The Ladder Dancer (19 page)

Hugh drank down a long draught of ale. ‘Well,’ he said, at last. ‘There’s one obvious thing to do, isn’t there? If either Kate or Ridley – or anyone else for that matter – did see Nightingale again that evening and argued with him, someone might have witnessed it. You’re going to have to find out where Nightingale was that night, Charles.’

‘I agree.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘You don’t have to,’ I said. ‘You need to take it easy with that arm.’

He grinned. ‘Charles, how long have you known me? There’s nothing more guaranteed to make me feel better than a bit of excitement! Where do we start?’

Twenty-Four

Adversity should be met with quiet courage and endurance.

[
A Gentleman’s Companion
, November 1731]

I left Hugh to learn what he could of Nightingale’s movements from the spirits; they can pass messages from one side of the town to the other in an instant, and ferret out every scrap of news. Meanwhile, I bore the latest news to the Jenisons; I’d join him as soon as I could. But when the footman threw open the doors of the Jenisons’ drawing room and I heard the noise, I fervently wished I’d gone with him straight away. Mrs Annabella was in full wail, sobbing, crying, lamenting, repeating Nightingale’s name again and again in broken accents. The footman couldn’t resist giving me a speaking look as he retreated.

Mrs Jenison rose to meet me. She looked strained, as if she hadn’t slept. Behind her, Esther was sitting beside Mrs Annabella, patting her hand in barely concealed exasperation. Mrs Annabella, drooping on the elegant new sofa, had her handkerchief – a frivolous scrap of lace – to her eyes.

But none of them had a chance to say anything before the doors burst open again. Jenison came hurrying in. ‘Patterson!’ He looked haggard, drawn. ‘Is he dead?’

Mrs Annabella swooned back. Esther murmured something consoling and, unseen by the others, rolled her eyes at me.

‘He’s much the same,’ I said diplomatically, wanting to avoid distressing the ladies further.

‘Thank God,’ Mrs Jenison said, sinking back in her chair. She cast a glance at her sister-in-law. ‘All may yet be well.’

‘Is there any news of who did it?’ Jenison demanded.

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘But who would shoot him?’ Mrs Annabella wailed, clutching the handkerchief. ‘Such a gentleman . . .’

‘Really, Annabella,’ Jenison said irritably. ‘You know we were told he was stabbed.’

Mrs Annabella gasped and fell back again; Esther, looking grim, seized the smelling salts from the table by the workbox and waved them under Mrs Annabella’s nose, perhaps more enthusiastically than was strictly necessary. Mrs Annabella coughed, spluttered and sat up, tears running from her eyes. Mrs Jenison looked helplessly on.

‘Look, Patterson.’ Jenison took my arm. ‘This is not a suitable subject for the ladies. We’ll go into the library.’

‘No!’ Mrs Annabella sat up very straight; her grey hair was in girlish ringlets, complete with trailing pink ribbons. ‘I need to know what happened! The devil that did this must be brought to justice!’

‘Of course, of course,’ Jenison snapped.

‘You’ve seen him?’ Mrs Annabella fixed me with her watery gaze. ‘He’s being well looked after?’

I thought of the bored girl at his bedside. ‘Everything that can be done is being done.’ That is,
nothing
. ‘He’s in a very comfortable bed . . .’

‘The best bedroom, I hope!’

Jenison frowned. ‘That would be very expensive, even at the Fleece.’

‘But nothing else will do!’

‘Annabella.’ Mrs Jenison quietly put a hand on her sister-in-law’s arm to restrain her. ‘This is not becoming.’

‘He’s in a small room,’ I said, trying to pacify both Jenison and his sister at the same time. ‘But very comfortable and convenient in many respects. Just off the kitchen passageway.’

Mrs Annabella was shocked. ‘He has to put up with the servants coming and going?’

‘It makes it easy for them to look after him.’

‘It doesn’t sound suitable.’ She glared at her brother. ‘Robert, you must have him moved to the best bedroom.’

‘Not at all,’ Jenison said loudly, then muttered
sotto voce
to me, ‘Ridiculous expense.’

‘I cannot think it would be wise to move him,’ Esther said soothingly. ‘What if the wounds were to reopen?’

Mrs Annabella’s handkerchief flew to her lips. She said, in a more subdued fashion, ‘Yes, yes, I’m sure you’re right. Leave him where he is then. Yes, yes. Mr Patterson, you will ensure he’s not moved?’

