Death at the Beggar's Opera (17 page)

‘Youthful high spirits, Madam. Please forgive them. If you would care to step into my laboratory I will serve the merrymakers, then give you a private consultation.’

Slightly pacified, the object of derision moved into John’s compounding room, and it was while she was doing this, accompanied by a great deal of sighing and clucking, that Will, the theatre boy, came in, colliding in the doorway with Lord Delaney.

It was an extraordinary moment, a moment that, for no particular reason, the Apothecary committed to memory and would recall time and again. He saw Will gaze up at the important personage entering with him, saw Lord Delaney glance down to see who had bumped against his legs. Then he observed Will look over at him and mouth words which he could not catch.

‘Do you want to tell me something?’ John called over all the hubbub.

The boy nodded, then stared round the shop, taking in the beau and the girl, still giggling insanely, the rear view of the large lady disappearing into the back room, Lord Delaney’s jovial smile. And it was at that second that he panicked. Without another word Will turned and ran, up the cobbles of Shug Lane and out of sight, leaving John with the impression of someone very much afraid.

The Apothecary stood helplessly, longing to chase after him but quite unable to do so with a shop full of customers. The best he could manage in the circumstances was to make a mental promise to go to the theatre to see the child on his way home from Serafina’s supper party, when the evening performance at Drury Lane would be over and done.

‘Good trade, my young friend,’ said Lord Delaney, joining in the general air of jollity emanating from the other two customers.

‘Yes, very good, thank you, Sir,’ John answered automatically. But his mind was elsewhere, already conjecturing what it could have been that Will had wanted to say, and coming to the conclusion that the boy had remembered something of sufficient importance to drive him to leave the safety of the theatre and venture to Shug Lane to tell the Apothecary of it.

In a hurry as ever, John shut the shop promptly and hastened home to change into his very best clothes for the evening. How true it is, he thought, that old habits die hard. At the height of his passion for Serafina, when he had known her only as the Masked Lady and had gaped at her admiringly from afar, he had dressed to try and attract her attention. Now he was doing just the same thing, though his feelings for her had long since altered to those of friendship. Not having too much time to spend in preparation, yet finally satisfied with his appearance, unbelievably splendid in black and crimson, John set out in a sedan to Hanover Square.

It was a miserable night after a relatively fine day and John huddled in the chair, pulling his cloak around him. But when he alighted at number twelve a sense of warmth swept over him just from looking at its torchlit exterior, and it was with eager anticipation that he paid off the chairmen and hurried inside. Serafina and Louis were receiving guests in their stately upstairs salon and much to John’s delight, as he climbed the curving staircase, the sound of Coralie Clive’s voice could be heard. Well aware that when they had met on the previous day the actress had been furious with him, the Apothecary adjusted his features accordingly. So it was a somewhat contrite looking young man who walked into the room and kissed his hostess’s hand, bowed politely to Louis, then finally went to greet the other guest.

‘Mr Rawlings,’ said Coralie, ‘I did not think you were going to be here.’

‘Would you not have come?’

‘Of course I would. We cannot let this vile murder ruin all our lives.’

‘What do you mean?’ John asked quietly.

‘That working for Mr Fielding means you will be forced to upset people sometimes.’

‘So have you forgiven me for irritating you?’

‘Naturally,’ she answered rapidly, but John still felt that there was a certain coldness in her voice.

Serafina came to the rescue. ‘My dear John, I have another pleasant surprise in store for you. Samuel is to be here at any moment, and later we are to be joined by Coralie’s sister, Kitty. She is performing in
The Merchant of Venice
tonight but will join us as soon as she can.’

‘It will be a great honour to meet her.’

‘And she can confirm that I was at home when she arrived back on the night before the killing,’ Miss Clive said acidly.

John suddenly lost patience with her and shot her an angry look, unaware that his eyes had deepened to the colour of wintry seas from their usual delphinium blue. Out of his deep affection for his hosts he remained silent, though there were many words he would like to have spoken, but his glance said it all and Coralie turned her gaze away, her back rigid. It was a great relief at that moment to hear Samuel clattering into the hall below, then pounding up the stairs with his usual noisy stride.

