Death at the Beggar's Opera (8 page)

‘Well,’ said Sir Gabriel, looking up from his newspaper, ‘there has obviously been much going on since we spoke last.’

‘You know the bare bones of it?’

‘Yes. Serafina called on me today to play cards. She told me everything that happened up to the moment when she had to leave the theatre. She also added that the talk is of murder rather than accident.’

‘Yes, that’s true enough. The planking of the gallows had been sawn through to breaking point. All it needed was Jasper’s weight before they splintered.’

‘And they were all right prior to the performance?’

‘According to Dick Weatherby, the stage manager, the whole contraption was in perfect working order at the dress rehearsal.’

‘I see. So it would appear to point to another member of the company. How much do you know about them?’

And Sir Gabriel listened intently as John described Mrs Delaney, Jack Masters, and all the others of whom he had taken particular note, ending with a brilliant word picture of Mrs Martin and her little husband. The description of Coralie Clive his son kept to a minimum, however, omitting the conversation they had had together in the darkness of the empty theatre.

Sir Gabriel must have sensed this reticence and with his unerring instinct for any of John’s attempts at deception, said, ‘And Miss Clive? What about her? Could she possibly be implicated?’

The Apothecary sighed and helped himself to another glass of sherry. ‘I’m afraid that she must be, in a way. She was having some sort of liaison with Jasper Harcross, more’s the pity.’

‘But so were half a dozen other women, by the sound of it.’

‘Yes, but …’

‘They can’t all have killed him so why should she be more involved than anyone else?’

John laughed out loud. ‘Father, you are so refreshing. The truth is that she is walking about looking guilty as a thieving child and it is decidedly unnerving.’

‘Why?’ asked Sir Gabriel mildly.

‘Why what?’

‘Why should it unnerve you?’

‘Because I like her. Because she saved my life once. I don’t want her to be a murderess, she is too agreeable.’

‘Ah!’ replied his parent, and said no more.

Nor was the subject of the killing raised again until both Sir Gabriel and John were sitting in the pleasant salon which stood directly above the Public Office in Bow Street. Since the time of Sir Thomas de Veil in the late 1730s, it had become the tradition for the Principal Justice of the Peace to live in the Bow Street house, occupying the four floors situated over those rooms devoted to the law. John Fielding had moved in there when his half-brother Henry had sought to restore his shattered health by sailing for warmer climes. But, sadly, it was to be the great writer’s last voyage, and now his younger sibling not only ran the Public Office but also bore the entire responsibility for policing the capital.

‘I was so sorry to read of the death of your remarkable brother,’ said Sir Gabriel now, echoing a remark of David Garrick’s.

‘He was broken by overwork,’ answered the Magistrate sadly. ‘Do you know, he was only in his forty-eighth year.’

‘What a terrible waste,’ Sir Gabriel commented softly. ‘Why is it that so many with something to offer to the world are taken from it? While others live on and on, contributing nothing?’

‘Blind justice,’ answered John Fielding, and laughed just a tinge bitterly. He turned to John. ‘Now tell me of Mrs Harcross. I gather from Rudge that the lady is old enough to be the dead man’s mother. Is that correct?’

‘It certainly is. It was really quite extraordinary to meet her. She is a woman who has once been beautiful and is also extremely sharp witted in my estimation. What she was doing with a rascal like Jasper Harcross is beyond comprehension. Incidentally, Sir, she says she will speak to no one but you and requests that you visit her tomorrow.’

‘So Rudge informed me. He also said that she seemed to trust you, which makes things damnably awkward.’

‘In what way?’ asked Sir Gabriel, slightly irritated on his son’s behalf.

The Blind Beak rumbled his deep and melodious chuckle ‘Because Mr Rawlings and I have come to an arrangement. Namely, that he would work in his shop on alternate days in order to keep his business thriving. If I honour this agreement, as indeed I must, then he will not be free to accompany me when Mrs Harcross reveals the secrets of her past.’

Sir Gabriel thoughtfully adjusted the white lace cuffs of his jet satin coat. ‘Perhaps I could be of help in this regard. An apprentice apothecary in need of some practical experience might well be released by his Master in return for a consideration. I shall go searching for one first thing in the morning. Meanwhile, could the lady not be visited tomorrow night?’