‘I will indeed, madam.’

Jenison ushered me out of the drawing room.

His library had shelves full of books, clearly bought by the yard, all the same size and colour, and apparently unopened. Jenison always refers to himself as ‘a plain man’ which I take to mean he never reads more than the newspaper. That doesn’t stop him being one of the shrewdest businessmen I know, and business was what he wanted to talk to me about.

‘Look, Patterson,’ he said, as soon as he’d shut the door behind us. ‘We’re in severe difficulties here. Where are we going to get a new soloist so late in the day? The concerts start in a month’s time; anyone of quality will already be engaged.’

I should have known he’d not be concerned too long with Nightingale himself, despite his admiration for the man’s abilities. ‘The theatre company will be back by then. We can hire an actress.’

He clicked his tongue. ‘Things will be said. The ladies will talk about morals and setting good examples to their daughters. These actresses are no better than they should be, you know.’ He looked as if he was having trouble getting the next words out. ‘And . . . you were quite right. That child could not have performed. It would have been totally unacceptable. It is very clear what kind of young person she is!’

I found myself annoyed. ‘She has of course been very badly brought up and her origins are, to say the least, unfortunate—’

‘Disgraceful,’ Jenison murmured.

‘—but she herself is of good character and very anxious to better herself.’ Well, the latter part of that sentence was true, at any rate.

Jenison frowned. ‘Then she should get herself a position as a maid, not intrude on her elders and betters. Now, about the vocal soloist.’

‘One of the singing men from the Cathedral in Durham?’

‘The last one we had was a drunkard and sang bawdy words to the songs,’ Jenison said tartly. ‘No, we’ll have to do better than that. Write to London, Patterson, find us someone suitable. And quickly.’ He started leafing through papers on the desk. ‘I leave the matter in your hands.’

Well, there was a surprise.

I went back to the drawing room to collect Esther and found her already taking her leave. Mrs Annabella was more subdued although she was still squeezing tears from under her eyelids; Mrs Jenison was gripping a book of sermons.

Mrs Annabella caught hold of my hand as I bowed to take my leave. ‘Mr Patterson, you’re so clever when it comes to these things. Do you know who did it? Do you know the dastardly villain who stabbed him?’

‘I have some ideas,’ I murmured.

‘No one in particular?’

‘Not as yet.’

‘There was someone on the coach,’ she said. ‘He told me. A great hulking brute with a club. He was insulting the ladies as they came into town and Mr Nightingale had to speak to him about it. The fellow was very threatening – and he was always worried that he might meet him again in the street.’

I smiled and said nothing. There’d only been one other man on the coach and that had been a boy. It sounded very much that Nightingale had been trying to impress the ladies with his courage and intrepidity.

Mrs Annabella looked at me expectantly. ‘I’ll see if I can find him,’ I said.

She smiled feebly.

At long last we managed to escape, and stood in the street for a moment to catch our breath. A few spots of rain splattered out of a blue sunny sky. Esther put her hand on my arm and we turned for home. The streets were busy; someone shouted that a cart had overturned and half a dozen boys went running off in high excitement.

‘Some people are extraordinarily trying,’ Esther said with a sigh. ‘Mrs Annabella has been fainting off and on all morning.’

‘She likes being the centre of attention.’

‘She has evidently been weeping all night too. No one in the household got any sleep.’ She looked at me sombrely. ‘Is Nightingale done for?’

I nodded. ‘I’d like to think it a good sign he’s survived the night. But the way he’s breathing—’ I shook my head. ‘I expect to hear of his death at any time.’

‘Well, he was a vain man,’ Esther said, ‘and it will be a long time before I can forgive him that outburst at the concert, but he did not deserve to be killed.’

‘At least his outburst prompted Philip Ord to call me a gentleman.’

She laughed, looked at me with mischievous grey eyes. My heart turned over. ‘It has not been so very bad, has it, Charles? Our marriage, I mean – the way it has been received by society.’

I stared at a passing horseman, who was dawdling along and ogling the ladies in the street. ‘For the most part, no. Nothing worse than some intrusive questions. A few ladies like Mrs Annabella thinking it a great romance.’

She squeezed my arm, and smiled up at me. ‘So it is.’

Really, if she looked at me like that again, I’d disgrace myself by kissing her in public. I looked resolutely away. For some reason, a man in a baker’s apron was hauling a big bucket of water up the street. ‘I suspect Claudius Heron of some hand in the matter,’ I mused.

