Aghast, Honey stared at Robert, and then slowly shook her head.
'I do not believe it!' she whispered. 'He could not! Oh, indeed, he could not!'
Robert sighed, and produced a small packet of letters from his pocket. Without speaking he handed them to Honey, but she shrank away from them, refusing to touch them.
'Are you so biased towards him you refuse to accept the proof?' he asked bitterly.
'I cannot read them,' she answered, in so low a voice he had to bend towards her to catch what she said. 'Surely they are sent for the Duke, if they are what you say?'
'Aye. But unless you see them you are never like to believe me!'
Honey stood up suddenly.
'I will believe only Gervase,' she announced, and before Robert realised what she was about to do, had turned and run from the room.
She found it difficult to walk on the icy roads, but she made her way swiftly enough to her lodgings. Once inside the door she leant against the wall, breathing heavily, and summoning up the courage to do what she had determined on, and ask Gervase outright what the truth was. However certain Robert appeared to be, Honey knew she could not believe his tale unless Gervase himself confirmed it. All along she had hoped, indeed she had been certain, that it would turn out to be false. So strong had her faith been she was utterly unprepared for the dismay, the horror, that proof would bring her.
'It cannot be. It must be some mistake,' she said to herself, and then fiercely blinked away the tears and started to climb the stairs towards Gervase's room.
Reaching it, she sniffed furiously, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. His voice bade her to enter, and she lifted the latch and walked firmly in.
Gervase was seated at a table, writing, but he looked up and smiled, waving her to a chair and reaching for a bottle of wine that stood on the table.
'Sit down, Honey. How did the play go?'
Honey looked at him blankly, for she had completely forgotten the afternoon's performance.
'Oh, well, I suppose,' she answered at last.
'I have almost completed the play I spoke of, and the part I have in mind for you promises well. Perhaps we can read it over tomorrow?'
'I do not know.'
'What is it?' he asked, disturbed by her manner. 'Is there some trouble at the theatre?'
'Trouble? Why, no. That is, not at the theatre. I do not know, Gervase!'
He was standing now, looking down at her in perplexity, and he narrowed his eyes at the use of his name, for she did not normally address him so, yet she did not seem conscious of what she had done.
'What is it?' he asked, more brusquely than he intended, for her distrait air was beginning to worry him.
'Why were you in Holland?' she burst out suddenly, looking at him fully for the first time since she had entered the room.
He stared at her for a moment, then turned away.
'Who says I was?' he asked coolly.
'Robert has seen you there, when he has been trading for his father.'
'Mr Reade?' he asked sharply. 'Trading, you say? Why should he trade when we are effectually at war with Holland?'
This seemed irrelevant to Honey.
'His father has connections with the Merchant Adventurers, and they have had some serious losses, I understand, and he must do what he can. Why should he not trade there?'
'Why not, indeed!' he said grimly.
'What were you doing?' she repeated.
'I take it Mr Reade has set you on to ask these questions? Dare he not approach me himself? What is his interest in my doings?' he asked angrily.
Honey looked at him pleadingly.
'I would not believe him,' she said with difficulty.
'It is none of his business. Indeed, your Mr Reade would appear to be a great deal too busy in affairs that do not concern him,' he said contemptuously.
Honey did not hear the contempt in his voice, only the anger, and she bowed her head, afraid to look at him for fear she would see guilt in his face.
'What is his interest in my doings?' Gervase continued curtly. 'Why does it matter to him whether I go to Holland or no?'
Honey took a deep breath, and glanced up at him briefly.
'He thinks you are a spy,' she said flatly.
To her astonishment Gervase laughed.
'Do you?' he asked quickly.
'I do not know what to think! He says he has proof, letters from men you have been dealing with in Holland, letters to the Duke of York. Gervase, say it is not true!' she pleaded, looking at him fully at last.
He gazed down at her, an inscrutable expression on his face.
'Does it mean so much to you?' he asked at last. 'Why are you so concerned?'
'How can I not be concerned?' she rejoined hotly, stung into anger by his own lack of concern, the absence of any appearance of guilt. 'If there is some other explanation, why do you not tell me?'
