Only a few members of court were brave enough to refuse. Lord Middleton prided himself on his ignorance; Lord Peterborough, ostentatiously crossing himself, would keep his pew in his parish Protestant church, St. Margaret’s Westminster, so that he could return to the fold at any time. Anyone who wanted royal favor or even a place at court rushed to be baptized into the faith. Even Nell Gwynne, who had called herself the “Protestant whore,” now attended the royal chapel, knowing very well that a woman has to work to keep the favor of a king; on her back or on her knees alike.
Livia—doubly blessed in being born Roman Catholic and being the queen’s most intimate friend—knelt behind her royal mistress, the picture of devotion, her gaze raking the congregation but her attention always returning, anxiously, to the queen at her prie-dieu. She was proudly upright, her eyes on the monstrance; but Livia knew that it was only determination that held Mary Beatrice up through long ceremonial occasions like this one.
Livia thought that the royal observers who predicted that the queen would die and that James would marry the daughter of the Grand Duke of Tuscany were probably right. And then, thought Livia grimly, if myown husband dies and leaves me as the Dowager Lady Avery, with nothing but a miserable dower house in Yorkshire—what future is there for me? My walk behind her coffin will be the last time I am close to the Queen of England. A new one from Tuscany is not going to need me to hold her in bed at night while she cries for loneliness. I will have nothing for myself, and nothing to give Matteo. Can it be that I have done all that I have done, to win nothing more than Foulmire Priory for him? For the woman my husband loved instead of me? Have I been through all this, to end up as a respectable widow, scraping a living on my dower, in a damp manor house on the edge of a bottomless mire?
REEKIE WHARF, LONDON, SUMMER 1686
The whole family turned out to see Johnnie off on his great adventure. The young man, who had said that he would never stray from his desk at the East India Company, was leaving his country for the first time. His ship, theBonaventure, stopped at Reekie quay to load his goods. Alinor with Ned, seated in a chair from the parlor, were already on the quayside to say their farewells; Alys, Matthew, Gabrielle, and Mia were lined up beside them. Even Rob took a wherry downriver from his patients to shake Johnnie’s hand and give him a bottle of laudanum for pain and fever.
Matthew glanced at Mia. “I should like to travel,” he said. “Maybe go to Italy, maybe see your home?”
She shrugged. “It takes forever and you have only a cramped cabin and when there’s a storm, you are thrown around like a pea in a rattle.”
“But to see the world!”
“I swear all you see are waves.”
Matthew stepped up to Johnnie. “Good luck, Uncle Johnnie,” he said, slapping him on the back. “Good luck.”
Johnnie laughed, hugged Matthew, kissed his nieces, and paused before his mother, Alys.
“Now here’s the manifest,” she said, businesslike, handing over the list of his cargo. “All safely stowed.”
“Ma.” He hesitated.
“Godspeed,” she said tightly. “Send us a message as soon as you’re safe into Bridge.”
“I will, I will.”
Her face was set firm against emotion, her jaw clamped so that she did not cry out to him not to go.
“I love you, Ma,” he said simply. “I’ll come home again.”
“God bless,” she said shortly, hugged him, and stepped back.
Ned could stretch out a hand but could not frame words. His dark eyes stared up at Johnnie as if there was much that he would say.
“I’ll find her,” Johnnie promised. “I’ll find her, and I’ll make sure that she’s safe. When she’s served her time, if she wants it, I’ll marry her and bring her home. If she wants something else, she can say. She’ll be free.”
Ned nodded, his hand tried to grip.
“You can trust me.”
Johnnie kissed his grandmother. “Grandmother…”
“I’ve packed you a case of herbs for the journey,” she said. “Don’t drink the water anywhere that the air smells rank. And boil all the water that you use.”
“I know.”
She looked at him, as if she would see past the quayside and the waiting ship to his future. “Good-bye, my dearest boy,” she said solemnly. “We won’t meet again.”
He checked. “Grandmother!”
She smiled at him, quite unafraid. “I think not, Johnnie. But you remember this—great wealth or position is not a right, and you don’t deserve it however hard you work. It is chance, and the labor of others, that brings a man wealth. Don’t forget that others have earned your fortune for you. Never imagine you deserve it.”
“I will! I promise! I’ll remember this. And I’ll make a fortune and bring it home to you!” He bent down so that Ned could hear his promise. “I’m going as a trader, not a planter. I’m going to free her, not to enslave anyone. Don’t fear for me.”
Alinor nodded and held Ned’s hand as Johnnie ran up the gangplank and they loaded it behind him; the girls and Matthew waved. Johnnie stood at the rail and waved to them until the barges drew the ship into mid-river, and then he threw a triumphant salute to the shore and went down to his cabin.