‘He was a king to us only a few years ago,’ John said staunchly. ‘Pocahontas was a princess. She was invited to London and treated as a princess of royal blood. I know. I was there and I saw it. The Powhatan then were a free and equal people and their royal family was as sacred as ours.’

The governor shook his head. ‘Not any more,’ he said simply. ‘They’re less than animals to us now. And if you choose to go back to them, then tell them this: that there is no place for them in this country. Tell them they will have to go –’ he gestured ‘– south or further west and keep on travelling. It’s our land now and we won’t share it.’

Autumn 1645, England

Hester received John’s letter asking for his fare home in the second week of September. The sailor who brought it was given a penny for his trouble and some thin soup at the kitchen door. Hester took the letter into the rarities room – the tiny fire was burning in there and the light from the tall Venetian windows was good. But she also had a superstitious sense that this was the rarest thing of all – a letter from her husband.

It was crumpled from its resting place inside someone’s jacket and grubby as if it had been dropped somewhere and forgotten for a little while. Hester looked at the folded outside of the paper and the tiny splash of wax which sealed it, as if she would read every inch of the paper as well as the message inside. Then she sat at the desk that was set in the window for the convenience of artists who might come to draw the specimens in the collection, and broke the seal.

Dear Wife,

I hope this reaches you in good health and fortune. I am on my way to Jamestown after many months living in the forest.

Hester paused. She had thought John was living in a planter’s house, such as were illustrated in the books about Virginia. A little house made of half-sawn timbers with wood shingles for a roof. What could he mean about living in the forest?

I have no money. Please send a note of credit for me to draw twenty pounds for my board and lodging and journey home. I shall come home as soon as I receive the money.

Hester raised her head from the smudged words. The Virginia venture had ended then, as she had said it would, in bankruptcy and disaster. There was no profitable crop of tobacco. There was no refuge from the uncertainty of a country at war. John had failed completely, failed so badly that he could not even come home unless she sent him his passage money.

I trust you, Hester, and when I come home I shall thank you for your care of me and mine.