Death in the Dark Walk (29 page)

He had not regained consciousness fully until he reached Nassau Street. Before that, John had been vaguely aware of being thrust into a hackney and put to lie on one of the seats, opposite the limp figure of a girl. He had also taken in the fact that Samuel was with them, large and capable, lifting him and the young woman to safety. Then finally had come a sea of willing hands, helping him through his own front door and up to his bedchamber, where John had summoned up sufficient energy to speak to Sir Gabriel, who hovered over him like an anxious elegant black moth.

‘Father! What happened?' he had asked painfully, aware that there was a trickle of blood drying by his mouth.

‘You were attacked in the fog. Samuel found you lying unconscious.'

‘And the girl?'

‘It's Millie. She heard a commotion and rushed out of the brothel to see what was happening. The next second she, too, was set upon.'

‘By the same assailant?'

‘So it would seem. And yet, my son, the motive is obscure. You see, you were not robbed. I have been through your pockets and nothing is missing at all.'

John sat up in bed, wincing as his head throbbed agonisingly. ‘I fear that the murderer is growing alarmed.'

‘What do you mean?' asked Sir Gabriel, blanching a little.

‘I was warned by Mr Fielding to be on the alert. I feel that now the invitations are out for the reconstruction of the crime, it has grown imperative for the killer to make sure I am silenced.'

‘My God,' said his father. ‘We must arm ourselves. I shall see to it at once.'

John smiled weakly. ‘Then I can rest assured. For at the moment I'm too feeble to fire a shot in my own defence.'

‘Don't worry,' answered Sir Gabriel softly, ‘for whoever it is who is coming after you will first have to deal with me.'

Then, having poured his son a draft of poppy juice, the Apothecary's father waited by his bedside until John fell into a deep dark sleep from which he did not wake until the evening of the following day.

The weather had changed again while he slept. Now it was unbearably hot and oppressive and every window of number two Nassau Street appeared to have been thrown open in order to get a current of air flowing through the house. Trying to get out of bed, John found that he was weak as a baby and could do no more than crawl back beneath the covers and ring his bedside bell for attention. To which summons Sir Gabriel came so quickly that his son suspected he had been sitting in the servants' quarters for hours, awaiting that very signal.

‘Ah, you are awake at last,' he said, looking down at John benignly.

‘How long have I been asleep?'

‘A night and a day. Even the girl Millie awoke before you did.'

‘How is she after such a terrible experience?'

‘Rather subdued, but then that is only to be expected. Samuel called earlier today, which raised her spirits somewhat.'

‘Did she see who attacked her, by any chance?'

‘She said it was a man, that is all.'

‘Then she observed him more clearly than I did.'

‘Obviously, and is therefore a vital witness. For that reason I have been trying to impress upon the foolish child that it is essential she come to the reconstruction, for she may notice something that you do not. However, she is not happy about doing so.'

‘Why?'

‘I think she is afraid, poor soul. Anyway, enough of that. I shall arrange for a table to be set up in here so that we may have supper together and meanwhile I shall go and change. I am in the mood for déshabillé.'

John smiled broadly. ‘That sounds splendid.'

‘May I ask Millie to step in and have a word with you?'

‘By all means.'

He had thought her pretty when he had seen her in the brothel. But now, washed and dressed with care and without the terrible signs of fatigue about her, the girl had assumed the charm of a delicate piece of china. In fact, other than for a bruise on her forehead, she seemed quite perfect.

‘Oh Master John,' she said, dropping a curtsey in the doorway, ‘how glad I am to find you better.'

The Apothecary fingered his head carefully. ‘It was a damnable hard knock. I get the feeling that whoever did it might well have wanted to lay me out for good.'

‘You mean . . .?'

‘Finish me off. Millie, how much did you notice of the attacker?'

‘Not a lot really. It was very foggy. Anyway, it all happened so quickly after I heard you shouting.'

‘I wasn't aware that I did.'

‘Oh yes. You let out a great cry and I came running out of the door to see what was afoot – and then the person hit me.'

‘I'll need you at Vaux Hall,' John said urgently, ‘I really will.'

