‘In return, I will give you a reference praising your household skills and diligence. But I will not say you are a trustworthy man, for you are not.’

‘I was honest all my life,’ Martin replied, a tremble in his voice, ‘until John’s actions brought me to this.’ Then he added spitefully, ‘I might not even have agreed to play the spy but for the fact I never respected you, Master Hunch – ’ He broke off, realizing he was about to go too far.

I answered quietly, ‘Nor did I respect you, Martin, proud, narrow man that you are. With a wife too good for him.’

He clenched his fists. ‘At least I have one.’

In the silence that followed I heard Agnes sobbing uncontrollably again. Martin winced. I spoke quietly. ‘Come to my study. Write me that note and deliver it. While you are gone I will compose a reference. I will give it to you when you return. Then you can get out.’

IN THE STUDY I THOUGHT, what is sure to bring Stice, and perhaps Rich, to that house? I told Martin to write ‘I have urgent news concerning the visit of an Italian gentleman’. There, that would do: Lord Parr had told me that rumours of Bertano’s presence were starting to leak out. Rich would be keenly interested. I had Martin add: ‘Please make sure we are alone. It is all most confidential.’

When the note was written and I had gone over it, Martin left for the tavern; I wrote out a reference for him in ill conscience. I wondered whether he might throw the note away and not deliver it, but before he left I warned him again that very senior people were involved in this, and oddly I also felt that his pride would ensure that he honoured this last promise. Josephine took Agnes upstairs to pack. I stood at my parlour window, looking out on the sunny lawn, full of sad thoughts. A wife. I would have wished the Queen for a wife. I wondered whether perhaps I was a little mad, like poor Isabel.

There was a knock at the door. Agnes Brocket entered, her face weary and tear-stained. ‘Martin has told you our news, sir?’

‘About John? Yes. I am sorry.’

‘Thank you for letting us go, sir. We will return as soon as we can. Martin has gone out on a last piece of business.’ She smiled wanly.

So Martin had not told his wife they would not be returning. No doubt he would make up some story later. Poor Agnes, so honest and hard-working, so full of goodwill. Her son in prison, her husband’s deceits kept from her. I said gently, ‘I have been looking out at my garden. You have done much good work there, and in the house.’