I have moments when I am jealous of today’s guest. Not because Elizabeth St. John has the most amazing set of interesting ancestors (mine were mostly backwater farmers and miners) but because her writing is so utterly delicious, her characters so vivid, her plots so elegantly constructed round the skeletons of historical facts. Her latest release is, IMO, her best book so far, which leads me to do a bit of a squeal and wonder when, when, when the next book is coming. No pressure, Ms St. John, none at all!
Elizabeth is not my first encounter with a St John. As a child, I had a Miss St. John as my chemistry teacher, and I am somewhat ashamed to admit I was a bit of a terror. I am thinking that because I filled poor Miss St .John’s briefcase with slimy frogs I deserve those occasional flashes of green, green jealousy (apt, as the frogs were very bright green). I am, however, happy to report that the twinges of jealousy are VERY rare -I am far too busy enjoying the immersive novels Elizabeth St. John delivers!
Today’s book is, of course The King’s Intelligencer – presently on tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club.

London, 1674
When children’s bones are unexpectedly unearthed in the Tower of London, England’s most haunting mystery—the fate of the missing princes—is reignited.
Franny Apsley, trusted confidante to Charles II’s beloved niece and heir, Lady Mary Stuart, is caught up in the court’s excitement surrounding the find. Yet, as a dark family secret comes to light, Franny realises the truth behind the missing princes is far more complex—and dangerous—than anyone suspects. Recruited by her formidable cousin Nan Wilmot, Dowager Countess of Rochester, to discover the truth behind the bones, Franny is thrust into the shadowy world of intelligencers. But her quest is complicated by an attraction to the charismatic court artist Nicholas Jameson, a recent arrival from Paris who harbours secrets of his own.
Pursued by Nicholas, Franny searches for evidence hidden in secret family letters and paintings, and uncovers a startling diplomatic plot involving Lady Mary, which causes Franny to question her own judgment, threatens the throne, and sets England on a course for war. With only her courage and the guidance of an enigmatic spy within the royal household, Franny must decide how far she will go to expose the truth—and whether that truth will lead to England’s salvation or her own heartbreak.
In a glittering and debauched society where love is treacherous and loyalty masked, Franny must navigate a world where a woman’s voice is often silenced and confront the ultimate question: What is she willing to risk for the sake of her country, her happiness, and her family’s safety?
A captivating historical novel of conspiracy, passion, and courage, The King’s Intelligencer is one woman’s quest for a truth that could change the fate of a nation. A companion to the critically acclaimed best-selling novels The Godmother’s Secret and The Lydiard Chronicles, The King’s Intelligencer weaves together beloved characters and actual events to bring a suspenseful mystery to life.
My Review
Franny Aspley is nineteen and already an experienced player in the complicated power games that define the royal court. Not that Franny is part of King Charles II’s retinue—and thank the good Lord for that, given the king’s endless appetite for new bed mates. Our Franny is instead one of Lady Mary’s favourite companions. As the heir-to-the-heir, Mary lives a regimented life—she is the Protestant daughter of the openly Catholic Duke of York in a time where being a papist is viewed with serious mistrust. Ms St. John paints an endearing portrait of Mary, so young, so insecure, so aware of the burden of future duty—and so starved for affection from, primarily, her father. To some extent, this is due to the fact that the duke has to maintain a distance from Mary so as not to taint her with his papist leanings. But the duke has wed again, and hopes for sons from his much younger wife—not that this stops him from negotiating Mary’s future wedding, having his eye set on a Catholic prince.
The conspiracies surrounding Lady Mary’s future husband forms one of the central threads in this wonderful depiction of Restoration England. Round Mary and the rest of the royal family dance ambitious nobles, from the grasping, greedy Villiers to the debauched but brilliant John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, all of them brought to vivid life in Ms St. John’s narrative.
But it isn’t Mary’s future that threatens Franny and her family—it is the discovery of the bones of two small boys in the Tower of London. Here, at last, are the sad remains of the two lost princes, so cruelly murdered by their uncle, Richard III. This is part of the creation myth that allowed the Tudors and their subsequent descendants to claim the English throne—Richard III is the villain, Henry Tudor the saviour. Except that what is found with the bones would indicate Margaret Beaufort, matriarch of the Tudors, was potentially involved in this foul murder.
The problem for Franny—and her family—is that Margaret Beaufort sits in their family tree as well. Franny’s grandmother was a St. John, and further up the line, Oliver St John and his sister Elysabeth were half-siblings to Margaret. The king is out to set an example: murdering a royal comes with a high, high price, and he’ll have no problem foisting the entire blame for the sad fate of the two princes onto the St. John and Aspley families to salvage the reputation of Margaret Beaufort and her direct descendants.
Franny’s pursuit of the truth surrounding the found bones is the second thread in this elegantly constructed narrative. Inevitably, the central strands twist and tangle together, and right at the centre is Franny, the mysterious Nicholas Jameson, the enigmatic Benjamin—and Franny’s terrified father, Allen.
Along the way, Franny will experience love and deceit, will suffer the pain of betrayal while struggling with the heavy burden of somehow proving to the king that neither Margaret Beaufort nor the St John’s had anything to do with those sad little bones. The self-centred teenager converts into a strong and determined woman, a woman as capable as her female ancestors to make the right decisions in tumultuous times.
