Death at the Beggar's Opera (28 page)

‘If you had seen them you would not have thought so. They were agitated, furtive, and generally acting most oddly. I think you should tell Mr Fielding of it, John.’

‘I will certainly.’

Serafina smiled. ‘Then hopefully I have been of some use in helping you to solve this terrible case.’

The Apothecary shook his head. ‘I cannot say that this leads us any nearer, Serafina. It is just possible that the Veritys were behaving strangely for some entirely different reason.’ He finished his wine and looked round the lovely, mellow room. ‘My friends,’ he went on, ‘I must ask you to keep what I say now in confidence, but tonight is the last I shall spend in Nassau Street until this sorry business is resolved, one way or another. The fact is that under cover of darkness, indeed very shortly now, Sarah Delaney and her husband will be removing themselves from Berkeley Square and Coralie Clive and I will taking their places.’

‘But why?’ asked Louis, spreading his hands and looking delightfully Gallic.

‘Because Mr Fielding hopes to lure the murderer into a trap.’

‘He thinks that the killer is going to attack Sarah, is that it?’ asked the Frenchman.

The Apothecary looked reflective. ‘Something was said to me earlier today, something which seemed to make total sense.’

‘Namely?’

‘That the killer is trying to wipe Jasper Harcross and his seed off the face of the earth. You see, it all fits into place. The killing of the boy, the careful placing of Sarah’s bow, then a glove that was thought to be hers, in the places where murder had been committed.’

Serafina shivered. ‘So Coralie, for whom a disappearance has been so cleverly arranged, did agree to assist Mr Fielding after all?’

John smiled in the firelight. ‘I think you helped to make that come about, my dear.’

‘For that I am delighted, of course. But guard her well, John. I would not like to think that her desire to help brings her face to face with mortal danger.’

‘I will do my best,’ the Apothecary answered, but even as he spoke his heart plummeted at the thought of the very real menace that lay ahead for both of them.

Neither he nor Samuel wished to be late home so, at ten o’clock punctually, Comte Louis de Vignolle’s coach and four came round to the front door of the house in Hanover Square. Much as the friends had insisted that they would be perfectly safe and would find themselves a carriage, both Serafina and her husband, perhaps picking up the dangerous atmosphere that John had brought through the front door with him, had urged their own conveyance upon them. Accordingly, the two of them had climbed into the black coach with the de Vignolles coat of arms emblazoned upon the door, and had gone off in the darkness towards Nassau Street.

‘You’ll stay with us?’ John asked, as the lightly sprung conveyance made its way through the blackness.

‘Gladly. I took lodgings in Little Carter Lane today, to be near to my premises. But it’s a fair stretch and there’s a strange feeling in the air tonight.’

‘Things are moving,’ John answered, his voice far away.

‘I don’t know how, or why, but the conclusion is drawing nearer.’

They fell silent, each too full of his own thoughts to speak, and were reaching the point of drowsiness when Comte Louis’s coach pulled up before the end house in Nassau Street. Somewhat to John’s surprise he saw that the candles were still lit and wondered if Sir Gabriel were entertaining for supper and cards. Yet the house was not alive with conversation as he and Samuel stepped through the front door.

‘Is my father still up?’ the Apothecary asked the footman who took their cloaks and hats.

‘Yes, Master John, he has a guest in the library.’

‘Then we shall go and pay our respects.’

And so saying, the two young men made their way down the corridor towards Sir Gabriel’s favourite room. John swept open the door with a flourish but his greeting died upon his lips. Sitting in the chair opposite his father’s was a familiar figure.

A face once beautiful but still with a loveliness all its own looked towards him. ‘Good evening, Mr Rawlings,’ said its owner.

‘Ah John, my dear,’ added Sir Gabriel. ‘I have managed to persuade Mrs Harcross to leave Kensington. I know that you will be delighted to hear that she will be staying with us until this present dangerous situation is over.’

