Page 167 of Dawnlands

He was aghast. “You would force me to do this, against my conscience? Against my doctor’s oath?”

She gave a little laugh. “I assure you, your conscience would trouble you far worse if you let your daughter marry her half brother.”

“You said he was Felipe’s child!”

“I never said so. Felipe thought he was the father, but so did you. I am the only one who knows for sure. But I am saying to you now, on the very day of your daughter’s betrothal, that Matteo is her half brother. Obviously, you cannot let them be married. Obviously, you will do anything to prevent it.”

She gave him a moment to think of it. “But you have no power: you will not shame yourself and embarrass your wife—I should think it would kill her—and slander me. Your daughter will be heartbroken, your father-in-law will threaten you, it may be that Matteo will sue Hester for breach of promise, and the Alderman’s lawyers for acting in bad faith.” She shrugged negligently. “I really don’t know. I have not thought of all the bad consequences. There is no need to think of them because they will not happen.”

He was watching her as if fascinated. “Did you plan this from the beginning?”

She laughed at him. “Don’t be so ridiculous! How could I have known nearly twenty years ago that the one thing I need, a newborn baby, would be the one thing you can easily provide?”

“How will you stop the betrothal?”

“I will tell the Alderman that you are Matteo’s father, and withdraw Matteo from the betrothal. And I will order Matteo to ask Hester that she release him.”

He flushed. “Will you tell him I am his father?”

She shook her head. “It’s not necessary. He will do as I say withoutmy confiding in him.” She looked thoughtful. “I think it better—don’t you?—that we don’t trouble our children with old difficulties?”

“You swear you will not double-cross me?” he demanded.

She sighed. “I? Swear? What guarantee would that be for you?”

“Then how can I trust you will separate them forever?”

“Because by putting a changeling in the royal cradle, I am taking the greatest risk in the world. I am putting my neck in your hands.”

“My neck too, if I provide the baby.”

She gleamed at him. “And there you have your guarantee! Neither of us can cheat the other.”

He shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t know how you can live with yourself,” he said quietly. “You’re not like a true woman, you’re like the worst of men.”

She laughed out loud at that. “How would you know a true woman? You, who went from being my slave, to marrying a woman with laudanum in her veins?”

She thought he would flare up in a rage, but he slouched as if he was beaten. “I’ll get the baby,” he said. “God knows, there are enough unwanted babies. I’ll bring him to St. James’s Palace and give him to you. We will agree that I don’t know what you want him for, and we will never speak of this again. You will tell the Alderman that you have counted your courses and now you see that Matthew could be my son, and that you must withdraw him from the betrothal. And you will tell Matthew some lie—any lie that you like, as long as it does not name me. You will never again claim me as your husband nor as Matthew’s father.”

She pulled on her gloves, like a woman whose business is done.

“Agreed,” she said simply. “I will send a letter to the Alderman tonight, I tell Matteo as we go to St. James’s. You will bring a baby the moment that I give you the word.”

“When is she due?” he asked. “If it is to pass as a newborn…”

“Next month,” she said. “But I expect him to come early. So be a good doctor and watch carefully over your patients. We’ll need a newborn very soon.”

ST. JAMES’S PALACE, LONDON, SUMMER 1688

Mary Beatrice, sleeping fitfully from dawn, sent for Livia at six in the morning, and when she came into the queen’s bedchamber she found her friend alone, looking like a lonely child, in the huge royal bed.

“Are you well?” she asked. “My dear? Where is your maid?”

“I feel strange,” the queen said, her voice a thread. “It’s too early, isn’t it too early?”

“It’s very early morning,” Livia said. “Lie down and I’ll send for a hot chocolate for you, or some mulled ale. Try to sleep.”

Obediently, the queen lay back on her pillows, but when Livia came back with a cup of hot chocolate, she sat up again. “I can’t sleep,” she said. “I feel strange.”