Death at the Devil's Tavern (25 page)

Juliette's eyes suddenly twinkled. ‘Yes, that is true,' she said demurely. ‘We consider ourselves enlightened and believe that private grief is what counts, not public display.'

John took heart. ‘In that case, I wonder whether you might consider accompanying me to the first assembly of the season at Marble Hall? Mr Napthali Hart himself is to act as Master of Ceremonies.'

Juliette frowned. ‘I am not certain. Do you not think it might appear indecorous?'

‘In what way?'

‘Well, I am involved in the sad affair which you are currently investigating. John Fielding might not approve of our meeting socially.'

Everything that was impetuous and scampish in the Apothecary bubbled to the surface. He leaned across the counter and took one of Juliette's hands in his. ‘I've no intention of telling him. Have you?'

‘No, of course not, but …'

‘You feel perhaps you should have a chaperone?'

She sighed. ‘I'm afraid I would already have one. Julian has booked to go there with …'

‘Yes?'

‘His secret love.'

John's smile hid a strange leaping of the heart, partly caused by the fact that Juliette was giving him a glance which said she would enjoy going dancing with him, partly because another, hidden, aspect of her twin brother was about to be revealed and might prove interesting.

‘We can pretend we don't recognise them,' he answered lightly. ‘Everyone is to wear masks.'

‘Then I accept your invitation, Sir.'

‘In that case I shall collect you at eight o'clock tomorrow evening.'

Juliette cast him a ravishing look. ‘I shall be waiting, Mr Rawlings.' She turned to go, then came back. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot my sleeping draught. How much do I owe you?'

‘Consider it a token of my great esteem.'

‘Oh, I will, I will,' she said liltingly, and wafted into the street, leaving behind a lingering trace of her perfume.

‘Was that flirting?' asked Nicholas, emerging open-mouthed from the back of the shop.

‘Mind your business,' answered John, and gave him a friendly cuff on the ear to show him that advantage must never be taken.

It was just as they were about to close for the night that Luke Challon came in out of the dusk, his squarish handsome features perturbed, his hands clenched into fists.

‘My dear Sir,' he began without preamble, ‘whatever must you be thinking? I have been meaning to call on you for days. Surely you have taken it that I have something to hide from you, but that is most certainly not the case. No indeed.'

Still thinking about Juliette, John gave him a civilised smile. ‘Mr Challon; please do not upset yourself. You are here now and that is all that counts. Pray step into my compounding room where we can be private. I shall get the lad to lock up.'

‘You are about to close. I fear I am encroaching on your personal time.'

‘Not at all, not at all. Now sit down, do. I shall only be a few moments.'

Having organised Nicholas into shutting the shop for the night, the Apothecary blew out the candles and lamps that lit the interior, then placed a lantern in each of his windows, partly to light the pavement outside and partly to deter gangs of window breakers. Shug Lane, minor thoroughfare that it was, had only the wretchedest form of street lighting and to illuminate the shop was a safe precaution. Having done this, he went into the back.

‘Now, Mr Challon, I can offer you tea, coffee, or some excellent Bordeaux. Which is it to be?' he asked cheerily.

‘The wine if you please.'

The Apothecary removed his apron, took a bottle and two glasses from a cupboard, put them down on the compounding table, then sat down on a stool opposite his guest, wondering how best to broach the subject of Sir William's second will. In the event, Luke did it for him.

‘I expect by now that you have discovered the name of Sir William's lawyer.'

‘Not only that, I have been to see him.'

Luke digested this information in silence. ‘Then you will probably be aware that he was due to sign a second will on the night before he was to be married,' he said, swallowing the contents of his glass rapidly.

‘Yes. I also know that Amelia Lambourn, you and Valentine Randolph would have all stood to gain had this taken place.'

Luke flushed. ‘Yes, Randolph and I were to be left the business. While Amelia was to become her husband's principal heiress.'

The Apothecary refilled his visitor's glass. ‘I take it that Sir William had fallen out with his family over his love affair.'

