Death in the Dark Walk (7 page)

‘Bloods!' Samuel had exclaimed, sitting down heavily on one of Sir Gabriel's elegant spade foot chairs which winced beneath his sudden considerable weight. For a keen young blood was something to emulate indeed, being a member of male society much favoured by the ladies, amongst whom he was known to be mighty with the sword, gallant in a ballroom, at ease in gaming hells, and incomparable behind the closed doors of a boudoir.

‘We'd never get away with such a charade,' he added dolefully.

‘Courage,' John had answered cheerfully. ‘My father can find some clothes for you and I shall wear my new embroidered coat.'

Samuel had gulped. ‘But . . .'

His friend had stared at him in sudden earnest. ‘Samuel, I need you. Please say you will accompany me. The truth is, despite my great show at Vaux Hall last night, I know hardly anything about women.'

His friend had sighed heavily. ‘No more do I. As I once told you, my experience amounts to no more than a few romps with my Master's servant, Mollie. Naturally, he caught us at it and put her out of doors, while I got a beating for breaking my pledge of no liaisons.'

John had nodded gloomily. ‘My story is much the same, as you know. Like you, I had to swear solemnly not to fornicate, marry or run away. So when my Master discovered me in bed with sulky Sukie, his kitchen maid, he gave me a swipe that nearly flew me out the window. He said the only reason he kept me on was because he respected my father.

‘Did he betray you to Sir Gabriel?'

‘No, not he. He's a good man, is Master Purefoy.'

‘So what are we going to do?' Samuel had asked.

‘Still pretend to be bloods. Perhaps the guise will rub off on us.'

‘It might on you,' Samuel had answered sombrely. ‘My mother always said that you were so charming an imp you could get away with murder.'

‘An unfortunate phrase,' John had replied crisply, and had gone to see about finding the clothes they should wear.

A discreetly dressed maid answered their knock on the brothel door, dropping a polite curtsey as she ushered the friends into a hall of classic design. But here any similarity between an ordinary house and that in Leicester Fields ended. Samuel's eyes bulged at the sight of the many young women, all scantily dressed, who draped themselves on sofas or leant on the pillars in the hall in the manner of statues
vivantes
.

‘God's teeth!' exclaimed John, and his mobile eyebrows danced a jig at the very sight.

An older woman swept down the stairs in answer to the maid's ringing of a handbell, a woman who, even as she approached, seemed somehow vaguely familiar. John set his memory to work but came up with nothing, and then it was too late to concentrate for she was upon them, reddened lips simpering, eyes darting, shrewd as a counting clerk's.

‘I do not believe I have had the pleasure,' she said, dropping a curtsey. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Madame de Blond.'

As her accent was extremely suspect, John doubted any French origins but none the less made her a bow, so elaborate that it left Samuel gaping, and said, ‘Recommended here by my cousin, Ma'am. He spoke of your establishment in glowing terms. Thought I ought to pay a visit as my friend and I are newly arrived in town.'

‘Ah, just so,' she replied. ‘Pray consider yourselves at home. Would you gentlemen care for some refreshment while you make your choice? We have a very fine punch.'

‘A large jug,' said John, waving a careless arm, and with that sat down upon a sofa to hide the fact that his legs were shaking.

He noticed from his vantage point that other gentlemen of fashion were seated at small tables in an open-doored room leading off the hall which seemed to serve as some kind of coffee house. Waiters hovered discreetly, arms draped with white napery, and pipe smoke filled the air. In fact all would have appeared normal had it not been for the fact that the girls wandered amongst the tables, overtly displaying their wares.

‘My word!' said Samuel beneath his breath.

John turned to Madame de Blond. ‘When it comes to choice I have a particular request to make, if you'd be so obliging, Ma'am.'

‘Oh yes?' she answered, all smiles.

‘My cousin spoke highly of one of your young ladies, Elizabeth Harper. I'd like mightily to make her acquaintance.'

A shadow crossed the woman's face but she recovered herself quickly. ‘Elizabeth does not work here any more. I believe she was taken under the protection of a gentleman of substance. But I have another girl very like her, one Diana Linacre. I believe she is free at the moment. Shall I fetch her for you?'