‘That goes without saying, I should think.’ Esther pulled her cloak about her as the rain splattered harder. ‘He has probably been suggesting you have some distant connection with nobility, four or five generations back.’

‘Nonsense. My ancestors were all wandering ballad singers and fiddlers.’

‘Oh, no, Charles,’ she said reprovingly. ‘That would be
very
low. You should try for a cheesemonger, at least.’

I laughed with her and we strolled on. The rain eased and the sun came out again and warmed us. Esther proposed to visit Barber’s bookshop; I volunteered to accompany her. She nodded at an acquaintance who passed in a carriage. ‘In all seriousness, Charles – do you regret marrying me?’

‘I regret your money,’ I said, not looking at her.

‘If you administer the estates,’ she pointed out, ‘then you would indeed earn every penny.’

Reluctantly, I had to admit she had a point. ‘But it would drive you mad,’ I said. ‘You’d hate it if you couldn’t deal with matters yourself.’

She winced. ‘I could get used to it.’

‘Why trouble yourself? Why not leave things as they are?’

We walked in silence for a moment.

‘We’ll talk about it again later,’ Esther said at last. ‘You have a lot on your mind at the moment. With Nightingale, and the baby’s death.’

Dear God, I’d almost forgotten about the baby. I said ruefully, ‘We’ll never get anywhere if you keep offering me excuses!’

She laughed; encouraged, I said, ‘There’s no help for it – I’ll have to become a rich and famous performer and composer.’

‘You could always take up ladder-dancing,’ she murmured.

We’d come to Barber’s bookshop, and stopped by the overhanging sign. A woman came out with a parcel of books; a gaggle of young girls crooned over ribbons in the shop next door. ‘So what will you do now?’ Esther asked.

I sighed. ‘Jenison wants me to find a new vocal soloist for the winter series. I need to write to my contacts in London, ask if they can name me an up-and-coming young lady who’ll charge reasonably in return for an engagement of three months and a good set of references at the end of it. Then Hugh and I are going to see if we can find out what Nightingale did last night, before he was attacked.’

‘You were being polite with Mrs Annabella, I take it. You do have a firm suspect in mind.’

‘I wish I did. No, Ridley must be in the picture, and,’ I added reluctantly, ‘Kate.’

I expected her to tell me I was talking nonsense; instead she considered the idea seriously, while the girls giggled in a huddle over some silly tale or other. ‘She would have the audacity to do it if she had the inclination. She’s a feral creature, Charles. And she disappeared before the attack. Though I cannot for the life of me understand how she got out of the house.’

‘I’m afraid I do.’ I glanced round but there was no one close enough to overhear us. ‘She can
step through
.’

Esther started to say something, stopped. I glanced down at her face. She was looking her coolest. But she merely said, ‘Then surely she will be unreachable.’

‘She must return at some time.’

‘I cannot see why. If she did injure Nightingale, she will surely stay away.’

‘She’ll come back,’ I said. I was convinced of it. Poor though it was, Kate’s home was in this world.

Esther was abruptly businesslike. ‘Then it is all the more important we look out for her. I will make some enquiries with the spirits to see if they can locate her in the town. If they can not, then we must assume she is still in the other world.’

I hesitated. ‘I know you don’t like this ability—’

‘Really, Charles,’ she said with a small rueful smile, ‘it is hardly to the purpose whether I like it or not. It exists, and therefore has to be taken into account.’

Like Esther’s money, I thought uneasily.

‘I will discover her,’ she promised. ‘Though I don’t know what I will do if I find her – locking her up will hardly answer if she can disappear at will!’

‘I’m sure you’ll find a way.’ I bent to kiss her hand.

‘Really, Charles,’ she said teasingly. ‘A gentleman showing gallantry to his wife in public? Not proper at all!’

‘But I’m merely a tradesman,’ I said. ‘Descended from a long line of cheesemongers.’

I left Esther at the bookshop and wandered off to find a spirit. One hung on the corner of the Post Office, a gentleman whose daughter I used to teach. I had to endure a long digression on all the friends he’d seen in the past week, but at last he told me Hugh was in the Bigg Market. I asked him to send a message telling Hugh to stay where he was and I’d come to him. Then I set off through the narrow streets around St Nicholas’s church, cut through an alley heading for the Clothmarket—