The Ladder Dancer (25 page)

And he strolled off as if nothing had happened.

Thirty-Three

A gentleman should aim to marry a rational woman, whose chief concern will be his comfort.

[
A Gentleman’s Companion
, August 1736]

Kate and Esther were in the library when I got home. From the hall, I heard the ping of isolated notes on the harpsichord and a kind of ritual chanting: A, B, C. Pausing at the library door, I realized Esther was teaching Kate how to read music. Or trying to, at any rate.

They sat side by side on the harpsichord stool, Esther very fair, Kate’s dark curls a vivid contrast. Esther had bought Kate a simple white dress, very suitable for a young girl, and she looked demure. A pity it was only an illusion.

She prodded a note viciously and said, harping on an old theme, ‘Why is this one called B? If I wanted to call it something else, why shouldn’t I?’

‘Because you’d be wrong,’ Esther said. ‘Charles, you look tired. Let me ring for wine.’

I strolled across while she spoke to the servant; peered over Kate’s shoulder at one of Mr Handel’s easier pieces. Kate said, ‘Playing the harpsichord is boring. Why can’t I play the fiddle?’

‘I’ve told you, it’s not a suitable instrument for a lady.’

‘I don’t care,’ she said obstinately.

‘How is Mr Nightingale?’ Esther asked.

‘The same.’

I sat in the window embrasure and over my glass of wine explained the events of the day, ending with my visit to the Jenisons. Esther listened attentively, while Kate pinged indifferently away at the keyboard. I thought she was listening more than she cared to let on.

‘And to cap it all, Ridley turned up and set everyone in an uproar. I thought Mrs Annabella had reconciled herself to the state of affairs, but he set her off again. And deliberately too. The man is—’ I glanced at Kate and amended what I’d been going to say. ‘Vicious.’

‘I suppose I had better pay the Jenisons another visit,’ Esther said reluctantly.

‘Mrs Annabella should be left to her own devices. She’s playing to the audience.’

‘It’s not Mrs Annabella I worry over,’ Esther said. ‘Does Mrs Jenison look well to you? I think she finds her sister-in-law very trying. If I can take the burden from her for a few minutes now and again it may help.’

‘Who’s Mrs Annabella?’ Kate asked. ‘Is she the old witch who was all over Mr N at the concert? Dressed in lots of frills?’

‘She’s not a witch,’ I said curtly. ‘And you have something to explain. Where did you go after I left you at the door of this house last night?’

‘I came in,’ Kate said with an unconvincing air of innocence. ‘Went to bed.’

‘No, you did not. George says you came in after I did, which must have been an hour or more later.’

She flared up at once. ‘George, George, George! Hate him, hate him, hate him!’

‘Where did you go?’ I repeated.

‘None of your business!’

‘It is if you want to stay in this house.’

She leapt up, glared at me. ‘You ain’t going to let me anyway. You’re stupid, you. Know that?’

‘Kate,’ Esther said sharply.

‘You’re gonna get yourself killed.’ She was standing, fists clenched, face going red. ‘You dash off on your own, down to the Key—’

‘You followed me!’

‘Could have been anyone there – thieves’d strip those clothes off, soon as look at you.’

‘Kate, calm down—’

‘Well, get yourself killed then!’ she yelled. ‘
I
don’t care!’ And she stormed out of the room, slamming the door.

There was silence.

Esther sat down in the window next to me and put her hand on mine. She was warm; her scent – faint lavender – teased me. ‘She’s feeling very insecure, Charles. She thought her whole future depended on Nightingale and now he’s gone. Treat her gently.’

‘She knows something she’s not telling.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘All that nonsense about the town being dangerous at night. Certain areas of it, certainly, but plenty of honest folk walk out after dark!’

‘Be patient with her.’

‘She cannot play the violin,’ I said. ‘And she cannot be my apprentice.’

Esther hesitated, her gaze intent on me. ‘Why not?’

‘You know why not.’

‘You once said you could not marry me.’

‘That’s different.’

‘Really?’ she said, amused, and let me stew on that for a moment.