‘Has Diana been here long?' asked Samuel, speaking for the first time.

Madame de Blond stared at him in some surprise. ‘A twelve-month. Why?'

He looked cunning. ‘Because then you'll have trained her well, Ma'am, if you understand me.'

‘The old dog!' thought John in admiration.

Light dawned on the Madame's face. ‘Ah, you would like to share her. Is that it?'

The friends stared at one another in consternation, not quite sure what to answer. ‘Yes,' said Samuel as ‘No,' chorused John.

Madame de Blond smiled archly, the make-up on her face cracking lightly as she did so. ‘Well, gentlemen, I'll leave you to make your minds up in private. Your punch will be served in the coffee house.'

With those words she was gone as some new customers came through the front door.

‘What do we do?' asked Samuel frantically.

‘I'll speak to Diana alone. She's bound to have known Elizabeth if she's been here that long. It was clever of you to ask.'

‘Thank you. What happens to me in the meantime?'

‘Pick someone else and try to find out all you can. I'm sure you'll manage.' And John could not help but laugh at the expression on his friend's face, fear and delight mixed so obviously in equal quantities.

Yet, tease Samuel as he might, no-one could have been more nervous than he when Diana Linacre, a comely young woman of about nineteen years of age, approached the table at which they sat.

‘I hear you wanted me, Sir,' she said, displaying a set of small white seed pearl teeth.

John summoned up his courage. ‘I really asked for Lizzie Harper, her reputation being so highly spoken of. But the Madame told me she had gone and that you were as fine in every way.'

‘That is true, Sir.'

‘None the less I would like to quiz you about her if I may.'

‘Certainly,' Diana replied, then added firmly, ‘but we would be far more comfortable talking in my apartment.' This said she put her hand under John's arm, eased him to his feet, and led him towards the curving staircase. Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw that a very beautiful black girl, obviously a runaway servant, had approached their table and taken his vacated seat.

‘Good luck, old friend,' the Apothecary muttered silently, and continued up the stairs.

Diana's room, from the bed to the curtains, was furnished throughout in red, one wall completely taken up by a mirror.

‘Now, Sir,' she said, unbuttoning her shift, ‘what can I do to please you? Is it Lizzie's tricks you're after?'

‘No!' answered John urgently and, as she gaped at him, amazed himself with his own ability to deceive by saying, ‘Damme, my cousin will never forgive me if I don't find out more about the girl. He's quite head-over-heels in love with her.'

Diana stared at him narrow-eyed. ‘Your cousin?'

‘Yes, let me explain. We're a country family, from Twickenham you know. My cousin, when he was last in town, came here and met Elizabeth Harper. Most taken with her, he was. I believe he's thinking of putting her under his protection.'

‘A bit late for that,' answered Diana, sitting down on the bed and indicating the place beside her. ‘Someone's got in ahead of him. She left here several months ago with a wealthy rake who set her up in lodgings.'

‘Was it the Duke of Midhurst?' asked John, making his first mistake.

The girl stared at him in surprise. ‘Why do you say that? No, he was no Duke, unless he was a French one.'

‘She went off with a Frenchman?' the Apothecary exclaimed, trying to hide his astonishment.

‘Yes. Louis de something. He was very dandified, very rich, and she thought he could give her a better life.'

‘Where did he lodge her?'

‘In Vigo Lane, behind Burlington House. In a very nice set of rooms. I went there once,' Diana added just a little wistfully.

Suddenly sorry for her, John put his arm round the girl's shoulders.

‘What happened to Elizabeth? Have you seen her since?'

‘No, she turned too grand for the likes of me. Didn't want to be reminded of her past, I imagine. I haven't clapped eyes on her from that day to this.'

Those words confirmed more clearly than anything else that news of the murder had not yet reached the brothel and John silently congratulated himself on acting so promptly. John Fielding had been quite right in suggesting that the enquiry should begin there. It was obvious that at present suspicions had not been aroused.

‘So, as far as you know, she still dwells in Vigo Lane?'

‘I believe so, yes.'

‘May I know the number in case my kinsman should wish to call?'

Diana looked mischievous. ‘I wouldn't advise that. The Frenchman is very jealous. He would probably challenge him to a duel.'

