Death at the Beggar's Opera (22 page)

‘There was nothing in his manner that suggested anything out of the ordinary?’

‘No.’

‘Ah well,’ said John and clapped his hat on his head, then turned in the doorway. ‘One final thing, Miss Rose.’

‘Yes?’

‘Forgive me asking this but as a member of the fair sex, of whom he seemed particularly fond, I would like to know your opinion of Jasper Harcross.’

The fervent lips compressed and Polly shook her head, her features oddly blank. ‘I did not like him at all, Mr Rawlings. I found his womanising unbearable and uncouth. He kissed me once, backstage, and when I came home I scrubbed my mouth until it was raw. That was the effect he had upon me.’ She laughed thinly. ‘I know this is an unusual view of the man but I thought it best to be truthful.’

‘I find that very courageous of you, you are not only beautiful but brave,’ John answered, then turned to get one last look at her as he went down the spindly staircase and out into the raw November evening.

The note to Sir Gabriel having been written, John hailed a hackney to take him to New Bond Street then deliver the letter on to Nassau Street. Not wanting to be late home, the Apothecary made good time, for the streets were empty. A freezing fog had settled over London during the late afternoon and most of its citizens had retired indoors, to seek the comfort of their hearths. Looking out of the carriage window, John was particularly struck by how little light could be seen as they bowled down Long Acre, then through a labyrinth of alleys to Leicester Fields, where only the candles in the houses threw tiny points of light to gash the gloom. Finally, though, they were in Piccadilly, where the bulk of Burlington House and its many chandeliers lit the scene before they turned off into Old Bond Street, which ran into New, past Evans Row where John had been apprenticed to Richard Purefoy, Apothecary.

As luck would have it, he caught Miss Amelia Verity shutting up her shop and was, having introduced himself, able to accompany her up the stairs to the very stylish apartment she occupied with her brother. And the style did not end there, John thought. For Miss Verity was as beautifully turned out as any fine lady of the town, and had worked so hard on her face and hair that she appeared lovely though, in fact, she was not naturally blessed. Taking in every aspect, the Apothecary struggled to find a resemblance between her and Mrs Harcross and wondered if there was a faint similarity about the mouth.

It seemed to be the day for mouths, he reflected, for the voluptuous beauty of Miss Rose’s lips haunted him still. And though Miss Verity’s was very different, a little flower of a thing with a mercurial smile never far away, it was equally arresting in a totally contrasting manner.

Placing him in a comfortable chair by her gleaming fire, Amelia, unexpectedly, took the conversational lead.

‘Now I know you have come to ask me questions and I shall do my best to answer them. But, to save time, I have prepared an account of my movements which I thought might be of help to you.’ Crossing to her desk, she fetched a piece of paper covered with words written in an elegant flowing hand and passed it to John.

He cast his eyes over it and gleaned that she had not been in the theatre on the night of Jasper’s murder but had attended the dress rehearsal for a while. She had come home before her brother and they had then shared a late supper. She had made hats for Mr Harcross and treated him in an entirely professional manner, even though she had little time for him as a person. She had created some new headgear for Kitty Clive, which she had taken to Drury Lane while the performance of
The Merchant of Venice
was still on, but had not stayed until the end. She had seen Will but had not had a conversation with him.

John looked up, somewhat amused by her business-like style. ‘This seems very comprehensive. I don’t think I have anything left to say.’

‘Then would you like a glass of sherry?’ she asked, and crossed to a small table which held a decanter and two glasses.

‘Very much indeed.’ The Apothecary gazed round him. ‘May I say how greatly I admire your taste in decor. This apartment really is charming and so beautifully furnished. Don’t think me rude, but it seems to me that you and your brother do very well for yourselves.’

‘Oh yes,’ she answered smilingly, passing him a small crystal glass. ‘We make a comfortable living between us.’

‘You have always lodged together?’

Amelia’s face clouded. ‘No, we were separated for a short while when we were children. My brother and I are orphans, you see, and were brought up by a foster mother.’

‘Where?’ said John, innocently.

‘In Chelsea, actually. Why do you ask?’

‘Mere idle curiosity. You were saying?’

‘Well, he was sent off to be apprenticed – those were the months we were apart – but as he had always longed to go on the stage he ran away to Ipswich to train with Mr Giffard. Happily, he kidnapped me and we went off together into the darkness of night, not telling a soul. It was enormous fun.’

