The sun rose on New York for the first time that morning, but Mercia did not see it, asleep in a welcome bed in Colonel Nicolls’ residence, exhausted from the night’s events. She had returned late, her strange group riding into Fort James behind Sir William Calde: herself, Nathan, Nicholas; Sir Bernard Dittering at gunpoint, disgraced; Claes van Arnhem and his men, freed from his strongroom where his dog had been pawing at the door, yowling for his master’s release. The plantation house itself was beyond saving, the whole edifice beginning to collapse as they forced the Dutch patroon screaming from his burning home.
All through the great Manhattan forest she was silent, glancing now and then at the painting of the King’s family rolled up beside her, but more often at the horse two in front, Lady Markstone’s body stretched out across its back. Inside the fort she dismounted, sliding down the wall of a storehouse to sag despondent on the ground, struggling to take in what her chaperone – her friend – had done. But when the governor appeared, and she roused herself to present him with her prize, he scarcely seemed bothered that the rest of the paintings were lost, and that rekindled her hope. For as Nicolls said, when the King spoke of the Oxford Section it was this that he meant, the only portrait ever made of those six sorry children together, and for the woman who could deliver him that, he must surely be in her debt.
Sir Bernard was thrown into a well-guarded cell, where he would await transport to England to face trial. Most likely he would be executed, yet Mercia felt no satisfaction that the man who had manipulated her father’s end would suffer the same fate. The realisation that Lady Markstone had been behind the theft cut her deep. But as the dead woman’s body was carried to lie in the fort’s church, she prayed for her all the same.
She woke to find Daniel on her bed, fetched from the Redemption by Nathan. Seeing her son cheered her, and she followed him out to join Nathan and Nicholas on the New York shore, watching him play with a local boy beside Hudson’s mighty river. The flagpole over the fort thrummed its British colours in the breeze, the softly turning sails of the windmill behind them a pleasing accompaniment.
‘How are you faring?’ said Nathan as she sat on the grassy bank. Beside him Nicholas looked up at her, clearly worried. She had cleaned the grime from her hair and face, hidden her bruised wrists beneath gloves, but her appearance must still have been haggard.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘A little rested.’
Nathan bit his lip. ‘I have news for you. I think it is good.’ He looked at her askance. ‘Your uncle is yet alive.’
She turned her head. ‘Alive?’
‘Sir William sent men to Pietersen’s farmhouse. They found Sir Francis in the field, still breathing. He had staunched the sword wound with his doublet. The surgeon is not certain, but he thinks he will live.’
She looked at the river flowing calmly by. ‘I hope so. In spite of what he has done, there has been too much death of late.’ She paused. ‘I know you are thinking of Halescott. But even if he were … gone … his son would step into his place. ’Tis the King’s patronage I need.’ She sighed. ‘Should he be willing to give it.’
‘You have found his painting, the one he yearns for. The others may be lost, but if he is as gallant as he claims he is bound to you. I hope he will be generous.’
‘As do I.’ Weary, she changed the subject. ‘How did you escape from the town? When I rode off, the guards were leading you away.’
‘We tried to fight them,’ said Nicholas. ‘But we didn’t have much chance. They marched us back towards the fort, down that broad way. But Dixwell – Davids – whatever his name was, he’d told some people about the two of you, and they put themselves in our path, pretending to protest the invasion. In the confusion they brought us horses and we came back through the gate. Sir William sent his men right after us.’
‘They nearly caught us by Stuyvesant’s farmhouse,’ said Nathan. ‘But Nicholas rode into plain view, led them round and round and lost them in the darkness. It was impressive riding.’ He nodded at Nicholas, who smiled. ‘We assumed you had gone into the forest, and carried on.’
‘And Davids?’ said Mercia. ‘Dixwell?’
‘Dixwell was camped in the forest, hiding while he decided what to do after the invasion. It seems you rode right past him, but he couldn’t make out who you were. He worried you might have been a soldier come north, so he was watching the path closely by the time we came past. He says he followed us, although we never heard him. We stopped at the turning to discuss which way to go. He recognised my voice and came up. And then the soldiers found us.’
‘They pulled pistols on us,’ said Nicholas. ‘We were readying for a fight when Sir William arrived, his horse heaving like a mad beast. He’d ridden hard to follow his men fast. He’d spoken with Colonel Nicolls, you see, set everything out.’
Nathan leant back on the grass. ‘Nicolls put it all together. He dispatched him immediately with orders for Sir Bernard’s arrest. It was quite something to see Sir William’s expression when he saw Dixwell in the forest.’ He shook his head. ‘An actual regicide. I wonder what went through his mind when he signed the paper that would condemn the King.’