The King’s Intelligencer is a marvellous novel, set against the complicated political situation of Restoration England. Persecuted Catholics, disgruntled Protestants, a debt-ridden spendthrift of a king, courtiers vying for position and power, a moody Duke of York—just as indebted as his brother, and somewhat frustrated by being relegated to the side due to his faith—they all dance across the pages, testament to Ms St John’s excellent research. Ms St John leads me through the low-ceilinged passages of Westminster Palace, she guides me through the Tower and into the crypts of Westminster Abbey. She also has me inhaling the fresh scents of a windy autumn day, squinting up at the pale green foliage of lime trees in spring. In brief, Ms St. John immerses me in her world—but it is her characters, especially Franny, who makes this book a wonderful reading experience. An absolute tour de force, more than highly recommended!
***
Excerpt
Her father took both of her hands, turned her face to the light. “And when you saw them in the pit, when everyone was there, when they were first discovered, you are sure they were children’s bones?”
“Sir Kit Wren said as much.”
Allen shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “And was there anything else?”
Franny shook her head. “No, Papa. No coffin, no stone nor lead casing. Just their bones.”
He raised his face to the ceiling, blew a breath of relief. “Good.” And murmured almost to himself. “That is good.”
She smiled at him, relieved his humour was returning. “They were just in the dirt. Lying on a piece of velvet.”
He froze. “What did you say?”
“Embedded in dirt. On an old cloth. It looked like a bedcover. Or a cloak.”
Papa almost pushed her away, paced away to the window, and after a long pause turned back. Anguish creased his face. What could she possibly have said to cause such distress?
“Oh, Franny,” he said. “This is what I dreaded the most.” He slumped on the bench by the empty fireplace, buried his head in his hands. “Tell no one,” he muttered through his fingers. “Tell no one what you saw. And thank God you and anyone else were refused entry this last time. No one else knows? You’ve spoken to no one?”
“Why?” Franny was really troubled now. She pushed away the conversation about family in the palace ruins with Nicholas Jameson. She hadn’t spoken directly to him of Nan’s request to see the bones, had she? “What do you mean?” This was a side to her father she did not recognise.
“Forget you have ever seen any bones. And forget what you have told me about a cloak. Go back to your duties at the palace, Franny, and leave this well alone.” He poured a goblet of wine with a trembling hand, tipped it down his throat in one gulp, and rapidly poured another. “You are sure they were children’s bones, Franny?” He didn’t wait for her answer, but lowered his voice, muttered to himself. “It is a secret which should never have been discovered. I must talk to Nan. She’ll know what to do. And Peter. My son will be back soon. He should be here now.”
“Nan told—”
“Nan told you what?” he snapped back.
“Nothing.” Franny retorted. “Nothing, Papa.” She was done with this drama, this mysterious find, this intrigue. Her family held secrets, that she knew. No one could survive the war years without making compromises. But this? This story stretched way back, before England’s recent war with itself, back to when her ancestors first came to prominence. Back to when the land and titles and money and influence flowed from the Tudors directly to their family. “May I go? I need to prepare the Lady Mary for bed.”
He didn’t reply, lost as he was in his own thoughts, quaffing draughts from his wine cup. Was Papa drinking away his cares, as Nan had predicted? He appeared sober enough, if overwrought. Not unusual; a residue of war, Franny had been assured, ever since she could remember. Her mother advised when the dark ague appeared to overwhelm to leave rescue to those women who had battled in times before to heal him. Those family ties tethered her father to sanity. She’d let Nan know. Perhaps she should tell Mama, despite Nan’s warning. Her brother would manage Papa when he returned. Let those who created the safety net bind him. And she could walk away.
“May I go?” she repeated after her father poured a third glass and slumped on a chair by the fireplace.
“Hmm?” Papa glanced up at her, as if puzzled she was still there. “Franny. Yes. Go.”
Franny left him with his wine for company. Nan or her mother could take charge. She had enough on her mind managing her own place at court without worrying about her father’s and Nan’s old secrets. Her own challenge was to govern Lady Mary. Court’s gossip glasshouse was cultivating rumours that wedding negotiations were underway. And persuading her charge this was something to joyfully anticipate would take a miracle.
***
Elizabeth St. John’s critically acclaimed historical fiction novels tell the stories of her ancestors: extraordinary women whose intriguing kinship with England’s kings and queens brings an intimately unique perspective to Medieval, Tudor, and Stuart times.
Inspired by family archives and residences from Lydiard Park to the Tower of London, Elizabeth spends much of her time exploring ancestral portraits, diaries, and lost gardens. And encountering the occasional ghost. But that’s another story.
Living between California, England, and the past, Elizabeth is the International Ambassador for The Friends of Lydiard Park, an English charity dedicated to conserving and enhancing this beautiful centuries-old country house and park. As a curator for The Lydiard Archives, she is constantly looking for an undiscovered treasure to inspire her next novel.
Elizabeth’s works include The Lydiard Chronicles, a trilogy set in 17th-century England during the Civil War, and The Godmother’s Secret, which unravels the medieval mystery of the missing princes in the Tower of London. Her latest release, The King’s Intelligencer, follows Franny Apsley’s perilous quest to uncover the truth behind the sudden discovery of the princes’ bones. In Charles II’s court of intrigue and deceit, Franny must decide what she’ll risk—for England’s salvation, her family’s safety, and her own happiness.
Author links:
Website: https://www.elizabethjstjohn.com/
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LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/elizabethjstjohn/
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Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/elizabethstjohn.bsky.social
Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/elizabeth-st-john
Amazon Author Page: https://geni.us/AmazonElizabethStJohn
Goodreads: https://geni.us/GoodreadsElizStJohn



Thanks so much for hosting Elizabeth St.John today, and for your wonderful review of The King’s Intelligencer. I’m delighted you enjoyed this intriguing story.
Take care,
Cathie xx
The Coffee Pot Book Club