Eliza flipped the lid open with her toe to reveal more freshly minted silver pennies than the Marquis of Ravenscar had seen in one place in years. He responded in the only way fitting: with absolute silence. Meanwhile his driver answered the question for him.
“Not load it on this coach, guv’nor, the suspension won’t hold.” The driver was struggling to settle the exhausted horses, who had sensed that the carriage was rapidly getting heavier. Another crash sounded from the shelf in the back, causing the vehicle to pitch nose up, and then another on the roof, which began to bulge downward and emit ominous ticks.
“Summon a hackney!” commanded the Marquis, and then swiveled his eyes back to Eliza, imploring her to answer his question.
“What am I going to do with it?”
“Yes.”
“Sell it, I suppose, at the same time as you are selling yours. It is rather more pocket-money than I shall be requiring during my stay in your city. Though I should very much like to go to the West End later, and go—what is the word they use for it now?”
“I believe the word you are looking for is ‘shopping,’ madame.”
“Yes, shopping. The money, of course, belongs to the King of France. But, gentleman that he is, he would never begrudge me the loan of a few pounds sterling so that I might change into a new dress.”
“Nor would I, madame,” said Ravenscar, “if it came to that—but le Roi, it goes without saying, has precedence.” Ravenscar swallowed. “It is a remarkable coincidence.”
“What coincidence, my lord?”
More jingling crashes came to their ears from just behind, where a hackney had pulled up, and was being laden with more strong-boxes. The sound was enormously distracting to Ravenscar, who struggled to keep stringing words together. “Our route to the lovely shops of the West End shall take us past Apthorp’s, where—”
“Oh, that’s right. You wish to put your silver on the market. Not yet.”
“Not yet!?”
“Think of a ship’s captain, sailing into battle, guns charged and ready to let go a broadside. If he loses his nerve, and fires too soon, the balls fall short of their target, and splash into the water, and he looks a fool. Worse, he is not afforded the opportunity to re-load. It is like that now.”
Ravenscar did not seem convinced.
“After our epistolary flirtation, which I did enjoy so much,” Eliza tried, “I should be crestfallen if I journeyed all the way to London only to find that you were a premature ejaculator.”
“Really! Madame! I do not know how the ladies discourse in France, but here in England—”
“Oh, stop it. ’Twas a figure of speech, nothing more.”
“And not a very accurate one, by your leave; for more is at stake here than you seem to know!”
“I know precisely what’s at stake, my lord.” Here Eliza was distracted by some activity without. A man had emerged from the door of the House of Hacklheber, dressed as if about to embark on a voyage, and was signalling for a hackney. There was no lack of these, as word seemed to have spread that coins were falling from the sky hereabouts. Within moments the fellow was on his way.
“Was that one of the shouting Germans?” Ravenscar inquired.
Eliza met his eye. “You could hear them all the way out here?” Then she tilted her head out the window to watch.
“Madame, I could have heard them from Wales. What were they on about?”
Eliza was crooking her finger at someone outside, then nodding as if to say, yes, I mean you, sirrah! Presently a face appeared in the window: a hackney-driver, hat in hands. “Follow yonder German until he gets on a boat. Watch the boat until you can’t see it any more. Go to—what did you call your Den of Iniquity, my lord?”
“The Nag’s Head.”
“Go to the Nag’s Head and leave word for the Marquis that his ship has come in. Someone there will then give you more of these.” Eliza blindly scooped some coins out of her strong-box and slapped them into the driver’s hat.
“Right you are, milady!”
“It shall probably be the Gravesend Ferry, but you might have to trail him all the way to Ipswich or something,” Eliza added, partly to explain the amount; for she got the idea, from the way Ravenscar had just swallowed his own tongue, that she had overpaid.
The hackney driver was so gone, ’twas as if he’d been launched from a siege-mortar. Eliza looked back to Ravenscar. “You asked, what were the Germans shouting about?”
“Yes. I was afraid I should have to venture within and run them through.” Ravenscar slapped the scabbard of his small-sword.
“They were full of impertinent questions about what I meant to do with all that silver.”
“And you told them—?”
“I affected a noble diffidence, and pretended not to understand any language other than the high French of Versailles.”
“Right. So they believe that the invasion has begun!”
“I cannot read their minds, my lord; and if I could, I should not wish to.”
“And they have in consequence despatched a runner to the Continent. You mentioned Ipswich—implying that his destination is Holland—and his mission is, what?”
Eliza shrugged. “To fetch the rest, I’d suppose.”