He drained his mug of small ale, set it back on the tray with a smile at the girl. J, still seated in the back, one arm around the precious chestnut tree, one hand on the tailgate of the wagon, did not even glance at the pretty serving maid but kept his eyes on his boots.

John sighed. He had not imagined the move would be easy but with Elizabeth suspecting Papistry and luxury around every corner and with J sinking into the manners of a country bumpkin, he thought that returning to court life would be hard indeed, and that no master, however graceful or powerful, would make up for the differences in the little Tradescant family.

The cottage was some compensation. It had been built as a farmhouse and taken into the demesne of New Hall by the ever-widening wall and ambition of each successive owner. It was as good as Elizabeth’s girlhood home at Meopham, a two-storeyed, four-bedroomed house with an orchard at the back and a stable yard with room for a dozen horses at the side.

Elizabeth might put up with the disruption of the move for the benefit of the house, John thought, and held that hope in his mind until they had unpacked their goods and penned up the cat so that she should not stray, when a liveried manservant from the house tapped on the open front door and ordered John to wait on His Grace in the garden.

John pulled on his jacket and followed the man back up the drive towards the house.

‘He’s in the yew-tree allee,’ the man said, gesturing to the right of the house. ‘He said you were to go and find him.’

‘How shall I know him?’ John asked, hanging back.

The man looked at him with open surprise. ‘You’ll recognise him the moment you see him. Without error.’

‘How?’

‘Because he’s the most beautiful man in the kingdom,’ the man said frankly. ‘Go towards the yew-tree allee and when you see a man as lovely as an angel, that’s my lord Buckingham. You can’t miss him, and when you’ve seen him, you’ll never forget him.’

John puffed a little at the courtier hyperbole and turned towards the colonnade of yew. He had time to note that the allee was overgrown and needed pruning at the head of the trees to make them thicken out at the bottom, before he stepped into the shade. He blinked against the sudden darkness of the thickly interleaved boughs. It was as dark as nighttime beneath the arching branches. The ground beneath his feet was soft with years of fallen brown yew needles. It was eerie and silent in the darkness; no birds sang in the still boughs of the trees, no sun shone into their shade. Then John’s eyes adjusted to the dimness after the dazzle of the sun and he saw George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham.