London - Edward Rutherfurd [401]
It was her duty to love Dogget, but also to help him, she told herself. The first night they spent together he had put his arm round her, which she thought proper; but when, the second night, his hands tentatively started to roam, she had gently though kindly reproved him. “Those things are done for the begetting of children,” she said. “But God gives us no cause for such things now.” And she had been glad to see that he meekly obeyed.
She had to confess though, she was glad of the presence of dear Mrs Wheeler who would take him off her hands for an hour or two. What a sensible and kindly woman the widow was. If she could not quite approve of her long-standing feud with Sir Julius Ducket – “You should not think of money so much,” she felt it her duty to tell her – she did not doubt that Sir Julius was at fault and deserved to be called to account. So she did not often reprove the widow and instead would say to Dogget, “Why don’t you go to see Mrs Wheeler for a while?”
If she had taken Meredith’s advice, Jane would have given the business up long ago. “Sooner or later it will come out that Barnikel was a blackamoor and a pirate,” he warned. “Then you lose your own reputation, and even the Roundheads would take Sir Julius’s word over a pirate’s.” But Jane knew Julius was lying; the businesswoman in her resented being made a fool of. “I don’t care,” she told Meredith. “I want my money.”
It was not easy to know what to do. She did not scruple to harass him every time she saw him in the street, and she would loudly call: “What have you done with my money?” Her lawyers continued to write him letters, but nothing much came of it, and he politely ignored her. Then, in December of that year, seeing the baronet’s wife buying meat in the market, Jane suddenly had an idea for a new and ingenious offensive. It was a long shot, but worth a try. She would also need help; but she knew where to get it. She went to see Martha.
It still surprised her that the earnest Puritan had never realized she was having an affair with her husband. Though, she thought with a smile, at their age she would hardly describe it in terms of illicit passion. It was, strictly speaking, a betrayal of their friendship of course, yet even on that count, Jane could not feel very guilty. For years they had lived three thousand miles apart. In her view, the affair was, as much as anything, an act of friendship for a lonely man. And since Martha’s return? Well, she had supposed it would end; but a few days after Martha and he were living together Dogget sadly informed her: “She says we’re too old for it. God wouldn’t approve.” And Jane, with a laugh, had given him a kiss. “What are we to do then?” she had smiled.
Sometimes she had even wondered if perhaps Martha did know and chose to ignore it. She clearly has no desire for him herself, she thought, and she seems glad enough to get him off her hands. But then, as she considered Martha’s earnest nature she decided: no, she does not know, but in truth she is hardly curious enough even to discover. So the affair continued. Dogget, she could see, was getting an old man now. I bring him life, she realized, and warmth. As for herself – why, the same, to be sure.
They used to meet on Sunday afternoon. Martha and the rest of the family would attend the afternoon service at St Lawrence Silversleeves or sometimes go further afield to hear a sermon. But Martha did not seem to mind if he remained behind; and then he would go round to the house of Jane Wheeler and spend an hour or two there. Even if he casually mentioned that he had called on her, Martha thought nothing of it.
When Jane outlined her plan to her friend Martha, therefore, Martha was receptive. “You are right,” she declared. “Something should be done. I shall speak to Gideon.”
On the 25 December in the year of Our Lord 1652, Sir Julius Ducket and