“I’ve got some money,” Alinor offered.
“Not enough. He’s going to need much more than the twenty pounds she’d get on the quayside at Barbados. We don’t even know how much yet: it could be a hundred. He’ll have to let her go, and comfort himself that she was going to be transported when Ned found her, anyway.”
“She can’t be transported, a girl like her. And if she’s in prison in Ned’s place, then we have to free her, if we can.”
“Well, we can’t,” Alys snapped. “And my guess is that she’ll fall on her feet like a cat.”
Alinor smiled at her daughter. “You’re angry because Johnnie disobeyed you and chased after her, and he’s not going to marry an heiress, or some rich City widow,” she said accurately.
“He’d be mad to marry her, and mad to buy her out, and mad to do anything but forget her,” Alys said roundly. “And he’s not mad usually, he’s the only level-headed one of the whole family. So I expect him to come to his senses. And you can tell your brother to come to his senses too.”
BERRY STREET, LONDON, AUTUMN 1685
Ned was waiting in Johnnie’s house for him to come home from his work at the East India Company, when he heard the front door open. He went into the hall.
“Any luck?” he asked.
“And good evening to you,” Johnnie said irritably.
“So: no?” Ned said, not in the least apologetic, as Johnnie put his hat on the hall table and took off his thick coat.
“I am a bachelor,” Johnnie said dampeningly. “I live alone for good reason. I like to come in, light the fire, light the candles, take a glass of Madeira, and then go out for dinner later. Without anyone chattering in my ear.”
“Quicker we raise the money, quicker I’m gone,” Ned said. “Don’t be precious, Nephew.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Johnnie snapped. He pushed open the doorto the little parlor and saw that the fire was already lit in the grate, and a glass of Madeira stood on the side table beside his chair. “Oh,” he said. “That’s different.”
“Changed your mind about being a bachelor?” Ned asked, pouring himself a glass of wine and sitting in the opposite chair. “See what a comfortable pair we are together! Now, did you raise any money today?”
“I’ve got the promise of ten pounds,” Johnnie said. “That’s an advance on my salary and a loan on some trades that I’m doing. But that’s all I’ve got so far. This place is rented, so I can’t get a loan against it. If I took all my cutlery and tableware to pawn, I would probably get another four pounds or so—but how would I ever get it back?”
“We’ll have to borrow from the warehouse,” Ned ruled.
“It’s all very well to say, but how are you going to pay it back?” Johnnie argued. “You know my ma can’t stand debt.”
“She’s my niece…”
“You’re a bad uncle to her, if you take her money. It’s hard-earned, and there’s never any guarantee of more…”
Ned exclaimed and strode to the window, twitched back the curtain, and looked out. “You live well,” he said. “These curtains alone…”
“Rented,” said Johnnie.
“Can you not forward sell some of your goods from the Company? You bring in your own silk and jewels, don’t you?”
“I do,” Johnnie said. “But what if that ship sinks or is hit by pirates, or just meets contrary winds and comes in late?”
“Then what?”
“Then I’m ruined,” Johnnie told him.
“But what are we going to do?” Ned demanded simply. “We have to have a small fortune by next week. Sir James says it could be as much as two hundred pounds!”
“Inconvenient, isn’t it?” Johnnie asked nastily. “You despise the whole idea of making a fortune, and you loathe the rich. Now, you rather need a fortune, and you have no rich friends.”
“She is innocent, that should save her. If your world is as well ordered as you say, then an innocent woman would be freed.”
“It is well ordered,” Johnnie said stubbornly. “It puts a market priceon freedom. Our trouble is we can’t afford it. That’s our fault, not the marketplace.”