26
*
There was no sedan to take them home, and they had to walk. Bess said little. The memory of Pepys’s hands, blotched in the firelight, kept revisiting her. Outside, the eaves poured water so they had to skulk close to the walls, and the streets were slick and slippery underfoot. Pepys chattered on, not noticing her reticence, in a monologue about ships, provisions and Tangier. As soon as they got to Moorgate he stuck up his hand to summon a coach. He’d to go to Whitehall, he said, ‘to a Committee Meeting about one of the colonies.’
‘You won’t let Will find out it was me doing the asking, will you?’ Bess said.
‘Asking what?’ Pepys backed into her, concerned with moving himself away from the splash of the wheels.
‘About the carpenter’s position.’ He wasn’t listening. She had to make him. Insistent, she tugged him by the sleeve. ‘Can we expect them to send him a letter?’
‘Oh, I imagine so,’ Pepys said. But the way he said it filled her with a deep dread. She was already of no account. She didn’t dare even think it. That she’d done that thing with him, and it would be for nothing.
A door slam and the cry of the coachman. Bess slumped. The coach was gone, and with it, Pepys – whooshing down the street in a rattle of wheels. He’d just left her, without even a ‘fare thee well.’
She stood a moment, until another carriage swept by, throwing up a wall of water that splattered her skirts. It brought her to her senses. She scanned her surroundings.
Fleet Street. She knew where she was, that was no problem; she could find her way home, but the light was fading fast and the link-men were out already with their lanterns.
What on earth could she say? She’d been out far longer than she intended, it was a good hour’s walk home, and she’d have a lot of explaining to do. She braced herself.
Starch, that’s what she’d told Will. She’d have to go and buy starch.
*
‘I fed the children. It’s late,’ was all he said. But his look was cold.
She put the wrapped block of starch on the table. ‘There was a long queue, and then I bumped into Meg and we got talking and—’
‘Why didn’t you take Mary with you? I don’t like you going out alone.’
His stare washed over her mud-spattered skirts. At the same time she felt as if he could see the traces left by Pepys’s hands. Guilt uncoiled in her chest, making her throat tight. She could not trust herself to answer. Instead she said, ‘There are rumours from the broadsheet sellers. I saw their notices outside the Exchange. Many of them. Plague in London, they said.’
‘It’s just rumour. Don’t talk of it further. The children might hear you.’
‘What?’ Billy appeared from the bedchamber. Trust him. His ears were always sharp as a stag’s.
‘Nothing, sweet. Have you had your supper?’
‘Yes, Aunt Bess. But it was only bread and cheese. Where were you?’
‘Just with Meg from the glover’s. We got talking.’ The lie slipped out easily but Will’s watchful expression made her shut her mouth.
*
That night, Will turned his back on Bess. She was not telling the truth, he was certain. It made him almost sea-sick, a wormy sensation in the stomach that he couldn’t quell. All night she’d been fawning over him, too anxious to please.
She hadn’t been at Meg’s, he’d stake his life on it.
For another few weeks Will watched Bess. He found himself counting the hours she was out, calculating distances and walking speeds, and he hated himself for it. But he couldn’t help himself. Twice more she gave him thin excuses for her late return, but then again, everything she did now seemed tainted with suspicion.
When she told him again that she’d met with Meg, a cold, hard lump formed in his chest. He wasn’t going to let it drop this time. He’d go to Meg tomorrow.
The next morning as he pulled on his woollen stockings, he said, ‘You’ll have to take care of the boys today. Jacob will set them to making spoons again, if you ask him. I need to go out.’
‘Oh. Is it a commission?’ She sat up against the pillows and smiled at him. Her smile made his heart ache.
‘No.’ He pulled his doublet on over his shirt.
‘Are you going to see Jack again?’
‘No.’
‘Ah, Christmas shopping. It’s all right, I won’t tell the boys.’
