The Fabric of Murder (Mysteries of Georgian Norfolk Book 2) (18 page)

‘I’ve no word of Hinman,’ Brock said. ‘Disappeared. Yet I know he was no ghost or spirit sent to torment us. No, he was flesh and blood, just as we are. I don’t believe Beeston’s men have found him either. They are still about the city, peering into corners and dragging folk out of their beds to see if he is hiding beneath.’

‘He alone knows what this business has been about, Brock. What’s worse, I believe he has been too clever for me.’

‘There’s still a chance …’

‘Maybe, Brock, but it shrinks by the hour. And speaking of hours, I must keep my appointment with Kitty, though I fear she will find me a poor companion today. She has news of George Bonneviot, it seems. Now I must sound agog with interest and praise her for her efforts. Yet I believe he has either no part in this mystery or but a minor one.’

‘Perhaps her news will surprise you. Perhaps she will tell you he is in league with Hinman and has spirited him away to London, or Paris, or Barbados.’

‘Mocking me does not make me feel better, Brock, though I dare say I deserve it. When I asked her to discover what she could of George Bonneviot, I suspected he had some involvement in his father’s death. Even then, all I thought I knew of the young man argued that he would never have the courage to undertake such a deed. At that time too, I knew little or nothing of the tangled matters of Bonneviot, the loan, the unsold cloth, Hinman, forgeries and Beeston. Poor George Bonneviot is now but a bystander, I fear. Still, Kitty may be able to clear up the small matter of where he is. I suppose I should be grateful for that.’

‘
D
ear Ash
,’ Kitty said. ‘How prompt you are! All eager to hear my news, I expect. Sit down, then. Now, before I begin, I must alas dash any other hopes you might have for coming to see me today. I am engaged to take tea with Lady Rootham and her friends at four and have yet to dress for the occasion. Lady Rootham’s party came to the theatre last evening and were much affected by my performance. They came to my dressing-room afterwards to offer their congratulations. Then they invited me to take tea with them today.’

‘Is that THE Lady Rootham?’ Foxe said. ‘I ask merely to know who it is who has taken my place.’

‘Jealousy does not become you, my dear. Yes, so far as I know, there is only one person of that name in this county.’

‘Thus jealousy seems quite appropriate.’

‘I am well aware that the lady in question has in the past shown herself partial to beautiful young ladies, Ash. I am intrigued by her. She might also be a useful patroness of my career. But do you not think me able to defend my honour, should that become necessary?’

‘Most able, Kitty, if not always most willing.’

Kitty treated him to one of her tinkling, trademark giggles. ‘I assure you, she may be of a certain persuasion, but I believe I have often given you enough proof that I have little inclination to take that path. No, I am flattered and curious, nothing more.’

‘The more you play the part of the artless ingenue, the more I suspect I am being taken in. But I am not jealous, save only that she has taken you from me today.’

‘That, I assure you, I will put right soon, even if you did spend your time with my sister so chastely yesterday.’

Foxe wondered whether the two ever had any other topic of conversation than comparing his actions towards the other, but let it pass. Kitty was in a playful mood and would enjoy tormenting him She might even forget what he had come to hear.

‘George Bonneviot,’ he said. ‘You said you had word of him.’

‘George Bonneviot. Yes, you asked me to find out what I could. I flatter myself that I have done well enough. I believe I told you before that I thought he had approached all the Norwich acting companies and the managers had turned him away.’

‘Yes, that is what I recall.’

‘It seems the principal reason was the same in each case. They knew of his father’s disapproval of the son’s wish to become an actor. They also knew the family’s wealth and George’s position as the only son and heir. Managers soon become sick of rich young men who are stage-struck and wish to act. Few have any talent. Even fewer possess the willingness to undertake all the hard work required. Most assume within a week or so their name will be at the head of the bill. All these want to do is brag to their friends and fumble the actresses. If they are taken on, it is not long before they tire of the business and return to their homes and the family fortune.’

‘And young George was of this kind?’

‘So they assumed, for none gave him any chance to show otherwise. They turned him away, with vague suggestions of perhaps seeking out one of the London companies.’

’So what did he do?’ Foxe asked.

‘What they told him to do. He went to London. Since none knew him there, he found one or two willing to let him at least take part in a rehearsal.’ Kitty smiled. ‘The London managers are notorious for their practical jokes on aspiring artists. I am sure they thought to have a rare time watching a raw amateur make a fool of himself.’

‘Did he?’