Breakfast at number two, Nassau Street, the following morning, had been a somewhat strained occasion. John, quite convinced that Sir Gabriel was up to some stratagem of his own, longed to get a private word with his father, whereas his parent seemed equally intent on not confiding in him. So it was in a state of considerable irritation that the Apothecary left the house early, Samuel Swann by his side, in order at long last to make the fateful visit to Mrs Camber of Chelsea. But yet again he was to be frustrated. No sooner had they got to the end of the road than a child making its way along Gerrard Street was sent flying by a carthorse and lay senseless amongst the detritus of the gutters. With no physician available it was up to John to revive the wretched creature and try to locate her parents, a task which proved fruitless as the girl turned out to be living rough. This sad fact immediately tore at Samuel’s heartstrings and he insisted that they took the poor little being to the Foundling Hospital in a hackney, a task which occupied the entire morning. Torn between his desire to help and his longing to track down the Egleton children, John found himself growing edgy and bad tempered.

‘What else could we have done?’ said Samuel, sensing his friend’s annoyance and therefore acting defensively. ‘We could hardly leave her wandering round in a daze.’

‘But the city is full of children living on the streets.’

‘All the more reason to rescue one when it crosses your path. Come on, John, you wouldn’t have left her to die, now would you?’

‘No, of course not. It’s just that fate seems determined to thwart me at every turn.’

‘Go to Chelsea tomorrow.’

‘I’m supposed to be in the shop. Which reminds me, why aren’t you in yours?’

‘The final coats of paint go on over the next few days so I’ve decided to keep out of the way. Look, I’ll take care of Shug Lane for you tomorrow.’

‘But you wouldn’t be able to prescribe.’

‘No, but I could sell medicines for coughs and so on. Oh, let me help, John. I’m as keen to solve the mystery of the Egletons as you are.’

The Apothecary smiled. ‘Then I accept. Now, there being nothing further planned, what shall we do with the rest of the daylight hours? For tonight, don’t forget, when it is well and truly dark, I am due to move my few possessions into Berkeley Square.’

‘I would like to call on Miss Verity,’ Samuel answered decisively.

‘What? Now? In her shop?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you can’t go and buy a hat.’

‘No, but I could pretend to be looking at one for a friend.’

‘You are incorrigible,’ said John, his grin growing.

And together they made their way through the thronging city to New Bond Street and Miss Amelia Verity’s fashionable establishment.

It was crowded with ladies, all trying on elegant items of headgear then staring at themselves fixedly in mirrors. Miss Verity, looking as fashionable as her creations, stood supervising, while a little apprentice milliner, who somehow reminded John of Polly Rose, ran about with feathers and bows and veiling, an extremely harassed expression on her face. There was a ripple of surprised amusement from this most exquisite of clientele as two gentlemen walked in, and the owner herself came forward to greet them.

‘Mr Rawlings, how nice. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?’

‘Miss Verity, may I present to you Mr Samuel Swann? He is an old and dear friend of mine. I believe he is seeking an item of headwear for an ancient female relative.’

‘How do you do,’ said Amelia and curtsied neatly.

‘Samuel, this is Miss Amelia Verity.’

Mr Swann bowed respectfully, said ‘How dee do,’ and the introduction was complete.

‘Now,’ said the milliner, getting back to business, ‘have you anything in particular in mind, Sir?’

‘No, I’ll be guided by you,’ Samuel answered.

And they went chattering on, discussing the various merits and demerits of certain hats on the heads of the elderly, leaving John to wonder at the cunning of all human creatures when they are interested in a member of the opposite sex. A half hour passed, then it obviously grew near the dining hour for the shop began to empty of customers, all of whom placed orders as they departed, some very large.

‘You have a thriving business here,’ Samuel said admiringly.

‘Yes, I have been fairly successful,’ Amelia answered modestly.

‘I suppose you have customers from out of town as well?’ he continued.

‘Most certainly. From all over the country, in fact. Some people order by post, you see.’

‘Do you ever go and visit distant clients?’ Samuel ploughed on, in a far from subtle manner.

Miss Verity’s expression became slightly guarded. ‘Yes. Why?’

Samuel became horribly casual and John cringed. ‘Oh, it’s only that a friend of mine thought she saw you in Kensington yesterday, but I said it could not possibly have been.’

‘I do visit Kensington from time to time. I have customers at Holland House and at the Palace for that matter. I take hats for them to consider.’

‘Oh, that would be it, then,’ said Samuel, clearly relieved. ‘I said that that was what you would be up to.’

Miss Verity looked cold. ‘I fail to see what you were doing discussing me in the first place, Mr Swann. Why, I have only just met you. Of what possible interest could I be to you?’