John laughed. ‘It must have been. And you have stayed with one another ever since?’

‘We are very close as we have shared misfortune from an early age. Now we intend to stay as a unit until one or other or both of us marry.’

‘Is there any likelihood of that?’

Amelia smiled delightfully. ‘I am a good catch, Mr Rawlings, as is Adam. He is handsome, young, and an actor. In fact he is currently having an
affaire de coeur
with a Duchess, older than he is, of course. Her husband does not know, by the way.’

John laughed again, deciding he enjoyed her company. ‘And what about yourself?’

‘As I said, I have several suitors, most of them with one eye on my excellent business. This puts me off enormously and I am therefore waiting until I meet someone who can match my professional acumen. When that day comes we shall unite our trades and be very successful.’

‘I wish you luck,’ said John.

‘Another glass of sherry before you go, Mr Rawlings?’

‘How very kind of you, I should be delighted.’

And in this pleasant manner John spent another half hour in Miss Verity’s presence before a glance at his watch told him it was time to go home.

Even though prepared in haste, Sir Gabriel Kent’s supper party proved a great success if somewhat unconventional in fashion. Because of the extreme confidentiality of the subject under discussion, the servants were given the evening to themselves once the main course had been served. Thus, the host and his son waited on table, a task that both of them rather enjoyed.

Also dispensed with was the custom of the ladies retiring while the gentlemen enjoyed their port. As such a vital member of the party, her husband’s eyes as it were, Elizabeth Fielding was accompanied to the library by all the rest of the group and took part in the conversation, displaying a lively wit.

John spoke first, telling the Magistrate all that had happened in Kensington, even drawing the puppet from his pocket and passing it round. Mrs Fielding recoiled from it with a look of horror.

‘What a gruesome thing. Whoever would want to frighten Mrs Harcross like that? The killer is obviously unhinged.’

‘Tormented would be a better word, I think,’ her husband replied calmly.
‘Taken up with wreaking revenge on Jasper Harcross and all his kin – or so it would appear.’

‘I believe there might well be two murderers,’ John put in. ‘A woman crossed in love and a madman.’

‘The missing Egleton children?’ asked Sir Gabriel.

‘That is one possibility, certainly,’ answered the Blind Beak. ‘Though the thought could be leading us down the wrong path. However, this strange woman seen in the church is certainly the strongest clue we have so far. You did not recognise her at all, Mr Rawlings?’

‘Unfortunately, no. But there’s something else. Do you remember that Coralie was visited by a veiled woman announcing herself as Mrs Harcross? Well, it occurs to me that if it was
not
Mrs Harcross, though I am still in two minds about that, it might well have been the woman at the funeral today.’

Mr Fielding looked stern. ‘Whether there be one or two killers, crazed or sane, the time has come to flush him or her or them out. I have devised a plan which I have already discussed with your son, Sir Gabriel.
If
I can get it to work – and it calls for the co-operation of several people, all of whom are somewhat temperamental – it should give the killer a sense of false security, so much so that he may feel confident to strike again. But this time, mark my words, we will be prepared for him.’

‘What is this scheme?’

‘You are aware that a glove found in the room in which Will was murdered belonged to Miss Coralie?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you are equally aware that that was the murderer’s first blunder. Little did he know that Miss Clive’s movements could be accounted for entirely that evening.’

John interrupted. ‘Excuse me, Sir, but I must just say this. Miss Polly Rose, the seamstress, thought the glove belonged to Mrs Delaney, would have sworn to it in fact. If she could be deceived so could someone else. I believe that it is Sarah they are trying to incriminate.’

‘But were she to be accused of murder she could plead her belly,’ Elizabeth put in. ‘That means transportation once the child is born.’

‘A fair way of getting rid of her none the less,’ said Sir Gabriel grimly.

‘Be that as it may,’ answered the Magistrate, taking charge of the conversation once more, ‘we cannot let this state of affairs go on. Therefore, I am going to ask Lady Delaney and her doting husband to leave London for their country seat. Then I intend somehow to persuade Miss Coralie to fake a disappearance but actually go and live in Sarah’s house, in other words to take her place.’

Sir Gabriel looked blank. ‘But why?’