‘By no means. As I was told, he acquitted himself bravely. Of course, he had little of the craft needed, but enough talent showing to make them change their tune and begin to take him seriously. Yet still none would take him on.’

‘Why was that?’

‘London audiences are the most unforgiving in the world. Oh, if you are a young and pretty actress, as I was then …’

‘And still are,’ Foxe said at once, so that Kitty rewarded him with a dazzling smile and a blown kiss.

‘… they will tolerate you, just so long as you show them enough of your charms and remain a novelty. But when they have seen all they can, they tire of the game. Then they are quick enough to hiss and drive you from the stage – throwing things, if need be.’

‘It is no place to learn your craft, then.’

‘The worst. A young man seeking to do more than bear a spear or speak a single line would have a hard time of it. Nor would the company manager escape unscathed. If the common populace did not wreck his performances, his rivals would send their hired bands to hiss and shout and cause a riot. To be a successful theatre manager in London is to be the object of ferocious jealousy from all the others.’

‘They told him this?’

‘Not perhaps as I have told you, but yes. They gave him encouraging words and advised him to seek out some provincial company. There he might learn his stage-craft and in time gain the presence to stand before a London audience. Small provincial theatres are the best training grounds, Ash. Most change their repertoire often, putting on different programmes each night of their stay in a town. You might be playing a tyrant on a Tuesday, a melting lover on Wednesday and a noble prince on Thursday. As well, of course, as all manner of other parts in the farces and recitations that fill up the evening.’

‘I can see that you must gain experience quickly by such means.’

’Not just experience, confidence too. Most actors feel great apprehension before taking the stage. Will you forget your lines or miss a cue? Will you stumble? Move to stage right when you should go stage left? To stand before hundreds of people while they laugh at you – unless that is the object of your part – is the most mortifying of events. And if you are playing a comic role, yet none laugh, you wish the stage to open and drag you out of sight.’

‘Is it so bad? Even for you?’

‘Especially for someone like me, Ash. I am well known and have a reputation, yet every time I stand before an audience I am risking all again. Have you never remarked to a friend that Mrs. So-and-so is not perhaps what she once was? Or that some famous comedian’s timing seems to have deserted him more often than it did? Such remarks, should the person mentioned overhear them, are as sharp as the slash of a sword.’

‘My poor darling!’

‘What gets you through all is confidence: the ability to take the blows and cat-calls, yet still carry on. Once lose that and your career is over.’

‘I can see well that I have underestimated you, Kitty. I never doubted your ability and talent, nor your beauty. But I have been woefully ignorant of the determination you must show to survive, let alone shine as you do. I doubt our George would have been up to it.’

‘Then you would be wrong. It seems he lost little of his enthusiasm when they told him to look elsewhere. Indeed, he accepted the advice and left London at once to seek out a company willing to allow him to learn with them. It seems we have all underestimated that young man.’

‘I must own myself the most guilty of all. From what little I learned of him, I had built a picture of a feeble, languid young dandy. I believed him ever ready to blame his lack of achievement on the faults of others. But do you know where he went?’

‘All I could learn was that he went to the north. Some said Richmond, some Harrogate and one York. It may have been any of those.’

‘And he is still there?’

’So far as any knows. Not even the most talented of learners could aspire to join a company in London without five years or more experience in good provincial work. You might need three years’ proper training even to gain a place in an acting company in a great city such as Norwich.’

‘I wonder if he met Hinman in those parts?’ Foxe mused to himself. ‘He claimed to come from Halifax, which is not, I believe, so far away. That could explain how he had heard of Bonneviot senior. It may even have been before he arrived here.’

‘What are you mumbling about, Ash? Have I not done well enough for you? Do I not deserve my round of applause?’

‘Most assuredly, Kitty! My humblest apologies. I was merely pondering a possible link. No, you have been as brilliant as I could have hoped, and you deserve full tribute for it.’

Foxe stood up at once and clapped his hands, calling out ‘Bravo!’ several times for good measure. Then he darted forward and kissed Kitty half a dozen times with increasing warmth and ardour.

’No! No, sir! However much you make trial of my resolution, I must stand firm. Nor would I submit to your embraces without the time to enjoy them to the full. Let me go, I say! Enough! It will never do to arrive at Lady Rootham’s home late or in less than my full finery. Please, Ash! You know I do not send you away willingly, especially when you kiss me thus … nor when you do that with your hand. Have pity!’

Foxe stood back a little and dropped his hands to his side. ‘See, I am all goodness,’ he said, laughing all the while. ‘Go to your Sapphic lover.’