Christmas was just something else he didn’t want to think about. The memories were too sweet, so sweet they would burn him. He watched Bess bite her lip when he didn’t respond, then pin another smile on her face. ‘Well,’ she said, getting out of bed and winding her arms about his waist, ‘you never know, perhaps there’ll be some good news from the King’s Yard soon. Some Christmas cheer, eh?’
‘And hogs will lay eggs.’ He shrugged her off and went through to the parlour to find his boots. She’d polished them, he noticed. Normally he had to remind her. Another sign that she was trying to placate him.
A few minutes later the boots were on his feet and he was striding up past Deptford Strond towards the ferry stage at Water Gate, a beaver hat jammed low on his head against the cold.
*
Will pushed his way through the crowds of well-wrapped shoppers towards the stalls around St Paul’s Church. Awnings flapped over them today in case of snow. There was a tingle in the air, and above him, the skies were grey; cloud thickened in layers above the stump of the church tower, its spire truncated by one of the frequent city fires.
Meg’s shop, or rather her father’s business, was one of the bigger ones, with a stall out front selling news-sheets, chapbooks, and religious tracts. The stall was owned by Meg’s husband, Hugh and today it was besieged by people. Will thrust his way past the crowd, but one word kept catching his attention. Plague.
Behind the counter, a harassed Hugh was reassuring people. ‘No, there’s nothing in today’s news-sheet. It’s just rumour. The Bills of Mortality say nothing of it.’
‘They say it’s in St Giles,’ a man in a knitted muffler said. ‘Best place for it, if you ask me.’ A smatter of nervous laughter.
‘No, sir, I’ve told you,’ Hugh said to another gentleman, who was waving a paper at him, and protesting, ‘there’s no foundation to the rumour. If there was, then Stoner’s News-sheet would be the first to let you know. We pride ourselves on it.’
‘Trouble?’ asked Will, smiling at his friend.
‘Will, you wouldn’t believe it. It comes in waves. No sooner have I seen one lot off, than another bunch arrive.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘Some foolish wag has put about that the plague has reached London. Well, of course it has. It never goes away. They come to me for news of it. But there is none. To hear these folk, you’d think the grim reaper himself was on his way down the road with his sickle and scythe.’
‘Don’t be so certain,’ another man said, overhearing. ‘I was in Jonathan’s Coffee House this morning, and they say Holland’s bad. Thousands dead.’
‘Doesn’t bear thinking about,’ Will murmured as he made his way down the back alley towards Hutchinson’s. A twinge of guilt assailed him that he hadn’t told Hugh he was going to see Meg. Best if Hugh kept out of it, he thought.
To his relief Meg was behind the sales counter at the glove shop, and not sewing in the back room with the other girls. In her plain worsted dress and brown apron, she looked homely and entirely without guile. She smiled. ‘Morrow, Will. What can I do for you? New gloves, is it?’
‘No. I was just on my way to the Exchange, and thought I’d pass the time of day.’
‘How’s Bess?’ Meg said, making a pile of coins on the counter.
‘She’s fine. Said it was good to see you yesterday.’
Meg froze in counting the coins. ‘It can’t have been me. I don’t think … I mean, I haven’t seen Bess in months. You must be mistaken, Will. I was just thinking that I should call, see how she is.’ She shoved the coins in her pocket, looking discomfited.
‘Are you sure?’
‘What is it, Will? Is there something wrong?’
Her earnest face made his throat close up. ‘No … no.’ He struggled to find sensible words in a pause that seemed to last too long. ‘Oh, sorry, it’s probably my mistake. I must have got the wrong person.’
‘Shall I call this evening then? I’d like to catch up with Bess.’
‘No, not this evening, we’ll be busy. I mean to say, we’ve got a previous engagement.’ Previous engagement? What ridiculous words. He didn’t know where they’d come from, but only that he didn’t want Bess to know he’d been spying on her friend.
‘Well. Another time then.’
Meg’s face closed. He’d hurt her.
Behind him the bell on the door tinkled.
‘I’ll be going,’ he said. ‘God be—’
But Meg had turned away to serve the customer behind him.