‘A splendid notion,’ John Fielding answered, so rapidly that the Apothecary wondered whether he had had it in mind all along. ‘Then that is settled. And now for some refreshment,’ he continued as a servant came in bearing an excellent selection of drinks. ‘What will you have, Sir Gabriel?’

The conversation turned to who desired what beverage and was further diverted by the entry of Elizabeth Fielding and Mary Ann, who was in fact Mrs Fielding’s niece though being brought up by the couple as a daughter.

‘Mr Rawlings,’ said the pretty child, ‘how nice to see you. Are you working with my uncle again?’

‘Yes. This time we are hunting down the murderer of Mr Jasper Harcross, the actor.’ John said the words slowly and deliberately, knowing how much the little girl relished the details of what was going on, but all the while with a decided twinkle in his eye. ‘And now may I present my father to you?’ And with great solemnity he went through the rituals of introduction.

The child adored it, miniature adult that she already was, and curtsied and extended her hand as neatly as any woman of society.

‘I hope one day to have the honour of your close acquaintance,’ Sir Gabriel said very seriously, and was rewarded with a swift kiss on the cheek.

‘Shall I take her away?’ said Elizabeth. ‘Do you gentlemen want to discuss the case?’

‘Oh, let her stay,’ answered her husband affably. ‘I only want to talk about the characters involved in the affair, one of the most interesting of whom is a child.’

‘Who? Who?’ asked Mary Ann excitedly.

‘Will, the theatre boy. As I told you, Mr Rawlings, I am leaving you to interview him directly. But I have in the meantime found out a great deal about him. It appears that he is indeed a foundling but was taken from the Hospital by Jasper Harcross himself, after which David Garrick gave him the job of dogsbody. Drury Lane is the boy’s home, he knows no other. When I expressed surprise at this I was told that it is not the first time such a thing has happened. Adam Verity, the young man who plays Filch, also began his theatre career in that way, after having run away from his foster mother.’

‘Tell me about the others you questioned,’ said John. ‘Is there anybody who cannot answer for themselves?’

‘Several,’ answered the Blind Beak, almost with an air of triumph. ‘And for that reason I have asked Joe Jago to make a list so that you might quiz them further, Mr Rawlings.’

‘But why me? Wouldn’t one of your regular Runners do it better?’

‘I trust your eyes, Sir. I trust your eyes.’

‘Oh don’t be sad, Uncle,’ said Mary Ann, suddenly throwing herself into John Fielding’s arms and looking very tearful. ‘It doesn’t matter that you can’t see, truly it doesn’t. Mr Rawlings will help you. Won’t you, Sir?’

The Blind Beak picked the child up and placed her on his knee, planting a kiss on her cheek, which turned the colour of a wild strawberry.

‘There now, I’m not miserable. I was just telling our friend what great faith I have in him.’

Sir Gabriel laughed, a golden sound. ‘D’you know, John, I always thought that marvellous memory of yours would stand you in good stead.’

‘But only on alternate days it would seem,’ the Apothecary answered, and slowly smiled his crooked smile.

The next morning dawning very bright and fair, a crisp and sparkling autumn day, John set off for his shop in Shug Lane with his spirits much revived by the sunshine. Meanwhile, Sir Gabriel, creature of the night though this outward appearance might suggest him to be, had risen early and, having breakfasted lightly, set forth in a sedan chair to find John an assistant. ‘It’s a pity that I haven’t my own apprentice,’ the Apothecary had said as they had parted company.

‘Well, you won’t get one until you’re made Free and there’s an end to it.’

‘Free!’ John had exclaimed sarcastically. ‘I vow and declare there’s some kind of spell on me and the Court.’

And it was true that he had been most unfortunate with his application to be made Free of the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries. The after effects resulting from his first involvement with a case of murder had ruled out his attending the June Private Court Day. However, in August he had finally managed to attend the Court, but it had broken up just before his application to be admitted to his Freedom had been heard. Then, in October, urgent attendance at the site of a street accident had once more stopped him from going. And now it was dangerously near the December meeting and he had no idea when he would be finished with this particular investigation.

‘I’ll never get there,’ John muttered to himself as he walked out of Rupert Street, named after Charles I’s heroic nephew, then into Coventry Street and right into Shug Lane. ‘I shall spend the rest of my days as the only apothecary in London not to be a Yeoman of the Society.’