‘Maybe he was principled,’ said Mercia, in no mood for a political debate. ‘Or maybe just naïve. I am surprised Sir William let him go.’
‘They knew each other from the war, I think. What was said about him only pretending to be on the King’s side might be true.’ He glanced at Nicholas and then quickly away, but Nicholas had seen.
‘Mercia,’ he said, looking down. ‘I am truly sorry for what I did.’ He turned to her, his face troubled. ‘I hope you can forgive me one day.’
She tugged at a ringlet of her hair. ‘I know you did it for your daughter’s sake. I would be lying if I said I was ready to trust you completely.’ She held his gaze for a few moments. ‘But I would love to see Eliza someday.’
‘I would like that. Believe me, if I’d known you better, or if you’d—’ He checked himself. ‘I’m sorry. That’s not fair.’
‘If I had not been so dismissive at the beginning, you mean.’ She held up a hand. ‘No, you are right. I am sorry too.’
There was a momentary silence. Nathan shifted on the hard ground.
‘Nicolls wants to return the painting to England as soon as he can,’ he said. ‘Now the town is British, he has threatened van Arnhem with imprisonment for possessing the King’s personal property.’ He smirked. ‘That scared him. He confessed he bought the Section with embezzled West India Company funds.’
Mercia let out a bitter laugh. ‘Why does that not surprise me?’
‘’Tis why he went to such trouble smuggling it here, sending Pietersen to arrange things with North, and then sending him again with the paintings under lock and key. He fears if his former colleagues find out, he will be in worse trouble with them than he is with Nicolls.’
‘Will we go back on the same ship, do you think?’ said Nicholas. ‘That could be an uncomfortable journey, if Sir Bernard goes too.’
‘I have been thinking about that,’ said Mercia. ‘We have come so far and at such cost. Yes, we found the painting that the King badly wants. But the deaths.’ She swallowed. ‘So many. And Lady Markstone. I liked her. I respected her.’ She rubbed her tired eyes. ‘Winthrop invited me to Connecticut. Perhaps I will take up his offer before we return.’
She looked at Nathan, expecting him to give her a reason why she should not. But in truth she was exhausted. After three months at sea she wanted at least some respite before she braved another long journey. And she was curious about this new world, this America. While she was here, she wanted to see more.
He surprised her. ‘If you can, why not? I am sure Daniel would enjoy it.’ He reached over to squeeze her hand.
‘Well.’ Nicholas stood up. ‘I will leave you two alone.’
Mercia craned her neck. ‘Do not forget Nicolls is treating us all to dinner. Apparently Stuyvesant’s cooks are rather good.’
‘They’re staying on?’
‘I don’t know. I suppose Stuyvesant will be recalled to Amsterdam.’
‘Looking for a new job,’ he said. ‘As it seems must I.’
She watched him walk away. ‘Perhaps not,’ she called.
Nicholas turned and smiled, his green eyes dancing in the New York light, before he vanished into the town’s embrace.
When he had gone, Nathan sidled closer.
‘Congratulations. You have done it.’
‘We have done it. But I am tired, Nat, and not a little sad. I hope it is all worth it.’
‘If it were not for you, that painting would still be lost. And perhaps when the King learns your father was a victim of Sir Bernard’s treachery, it will worry his conscience.’
‘Perhaps.’ She watched Daniel looking for his new friend in a game of hide-and-seek. The Dutch boy was the other side of the windmill; Daniel would find him quickly enough. ‘Do you really think he would enjoy a trip to New England?’
‘I do. And perhaps …’ he hesitated, ‘I might come too?’
She looked at him. ‘Do you not have to return to your land? Once the first ships go back, it could be a while until others leave.’
‘My land can wait. My brother is proficient. I would rather … stay with you.’
She edged up to him. ‘I nearly lost you yesterday. When you rode from the wall, I thought Sir Bernard was going to shoot you.’
‘I have no doubt he was. But I would do anything to make sure you are safe.’
‘I know.’ She grasped his hand. ‘Thank you for looking out for me this whole time.’
‘Well, you saved me, remember?’ He laughed. ‘You rode your horse right at him. And then shot his arm off.’
‘Not quite off,’ she said, joining in his laughter.
‘Come, then. We should tell Nicolls of your plan. Depending how long we are gone, by the time we return you may have received a message from the King.’
‘Let us hope the answer is good. I want Halescott back.’ She nodded towards Daniel. ‘Not for me especially, but for him. I want him to have the future he deserves. And I hope’ – she paused, looking at the sky – ‘I hope my father is proud of me.’
‘He is,’ said Nathan, drawing her towards him. ‘He definitely is.’
She rested her head on his shoulder and smiled. Together, they looked across the river, the sails of the windmill turning gently up above.