Page 193 of The Armor of Light

Spade’s puzzlement increased as they walked around the house.Most of the furniture had gone, including paintings, whose absence was evident from rectangular patches where the wallpaper had been protected from fading. Less than a palace, it was a family house, but spacious. It needed a good clean.

Spade said: ‘What happened?’

‘When my brother was in charge of purchasing for the Shiring Militia, he took advantage of his position to make money in ways I don’t understand.’

This was disingenuous. Roger understood quite well what Will had done. However, it would have been unwise to admit knowledge of criminal corruption. Roger was just being cautious. Spade said: ‘I think I know what you mean.’

‘After his duties changed he should have reduced his outgoings, but he did not. He spent freely on racehorses, expensive women, lavish hospitality and gambling. Eventually he ran out of credit. He has already sold all his furniture and pictures, and now he needs to sell this house.’

‘And you’ve shown the place to me because...’

‘You’re one of the richest clothiers in town now. I hear you might be made an alderman. Some people think you are about to marry the widow of a bishop. Yet you’re living in a couple of rooms in a workshop in the back yard of your sister’s shop. It’s about time you had a house, Spade.’

‘Yes,’ said Spade. ‘I suppose it is.’

*

Amos loved the theatre. He thought it was one of humankind’s greatest inventions, on a par with the spinning jenny. He went to ballets, pantomimes, operas and acrobatic displays; but what he liked most was drama. Contemporary plays were usually comic, but he had been a lover of Shakespeare since seeingThe Merchant of Veniceten years ago.

He went to the Kingsbridge Theatre forShe Stoops to Conquer.It was a romantic comedy, and he and everyone else hooted with laughter at the constant misunderstandings. The actress playing Miss Hardcastle was pretty, and very sexy when Miss Hardcastle was pretending to be a barmaid.

In the interval he ran into Jane, who was looking rosily gorgeous. It was two weeks since she had taken off her clothes in the drawing room of his house, and he had not seen her or spoken to her in that time. Perhaps that was because the military exercises had ended and her husband had come home. Or perhaps what happened two weeks ago had been a one-off event, never to be repeated.

He hoped the second explanation was the true one. He would be sorry, but relieved. He would escape a titanic struggle between his desire and his conscience. He could accept God’s merciful forgiveness and go on to lead a blameless life.

It was impossible to talk to her about that in public, so he asked her about her brothers.

‘They’re so dull,’ she said. ‘They’ve both become Methodist pastors, one in Manchester and one, believe it or not, in Edinburgh.’ She spoke as if Scotland was as far away as Australia.

Amos did not see what was so dull about her brothers’ choices. They had both studied, then moved to lively cities and taken on challenging work. It struck him as better than marrying for money and a title, as Jane had done. However, he did not say so.

After the show she asked him to walk her home.

‘Isn’t Viscount Northwood with you?’ he said.

‘He’s attending Parliament in London.’

So she was alone again. Amos had not realized that. If he had, he might have avoided her. Or not.

She said: ‘Anyway, Henry doesn’t really like the theatre. He doesn’t mind Shakespeare’s plays about real battles, such as Agincourt, but he sees no point in a story that isn’t true.’

Amos was not surprised. Northwood was a literal-minded man, intelligent but limited, interested only in horses, guns and war.

Amos could not politely refuse Jane’s request, so he walked down Main Street with her, wondering how this would end. Against his will, his mind filled with images of that January evening: the rustle of silk as her dress fell to the floor, the way her body arched like a bow when she pulled the bodice over her head, the lavender-and-perspiration smell of her skin. He became aroused.

She must have intuited the quality of his silence, for she said: ‘I know what you’re thinking.’ He blushed, and was grateful for the darkness and the flickering street lamps; but she guessed anyway and said: ‘No need to blush – I understand,’ and his mouth went dry.

When they reached the front door of Willard House he stopped and said: ‘Goodnight, then, Viscountess Northwood.’

‘Come in,’ she said.

Amos knew that once he was inside he would find temptation impossible to resist. He almost went in anyway, but at the last moment he hardened his heart. ‘No, thanks,’ he said. For the benefit of anyone who might hear, he added: ‘I mustn’t keep you up.’

‘I want to talk to you.’

He lowered his voice. ‘No, you don’t.’

‘That’s a mean thing to say.’