The Butcher of Smithfield by Susanna Gregory

with me, to see the river?’
    Chaloner regarded him askance. ‘What for?’
    ‘It is the thing Londoners do these days. We have been near catastrophic flood so often, that we have all taken to gazing
     at Father Thames in our spare moments, to assess his malevolence.’
    It was not far, and Chaloner and Leybourn were not the only people to stand along the wharf. The tide wasgoing out, and the water was stained muddy brown from the silt that had been washed into it upstream. They watched a skiff
     struggling against the current, but not even the encouraging cheers from the Westminster Stairs could give the oarsman the
     strength he needed to reach the pier, and it was not long before he gave up and allowed himself to be swept back towards the
     City. His fare would be obliged to walk or take a carriage to his final destination.
    Leybourn sniffed at the air. ‘Can you smell cakes? There is a baker’s boy. Would you like some knot biscuits? I shall pay,
     as Bulteel tells me you are no longer on the Earl’s payroll.’
    Chaloner sincerely hoped Bulteel was wrong. ‘When did he tell you that?’
    ‘When you first disappeared, and he was describing the Earl’s fury that you had accepted a commission from another master.
     Do you want to borrow a few shillings? You are welcome, but please do not mention it to Mary. She does not approve of me lending
     money, not even to friends.’
    Chaloner waved away the proffered purse. ‘Mary?’
    Leybourn grinned. ‘My wife. I am the happiest man alive.’
    ‘You are married? Why did you not tell me at once, instead of gibbering on about newsbooks and flooded rivers?’
    ‘I was waiting for the right moment.’ Leybourn’s expression was dreamy. ‘I have been wanting a wife for years, because I like
     the notion of permanent female companionship. Then, last July, Mary visited my shop, and it was love at first sight – for
     both of us.’
    Chaloner was delighted for his friend, not least becauseLeybourn’s idea of charming a lady entailed regaling her with complex scientific formulae, thus giving her an unnerving insight
     into how she might be expected to spend her evenings as a married woman. Few risked a second encounter, and Chaloner had assumed
     that Leybourn was one of those men doomed to perpetual bachelorhood. ‘When can I meet her?’
    ‘I had better warn her first,’ said Leybourn mysteriously. ‘But you
must
promise to be nice.’
    Chaloner regarded him in surprise; his manners were naturally affable, and most people liked him when they first met, even
     if his work meant they later revised their opinion. ‘I am always nice.’
    ‘On the surface perhaps, but you are often sullen and sharp. However, I do not want you to be
so
personable that she wishes she was with you instead of me. You can aim for something in between – pleasant, but no playing
     the Adonis.’
    ‘I shall do my best,’ said Chaloner, somewhat bemused by the instructions. He changed the subject before he felt compelled
     to ask why Leybourn should be worried about his wife’s fidelity at such an early stage in their relationship. ‘Can you tell
     me anything more about Newburne?’
    Leybourn sighed. ‘So, the Earl
did
order you to investigate that particular death. I thought as much when you started to quiz me about L’Estrange and the world
     of publishing. It is not fair: you are almost certain to get into trouble, given the fact that
everyone
despised Newburne.’
    ‘Why was he so hated?’
    ‘Partly because of his work for L’Estrange, and partly because he was so dishonest. A dangerous gang called the Hectors controls
     Smithfield, and he was its legaladvisor. Combined, they made him rich – so much so that he was able to buy a fine house on Old Jewry. He was also accused
     of being a papist, because he never attended church, but then it was discovered that he missed his Sunday devotions because
     he was too drunk to get out of bed. Have you never heard the injunction,