‘The ambassador wants to see you,’ he said. ‘Would you mind sparing him a few moments? His other visitors are on the verge of leaving.’ Chaloner did mind, because he had a lot to do. He scrabbled around for an excuse. ‘I have—’ ‘Do not slight him, Tom,’ begged Jacoba. ‘There are only so many insults from your countrymen he can be expected to endure. Besides, he will need to meet someone decent after two hours with Buckingham, Downing and Lady Castlemaine.’ Reluctantly, Chaloner followed her to the chamber that Killigrew had decked out as a State Room for his Dutch guests. He had not done a very good job. A few paintings had been mounted on the plain white walls, but they were so variable in size, theme and quality that it looked as though he had just had a quick scout around his domain and grabbed whatever was to hand. Meanwhile, the rugs were such a wild assortment of shapes and colours that they made the place look untidy, and the banners hanging from the rafters were mostly Swedish.
