Death in the Dark Walk (33 page)

‘Like everything else she tries, it seems to wear off after a while.'

‘Oh,' said John, and relapsed into silence.

The Masked Lady laid a winning card.

‘Oh well done, Madam,' the Apothecary started once more. ‘You really are a gamester to be reckoned with.' He let out a wild and most unseemly cry of triumph which succeeded in attracting the attention of the entire assembly. ‘There you are, I told you it had done her good,' he said at the top of his voice.

The Comte de Vignolles frowned. ‘What has done who good?'

‘My physick.'

‘Elucidate, dear boy,' ordered Sir Gabriel.

‘I thought that my medicine would cure the Comtesse de Vignolles and, by God, it has. Hasn't it, Madam?'

There was an unbelievable silence, a silence which spread round the entire room. All play ceased and everyone present looked across to where the Masked Lady sat with her three card partners. Very deliberately, John turned to her. ‘It has, hasn't it?'

She stood up, aware that every eye was upon her, then wheeled round to face the door. But she had not moved quite fast enough, for the Comte, too, had risen to his feet. The couple stood staring, like two cats confronting each other before the opening hiss.

‘Well?' he said at last.

‘Well, what?' answered that strange gruff voice.

‘Are you who John Rawlings says you are?'

‘Yes,
are
you?' called out a fresh young nobleman.

‘I challenge you to remove your mask,' said Louis between gritted teeth.

‘And if I do,' the Masked Lady answered, ‘what is it worth?' She turned to face the assembled company. ‘Well, gentlemen, let's hear your wagers. Am I the Comtesse de Vignolles or am I not? Lord Dorchester, I see you nod. Will you take my wager for five thousand pounds that I
am
the Comtesse de Vignolles?'

‘Certainly,' the young gamester replied. ‘You're too spirited, Madam, to be that wan creature. I'll take you.'

‘Two thousand guineas that you're a wealthy widow,' called somebody else.

‘Ten thousand pounds that you are my wife,' said Louis quietly.

The Masked Lady laughed her fascinating, husky laugh. ‘Come, come, gentlemen, this is not like you. Surely you are not all done?'

Entering into the spirit of the occasion, there was a general chorus of ‘No', and private bets began to be laid throughout the room until everyone, with the exception of Sir Gabriel and his son, had made a stake of some kind or another.

Then came the call of ‘Show yourself', and the Masked Lady laughed yet again. Then slowly and with obvious enjoyment, she untied the strings of her domino and let it slip downwards about her neck. Beneath it, it could be seen, was revealed the face of a stunning beauty wearing a scarlet eye patch, the ultimate disguise.

There was a roar of approbation and Lord Dorchester shouted out a proposal of marriage, to which the Comte replied, ‘I believe she is already spoken for.' Then, with shaking hands, he raised the patch to reveal his ailing wife, lovely and vivid and full of zest.

‘By God's wounds,' called out old Lord Ilchester. ‘I would never have believed it. If this is the result of your physick, Apothecary, I'll take a case.'

‘Gladly, Sir,' John called back. ‘You will find me in my shop in Shug Lane tomorrow. Or, better still, I'll compound for you this very night and deliver personally in the morning.'

There was a sudden rush of gentlemen to his table, demanding to know whether his medicine was truly strengthening.

‘Oh very,' said the Comtesse, flashing her handsome eyes, ‘just look at what it did for me.'

‘I love you,' said Louis.

‘I know, fool,' she replied, and kissed him as if it were something she had wanted to do for a very long time. ‘Now, no more roving, d'ye hear?'

‘My darling,' he answered quietly, ‘I roved from a boring girl but now I find I am married to an exciting woman.'

‘Enough said on that score, I think,' put in Sir Gabriel, laughing.

The Comtesse wheeled to face John. ‘How did you know?' she asked.

Raising her fingers to his lips, the Apothecary kissed them. ‘Your hands, Madam. Your beautiful strong, yet slender, hands. When you snapped your fingers beneath my nose it seemed to me that they were somehow familiar. That I had seen them before, so adeptly handling both cards and dice. Then there was Patty Rigby, who knew you personally. She thought she saw you at Vaux Hall on that fatal night, and when I mentioned it to you your face momentarily gave you away. And yet it seemed odd to me that nobody else had seen the sickly Comtesse de Vignolles out at night and remarked it. So I finally concluded that what Miss Rigby had observed was the back view of the Masked Lady, as she strolled alone as was her custom.'

The Comtesse nodded, smiling. ‘I once told you that I thought you a clever creature and, my dear friend, I am still of that opinion.'

Her husband put his arm round her waist and turned to the assembled company. ‘Gentlemen,' he said clearly, ‘I would like to give you a toast. Let us raise our glasses to a young man who has worked a miracle. I give you the health of John Rawlings, Apothecary.'

‘John Rawlings,' they chorused, and drank deep.

John Rawlings, Apothecary, was born circa 1731, though his actual parentage is somewhat shrouded in mystery. However, by 1754 he had emerged from obscurity when on 22 August he applied to be made Free of the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries. He became a Yeoman of the Society in March, 1755 – the reasons for the delay are interesting but not to be told here – giving his address as number two Nassau Street. Well over a hundred years later, this was the address of H.D. Rawlings Ltd, Soda Water Manufacturers, proving conclusively that John Rawlings was probably the first apothecary to manufacture carbonated waters in this country. His ebullient personality has haunted me for years and now, at last, I am bringing him out of the shadows and into the spotlight.