From the Charred Remains (11 page)

Lucy waited, but Adam didn’t complete the thought. Instead, he looked around the room, taking in every detail. “Father said you left his service. This morning! Why ever didn’t you tell me?”

“Forgive me. I don’t know. I suppose it just all came about so quickly. Finding the body, coming across Master Aubrey … I suppose the idea to be his apprentice just came to me. And,” she added gently, “I’ve no real place in your father’s home. I’ve told you that.” Seeing the flash of hurt in his eyes, she touched his arm, wanting him to understand. “Will and I have taken rooms above. I’m to keep the shop tidy and Master Aubrey said he’d teach me the trade. Let me help out with the bookselling and the printing.”

He looked around the room again. “Do you think you’ll be content here?” he asked. “Truly, Lucy? You’re not just here because,” he said, still turned slightly away, “because you were no longer happy in my father’s employ?”

“Oh, Adam!” she exclaimed. “Leaving his home was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I love this work already. To create books! It’s hard work, but I’m used to that!”

Adam turned back to her, studying her face. He smiled slightly. “You’re glowing,” he said. With that, the tension between them faded as quickly as it had arisen. He reached over to tuck an errant brown strand back behind her ear. His mood growing lighter still, he added, “An apprentice! Who’d have thought?”

“Not officially. I won’t be here for seven years.”

“Glad to hear it!” Adam grinned. “I don’t think I could take that.”

“But I will be a petticoat author,” Lucy said, smiling in return, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her heart. She hadn’t quite realized how much she had needed to share this news with Adam. How much she needed him to approve of what she was doing. “My first piece has already caused quite a stir.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Hearing the bellman call the noon hour, he sighed. “I must get back to the survey. I just wanted to stop by, give you that information from my father.”

As he took his leave of her, Lucy smiled inwardly. Although they were far from what they had been just a few weeks before, “stopping by” meant he had walked several miles out of his way to come see her.

*   *   *

Later, Lucy watched Master Aubrey bringing up bottles of wine that he had buried in the dirt floor of the cellar. “Whatever are you doing?” she asked.

“Thought to protect my wine from the Fire,” the printer grunted. “For the Rhenish wine alone, I thank the good Lord for stopping the Fire from advancing these six more dwellings down Fleet Street.”

Lucy shook her head at him playfully. “Now, now, Master Aubrey,” she warned. “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh.” She wiped one of the bottles clean with a towel. She struck a casual tone. “I can see from your imprint that you sometimes sell chapbooks and the like as far away as Oxford. However do you manage it? Do you go yourself, or do you send someone?” She handed him the bottle.

Taking it, he said, “I’ve a merchant, Ivan, who takes a pack to Oxford. He’s got a fishwife there who’ll hawk them proper.” He popped off the cork. “Care for a swish? A bit of welcome-me-home for you? Hey, when’s that brother of yours coming? Can’t have unescorted women living here. Can’t say I’d like gossips wagging on about me starting a nunnery.”

Lucy smiled at the reference. By nunnery, Master Aubrey did not mean a papist haven, but a den of women of the much more naughty sort. “I should think not. Don’t worry. My brother will settle in soon enough,” she said, holding out her little pewter cup. Not for the first time, she wondered why everyone seemed so fearful of women living on their own. Women were to be chaste, silent, and obedient. She’d heard those virtues extolled often enough in the pews, from ministers quoting St. Paul. Well, not to be bothered about it now. She laid the coins on the table. “Today’s take.”

His eyes gleaming, Aubrey swept the coins into his hand. “Good job, lass.”

Will arrived then, a great cloth bag under each arm, and after Lucy quickly introduced him to Master Aubrey, she took her brother up to show off their new rooms. There were truly three rooms all told. They each had a tiny chamber, and there was a third room which they shared, consisting of a stone hearth and pot, a table and three stools, shelves for storing some dishes, as well as roots and vegetables, and even a tiny larder for hanging meat or mallards, should they be lucky enough to get such luxuries.

Will looked around in satisfaction. His lean muscular frame seemed to fill the room. All the weight and muscle he’d lost during last year’s ordeal had returned, making him seem far more hale and hearty than she’d ever seen him. He answered her smile with his own lopsided grin. “Well done, sister. Maybe no Hargrave manse, but quite nice nevertheless. Now, tell me about what you’ve been doing. Petticoat author.”