Will fled the shop and elbowed his way back through the crowds with Meg’s words burning in his mind. His sense of triumph to have caught Bess out had evaporated, and been replaced with a pain that made his stomach clench. His wife. His wife was cuckolding him.
All the way back downstream in the wherry he stared at other men, wondered if they were being fooled by their wives. The man opposite, a merchant by the look of him, in his navy plush suit, with his servant togged out in livery; did he know where his wife was today? He looked so calm.
Will stared. Was he less of a man than that merchant?
He should tell Bess to go. But the very thought of it brought him into a cold sweat.
Chapter 40
Bess hurried past the houses adorned with greenery for the Christmas festivities, deliberately turning her head away from the boughs of holly and ivy with their garlands of red ribbon. Chestnut-roasting braziers glowed on each street corner, as families gathered to gawp at the new displays in the shop windows. Happy families that just made her feel that she and Will were even further out of kilter.
Will had been taciturn and surly this morning, and she felt his suspicion of her like an almost physical presence. He’d gone out, refusing to say where. No letter had come for him about any sort of employment, so she’d been forced to go to the Navy offices again. The encounter had been fruitless and degrading as usual. Curse Pepys. The wily dog hadn’t kept his side of agreement, and the thought made her bitter.
Bess skidded and tottered on the icy cobbles, anxious to get home, worried about Will and that Mary would not be taking proper care of the children. When she opened the door, it was to see Will sitting stiffly in the parlour in his best suit. One look at his face was enough to fill her with foreboding.
‘Take the children out for half-an-hour, Mary,’ he said.
Mary put down the coal scuttle with a clang. ‘But I’ve to do the dishes and—’
‘Now. I won’t stand for disobedience.’
Bess was un-nerved. Will was never sharp with Mary. She made a great show of removing her gloves as Mary bustled the subdued children past her to put on scarves and hats before shooing them out into the chill.
When they’d gone, the room fell empty and silent. Bess made to go to the kitchen but Will stopped her with an outstretched arm. ‘Sit,’ he said.
She lowered herself into the chair, her stomach tying itself in knots, a heat rising to her face.
‘I went to see Meg,’ Will said. ‘You weren’t there yesterday. Or any of the other times. She says she hasn’t seen you for months.’
So he’d been spying on her. Oh my Lord. And Meg would know she’d lied. What would she think? She licked her lips, but for once in her life, no ready excuses came. She dropped her gaze to study the scores and cuts in the table top.
‘Tell me where you’ve been, Bess.’ His voice was gentle, hopeful, still waiting for a plausible excuse.
What could she say? She shook her head.
‘I need the truth, Bess. Whatever it is, we can’t go on like this.’
‘I went to … to see Mr Pepys.’
‘Pepys?’ He groaned. ‘I should have guessed. All those other times, was that him too?’
She couldn’t answer. How much did he know? Whilst she hesitated, his face seemed to have aged in a few moments, his eyes hollow, his cheeks sunken.
She licked her lips. No sound came.
He stood slowly, deliberately, and reached for a cloak from the hook.
‘No, wait … I can explain.’ She lunged to take hold of his arm.
‘Leave go! What’s to explain? You’ve been dallying behind my back, that’s all. I’ve been made a laughing stock.’
She gripped her nails into the fabric of his sleeve. ‘No. It’s not what you think. I can explain. We were just … talking. I did it for you.’
He wrenched his arm away, eyes instantly dark with fury. ‘For me? You’re telling me you did it for me?’ he sneered at her. ‘That’s a jest. If you were doing it for me, why didn’t you tell me?’
He took hold of the door handle, but she held onto his arm. ‘He promised you work in the yard—’
‘Oh yes, I believe you. That’s why I’m working in the yard now, instead of making poxy spoons.’
‘It’s true. I only went to see if I could get you work. Don’t go, love—’
But it was too late, the door slammed behind him.
What had she done? She slumped back onto the chair and put her head in her hands. What had happened to them? Her chest felt as though it had been run over by a cart. It was only now that she was certain. Seeing Mr Pepys hadn’t been worth it. No matter what he’d been offering her, it wasn’t worth it.
