Page 138 of Dark Tides
Felipe bowed. “As her lover,” he said very quietly. “He guessed that too.”
“Is that why she denounced him?” she asked. “So he could not accuse her, and you, of what you have done here?”
“Really, she had no choice. And besides, her husband’s family were saying he was murdered. It was quite obvious that she should blame it on the doctor.”
Sarah was aghast. “She accused Rob of murder? And you sent him to his death?”
“Really, he left us with no choice.”
Sarah rose from the chair and pressed her trembling hands down on the highly polished table to hide their shaking. “Then what about me?” she asked him. “For now I know too. What are you obliged to do to me?”
DECEMBER 1670, LONDON
Twice a week Livia made the long cold journey from the south bank of the river to the north, to the fashionable church where Sir James had suggested that she should meet with the minister. Twice a week she sat in the minister’s book-lined study, with his housekeeper as chaperone, darning in a corner by the door, while he taught the principles of the Protestant Church, the catechism, and the prayers in English. He praised Livia for her command of the language, her punctuality, and her diligence, but he found he could not warm to the beautiful young woman who occasionally tapped a long fingernail on the desk and muttered,“Allora!”at some particularly obscure theology. He feared she was preparing for baptism and confirmation for worldly gain—so that she might marry Sir James—and not because she knew in her heart that the religion of her family and childhood had fallen into heresy. When he tried to gently question her as to her heart and her conscience Livia widened her dark eyes at him and smiled her enchanting smile. “Father,” she said, though he wished she would not. “Father, my soul is pure.”
“The world is full of temptations…” he started, hoping she would admit that she was tempted by Sir James’s wealth and position.
“Not to me,” she said quietly. “All I want is grace.”
Livia never told anyone where she was going, nor what she was learning. She said that she was walking for her health and that she could not remain cooped up in the little warehouse every day of the week, especially in this miserable weather when the fog lay low on the icy tide. Alys made no complaint, and never questioned Liviaabout her outings. Occasionally, Livia brought home some little fairings: a ribbon for Alys, or a toy for Matteo, or some special herbs for Alinor. She said then that she had been shopping, or visiting the Royal Exchange, she said she had been walking towards the City and stopped to look at a market in the street. She said that she could not be expected to see nothing day after day but the cold rise and fall of a dirty winter river.
Some days she walked past Avery House on the Strand, taking care to cross the road to walk in the shadow of the imposing wall so that she could not be seen by any servants cleaning or tidying the empty house. She would pause at the corner and glance back at the shuttered windows, imagining the rooms where the furniture was covered, and even the chandeliers were bagged and dark. There were no signs that Sir James was expected, and there was no way for her to cross the road and knock on the front door to ask. She would not have demeaned herself by inquiring for him, when he had told her that he was snowed in at his country house. And anyway, the valuable brass door knocker had been taken off the door.
DECEMBER 1670, VENICE
Felipe rose to his feet and poured the rest of the bottle into Sarah’s glass. “Of course, you raise a very difficult question,” he complained. “Perhaps I had better just strangle you and drop your body in the water gate.”
“Captain Shore knows where I am,” she said defiantly, but her voice trembled.
He shrugged: “Does he care? Would he look for you?”
“I can offer you an agreement,” she said unsteadily. “If you will help me rescue my uncle, I will never speak about the… all this. I will forget all about the workshop and what you do. We will never mention it again.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“And I can pay you!” she said desperately.
He openly laughed at her. “Half a guinea? Or will you throw in the half guinea’s worth of feathers?”
“I can send you money from England. If you will only help me.”
“Obviously, I’m going to get money from England, and far more than you can raise.”
“But what if you don’t?” Sarah challenged. “What if you don’t get any money? What if you are working to your plan, and risking everything, but she isn’t?”
He turned his head and looked at her over the top of his glass. “What do you mean?”
“Because she’s not sent you any money, has she?” Sarah gambled. “And she’s certainly not paid us anything. I think she’s keeping it all to herself. The antiquities were for sale—I saw them for sale myself! But she has a new partner now.”
“Who? She was to sell them in your warehouse? With you bearing the costs.”
“She’s got another plan now!” Sarah grew more confident. “She’s got another partner. We carried the costs, but she showed them in his house. He’s an English lord, she chased him since she first arrived in England. She’s ditched you, she’s ditched us! She’s got another patron altogether. She’s a whore like one of those women on their chopines, and she’s moved on from you and left you behind.”
He shook his head, confidently smiling. “She would never double-cross me.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because we are promised to marry.”
