“Good evening to you,” I said. She eyed Weston and did not reply.

“You want one?” shouted the workman, holding the pole like a giant phallus.

I pressed south along the street followed by my escort, trying to shield my ears and eyes from the relentless rattling of presses that worked later than the mercers and lacemakers, the noxious fumes of ink and glue throttling even at this hour. Above the workshops, families, apprentices and servants were crammed into the narrow buildings and jutting pentices, built so close they blocked the air and light that would have alleviated the stench and the gloom.

Frankie was late, as ever. To avoid talking to Weston while waiting at the river stairs, I broke the seal on Arthur’s letter.

Dearest Anne,

I pray that you are settled in Paternoster Row without too much disruption? I have left Baron Ellesmere but am called to the Prince for a fortnight at least, after which you may expect a visit from me. I miss you and the children as if I have an ache in my side and pray that you are all well and suffer not too much in your grief.

I have received the ten pounds George left me and hope that it will go some way to defraying your expenses. I do not forget his request that I buy a ring engraved, “May Time Unite the Lovers,” but shall spend my own money in its acquisition. What a soft heart was his! I pray, my sweetling, that you be as fortunate in me as you were in him. I will try hard to make it so.

Your servant ever,

Arthur

I read the words many times, finding comfort in them. George had, in fact, requested May Fate Unite the Lovers be inscribed on the ring, not Time, and the mistake made me uneasy; I was not sure why. Were not Time and Fate sisters? My feeling is that they both work against us, sometimes gently, sometimes harshly, with the briefest interruptions when the tide flows backward for a happy moment, mainly due to our own endeavors. Of course, they are both just other names for the workings of God. I had renewed my efforts to stay in favor with my angel keeper after George’s death; I needed God, Time and Fate to work in my favor while awaiting the protection of marriage. Prince Henry was a stickler for the correct observance of mourning and Arthur had warned me that we would have to be more cautious now that I was widowed. We could not be seen in public together and our letters were to be sent only with a trusted servant. I wondered if Arthur would be so punctilious if it were he who was living in a hovel, but held my tongue. I folded the letter. Weston looked at me as I put it in my pocket.