Tom had brought two glasses; Esther poured herself wine and refilled my glass. Outside in the garden, the breeze ruffled the bushes, bowled a dead leaf or two across the neatly scythed grass. ‘We’ll see,’ Esther said, after a moment. ‘I have talked to Kate about her ability to step through into the other world, by the way. She is rebellious, of course, but I believe she will come round to my way of thinking in the end.’

I believed she would too. People generally do. Including me. I sighed and took her hand again, rubbing my thumb across the smooth skin. ‘Which is?’

‘That it is an ability to be used sparingly and only in times of real need.’

I thought Esther didn’t quite appreciate how
stepping through
could take hold without warning. But I was enjoying the feeling of having her next to me, didn’t want to argue. I put my arm around her; she shifted closer.

‘Now,’ she said, ‘what proof do you have that Ridley first attacked Mr Nightingale and then later stole his watch?’

‘None whatsoever,’ I admitted. ‘Except we know he argued with Nightingale. Twice, once at the Jenisons’ and then at the Turk’s Head on the evening Nightingale was attacked.’

‘Half a dozen others may have argued with him too.’

‘He made sure the sailors saw him and could tell me about him.’

She frowned – I loved the way the skin around her eyes crinkled. ‘Why should he want you to know he was there? Surely if he had stolen the watch, the opposite would be true?’

‘He’s taunting me.’

‘I can see he would consider that entertaining.’ She sipped her wine. Her closeness was distracting me; I drew her closer. She smiled mischievously up at me but said, ‘Ridley’s presence outside the Fleece is no proof he stole the watch.’

‘He has the audacity to do something of the sort.’

‘Still no proof,’ she said. ‘Why do something clandestinely – to the extent of hitting a poor defenceless boy – presumably so he would not be caught, then deliberately make it clear to you he was the culprit?’

‘If he didn’t steal the watch, why was he there?’

She gave this serious thought, while I looked at her: her pale hair wispy against her neck, the graceful line of neck and shoulders, the bare smoothness of her forearm beneath the fall of lace. I knew that body now as well as I knew my own, and loved it a great deal better. ‘I’m sorry I left you wondering where I was last night,’ I said.

She smiled wryly. ‘You could hardly have sent me a note.’

‘Still—’

She shook her head. ‘I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you, Charles. I knew what kind of a man I was taking on.’

‘An irresponsible, inconsiderate tradesman with no manners.’

‘No, no,’ she protested. ‘Your manners are excellent.’

Reluctantly, I laughed.

‘Back to Ridley,’ she said sternly, not quite contriving to hide her satisfaction at this little triumph. ‘He might have seen the real culprit and decided to play with you, tempt you to think he did it. He wanted you to go awry.’

‘But then his presence there was mere chance. He
happened
to see the culprit run off,
happened
to see me there – I don’t believe in coincidence.’

She shook her head. ‘As far as I can judge, Ridley spends most of his life amongst the taverns and brothels on the Key and round about. Is it surprising he should venture on to the Sandhill and look at the Fleece, perhaps even ponder going in to see Mr Nightingale – and then by chance see the thief run off?’

I sighed. ‘I can’t believe it.’

‘Then—’ She hesitated. ‘Perhaps he was following you.’

‘Dear God, I hope not! Kate had just led me a merry dance through that other world.’ I thought back, as best I could, to the events of the previous night. ‘I don’t recall anyone following us. I don’t see how it would be possible. Even if Ridley knows about our ability to step through, he couldn’t have known when and where we would
re
appear in this world.’ I sat upright suddenly. How had I been so stupid as to not see the truth? ‘Of course! He wasn’t following
us
! He was following the thief!’

Esther paused, glass at her lips. ‘But that would mean he knew a crime was going to be committed
before
it was done!’

‘He was following Nightingale’s
attacker
,’ I said. ‘He saw the fellow, suspected he might intend to have another go at Nightingale and followed him to see what happened.’

‘But I thought you believe
Ridley
the attacker,’ she said, bewildered. ‘Did he not give you an accurate account of what happened?’

‘Let’s suppose for the moment he’s not.’ I leapt up, walked about the room. Esther caught at a bowl of dried rose petals as I knocked against a small table. ‘We know he encountered Nightingale during the evening, and they argued. Suppose he then followed Nightingale with a view to taunting him further and
saw the attack take place
. That would explain how he knew the details. Then what would have been his reaction?’