His friend looked so discomfited that John felt he should attempt to retrieve the situation. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Verity, your name came up in conversation, that is all. A lady of our acquaintance said you were the finest milliner in town, and was extremely flattering about you. The reference to Kensington was a mere aside.’

‘Oh, I see.’

But it was perfectly obvious that Amelia Verity was disconcerted and John guessed that there had been something secret about her visit to the village and now she was thoroughly upset that she had been caught out. Had she, he wondered, been calling on Mrs Harcross? Because, if so, the remark made in the inn and overheard by Serafina that she was not at home would make perfect sense. Jasper’s widow would have been travelling to London in the company of Sir Gabriel at that time. Thinking that he should call at Bow Street and report these latest events, John bowed.

‘Thank you so much for letting us take up your valuable time, Miss Verity. I really do appreciate it.’ Samuel recovered amazingly. ‘I would like the red hat for my great aunt, Miss Verity,’ he said in a grave voice. ‘I will come for it within the next few days.’

‘Will you not send a servant?’

‘I fear that I am only in lodgings. I must wait to see if my goldsmithy succeeds or fails before I can begin to organise a household.’

‘Quite so.’ She curtsied once more. ‘Good day, gentlemen.’

John thought, as he made his way into the street, that it was one of the most delicate dismissals he had ever seen.

It was dark when he and Samuel left Bow Street and parted company. John, aware that he must soon get ready to leave, took a chair to Nassau Street in order to have sufficient time to pack his clothes. The Blind Beak had decided that he and Coralie, who was coming from her sister’s house, where she had kept herself concealed for the last few days, should move into Lord Delaney’s home during the dead of night, at a time when few people would be about. Meanwhile, several of the Beak Runners and one or two chosen peachers, these being the most trustworthy of that vulpine gang of villains, had taken up residence in the Berkeley Square house disguised as servants.

And yet, the Apothecary thought, there was no guarantee that this highly elaborate plan would work. The murderer might, thinking he was in the clear, merely heave a sigh of relief and let the matter drop. But still the strange words of Mrs Martin continued to haunt him. Was it possible that she could be right? Or was his original idea of the revenge of a jealous mistress or husband the correct one? One thing was clear. Clarice herself believed that James was involved in some way, though surely not as the slayer of the child?

Yet if it truly was the killer’s intent to remove all trace of Jasper Harcross, just as if he had never existed, it was only logical that, in time, he would come after Sarah Delaney, who carried in her body the actor’s last blood tie.

An announcement had appeared in the Public Advertiser that morning. ‘It is recommended to all persons having any knowledge of the whereabouts of Miss Coralie Clive, formerly of Drury Lane Theatre, that they come forward to JOHN FIELDING Esq., at his house in Bow Street, Covent Garden. A reward will be paid for any information leading to the capture of Miss Clive, who is wanted for questioning in connection with two recent murders.’

The Magistrate had gone as far as he dared, now he and his associates could only wait to see what would happen.

He had listened most gravely to John’s account of his call on Mrs Martin, and also to the story of the Veritys’ extraordinary behaviour in Kensington, but had laughed aloud when the Apothecary had told him Mrs Harcross was now living beneath Sir Gabriel’s roof.

‘What a wily fox your father is. He has brought her to his home in order to keep an eye on her, that’s for sure.’

‘Do you think so? I thought he might be genuinely worried for her safety?’

‘Only if he is convinced that she is not the killer. And I’m not, are you, Mr Rawlings?’

‘I was until I saw her skulking about in Seven Dials, now I’m not so certain. Yet, if Mrs Harcross is guilty, who was the woman who threw the witchcraft symbol into Jasper’s grave?’

The Blind Beak had shrugged. ‘It could have been anyone, even her maid dressed up in order to put you off the scent.’

‘Do you really believe that?’

‘In the case of an actress as multi-faceted as Mrs Egleton, I am prepared to believe anything.’ Mr Fielding had held out his hand to John. ‘Let us hope that we don’t have to wait too long before the truth comes out. I wish you luck, my brave young friend, though I have no fears for your safety, nor that of Miss Clive. My Brave Fellows won’t let a hair of your head be harmed, let me hasten to assure you.’