“Alas, more typesetter and stoker of fires, I’m afraid. Although I did get to hawk my piece,” Lucy said, setting a cup in front of her brother. “Something interesting has arisen.” She proceeded then to tell Will about everything that happened in the last few days. When she got to her encounter with Rhonda, Will whistled.

“That’s some tale, sis,” Will said. “You sure know how to tell ’em.”

Lucy stared at him. “You don’t believe me?”

“You’re serious? A body, a puzzle, and some sort of desperate love affair. Surely you’re having a bit of fun.”

“Look at this.” Lucy pulled the signet ring from the second pocket she kept hidden deep within her skirts. “Do you think someone would be willing to kill for this? I wonder if this is what got poor Darius killed.” She paused. “We need more answers.”

“We do?” Will asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes,” she said firmly. Idly, she flipped the signet ring over, staring at the family insignia. “Perhaps you will be the key.”

*   *   *

The fires stoked, the type set, and the printer ready for pressing, Lucy beamed at Master Aubrey and Lach the next morning, when they came stumbling down the steep stairwell, a bit worse for wear for tippling the night before.

“The presses are ready to go, sir,” Lucy said, not minding the redheaded apprentice’s scowl, or the gesture he made at her when Master Aubrey wasn’t looking.

She had particular reason for Master Aubrey to think well of her, and she wasn’t going to let this pimply lad ruin her plan.

Aubrey merely grunted, grimacing when he opened the shop’s shutters, letting in the sun just breaking through the ever-present London fog. He and Lach began to place the sheets across the typeface. Lucy would have done that too, but it was truly a two-man job. In a few moments, they had gotten the press started, and had to shout to be heard above the din. Master Aubrey would bark orders, and Lucy and Lach would only speak as necessary. They got into a ready rhythm, even as Lucy’s shoulders burned and her fingers increasingly blistered from moving the great lever back and forth.

She needed to wait until Master Aubrey was in a good mood before speaking to him. Finally he called for a break. Lachlin disappeared out back, to “check on the woodpile” as he explained in his fast trot out of the shop. It was clear from his uncomfortable bouncing that he’d needed to relieve himself for an hour or more, but he had been too afraid of Master Aubrey to say so. From his grin, the printer was well aware of the distress he was causing his hapless devil.

Lucy grabbed two apples from the bin and sat down on a low bench, after handing one to the printer. “Master Aubrey,” she began, then stopped. She wasn’t exactly sure how to make the request she was about to make.

“Out with it, girl!” the printer bellowed. “Time’s a-wasting!”

Lucy smiled brightly, deciding to plunge right in. “Master Aubrey, sir. I was hoping that I might go to church with Master Hargrave and his family tomorrow. Perhaps eat Sunday supper with them too.” Seeing the printer frown, she hurried on. “I know you would expect me to go to church with you, and that I shouldn’t expect any Sundays off just yet. But I thought I could get up extra early, leave you a bit of stew to warm up when you got back from St. Michael’s. It being Sunday and all.” She hesitated again, wondering if tears would be too much. She decided against them, just adding simply, “I miss them. I would like to see them. Please.”

Master Aubrey mopped his balding head. He looked more puzzled than angry. She could almost read his thoughts. Apprentices weren’t supposed to ask for more time off than the guild regulations stated. Clearly, Lach had not made such requests, and he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

Seeing him waver, she added one more thing that she thought would turn him completely. “I know you would want to ask me about the sermon, as is your obligation as my master,” she said innocently, “but I could talk it over with the magistrate instead. He always wanted that his servants understood the minister’s words.”

There, that ought to do it. She smiled inwardly. There was no way the printer would want to sit through a long church sermon and then have to listen to another sermon from his servant on top of it. Lach had already told her that the master printer was a reluctant church-goer. Before he could find his voice, she sweetened her offer a little more. “I’ll bring you back a piece of gingerbread, if you like. Everyone says Cook’s gingerbread is a delight.”

“Alright, lass! Enough! No more of your cozening ways,” he said, looking exasperated. “Just this once, mind you. I can’t be taken as a master of shiftless servants.” Under his breath, he added, “Such a little minx.”

