John turned a stern gaze on him. ‘What God wants or does not want no man can say, only a priest or the king,’ he said firmly. ‘If the king tells the duke who tells my Lord Wootton that I am wanted in Essex, then that is enough for me; as if God had leaned down from heaven and told me himself.’ He paused. ‘And it should be enough for you too, J.’

J, avoiding the challenge his father’s gaze, looked away. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said.

The little family had been expecting something impressive of New Hall. The duke had bought it as a palace near to London where he could entertain the king in a style befitting the royal favourite. It had been a summer palace for Henry VIII and had passed around the courtiers as a prize plum of patronage. Buckingham was said to have paid a fortune for it, and was now pulling the place apart to enrich it still further, under the direction of Inigo Jones, who was laying a great sweeping staircase of marble and noble stone gateways.

The Tradescants arrived, as the king himself would arrive on his frequent visits, up the great drive which turned in a full circle before the house. The house fronted the drive full-square, with great turrets on either side and a huge wooden doorway, wide and high enough for two coaches to be driven abreast into the inner courtyard. It was built of handsome stone, every inch carved and crenellated like marchpane on a cake, with three storeys of bay windows bulging from the encrusted walls. At each corner stood great towers with bulbous cupolas and flags flying from the poles at the top. In the inner courtyard was a huge cobbled area, as big as a tiltyard, with the great hall on the east side and a handsome oriel window looking out over the quadrangle. On the west side was the chapel for the house, and a bell tolling at the tower end.

Elizabeth looked askance at the stained glass in the huge chapel windows as the wagon halted in the yard. A maidservant came out with a tray of drinks for the travellers, and a groom from the stables emerged and said he would direct the wagon on to the Tradescants’ own cottage.

‘His Grace said that you should live in the great house if you please, but he thought you might prefer your own cottage so that you can nurse up plants in your own garden.’

‘Yes,’ Elizabeth said before John could reply. ‘We don’t want to live in the hall.’

John shot her a reproving look. ‘The duke is gracious,’ he said carefully. ‘I will need a garden under my eye. A cottage sounds a very good solution. Please show us the way.’