The forget-me-not eyes brimmed. ‘But I don't want to go. I'm afeared for him to see me again.'

‘I'm not exactly looking forward to it myself, but it's got to be done and that's all there is to it. Anyway, Samuel will be there. He'll look after you.'

Millie made a reluctant face. ‘
Must
I?'

‘Yes,' John answered firmly, ‘you must.'

Anything further the girl might have had to say about the matter was cut short by the arrival of Sir Gabriel, a sight to daunt a far mightier mortal than she. Clad in a black silk night-rail that swept the floor, a black turban woven about his head, a diamond brooch pinned casually within its folds, John's father loomed like some legendary figure from the Arabian Nights.

‘Oh Sir,' she said, dropping a respectful salute.

‘Supper has been laid for you in the small parlour, my child,' he said kindly, ‘for I would be private with my son.'

‘Yes, Sir.'

‘So, good night to you my girl, and remember what I said about securing your window.'

‘Oh I will, Sir Gabriel. You can depend on it.'

‘What's this?' said John.

‘A mere safety precaution. We want no trespassers during the dark hours, do we Millie?' His golden eyes flicked over her knowingly.

‘Indeed we don't. Sir,' she answered, and turning on her heel went meekly about her business.

It seemed to John that his father had kept both the supper and the conversation deliberately light, for they supped on salad, sipped champagne and talked trivia. And yet he, who knew Sir Gabriel Kent so well, was aware of a tension in the magnificent being which, together with his dark clothes, made the Apothecary see the older man as a stalking panther, tensed for anything that might happen once night fell. None the less it was Sir Gabriel who drew the evening to a close, yawning and bidding John sleep well, yet securing the window personally before he left the room.

Still suffering from the effects of the blow and the large dose of poppy juice, the Apothecary did indeed fall asleep almost straight away, only to dream that he saw the Masked Lady walking through the most bewildering of mazes. ‘Wait for me,' be called out in the dream, and woke to find that not only was he mouthing the words but also that he was listening intently.

There was absolute silence in the sleeping house, broken only by the distant tick of the great clock in the hall below, and yet John suddenly felt his spine tingle with fear. Somehow, even though he could hear nothing, a sixth sense told him that someone was creeping towards his room, someone who should not have been in the place at all. It would appear that Sir Gabriel's security arrangements had not succeeded. Sitting bolt upright in the darkness, John prepared to defend himself as best he could. And then, from deep in the heart of the house, a door flew open and he heard his father's voice call out, ‘Who's there?'

Not a mouse drew breath, not a creature moved, and yet John was aware of an easing of tension and knew that the danger was past. His door opened to reveal Sir Gabriel, till clad in his night-rail and turban, a candle in his hand.

‘Come with me, my son,' he whispered, ‘you shall spend he rest of the night in my room.'

‘Was there an intruder?' John whispered back.

‘I fear that the net is beginning to tighten about you,' us father replied. ‘The sooner tomorrow night's business over and done the better it will be for all of us.'

‘Is Millie quite safe?'

His father nodded. ‘Perfectly. Now come with me.' And he led John by the hand just as if he were still the child of long ago.

Despite the upset, the Apothecary spent the rest of the night comfortably, and the next morning, the day of the re-construction having finally come, set off, as had been previously arranged, to visit the Principal Magistrate in the Public Office. Walking briskly, John arrived at Bow Street just after the Court had risen but, thankfully, before John Fielding had sat down to dine.

The Blind Beak received his visitor in the spacious room above the Public Office, Elizabeth and Mary Ann buzzing in and out in a very companionable manner as the two men sat down to partake of sherry.

‘So is all prepared, Sir?' John said, somewhat apprehensively.

‘Yes, indeed. Mr Tyers has co-operated and a notice has gone up that the Gardens are closed to the public tonight. The Mesdames were not so helpful but the brothel, too, will not be opening.'

‘Why?' asked John, surprised.

‘I thought it a wise precaution to invite all the whores. There is just a chance that one of them killed Elizabeth Harper. I have tried to leave no stone unturned.'

‘And what about the Comtesse and the Squire?'

‘The former has declined on the grounds of her health. The latter has agreed to accompany his son.'

‘And the rest?'

