‘He does not take my advice,’ John replied. ‘Indeed, I think he leaves the business of the city and trade to others.’

‘Then he should not have taken the monopoly for gold and silver thread into his keeping,’ the mercer said triumphantly. ‘If he cares nothing for trade then he should not engross it. He will ruin the trade and ruin himself, and ruin me.’

John nodded, uncertain how to answer, but his host slapped the side of his head with a broad palm. ‘Again!’ he cried. ‘And I promised Jane I would not. Not another word, Mr Tradescant. So take a glass of wine with me?’

‘Willingly.’

Dinner was a respectable affair preceded by a lengthy grace, but Mrs Hurte laid a good table and her husband was generous with small ale and had a good wine. J sat beside Jane and spent the meal regarding her with a steady admiring gaze. John watched his son with a wry amusement.

The Hurtes were a pleasant straightforward couple. Mrs Hurte presided over the puddings at her end of the table and Josiah Hurte carved the beef at his end. Between them sat their guests and Jane, and two apprentices.

‘We dine in the old way,’ Mr Hurte confirmed, seeing John looking down the table. ‘I believe a man who takes an apprentice boy should bring him up as his own. He should feed his body as well as his mind.’

John nodded. ‘I have only ever had my son work for me,’ he said. ‘My other gardeners are hired by my master.’

‘Is the duke at New Hall now?’ Mrs Hurte asked.

Even in this quiet parlour the mention of his name hurt John like a twinge of pain from an unhealed wound.

‘No, he is at court,’ he said shortly. J directed a glance of unspoken appeal at him and Jane looked anxious.

‘They are having great revelry this Christmas, now that the duke is safely returned,’ Mrs Hurte observed.

‘I daresay,’ said John.

‘Shall you see him at Whitehall before you return to New Hall?’

‘No,’ John said. He had a pain now, as sharp as indigestion, under his ribs. He pushed his plate away, sated with grief. ‘I may not go to him unless he sends for me.’

He realised that the young woman, Jane Hurte, was looking at him and her face was full of sympathy, as if she understood a little of what he was feeling. ‘It must be a hard task to serve a great lord,’ she said gently. ‘He must come and go like a planet in the sky and all you can do is watch and wait for him to come again.’

Her father bent his head and said softly: ‘I pray that we may all serve a greater master. Amen.’

But Jane did not take her eyes from John and her smile was steady.