'Honey, I cannot tell you what my reasons are for what I do, nor what I don't do, so please will you forget it? Mr Reade has no right to use you as an intermediary if he wishes to question me on what are, after all, my affairs. Pray tell him to come directly to me in future. Now, can we not pretend this never happened, and talk of pleasanter matters? Shall we remain here for supper, or go out? What would you prefer?'
*
Honey stumbled to her feet, incredulous he should make no effort to deny the charge she had made, but instead seemed to treat it as of little moment. She shook her head.
'I cannot,' she said breathlessly. 'I prefer to be alone, if you please.'
He stepped towards her, unable to bear the misery in her eyes, and instinctively wanting to take her in his arms and soothe away the trouble, whatever it was. Having resolved not to declare his love too soon, he forgot this intention in the face of her obvious unhappiness, and put out his hands to take her by the shoulders, only to be brought up short by the look of fear in her eyes, and the quick shrinking away from him.
'Honey, what is it?' he demanded urgently, but she gave a strangled little sob and ran for the door. He took one step, and then halted, realising the futility of trying to talk with her while she so obviously wished to avoid him.
'I am going,' she said distractedly, and dragged open the door.
He let her go, and she ran up the stairs to her own room, to collapse in a flood of tears on her bed. So it was true! He had not denied it. He had not even seemed to think it particularly reprehensible, and was in no degree ashamed of it. Her image of Gervase, who had rescued her so dramatically on that first occasion when she had visited the theatre, and appeared again to solve her difficulties on the next, was shattered. She had thought of him as so magnificent, so far above her with his Court friends, and his easy familiarity with the actors, as well as his own writing, that the discovery of his perfidy shook her intensely. She did not analyse her more personal feelings towards him, for she had never dared to think of him as other than a grand protector, someone to be relied on always. The idea he might have been attracted to her would have struck her as so highly improbable as to cause laughter, and she had never entertained the idea. Besides, her mind had been so taken up with the thought of Robert and his possible intentions she had never considered another man, dismissing all the admirers at the theatre as mere flirts.
Robert had once warned her Gervase would not consider marriage, but as she had never remotely considered it herself in connection with him, she had instantly dismissed the idea, thinking only, with some satisfaction, that Robert must be deeply jealous to have even imagined such a possibility.
So now she put all her distress down to the discovery he was not as perfect as she had imagined. When the first storm of weeping was over, she began to consider what it would be best to do. She could not now remain in the same house, she determined, and would seek for new lodgings the very next day. Not nearly so comforted by this decision as she ought to have been, she undressed, and climbed into bed where, exhausted by her emotional storm, she fell into a deep sleep.
*
Gervase stood for several minutes looking after her, and then sat down at his table again. Wearily he pushed aside the papers, and sat, head resting on his hands, staring sightlessly out of the window. He supposed he could be called a spy, with his recent activities in Holland, but why should she take such exception to that? It was odd that the very idea of it made her shrink from him. Perhaps it was the shock of a sudden discovery, and when she had been given time to become accustomed to the idea she would not regard him with such loathing, but realise his actions were as much a part of warfare as taking part in a cavalry charge or manning a gun aboard ship.
As he was brooding on this, Mistress Betsy came to say a messenger was waiting to see him. It turned out to be one of the men employed by his uncle, and he brought a summons for him to attend a meeting at Whitehall Palace immediately. Sighing, he reached for his cloak and accompanied the man, hoping that the meeting would not take too much time, and he would be able to return to talk again to Honey that night.
There were several men in the room to which he was conducted, and his uncle asked him to give an account of what he had discovered in Holland. Afterwards the other men departed, and his uncle indicated the wine and glasses on a side table.
'Let us drink while we talk. It has been decided to proclaim the war in a few days from now. We are as ready as we may be, and must go out and attack the Dutch as soon as possible, for matters grow worse between us. You know they have prohibited all imports from England, and issued letters of marque. That cannot be stomached. Your visits to Holland have been much appreciated, and I am commanded to send you again, to discover what they intend when the East India fleet returns this year. We do not wish them to evade us again!'
'When do you wish me to go?'
'Immediately, before the proclamation is made. There is a boat at Greenwich which can take you before daylight. Go home and pack what you need, and meet me at Tower Wharf in two hours. I will have all else for you, and there is a barge waiting to take you down the river.'
