A child of the warehouse, Johnnie usually counted the queue of waiting ships and looked for the names of those that often came to the Reekie Wharf; but this evening he looked beyond them to the east where the thick gray clouds merged the sky into the sea on the dark horizon.

He was confident that Sarah would be safe on board Captain Shore’s ship and that she would cope with whatever faced her in Venice. She was only twenty-one years old but the two of them had been raised on the streets, alleys, and wharves of St. Olave’s, and he knew she was no fool. She had seen enough libertine men buying gewgaws for their mistresses at the milliner’s not to be tricked or seduced by a few slick words, she had seen fellow apprentices leave the workshop in a carriage and come back barefoot. A child of the coastal trade, he was not fearful for her at sea; a firm believer in his grandmother’s wisdom, he did not think she had been sent on a mission that she could not accomplish. But he believed himself to be half of a twin and, as she went farther and farther away, he felt as if half of himself was missing.

He walked along the wharf from one set of steps to another, not knowing where he was going in the gathering dusk, but understanding that he was undertaking a sort of vigil, a waiting for her, and that until she came home his family would be dispersed and he would have no comfort until he knew she was safe. Now he understood how it had been for his mother, when her brother, Rob, went away; for his grandmother when her brother, Ned, went to the New World. Now, as he tried to look through the dusk, as if he could see Sarah so far away at sea, he believed that his grandmother would know for sure if her own son was alive or dead.

NOVEMBER 1670, LONDON

Sarah had been away from her home for nearly a week when Alinor came down the narrow stairs to find Alys in the counting house, on the other side of the narrow hall.

“Alys, I need to talk to you.”

At once, Alys slid down from her stool at the clerk’s high desk where she worked. “Ma? Are you ill?”

“No,” Alinor smiled. “No, I’m well. But I’ve something to say to you.”

“Shall we go into the parlor?” Alys scattered a shaker of sand to dry the careful figures in the ledger, put a bookmark in her place, closed the ledger, and led the way across the hall. She settled her mother in a seat near the fireplace. “Shall I light the fire?”

“No, I’ll go back upstairs again in a moment.”

Neither woman would have lit a fire to burn in an empty room. It was one of the many grinding economies they had practiced all their lives.

“Balancing the books?” Alinor asked. “Are they right now? With Livia’s payments?”

“Yes! Finally paying our debts,” Alys said. “She paid us in the very nick of time, it was close.” She closed the parlor door as if to shut out the threat of failure. “I’ve settled with Tabs and given her a little extra for her patience, and I’ll be able to pay Captain Shore when he returns with the load. But we’ve got nothing to spare. It’s close—too close,” she confessed.

“And where’s Livia now?” Alinor asked.

“At… with the statues,” Alys replied. She never named Sir James to her mother.

“Again?” Alinor asked curiously. “I thought they were sold?”

“Now she’s supervising their packing up and sending them off to the buyers.”

“Will she pay us a share of the profits?” Alinor asked curiously.

Alys flushed slightly. “She’s paid what she owed for shipping on the first voyage, she still owes for commissioning the second,” she said. “I didn’t ask for a share of her profits. After all, it’s her widow’s dower from her first marriage, we’ve no claim on it. And anyway, she plans to buy a house for us all to live in, she’s saving up the money. We will be partners.”

“Don’t we have to buy the warehouse?” Alinor asked. “A new warehouse, for her to show her treasures?”

Alinor flushed. “As a partner, yes. I know she’s ambitious, Ma, but this could take us to a better house and a better living than we’ve ever dreamed of.”

There was a cold draft from the unshuttered windows. Alinor drew her shawl closer around her shoulders.

“You’re cold. I’ll light the fire for you.” Alys rose to go to the kitchen for some embers.

“No, no, I’m not staying downstairs. I came down to tell you something.

Alys sat on a stool at her mother’s feet and looked up into the worn and beautiful face. “Yes, Ma?”

“Sarah didn’t go to see a friend. I sent her on an errand.”

“You did?”

“A long errand, I’m afraid. I sent her to Venice, my dear. To find Rob.”

For a moment Alys was silent as she could not believe what she had heard. “What?”

“I knew you wouldn’t like it, so I told her to keep it secret. She was eager to go, I sent her with a little money—” She broke off and smiled. “And the old red purse of tokens. She sailed with Captain Shore, and she’ll come home with him in the New Year.”

Alys rose to her feet. “You sent Sarah to Venice? My daughter? Without telling me?”

“Aye, I’m sorry.”

“Ma… I can’t believe it… you sent Sarah?”

“Yes.”

“But what for?”

Alinor folded her thin hands in her lap. “Because I don’t think Rob is dead,” she said very quietly. “I don’t believe it. So I sent Sarah to see what she could find out. And if there’s nothing, and he’s dead, then I asked her to bring something back of his, that I might take in my coffin when I’m dead too.”

Alys jumped to her feet, took two steps to the window, and then came back to her mother. “I can’t begin to… Ma, what have you done?”

“Sarah feels as I do—both the children do. That there’s more to Livia’s story than she’s told us. And I know—I know in my heart that Rob isn’t dead. I just know it. He’s not a young man to die in water, not when he could swim to shore, not when he could find his way home on hidden paths. Lord, Alys—think! He was raised on Foulmire, he’d never have drowned in shallow waters. If I’d been well enough I’d have gone myself. But Sarah leapt at the chance.”

“How could you send her? Send my daughter in secret? Overseas? Ma, how could you!” Alys looked out of the window as if she expected the sails of Sarah’s ship to appear, returning her home.

“My own daughter! And you made her keep it secret!”

“We only didn’t tell you because we knew you wouldn’t like it—”

“You were right!” Alys burst in.

“And because we don’t trust Livia,” Alinor said steadily. “She has you in her pocket.”

Alys flushed red. “Ma!”

“She treats you as no one has ever done. She speaks to you with contempt, as if you were her servant, and then she gives you money, as if she could buy your pride.”

“I’ve heard people speak worse to you,” Alys rejoined.

“Yes. Many. But they never said they loved me in the next breath. They ordered me and I resented it. I didn’t love them for it.”