‘They have all been ordered to come, Mr Rawlings, even the peers of the realm. It will be in their best interests to do so. If not, they can be apprehended and tried for contempt.'

‘So you are confident that everyone, even the apprentice, will be present?'

‘If he is hidden somewhere amongst their number, yes. If the lad was a stranger, no. We cannot cast our net that wide.'

‘And how do you propose to arrange the evening, Sir?'

‘I have requested that the company should dress in the clothes they wore on the night of the murder. Could you take note of that, by the way? When everyone has arrived I will ask them to foregather before the bandstand and from there I shall make an announcement asking people to take their seats in the boxes they inhabited earlier. Then the evening will proceed just as it did previously.'

‘Until when?'

‘Until the moment, Mr Rawlings, when you notice someone not in the place where they said they were. Or perhaps when somebody else sees something not quite right. Of those present not all will have been lying, and those who were telling the truth may yet prove valuable witnesses.' The blind eyes turned towards John. ‘But be sure to look out for yourself, my young friend. I received a letter from your father this morning telling me about the attack upon your person and his suspicion that there was someone stalking the corridors of your very home. Because of this, it is my intention to put one of my best men to act as your shadow.'

‘Thank you, Sir. It has been a little unnerving.'

‘An understatement, that.' The Blind Beak deftly poured another sherry, his fingers acting as feelers. ‘Now, tonight, you will arrive by water with Samuel Swann, together with your father and your house guest. I have specifically requested that they accompany you.'

‘Thank you, Sir.'

The Magistrate nodded but before he could speak Mrs Fielding put her head round the door. ‘Would you care to join us for dinner, Mr Rawlings?' she asked cheerfully.

‘Thank you, no,' answered John, finishing his sherry and rising to his feet. ‘I'd best be getting back.'

Yet despite his calm manner, he suffered a wave of fear so strong that he wondered if he would ever survive the rest of the day, let alone the dangers of the night. Intent on bracing himself up, the Apothecary turned his footsteps towards his shop, his plan to mix himself a potion. Thus, walking briskly down Great and Little Hart Streets, he made his way through the alleyways into St Martin's Lane.

A sudden overwhelming love of life swept him and he stood stock still for a moment, enjoying the fierce, terrible stink of London. Everywhere there was chaos and disorder, vigour and flurry. He saw eating houses offering meals for a shilling, hackney coaches and carriages crowding narrow streets. John read strange and mysterious signs in shop windows: ‘Foreign liquors sold', ‘Man for hire', ‘Leave your Child for Education'. It was frightening, violent, and at the same time vastly reassuring, and in that moment John Rawlings, Apothecary of Shug Lane, despised the person who had deprived Elizabeth Harper of experiencing this tumultuous cacophony, however black-hearted the girl might once have been. So much so, that in the place of his former fear a steely resolve was born to find her murderer this very night and deliver him into the hands of justice.

It was like a dream. All together, John, Samuel, Sir Gabriel Kent and Millie made their way in Sir Gabriel's coach to the steps known as Hungerford Stairs. There, they hired a boatman to take them down stream to Vaux Hall Pleasure Gardens, drawing their cloaks about them as the Thames breeze rippled and whispered across the river, even on this finest of late June evenings.

John sat in silence, staring at the stars, hardly able to believe that only four weeks had passed since he and Samuel, free only for a few hours from the yoke of apprenticeship, had made this very same journey, laughing and carefree and unaware of the dramatic event that lay awaiting them, an event which would draw one of them into its web and change his life for ever.

In the same dreamlike manner, the boatman drew up at Vaux Hall Stairs and John saw that tonight, instead of the jostling throng of craft that usually heaved round their stony feet, there were only one or two other wherries at mooring, bobbing next to the Duke of Midhurst's private barge. Reinforcing the Vaux Hall beadles at the landing stage stood several other hefty fellows, and the Apothecary guessed that Mr Fielding's men must have arrived at the Gardens early in order to help keep order. This impression was further endorsed when, as Sir Gabriel Kent's party went ashore, one of them stepped forward and said, ‘The Gardens are closed tonight, Sir. The Proprietor regrets any inconvenience caused.'