Grimly Gervase nodded. He could not expect to delay for his own private affairs, but this mission came at a most difficult time, for he could scarcely hope to have an explanation with Honey in the short time before he must sail.
He went home as swiftly as the frozen streets permitted, and rapidly packed all he needed, then he went up the stairs to Honey's room and tapped on the door. There was no reply, nor to a louder knock, and he descended to the kitchen to ask Mistress Betsy if she knew where Honey was.
'I think she's out, Mr Dunstone, for she had no supper. Ben told me he would be out, so mayhap they've gone somewhere together. Did you want anything in particular?'
'It was not important, merely that I must go away tonight for a few days, and wished to give her a message. I will write a note, and you can give it to her.'
Mistress Betsy shook her head in sorrow at the thought of his being forced to travel in such weather but she promised to deliver the note without fail in the morning, and Gervase went off to write it, finding it so uncommonly difficult to compose that in the end he produced only a stilted epistle asking Honey to suspend judgement on him until after he could explain himself to her more fully, which he expected to be able to do shortly.
Dissatisfied, he had to leave it, for if he were late meeting his uncle he might miss the tide, and that could be a serious matter. He had to reach Holland before news of an official declaration of war did so.
*
Honey slept late the following morning, and had only just received Gervase's note when Robert arrived.
'Well?' he demanded. 'Was it to see him you ran away last night?'
'He did not deny it,' Honey said in a low, strained voice. 'I have just received this.'
She handed him the note, and he skimmed quickly through it.
'He does not say why he wrote it.'
'Mistress Carter told me he went away for a few days, but she did not know where.'
'Away? Then that settles it, do you not see? You accused him, and he has taken flight, with this message promising an explanation which we know is impossible to persuade you to delay a little before denouncing him!'
'But I cannot denounce him!' Honey cried in horror.
'Of course not, but he was not to know that. I wonder if he has gone to Holland? If so, I ought to follow him, for fear he carries information to our enemies. If I could come up with him I could forestall him. Honey, my dear, I must go. Let us hope that once this matter is dealt with I shall have opportunity to carry out my private wishes!'
'I was intending to move my lodgings,' she said listlessly.
'No! You must not. If I do not reach him, or have been wrong in thinking he travels to Holland, and he returns here, that would frighten him! You will be safe, never fear, but you should stay.'
Honey shrugged. The shocks and perplexities, followed by a long but unrefreshing sleep, had left her indifferent even to the news Robert was going again from London. Even his parting promise that when he next saw her he would have more personal business to discuss could not alleviate the sense of hopelessness under which she suffered, and she bade him farewell with a faint smile, feeling pleased to be alone when he had gone.
*
In a while she roused herself sufficiently to go to the theatre, hoping it would take her mind off her troubles, but every part of the building, and every person in it, brought back some memory of Gervase, and she found it as much as she could do to prevent herself from dissolving into tears.
This mood was not helped by the news Tom Killigrew was considering some new plays and wanted to change the casts of some of the old established ones. Nell was bubbling over with enthusiasm at the prospect of better parts, and if she had her way a breeches part at last. A casting rehearsal was announced for the following morning, and the players sent home to learn speeches for it. Honey had been given several speeches, both in comedies and tragedies, and she made a valiant attempt to learn them, but the image of Gervase kept intruding between her and the printed sheets and hindering her concentration. There were images of him mounted on Satan, lounging negligently in the green room as he watched her or talked with the other actors, sitting writing at his desk, shaking his head as he corrected her interpretation of the speeches she practised with him, and the warmth of the smile he seldom permitted her to see.
It was better in the morning, and when Honey rose early after a sleepless night she was able to con the speeches rather more to her satisfaction, but she knew her performance was inadequate before Tom Killigrew spoke to her.
'What is the matter, lass?' he demanded bluntly. 'Are you ill?'
Honey shook her head.
'No, Mr Killigrew.'
'Then why were you so bad?'
Honey could offer no explanation, and he shook his head regretfully.
'I had hoped to give you the part of Cydaria, Montezuma's daughter, in Dryden's piece, "The Indian Emperor",' he said slowly, 'but I cannot think you are capable of it. Pity, I had hoped you could do tragic parts. Well, some smaller ones as yet, hey, and another opportunity later perhaps if you do well in them.'