‘Ha ha,’ he said, bounding into the room. ‘A gathering of all my favourite people!’ And he set about effusive greetings which lifted the atmosphere enormously.

A footman poured champagne, another aid to conversation, and soon everyone was chatting freely, though Coralie directed her words mainly to Serafina and Louis, rather obviously, in John’s opinion. Finding himself alone with his friend, Samuel begged to be told all that had happened since they last met, explaining apologetically that he had been very busy with his new premises, where he was soon to set up as a goldsmith, and therefore unable to be of much help.

‘I could use you tonight, however,’ John answered, and Samuel’s face lit into a grin bright as a full moon.

‘What for?’

‘At the end of the evening I must call in to Drury Lane. That pathetic boy had something to tell me and the sooner I find out what it is, the better.’

‘And you want me to go with you?’

‘To be honest it’s an eerie place after dark.’

Samuel chuckled. ‘Not afraid of Jasper Harcross’s ghost, surely?’

John shook his head. ‘Probably just afraid would be nearer the truth.’

At this juncture Serafina interrupted their conversation. ‘Dear friends, let us go in to supper. Afterwards we shall play cards and await the arrival of Miss Kitty Clive.’

‘I hope you’re going to be easy on us, Comtesse,’ said Samuel jovially.

Louis interposed. ‘If she were not she could bankrupt us all in a night.’ But he smiled fondly at his wife and briefly kissed her for all his words. John, observing, felt enormously happy for them that all their earlier difficulties had been resolved. Then, looking up, he caught Coralie’s eye upon him and studiously ignored it.

It was occurring to him, ever more strongly, that the young lady was as full of temperament as every actress was reputed to be and that he, for one, had no intention of playing her silly little games of personal power.

The evening continued in this fashion, John talking to Samuel, despite the fact that he was placed next to Coralie at table, she devoting her attention to her hosts. And it was not until they had sat down to cards that she finally spoke to him once more.

‘Mr Rawlings,’ she whispered, close to his ear, ‘I believe you are not best pleased with me.’

The Apothecary turned on her a cool look that he did not even know he possessed amongst his repertoire of differing expressions.

‘That is because, Miss Clive, you continue to dig at me for the role I have been given as one of the Blind Beak’s co-opted Runners. Let me assure you that from all I have learnt about the murder victim his killer deserves a medal, yet that will not detract me one whit from keeping my promise to Mr Fielding. And if this leads you to take offence, then so be it.’ And he laid a negligent card.

‘Bravo,’ murmured Serafina, though whether she was cheering his choice of words, quietly spoken though they had been, or his method of play, he was not certain. Further speculation on this point being precluded by the arrival of Coralie’s glamorous sister, John decided to forget all about the younger actress and concentrate on the elder.

She was certainly an attractive young woman, like Coralie in many ways except for the fact that she had light blue eyes. Mr Garrick considered her one of the finest actresses of the day, and it was a fact that when she played Portia, as she had been doing tonight, she invariably reduced the house to hysterics during the trial scene by her portrayal of various well-known living advocates. Her ear was sharp, her mimicry cruel, her talent undoubted; both John and Samuel thought her absolutely fascinating and made the fact quite clear.

Just as Louis de Vignolles had promised, his wife was kind to her guests and allowed them to win on several occasions. Only once did she show her true mastery, and then with such a breathtaking display of play that everyone applauded and did not resent her in the least.

‘You are brilliant, Comtesse,’ said Kitty in genuine admiration. ‘But then, of course, you were the famous Masked Lady, were you not?’

‘Until Mr Rawlings uncovered my true identity, yes.’

John was aware of Coralie’s eyes upon him.

‘He must be very clever,’ Kitty continued, smiling. ‘Are you, Mr Rawlings?’

‘Sometimes I make lucky guesses, let me put it that way.’

‘You are too modest,’ Serafina said, then added wickedly to Coralie, ‘Never try to keep a secret from him, my dear. He’ll find it out for sure.’

‘Why are you all talking about me as if I weren’t here?’ asked John. He pinched himself. ‘I am still visible, aren’t I?’

‘Only just,’ Samuel answered, and guffawed at his own joke.