But he wasn’t serious and whistled as he sought the shop key in his pocket. It was just as he located it and headed for his front door, that a sedan chair coming from the direction of Marybone Street came into his line of vision, and John stared in amazement as the chairmen set it down before his entrance. Hurrying forward, he was just in time to see Miss Coralie Clive set her foot upon the cobbles and search in her reticule for the fare.

‘Miss Clive,’ he said, and bowed so low that his springing cinnamon hair briefly swept the ground.

‘You’re not wearing a wig,’ she answered, obviously faintly astonished.

‘I don’t when I’m in the shop, though I carry one with me in case I am called out.’

‘Your hair suits you, though. It’s such a wonderful colour.’

If I go pink, John thought grimly, I shall never speak to myself again. And in order to make such a terrible occurrence appear as if it were caused by natural exertion he whirled round and opened the door with a flourish.

‘And to what do I owe the honour of this visit?’ he asked, still with his back turned.

‘To the terrible events at Drury Lane, alas,’ the actress answered quietly.

‘You want to continue our conversation of the other night, I take it.’

‘Yes, yes, I do.’

‘Then come in. I have quite a comfortable room at the back where I do my compounding. I also have a kettle and some very good tea in there. Would you like some?’

‘I would like it more than anything.’

‘Then please take a seat while I get the shop ready for the day. I’ll only be a few minutes and then we can talk.’

‘Can I help in any way?’

‘You can take the covers off those shelves if you like. But mind not to spill anything. Some of the physics could stain your dress.’

‘I’ll be careful,’ she said, and smiled.

John’s heart gave an exuberant bound and he was vividly reminded of how he used to feel in the company of the Masked Lady, as Serafina had once been known. He coughed a little. ‘You can borrow one of my aprons if you wish,’ he said, hoping that he didn’t sound utterly pompous.

Coralie smiled again. ‘I have an even better idea. Why don’t you organise the shop while I brew the tea? In that way I can keep clean and the work will be done in half the time.’

‘A good idea,’ answered John and put on one of the long coveralls that he always wore for preparing his potions.

As he worked swiftly round the place, removing the covers from the shelves and dusting the various bottles and jars beneath, it occurred to him that Miss Clive seemed in comparatively good spirits, and he wondered just how saddened by Jasper’s death she had been. Her words came back to him ‘I wished him dead, Mr Rawlings,’ and again the icy hand of fear clutched at his heart as the Apothecary reiterated to himself what he had said to his father about her being guilty.

Quite spontaneously and without stopping to think about what he was doing, he called out, ‘Did you hate your lover enough to kill him?’

Equally spontaneously and with a speed that was to convince John that she was entirely free of blame, Coralie called back, ‘Oh yes, but I didn’t do it. However much I detested him, however badly he had treated me, I could never have struck him down. It is not in my capability.’

John appeared in the doorway of his compounding room, watching her where she bent over the kettle and teapot, the water heating on a little oil stove that he used in his experiments. ‘Are you going to tell me everything?’

‘I am indeed.’

‘Omitting nothing?’

‘I promise you.’

‘Then start,’ he said.

He must have given her an unreadable look, for Coralie stared at him for a second before she took her cup of tea and sat down on one of the stools. ‘Where should I begin?’

‘Perhaps with when you met him. Was it at Drury Lane?’

‘Yes. My sister, Kitty, was playing Isabella in
The Old Debauchees
written by the Magistrate’s brother, Henry. I had a very small part, a mere few lines, while Jasper had one of the main roles.’ Coralie finished her tea and looked straight at John. ‘Mr Rawlings, how old are you?’

‘Twenty-three. I only finished my apprenticeship earlier this year. Why?’

‘Your juvenescence appeals to me. It makes me feel that you will understand the follies of youth. I was sixteen when I met Jasper and I fell madly in love with him on sight. Do you follow?’

‘Only too well,’ answered John, remembering how Serafina had haunted his days and nights.

‘He did not pay me any attention for two years, other than for the pleasure of flirting with a child who adored him. Then, having tired of his current favourite, he took me for his mistress, and so I remained until Sarah Seaton came upon the scene.’