Esther frowned. ‘Any sane person would have told the constable.’

‘I’m not sure Ridley’s sane,’ I said. ‘But in any case he’s very short of money – so short he steals from his mother and tries to persuade me to give him a loan.’

‘You never told me that,’ she said, bemused. ‘You refused of course?’

‘He wanted fifty pounds. I don’t have fifty pounds.’

She sighed. I hurried on. ‘So what
did
he do? He blackmailed the attacker.’

She stared.

‘Ridley would enjoy having someone at his mercy. And of course he suspected the attacker would want to finish the job. Therefore he took to following him, saw him go in to the Fleece, saw me go in too—’

‘Would he not have tried to stop the attacker making another attempt on Nightingale?’

‘Not at all – he doesn’t care what happens to Nightingale. And the worse the attacker’s deeds, the more scope there is for Ridley to blackmail him.’

‘No, no!’ Esther sat up straighter. ‘Consider, Charles! The intruder who stole the watch cannot be the original attacker. He had the chance to finish Nightingale off but did not do so. Why should he have changed his mind? It must have been a thief, nothing more.’

‘Are you suggesting there are
two
people involved?’

‘The original attacker and an opportunistic thief. Why not?’

‘Because Ridley’s presence cannot be explained unless he was following the attacker.’ I slumped against the mantelshelf above the unlit fire. ‘Dear God, we’re arguing in circles.’

Esther absently rearranged her petticoats. ‘Perhaps Ridley had other fish to fry? If he is himself the attacker, he may have been waiting outside the Fleece for the opportunity to attack Nightingale again. Then his spotting of the thief, and of you, would not be a coincidence – which would answer your objection.’

I drained my wine, put the glass down on the mantelshelf. ‘There’s one certain way to clear this matter up.’ I strode for the door.

‘Charles! Where are you going?’

‘To find Ridley and ask him.’

‘Is that wise?’ she asked, alarmed. ‘Charles, he could be dangerous!’

I turned at the door. She was rising from the sofa. ‘What else can I do?’ I asked. ‘Is there any other hint as to the identity of the attacker? And I’ve not forgotten the death of that baby, Esther, even though everyone else seems to have. Ridley was the villain of
that
little episode. He’s at the heart of this, Esther – attacker or not, thief or not, he knows what’s going on. And I mean to get it out of him!’

Thirty-Four

Family relations should be strong; respect should be cultivated for the elders, and discipline inculcated in the young.

[
A Gentleman’s Companion
, June 1735]

And of course I couldn’t find Ridley anywhere. I spent several hours looking for him without success – the only sniff I had of him was when the landlord of the Fleece told me he’d been there earlier, asking after Nightingale’s health.

‘Something odd about him,’ the landlord said. ‘A kind of knowing look, if you see what I mean. Like he was about to wink and nudge me.’ He looked measuringly at his ostler who was leading a horse to a coach. ‘A pity – his mother’s a good woman.’

While I was there, I went in to check on Nightingale. The room looked funereal. The curtains were still drawn; a single candle flickered on the bedside table. Gale was standing over the bed; the sick man’s breathing was so shallow I looked twice to be certain he was still alive.

‘I don’t know how he’s still here,’ Gale said.

‘Nothing you can do?’

He shook his head. ‘The curate of All Hallows came in and said a few prayers over him, and for all I know that did better than I can.’

‘But he won’t survive?’

‘An hour or two at most. But I said that last night and I was wrong.’ He nodded at the trunk that stood under the window. ‘I was thinking we should look in there. He must have some family who’d care to know what became of him.’

I hesitated. I’d never heard Nightingale speak of any family and I didn’t want to get myself involved in awkward correspondence of that kind, but the only other person who might feel obliged to do it was Jenison and he was not a man to write a letter of sympathy. A business letter, yes, he’d be good at that, but a letter of condolence would be beyond him.

‘I’ll do it,’ I said. ‘If he dies.’

A ghost of a smile touched Gale’s lips. ‘When,’ he corrected me.