‘My cousin is a grown man and can take care of himself,' the Apothecary answered smoothly.

Then it's number twenty-four, tell him.'

‘Elizabeth went a long way for a simple country girl,' John commented wryly.

‘Many of us begin like that,' Diana answered bitterly, then added, ‘How did you know where she came from?'

‘Because my cousin told me,' he replied swiftly. ‘So am I to presume that you also did not start life in London?'

‘I came to the city from Winchester and went into service. But the footman took advantage of me and I was put out of the house. One of the two Madames found me and brought me here. It was better than life as a street drab after all.'

‘One of the
two
Madames?' the Apothecary repeated, something beginning to take shape in the back of his mind.

‘Yes, there are two Madames de Blond – sisters, not twins, though they look as if they are. One of them runs this house, the other is out and about procuring any innocent she can get her hands on. They're a hateful pair, truly, though they feed and protect us well enough. By the way, they both set about the Frenchman when he took Lizzie away. Called him all the vile names under the sun and punched him with their fists. He sent one of them flying.'

‘Really?' said John, amused.

‘Yes. But just a minute, Sir,' Diana went on, suddenly earnest, ‘I have to ask you something. Do you want me or don't you? We've spent so long talking I am no longer sure what you came for.'

‘As I said, I really wished to help my cousin out of his dilemma.'

‘Very well,' the girl answered resignedly, buttoning up her clothes, ‘but don't tell Madame de Blond that nothing happened between us, will you?'

‘Of course not. I'll pay her just as if it did.'

‘It's not because you don't like me, is it?'

‘Indeed no. You're a very desirable girl.'

Diana's fingers hesitated over the last button. ‘Well then . . .?'

John lowered one lid till the black lashes swept his cheek, while the other blue eye regarded Diana Linacre in a brilliant stare. ‘Well then,' he said, and gave her a slow and extremely disconcerting smile.

It was while he was seated in the coffee house drinking a restorative brandy and waiting for Samuel Swann to come down the stairs and join him that Madame de Blond suddenly flitted across John's line of vision, only to be followed a moment or two later by what appeared to be her double, neither of them dressed in identical blue today but certainly recognisable.

John cast his memory back to the scene at the Cascade and envisaged them, staring up at the waterfall, rubbing shoulders with Henry Fox, who had appeared to know them.

‘I'll wager he did too!' thought John. But what new avenues did this discovery open? Had they gone to Vaux Hall in pursuit of Elizabeth, perhaps hoping to lure her back? Could her death be an awful warning to any girl from the brothel who might think of going astray in future?

With his mind mulling over all these ideas, John Rawlings ordered another brandy and decided that the very next day he must visit number twenty-four Vigo Lane and see what clues, if any, the silent home of a dead girl might yet yield up.

After some discussion with Sir Gabriel over a hasty but hearty breakfast, it had been mutually decided that the role of young blood, much as John had enjoyed it, should be put aside in favour of some less conspicuous guise. Therefore, with a great deal of reluctance, the Apothecary found himself once again putting on the sober attire of an apprentice. City regulations insisted that those under indenture must wear only garments provided by their Master and that hair should be ‘cut in a decent and comely manner', though the latter rule was frequently violated, John having been one of the worst offenders in this matter. Yet dark respectable clothing had been a necessity of life.

‘I had hoped to put this sort of garb behind me now,' the Apothecary grumbled as he buttoned himself into a long serviceable coat.

‘I would imagine that Mr Fielding's men adopt many strange disguises,' Sir Gabriel had answered him calmly.

Nothing could have mollified his son more effectively and John had left the house in Nassau Street with the serious look of one whose purpose in life it is to track down criminals.

Vigo Lane, which ran behind the magnificent gardens of the great mansion, Burlington House, was easy to reach on foot from Nassau Street, and today John chose the route that led him through Compton Street and the Huguenot quarter. Here so much French could be heard, so many French people passed, that it was almost possible to believe oneself in France, while leading off Compton Street was Greek Street, where a Greek colony had settled in the seventeenth century. But John turned away from this fascinating quarter and, instead, made his way down Knaves Acre, Brewer Street and Glass-House Street, into Vigo Lane.