‘Do not say so! Not even in jest. I will not have you putting it about that I might submit to any such relationship. Think of my reputation.’

‘As the most shameless little minx and hussy in Norwich … and the prettiest? Very well. You must soon prove the truth of your claims most fully to make me hold my tongue.’

‘As you know I will, Ash … and perhaps more fully than you can imagine, for you make me wish to drive you to eat your teasing words. I will speak with my sister, I think, and ask her to help me devise a suitable punishment …’

‘Mercy! Mercy!,’ Foxe cried at once. ‘If the two of you plot against me, I will have no chance. You know I am but tweaking your tail a little.’

‘Ah, but you are the one with the tail that might best be tweaked, though it hang in front rather than behind.’

‘Kitty!’

‘Ah, now the teasing is directed at you, it is another matter. Off you go, Ash, before I decide to make good my threats at once. Be sure the punishment is but postponed. I will not forget what I owe you. Nor the proofs you have so ungallantly demanded of me. You will pay in full, I promise. In full!’

As Foxe made his escape, he reflected happily on his skill as an actor in convincing Kitty that he valued what she had discovered for him. The worth of the discoveries themselves he doubted. He had indeed been wrong about George Bonneviot. Yet it could matter little. If he was somewhere amongst Yorkshire theatrical folk and ever on the road, it was quite likely he had not yet heard of his father’s death. It would not count for much when he did. He had not long past been sent packing from his home, with but a few pounds in his hand. He also had the sure knowledge that there would be no inheritance for him to look forward to.

F
oxe spent
the rest of the day dealing with domestic and business matters. He had to make up his accounts and render payments to various traders and those who supplied his home with food and coals. There were small items of correspondence to be dealt with as well. He generally found such matters soothing to his mind, but today it seemed nothing could bring him the rest he craved.

Even late into the evening, he felt restless and disordered. It was as if something was scratching at his consciousness, yet always just out of his mind’s reach. He tried to read, but found himself looking over the same page a dozen times before he could recall any of its content. When he attempted to compose a letter, the words danced upon the page and became entangled in such labyrinthine complexity none could have followed his meaning. At length, he gave up all occupation. He sat in his chair, staring into some distant place, while his brain filled with fog and his feet and legs grew colder by the minute.

At ten, he went to his bed, though he was sure he would not be able to sleep. In fact, he fell into a heavy slumber within but a few minutes. Yet even then, his mind could not be stilled completely. He experienced a tumbling mass of incoherent dreams that rendered him tense and afraid. Finally, he awoke with a great start. Some old woman was prowling at the foot of the bed and running her clammy hands around his feet and ankles. But that too was a dream. He had proved so restless that the covers had slid to one side, leaving his feet sticking out into the cold of the bedroom.

At this point, he grew disgusted with himself and determined to abandon any idea of further sleep. Instead, he would make a thorough revision of all he knew about the death of Bonneviot. He still felt he was on the edge of discovering those key facts that would make sense of the matter.

Hinman did not exist. That was clear. That character was a mere phantom, conjured up to conceal the identity of the one he must assume was behind the whole business. But why? Who could that genuine person be? Such an elaborate deception must have had some important purpose.

Round and round his mind went. He heard the church clocks chime three or four times. He heard the watchman’s clapper. He even heard – or thought he did – the first birdsong.

Then he had it! Nothing else could explain the extent and depth of the charade that produced Mr. Hinman. It could only be necessary for one reason. The man behind it must be well-known in the city! A genuine stranger would have little need to conceal his identity. He might assume a false name. He might even try to appear richer, or more honest, or even more experienced in matters of the cloth trade than he was. But there would have been no call for him to spend so many hours and days convincing all he met that he was Mr. Hinman of Halifax. Hinman must be someone who would otherwise have been easily known. He had to stay incognito. His whole plan must have turned on that. But why?

The deal with Bonneviot to sell his stocks of cloth overseas had also never existed. It too was an illusion, most cunningly produced from hints, assumptions and rumour. Why was that necessary? Until that night he realised he had never even asked himself that question. He had begun by believing in the supposed deal, like everyone else. Yet even when he suspected it was a falsehood, he had failed to ask why.

He laid it all out for himself again. The character of Hinman had been invented to conceal the identity of one who must otherwise be know to all. The matter of the deal with Bonneviot had also been made up, this time to hide the true purpose of the conspiracy. But if that plot had not been to persuade Bonneviot to enter a binding arrangement with Hinman, what was it for?