She locked the door to prevent anyone coming in, put her head in her hands and closed her eyes as if to shut out the world and everyone in it. She must have been sitting a half hour when she heard feet on the stairs.
Bang. Bang.
She looked up. Someone was knocking at the door. A shaft of hope pierced her. She wiped her face, and flung open the door. ‘Will, I’m—’
But the face on the doorstep wasn’t Will, and at first she didn’t recognise him.
‘What’s the matter? Has someone died?’ the man said. Bess put her hands to her mouth. She recognised that voice.
‘Jack? What are you doing here?’
The last person she wanted to see. He was bone-thin and his clothes hung off his shoulders. His once-fine cuffs were threadbare and stained with grime, and his stockings were holed at the knees, showing skin red with cold.
‘Where are the boys?’ he asked, peering behind her.
‘They’re … they’re out. With my maidservant, Mary.’ She didn’t want him to come in, but he was already pushing past her and making for the fire at the other end of the parlour.
She followed him. ‘How did you …? I mean, when did they let you out?’
‘Bribed my way out. Warder’s mother has the plague. I promised him a bottle of my herbal plague cure. Wanted to be here at Christmas for my boys, didn’t I?’
Bess was aware of her red eyes and the fact that she still felt unsteady on her feet. Will finding out about Mr Pepys had been a shock. She was still trying to take it all in. And now, to make things worse, here was Jack, ready to upset the applecart all over again.
‘You can’t stay here.’ That much she knew.
‘Where’s Will? There’s no noise from the workshop.’
‘He had to go out.’
‘When will he be back?’
‘I don’t know. He could be gone a while.’ She couldn’t prevent herself from blushing, felt the prick of her swollen eyelids. But she busied herself wiping down the table, her mind still in a turmoil.
A smell of damp unwashed body wafted from the fireplace. ‘Jack,’ she said, pulling herself together, ‘would you like to clean yourself up?’
He turned back to face her, and rested his heels on the hearth, swaying back and forth before the fire, surveying her with a blank expression.
‘I mean, there’s still water in the ewer,’ she said. ‘Through in our bedchamber. Wash-cloth’s on the hook.’
He set off in that direction, but another clatter of footsteps on the outside stairs halted him mid-stride. Mary and the boys. The door burst open, bringing with it chilly air and the smell of the river.
‘Look who’s here,’ Bess said, her voice choked.
‘Pa!’ shouted Billy, and he rushed to him, stopping dead just before him. ‘You smell bad.’ He wrinkled his nose.
‘Dare say I do. So would you, if you’d been holed up in a damp cellar for months.’
‘Was it really bad?’ Toby’s eyes were wide with excitement.
‘Like hell. It was full of felons and murderers. I had to fight them off; it was dog eat dog in there.’ Bess had the sudden impression she was listening to another small boy.
‘How did you get out?’ The boys crowded round him as he sat down, and Hal made to climb onto his knee.
‘Get down, you’re too big for that now,’ Jack said. ‘You want to know how I got out? I escaped, lad. Over the wall. Used my fists. Like this.’ He held up his fists, mimed boxing. ‘Battered the warder – great big bleeder he was, like the side of a mountain. Then I stole his keys from his pocket and let myself out.’
The three boys had gathered round the table now, and Jack was holding court. The sight of it made her want to scream. She’d only just got those boys back on the straight and narrow, and here was Jack filling their heads with all sorts of nonsense.
She’d no time to ponder that, for the door swung open again and Will stood on the threshold. Bess immediately looked away, but not before she’d seen the hard expression on his face.
‘Jack?’ His expression changed to one of incredulity.
The next few minutes were filled with Will slapping Jack on the shoulder and acting like he was a prodigal son, rather than the man who’d fleeced them of their savings and was now about to take his three sons from the only stability they’d ever known. It hurt even more as he had not a word to say to her.
‘Can we wait till after supper to go home, Pa?’ Billy asked, anxious for his stomach as usual.
A twisting sensation in her heart. Those poor boys. Where would Jack take them?