Honey did not really care, and when she heard Nell had been given the part of Cydaria, she brushed aside Nell's anxious enquiries and reassured her she was not in the least jealous, and only happy for her friend to have an important part at last.
'Though it does not suit me so well as comedy,' Nell said candidly. 'I was certain you would get it, especially since Gervase Dunstone has been teaching you. It seems he is not so influential as I once thought, and you did not choose well when you took him as a lover!'
Honey shook her head vehemently.
'He is not my lover!' she answered quickly, but Nell laughed knowingly.
'Oh, come! No one would believe that! You may pretend, in some vain attempt to be thought virtuous, but no one thinks actresses are, so why bother? But mayhap you should have chosen Michael Mohun or one of the Shatterells. I'll not suggest my Charles, though I'm aware he once fancied you, for I'm well satisfied with him myself!'
Honey shuddered, and Nell laughed.
'So you prefer a young and handsome man? Is that why you accepted Mr Dunstone? Or is it his position at Court which makes him more exciting than a mere player? I'll grant he's a damned attractive man, and you're the envy of all the women here, but is it worth it when you lose chances of good parts?'
Honey protested vigorously, roused out of her lethargy by this accusation, and strenuously denied Gervase meant anything to her, or she to him. Nell simply laughed, and shook her curls in disbelief.
'Do you not wish your other gallant to discover it?' she asked laughingly. 'I would not be concerned, for he does not bother to conceal his other adventures.'
'Robert? What do you mean?'
Nell looked at her closely.
'Do you mean to tell me that you do not know?' she demanded. 'Oh, Lord, now I've let the cat out of the bag!'
'Please tell me what you mean,' Honey demanded. 'What do you know of Robert?'
'Well, little enough, to be sure, and 'tis no more than most men do, after all.'
'What is?'
'Well, he keeps a doxie in a house in Long Acre,' Nell explained reluctantly. 'But you cannot think the worse of him for that! If you hold back, what is he to do? Why, he even made a play for me, that night when he was so eager to escort me home! He's not slow, your Robert! We'd only just met, remember. But he must be really taken with you to wait so patiently.'
Honey shook her head, and changed the subject. Nell was willing enough to talk of the other parts, all minor ones, that she had been given, and commiserate with Honey for the meagre ones she had herself been entrusted with.
'But they do give you some opportunities to shine,' she consoled, 'and you have several dances.'
*
In some ways Honey was glad not to be overburdened with parts in the next few weeks, for neither Robert nor Gervase returned, and she was consumed with anxiety about them. At night she imagined horrifying scenes where they confronted each other, and possibly fought, and many times she was convinced they had killed one another. She longed for them both to return, telling herself she could not be easy until she knew what had happened, and yet at times she wished she could be rid of them both. In the face of that conversation on the night Gervase had left, she could not cling to her belief in his innocence, and Nell's revelations about Robert had destroyed her trust in him. Could he be so anxious to marry her if he made overtures, though admittedly of a different kind, to Nell, and if it were true that he kept a woman in the slums of Long Acre? Honey wanted to think Nell had been mistaken in this latter assertion, but she knew the girl could not be lying to her when she told of Robert's advances to her, for Nell was straightforward, and Honey's friend.
In addition to these personal worries, there was the war, which had finally been declared at the beginning of March, with the two heralds and their attendant trumpeters proclaiming the fact at the Exchange and other places. For some time nothing more seemed to happen, and then in the middle of April came the news that some Dutch ships had been taken, and a few days later the fleet sailed from Harwich. Now we would show those Hollanders we meant business, the warlike declared, and waited news of a certain victory with great impatience.
A few days before this, and totally distracting Ben's mind from it, he had been called to assist at the first performance of a play in the a new theatre in Whitehall. The Great Hall, set behind Inigo Jones' Banqueting House, had been converted into a permanent theatre, supervised by John Webb, Jones' son-in-law, and scenery was installed. It was to help in the handling and setting up of this that Ben was called in, for he had shown a decided talent, not only for painting the scenes but also for cunning contrivances in arranging them, and Tom Killigrew was perfectly willing to loan him for this new venture. He talked of little else for days before and afterwards, forgetting along with the war the second comet that had been seen, less bright than the other, but causing a great deal of speculation on its meaning.