Luke nodded. ‘Very much so. They hated the fact that he made her his mistress while he was still married to their mother. And they despised Amelia for being from the lower class.'

‘The first reaction is understandable, I suppose. The second is a characteristic of the society in which we live.' John paused, then went on, ‘What did you think of Sir William's betrothed?'

‘I liked her very much,' his visitor answered thickly.

‘Were you in love with her?'

‘How dare you, Sir?' Luke protested, jumping to his feet.

‘Look,' said John, laying a restraining hand on his arm, ‘we are both young, in fact I doubt whether there is much more than five years between us. You must believe I know only too well what it feels like to desire someone. I am in the throes of such an emotion even now. Mr Challon, if you truly want me to find your employer's killer, then talk to me as you would one of your friends. I am not here to sit in moral judgement.'

Luke emptied his third glass. ‘Of course I'm in love with her,' he said forcefully. ‘Who wouldn't be? She's a beautiful little thing and I've adored her from the moment I first met her.'

‘Does she reciprocate your feelings?'

‘No, God damme. She was Sir William's mistress and besides there's …' he stopped abruptly.

‘There's what?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Not nothing, something.' John took a wild chance. ‘There is somebody else, isn't there? Somebody other than Sir William. That pretty creature has a lover, hasn't she?'

‘Yes, yes, yes,' hissed Luke, then poured himself a glass, emptied it and pounded the table with his fists.

‘Who is he?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Oh, come now …'

Luke raised his head, his eyes blazing. ‘I don't know, I tell you. If only I did.'

Feelings were running high and the Apothecary fought to keep control. ‘Calm yourself, Mr Challon, nothing can be achieved by getting perturbed. Love rarely plays fair with any of us.'

‘That's for sure,' said Luke bitterly.

‘Tell me one thing, though. How long has Miss Lambourn had this attachment?'

‘I'm not certain; quite some considerable time.'

‘Surely not as long as she has known Sir William?'

Luke gave a miserable nod. ‘It could be.'

‘Um,' answered John, considering.

‘I'd best be off,' said his visitor abruptly, making as if to go.

‘Help me finish this bottle,' answered the Apothecary. ‘You see, there's one more thing I have to ask you.'

‘What is it?'

‘Did Miss Lambourn spend the night before her wedding at The Devil's Tavern? And, if so, did you take her there?'

Luke gave him a strange glance. ‘Yes, to both questions. Sir William booked a room for her. He wanted his bride to be near the church where they were to wed.'

‘And where did he stay? Do you know?'

‘No, he kept that location secret, even from me.' Luke stared into John's face, his expression utterly dejected. ‘Do you realise, I've been through years of hell. Loving Sir William – and I truly did – and being in love with his mistress as well. The number of times I have just wanted to die.'

The Apothecary sighed. ‘I pity you, my friend. I think the best thing you can do now that Sir William is gone, is to turn your back on the whole sorry business.'

‘I could never do that.'

‘Not even if Miss Lambourn betrays you and marries her secret love?'

‘If she does that,' answered Luke, his words slurring very slightly, ‘I swear to God I shall be forced to kill them both.'

There could be little doubt that Marble Hall was one of the most attractive spots for entertainment in London. Lying within the shadow of the famous Vaux Hall Pleasure Gardens and sharing their waterway access, it was most pleasantly placed on the banks of the Thames, whereas its celebrated neighbour lay further inland and did not enjoy such a splendid position. The gardens themselves, though small, were beautifully laid out and illuminated by many lamps, some of which hung from the trees. But the crowning glory of the establishment was undoubtedly the Long Room, which faced the river and was used for assemblies and balls throughout the spring and summer. When the warmer months ended, the proprietor, Mr Napthali Hart, undaunted by the changing seasons, occupied the winter with teaching music and dancing at Hart's Academy in Essex Street, just off The Strand.

