AUGUST 1670, LONDON

The shipping on the Thames was at its peak in the fairer weather; the great galleons from the East Indies which had caught an early monsoon wind passed the little wharf as if they disdained it, heading to their own deep moorings, and their own great warehouses. Alys maintained her rounds of meeting merchants, drumming up business for the wharf, and seeing the goods in and out, and the Custom duties paid.

Reekie Wharf was the preferred quay for a Kentish hoy that brought broadcloth in winter, and wheat and fruits in harvest time. The master—an old comrade of Ned’s—docked in August and Alys was able to climb the stairs to her mother’s room, where she was tying herbal posies to prevent fever, and put a bowl with fresh plums in her lap.

“Sussex plums,” she said. “Captain Billen brought them.”

Alinor closed her eyes to taste them as if she could see the tree, and the wall around Ferry-house garden, and the little house on the edge of the mire.

“It must have been a good summer on Foulmire for these to be so sweet,” was all she said.

The only idle person in the warehouse was Livia, who could think of nothing but the return of her ship from Venice carrying her goods; but could do nothing to make it come sooner. She hemmed her own exquisite linen, she played with her baby for a little while and then left him with Alys or Alinor for the whole afternoon as she walked in the fields and orchards to the south. She complained of boredom and of the heat, of the monotony of the warehouse life, of the likelihood of them all getting sick from the stinking River Neckinger that discharged into the Thames beside the warehouse. Her only interest was the design and ordering of some small elegant cards, like tradesman’s cards but on thicker quality paper. They showed a drawing of a classical statue head and, beneath, the address of Avery House.

“But these make it look as if you own the place,” Alys objected when Livia showed her the top face of the cards in their box.

“I can’t give my address as Reekie Wharf, Savoury Dock, can I?” Livia replied sharply. “These are antiquities of great value. No man of fortune and taste would be interested in them if he knew they came from here.”

“You are ashamed of us?” Alys asked levelly.

“Not at all! This is a matter of business. Not how things are, but how they look.”

“And does he not object? To how things look? To your using his house, his name?” As usual, in conversation she left James nameless.

“He will have no objection,” Livia ruled.

Alys gaped at the younger woman. “He will? You say: he will? He doesn’t know?”

“He knows I am showing my antiquities at his house. Of course, I have to give out his address. How else will people know where to come?”

“I thought they were his friends, they’d know where he lives?”

“This will remind them to return.”

“However did you pay for them?”

Livia turned her head away to hide a rush of tears. “They were not very expensive, and I had to have them, Alys.”

Alys had a moment of dread. “You’ve never borrowed money from him?”

“No! I would not!”

“Then how?”

Livia’s head drooped. “I sold my earrings.”

“Oh! My dear!” Alys was shocked. “You shouldn’t have done that. I could have lent you the money.”

“I couldn’t ask you,” Livia said, putting her black trimmed handkerchief to her eyes. “How could I? Not after how you were about the shipping. I can’t bear to be a burden to you…”

“Did you pawn them? Can we get them back?”

“They gave me three shillings for them.”

Alys went at once into the counting house, opened the cashbox, and came back with the money in her hand. “There!” she said. “Money’s tight, but it’s always tight, and I’ll never let you sell your jewelry. Get them back, and never do that again. Come to me for anything else you need. Rob wouldn’t have wanted you to sell your little things.”

“But he’s not here!” Livia exclaimed, tears pouring down her face, her lower lip trembling. “I have to make my way in the world without him, and I just can’t! I don’t know how!”

“I’m here!” Alys exclaimed. “I’m here! I’ll take care of you, and little Matteo too. I always will.”

Livia flung herself into Alys’s arms. “You’re such a good sister,” she breathed. “I shall come to you for everything, I won’t do such a thing again. Roberto gave them to me on our betrothal, it broke my heart to sell them.”

Alys held her close. “Of course you must come to me for anything you need. You’re family, this is a family business, our fortune is yours.”

Livia stepped away, dried her eyes, and tucked the coins in her pocket. Alys rubbed her face with her hands, smoothed down her apron, and her gaze fell on the cards again. “But I wish you hadn’t had them printed like this.”

“I can get them reprinted, but it would cost another three shillings? I won’t allow the extravagance.”

“It looks as if you live there.”

“It does not look as if I live there,” Livia ruled. “It looks as if you can visit Avery House to see my antiquities, and you may apply to Avery House by letter if you wish to purchase. Avery House is my shop window, just as Sarah has a shop window for her hats. Nobody thinks she lives in the window.”