By the middle of May Honey was pale and thin with worry. Gervase and Robert had been gone since the end of February, and she had not received a word from either of them. She could not rejoice when news was brought of eight Dutch ships taken, and she listened with scant attention to Nell's laments that her performance as Cydaria had not been attended with the acclaim she had hoped for.
'I knew that it did not suit me! Now Tom will be reluctant to give me better parts, and I shall not be able to show him what I can do with a comic one! Charles tells me to wait, and be patient, but it is hard!'
Honey could have told her how hard waiting was, but she did not want to discuss her worries with anyone, since she could not explain, even to herself, just why she was so distressed at the discovery of Gervase's treachery.
Mistress Carter was less reticent, coming out of her kitchen every time Honey entered the house to see whether it was Mr Dunstone returning, and lamenting his long absence.
'He's never been away before for so long, without telling me,' she said one day after Honey had told her for the hundredth time that she did not know where Mr Dunstone could be, and had heard nought of him at the theatre. 'I can't help feeling he's in trouble. Let's hope he's not been taken with the plague!'
It was a new and disturbing thought. Vaguely Honey had been aware that there was more talk of the plague this year than last, but she had taken little notice, for no one seemed particularly concerned.
'There is not much chance of that, is there?' she asked fearfully.
Mistress Carter shrugged, her normally cheerful face drooping dolefully.
'Who's to tell? There's many died of it this year, and the bills show near five hundred a week instead of less than three hundred. And it begins to spread. Most of them have been in the parishes of St Giles and St Andrews, but I hear that this week one has died in the city itself, in Bearbinder Lane. That's the first case in the city, but there are some in other parishes as well now. It's my belief folk are concealing the causes of death, since they don't want their houses closed.'
'But Mr Dunstone is not in those areas, so he will be safe,' Honey said, trying to reassure herself as well as Mistress Betsy.
'Who knows where else it may be? And if the weather stays as hot as it has been today, the pestilence will spread, as it always does in the summer.'
*
It seemed many people were afraid of the plague, for those who could do so were beginning to leave the town. The Lord Mayor was besieged with applicants demanding bills of health, without which they were prohibited from staying at inns or passing through other towns. Since the only case within the city itself had been a man who had moved there from Long Acre, where the first noted cases had occured, and it was hoped that his death would be an isolated one, the Lord Mayor gave his bills freely. Many left for the country during May, so the normal business of the city declined, and the playhouses noticed a great fall in the numbers of the audience. People crept about the streets, afraid of contacts with one another, and carefully avoiding the houses which were infected, and shown to be so by the painted red cross, a foot high, which was put by law on their doors.
The war continued. The fleet, after a brief visit to Harwich to take on more supplies, set off again, and on the first of June news came that the Dutch Fleet had been sighted. On the third the astonished populace of the city heard the sound of guns, and waited in fear for the Dutch to land, certain they were sailing unhindered up the Thames. All was well, however, for news soon came that the English had won a battle off Lowestoft, and the more optimistic were ready to celebrate the end of the war.
The theatres were in a less cheerful situation, for on the fifth they were closed, since such gatherings of many people in close confinement were thought to spread infection. Some of the actors were thankful to be able to escape from London, and packed their bags with all speed.
'Where will you go?' Nell asked Honey as they were searching for their own belongings in the dressing room.
Honey shook her head.
'I have nowhere to go,' she replied. 'I suppose I will remain with Mistress Carter, though I hope I will have enough money to pay her. I have not been able to save much out of the ten shillings I have been paid, for so much had to be spent on shoes and stockings and gloves, and I had nothing when I left home.'
'No doubt Gervase will return soon, and he will pay her, so you need not be concerned,' Nell replied cheerfully. 'I wish you could leave London though. We are going to Oxford. Come with us, and he can follow you,' she suggested generously, but Honey declined, not wanting to explain that while Gervase would not be paying for her lodgings, as Nell seemed to take for granted, she did not wish to leave London until she knew what had become of him. If she went to Oxford she would lose touch, and if she had to take another job, as seemed likely, to support herself, she would be better able to do that in London than in a small country town.
*