From downstairs came the sound of the great hall clock striking once and Serafina cast her eyes in the Apothecary’s direction. ‘Are you working tomorrow?’

‘No, but I have to attend the Public Office early. Mr Fielding will no doubt have some tasks for me, so unfortunately I will have to take my leave.’

‘And I,’ Samuel said, springing to his feet surprisingly steadily for one who had consumed a great deal of champagne, to say nothing of wine and port.

‘Ladies, do not desert us please,’ pleaded the hostess, but Kitty was already shaking her head.

‘I have a ten o’clock rehearsal tomorrow so, sorrowfully, we too must go. Gentlemen, may I offer you a lift in my carriage? It awaits outside.’

‘Actually,’ said John, ‘we are going to Drury Lane. I have to see Will.’

‘What about?’ asked Coralie, surprise in her voice.

‘He came into my shop earlier, obviously wanting to speak to me. But it was very crowded and he went away again. He looked worried about something so I thought I would try and see him tonight.’

‘He’ll be asleep,’ the actress answered.

If they had been alone together privately, John would have challenged her, asked her why she didn’t want him to talk to the child, but as it was he let the matter pass.

‘I shall visit you in Shug Lane very soon,’ said the Comtesse as she kissed him goodbye.

John’s mobile eyebrows rose in query, but Serafina merely laughed at him and turned to her other guests. And then they were outside in the bitter cold, clambering into Kitty Clive’s splendid equipage and driving down Piccadilly towards The Strand.

‘We’re taking you out of your way,’ said Samuel, not so much apologising as commenting when the driver struck out in the direction of Covent Garden.

‘Not at all,’ answered Kitty, ‘but we won’t wait for you if you don’t mind.’

‘Of course not,’ John put in. ‘Samuel and I will hire a hackney home. He can spend the rest of the night in Nassau Street.’

Coralie spoke out of the darkness. ‘I haven’t behaved very well recently, have I?’

‘What are you talking about?’ said Kitty.

‘Mr Rawlings knows.’

‘And Mr Rawlings forgives,’ answered John, as the coach drew to a halt before the dark shape of the deserted theatre.

‘Do you?’ Coralie asked wistfully as the Apothecary descended the two steps down to the street, Samuel immediately preceding him. For answer John remounted the bottom step and leant into the carriage. ‘Come here,’ he said.

She leant forward, imagining he had something to say to her. But John was beyond words. Instead he kissed her, full on the mouth, letting his lips linger for several sensual seconds before he bowed, said, ‘Good night,’ stepped down to the street and closed the carriage door.

‘Hare and hounds!’ exclaimed Samuel. ‘That should give her something to think about.’

‘I sincerely hope so.’

‘You’ve got your nerve, you know.’

‘She drove me to it.’

Samuel chuckled. ‘I rather thought you two didn’t like one another.’

‘That,’ said John with a sigh, ‘remains to be seen.’

It had not occurred to the Apothecary, or to Samuel Swann for that matter, that gaining entry to Drury Lane theatre might be difficult. Despite the lateness of the hour both had expected the stage door to be open and Will not yet abed. But it seemed that there they had miscalculated. Everything was locked and shuttered and the place in total darkness, not so much as the glow of a candle lighting the interior.

‘Now what do we do?’ Samuel asked, aware that with their conveyance gone they might well have to face the prospect of walking home through London’s dangerous streets.

John frowned. ‘I would say forget the visit until tomorrow were it not for a strange feeling I have. Something caused that boy to take fright and run off, though I can’t for the life of me think what it could have been. Now I believe he dearly wants to speak to me.’

‘Perhaps it was the sight of the fat lady,’ said Samuel.

‘What?’

‘Perhaps he mistook the large woman for Mrs Martin.’

John gazed at him in the faint winter moonlight. ‘God’s wounds, but you’re right! Why didn’t I realise it before? He must have glimpsed her disappearing into the compounding room and made a mistake.’

The Goldsmith’s honest features took on a look of concern. ‘From what you say, Will must be very frightened indeed. I think we should try and effect an entry.’

‘By force?’

‘If necessary, yes.’

‘Good,’ said John, the wild side of him relishing the adventure, and beckoned his friend to walk round the theatre in order to try all the entrances.