John had been much intrigued by one of Mr Hart's advertisements in the newspaper which had read, ‘At this Academy grown gentlemen are taught to dance a minuet and country dances in the modern taste, and in a short time. Likewise gentlemen are taught to play on any instrument, the use of the small Sword and Spedroon. At the same place is taught Musick, Fencing, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, High German, Low Dutch, Navigation, or any other part of the Mathematicks. A sprightly youth is wanted as an apprentice.' Thinking that Mr Hart must indeed be a Jack of all trades and something of a character into the bargain, John had let his mind wander over the interesting future that lay before the apprentice.

Hoping, perhaps, to steal a march on its competitors, Marble Hall was opening the assembly season of 1755, and taking into consideration its peerless location, John felt sure there would be a great demand for tickets. With this in mind he had sent Nicholas Dawkins to Essex Street to buy two almost as soon as Juliette had left his shop. So, it was feeling very pleased with himself for having organised such an exciting occasion so quickly, that John went to call for Miss Hartfield at St James's Square on the following evening as. arranged.

Dressed to the hilt in midnight blue and silver, John was somewhat disappointed that he was forced to lower the tone and travel by hackney carriage. But true to his word, Sir Gabriel had already departed for Kirby Hall and the coach, which his father would have been pleased to lend him for such a stylish engagement, was therefore not available. Wishing that he had his own equipage with which to make an impression on such a gorgeous young woman, John paid off the driver and went inside.

Juliette was already waiting for him in the library and immediately saved the Apothecary from any embarrassment by saying, ‘I do hope you came by hackney because Julian has decided to take one of the carriages. Do you mind if we travel with him?'

‘Not in the least,' John answered, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.

‘Then I'll tell him you are here.' And she pulled the bell rope.

Unconventional though she might be about mourning, Juliette was none the less wearing black taffeta, the skirt drawn back over two enormous hoops to reveal a silken petticoat below. Discreetly woven into this were tiny flowers, the faces of which were represented by little winkers which sparkled as Juliette moved. On her head, Miss Hartfield wore a most unusual cap, formed in the shape of a black butterfly with outstretched wings, these edged in brilliants to match those on the petticoat. Taken as a whole, the entire ensemble was one of the most eye-catching John had ever seen.

He bowed. ‘Miss Hartfield, you look exquisite, if I might be permitted to say so.'

‘Please call me Juliette, Mr Rawlings. And yes, you are permitted to pay me compliments, the more the better.'

‘Really, you are quite shameless,' said a voice from the doorway, and they both turned to see that Julian had come in.

‘Do hope you don't mind me joining you,' he said.

‘Not at all. It will be a pleasure.'

‘Once there I shall go my own way. I have an assignation, d'ye see.'

‘Of course,' the Apothecary answered, and thought that whoever the lady was she was certainly going to get a handsome escort, for Julian, also in deep black, his satin waistcoat trimmed with jet, looked better than John had ever seen him.

‘Then shall we be off?'

‘Certainly.'

During the high season the
beau monde
travelled to Vaux Hall and Marble Hall by water, it being considered
de rigueur
to do so. But on chilly nights carriages were taken to the rural area beyond Lambeth Palace leading to the pretty village of Kennington, where coaches could be left at the corner of Kennington Lane. From there it was but a short distance on foot to either destination. Aware that she would have to walk, Juliette had taken the precaution of carrying her dancing shoes with their four inch heels, in a box under her arm.

As soon as they were within sight of the pleasure garden, Julian put on his mask and strode ahead of the other two, obviously eager to get there. Intrigued, the Apothecary wondered who was the object of the twin's affection and whether the answer might possibly shed any light on the matter of Sir William's death. So once inside, having handed his cloak to an attendant and covered the upper part of his face with a mask, John took a good look round. And it was then that his heart stopped beating, or he thought it did. For in the corner of the room, gazing directly at him, incapable of being disguised by any domino ever made, was the woman whose effect on John he did not care to admit, even to himself. In the company of the Duke of Richmond, Miss Coralie Clive, the young actress in David Garrick's company whose star was most certainly in the ascendant, had come to the first assembly of the season.