7

The next morning, Lucy and Will walked toward the Temple Church, the church now attended by the Hargraves. Another great structure to have survived the Fire, the church was located just at the end of Fleet Street, by the Inner and Middle Temples of the Inns of Court. As at all the surviving churches, homeless people still milled around the pillars, touching the walls, clearly hoping that touching sacred stone would bless them and reverse their fortunes. Thankfully, this number was starting to decrease, as these confused citizens, numbly coping with their losses, found their way to new homes in other areas of Westminster or London, or beyond the region altogether.

As they approached the stone steps of the church, Lucy noticed a middle-aged woman rocking back and forth by a small tree, and humming a little song. Clad only in a tattered nightdress and wearing her hair in a single tussled braid down her back, the woman looked as she must have when first aroused from sleep by news of the Great Fire. Having caught Lucy’s eye, the woman jumped up and moved toward them.

Instinctively, Will stepped in front of Lucy. “Back off,” her brother growled.

“Have you seen Charlie?” she asked Lucy in a hoarse voice. “I don’t know where he got to. Have you seen him?”

Mutely, Lucy shook her head. She didn’t want to ask who Charlie was. The woman’s eyes were wild. She allowed her brother to lead her away. When she glanced back, she saw that the woman had sat back under her tree, and had resumed swaying. So many people had been lost after the Fire. Saying a swift prayer for the woman, Lucy mounted the steps to the church and went in, holding on to her brother’s elbow.

The church was already quite full. Now that she was no longer in their employ, Lucy could not stand beside the family, as was the custom for servants when there were no pews available. She and Will took their place in the back of the church, with the other unconnected servants. If she had attended Master Aubrey’s church, as he had kindly invited them to do, she might have had a seat far closer to the nave. From her vantage point, she spotted Master Hargrave almost immediately, accompanied by John, Cook, and Annie. Adam was nowhere to be seen.

After the service, Lucy followed Master Hargrave out of the church, pulling Will by the elbow. A moment later, she greeted them, feeling shyer than she expected.

“Ah, Lucy, Will,” Master Hargrave said warmly. “It’s very nice of you to join us. You know, my dear, that I no longer need for you to recount what you learned from the sermon? That is Master Aubrey’s job now.”

At that, Lucy felt a slight pang. “I know, sir,” she said. “I was hoping to get your opinion on something else.”

“Oh?” The magistrate raised an eyebrow. “Pray tell.”

As they strolled along the street, she told the magistrate about the ring. Once inside the house, Annie followed Cook and John into the kitchen to put together their Sunday dinner. Will wandered in after them, eagerly sniffing the air.

“Bring me the ring,” the magistrate said to Lucy. “I’ll be in my study.”

After discreetly pulling the ring from beneath her skirts, Lucy followed the magistrate to the study. He was already sitting at his desk, a stack of papers in front of him.

“This ring is quite a fine piece,” she said, holding it out to him. “You can see by the wax, it’s been used as a seal. Constable Duncan thinks it belongs to a nobleman, and we were hoping you might know the coat of arms.”

The magistrate took the signet ring, turning it this way and that. “I agree. This ring was made for a man of means. However, it’s no family coat of arms I recognize,” he added. “Let us consult the book of heraldry.”

He moved over to his bookcase. Though he was nearly as tall as Adam, he still had to stand on his tiptoes to reach a book from the top shelf. He laid the book, a huge leather-bound tome with elaborate stitching, on his desk. “Not a book I look at very often,” he commented, blowing a bit of dust off the cover. Annie clearly was not cleaning as she ought. “Let’s look at that ring again.”

He swiveled the signet ring so that the family insignia was showing, and started paging through the volume.

“This is Latin, isn’t it?” Lucy asked, pointing to the words in the middle of the insignia. “I can’t even pronounce it.”

“
Semper Paratus.
‘Always ready,’” he explained. “Not all that helpful, though. Many families have mottos along those lines.”

“Do the Hargraves?” Lucy asked. “Have a family motto, I mean.”

“Oh, to be sure. Our motto is
Vincit Amor Patria.
Which means ‘My beloved country will conquer.’ Here, I’ll show it to you.” He opened the book to the Hargraves’ coat of arms. It looked quite impressive, depicting a knight’s helmet above a blue shield. The shield held three deer, with two of the deer above a lattice of red lines and the third deer just below it.