‘So that, with Coralie gone, suspected of murder, the killer will strike at Lady Delaney. That is if our theory of a vendetta against Jasper and his progeny is correct.’

‘Wouldn’t that put Miss Clive in the most terrible danger?’

‘No, because all the servants in the house will be replaced by my men. Furthermore, I shall ask Mr Rawlings to move in with her to make doubly sure that all is well.’

The Apothecary felt sweat break out on his brow at the very thought. ‘She’ll never consent,’ he said rapidly. ‘It would be like tying her up as a sacrificial goat.’

‘I agree with that,’ said Elizabeth firmly. ‘No woman should be subjected to such peril. Besides, what if either of the two ladies is the killer? After all, your idea of revenge perpetrated by a jilted mistress could still be the correct one.’

‘That is a chance I will have to take, though only if she is working with somebody else could Miss Coralie be guilty. The same applies to Lady Delaney, I believe, much slowed down by her increasing size and obviously in no state to commit a violent crime,’ Mr Fielding said unyieldingly. He cleared his throat, indicating that the subject was closed. ‘And now, let us hear the rest of today’s news. What was your impression of Mrs Harcross, Sir Gabriel?’

‘I liked her enormously …’

‘That was obvious!’ muttered John.

His father looked at him severely. ‘… and feel it unlikely that she is a criminal. In fact I believe that the very fact she has been given a witchcraft symbol proves her innocence.’

‘My dear father,’ John said with a sigh, ‘please remember that Mrs Harcross was the finest actress of her day. The stricken widow, the terrified woman, could all be part of some calculated act to hide the fact that she is guilty of murder.’

‘But you yourself warned her that she might be in peril.’

‘Indeed I did – and so she might be. But I am not as convinced by her as you are.’

‘For all that,’ Sir Gabriel replied coolly, ‘it is my intention to move Mrs Harcross to some safe place, where I can also keep my eye on her.’

‘Gracious heavens!’ exclaimed Elizabeth. ‘Will anyone be left in their own home?’

‘No one who I think could be endangered by being there,’ her husband answered seriously. He turned to John. ‘What did you make of the two young ladies I asked you to see?’

‘They were both charming in their very different ways. Miss Rose is a tense little thing, obviously overburdened with work. Her evidence was not very useful except for the fact that she detested Jasper Harcross and admitted it. And, as I’ve already informed you, she believed the glove to be Sarah’s.’

‘And she has seen and heard nothing of interest?’

‘Not that she told me.’

‘And Miss Verity?’

‘She admitted that she was fostered out in Chelsea, as were the Egleton children.’

‘Could she and Adam be one and the same?’

‘They certainly could.’

‘There is absolutely no proof that Mrs Harcross’s children had anything to do with these crimes, you know.’

‘Indeed there isn’t,’ answered John. ‘But, never the less, we must consider all possibilities.’

Mr Fielding rose from his chair and loomed magnificently. ‘Whoever it is, there is a dangerous killer at large. Tomorrow I shall go and see Coralie Clive and attempt to persuade her to accept my plan.’

‘And I shall visit Jews Row, Chelsea,’ the Apothecary answered.

‘Are you not going to your shop, my friend?’

‘No, I will ask my deputy to do that. If you have no objection, Sir, there is something I would like to check on.’

‘When I asked you to help me,’ the Magistrate answered, ‘I expected you to act as a free agent.’ He bowed to Sir Gabriel. ‘Good night to you, Sir. An excellent repast, for which I thank you.’

And so saying, his wife led him from the room, leaving both John and his father with the strong impression that even the famous Blind Beak was both baffled and disturbed by these apparently inexplicable theatrical murders.

Much to John’s disappointment his plan to visit Chelsea, where he had hoped to find out more about the children of Mrs Harcross’s first marriage, was brought to an abrupt halt. Shortly before breakfast a messenger arrived with a note from the Master of Ned Holby, the apprentice in the last year of his studies who ran John’s shop for him when he was about Mr Fielding’s business. It said, very simply, that Ned had taken to his bed with a quinsy, and sorry though they were to incommode Mr Rawlings it was a matter beyond their control. They hoped he understood and so on. Reading the note as he finished getting dressed, the Apothecary toyed with the idea of not opening the premises in Shug Lane that day, then decided that it would be extremely bad for business if he did not. And, as is often the way of things, having made that disagreeable choice he was pleased he did so.