by G. M. Best
Sophia needed little encouragement. The thought of spending an evening with Tom was happiness enough and the exciting prospect of doing so at the Globe was like the icing on a cake. ‘Who wrote this opera, Mr Fielding?’ she asked, unafraid of showing her ignorance.
‘A man now dead called John Gay who came from Devon. I met him once or twice. He made his name from a combination of using his wit and acquiring the right connections. Alexander Pope, Jonathan Swift, and others promoted his talents as both a poet and a dramatist. Gay made a habit of frequenting those places that polite society would not dream of visiting and so was well placed to portray the lives of those who dwell in London’s shady taverns and houses of ill fame. He discovered that there may be little honour among thieves but there is plenty of humour. The Beggar’s Opera is full of it.’
‘I was one of many who saw the original production when it opened in the Lincoln’s Inn Fields Theatre in 1728,’ added Lady Overbury. ‘A run of more than a dozen nights was considered a success. It ran for sixty-two consecutive performances, longer than any other production had ever achieved. It made its theatre manager, John Rich, so wealthy that he was able to build the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden. Since then it has been regularly revived. I am sure that you will find it as fresh and witty as if Gay’s pen had just written it today.’
‘Then why not come too?’ enquired Sophia artlessly.
Lady Overbury laughed. ‘Because I said to your father that I would not go and I will keep my word. Besides, it will be good for the three of you to spend some time together without having me with you.’
Sophia flung her arms around her and whispered into her ear, ‘I wish that I could have you as my newly discovered mother!’
‘Don’t be foolish! Whatever next!’ responded Lady Overbury, seeking to hide the tears that sprang to her eyes because she had indeed come to look on Sophia almost as a daughter.
It was not long afterwards that Henry Fielding, Tom Jones and Sophia Westbrook made their way to the Globe. The inn was built round four sides of a courtyard and its wide, double-tiered timbered balconies provided an excellent vantage point for the performances that were enacted below in the summer months. However, it was impossible to use the yard in the cold, dark months of winter, and so the owners of the inn had created an alternative indoor venue for winter productions by making alterations to a very large, rectangular hall within the main building. A stage area had been built along one of the short sides and three entrances had been made to this from a room that backed onto the hall and which served to hold the actors and actresses when they were not on stage. It was to this hall that Fielding led the two young lovers. The three of them then made their way through the packed playhouse to one of two small raised areas which had been created to either side of the performance area and which offered more space to the onlooker than was possible in the tightly packed seating that directly faced the stage.
Sophia found it all very exciting and relished the buzz of anticipation that filled the hall, even though the lighted tallow candles and sheer number of people in the audience made for a rather oppressive atmosphere. Many in the assembled throng had been there for over an hour in order to ensure a good seat and so their entry did not go unnoticed because they were among the last to arrive. Their departure had been slightly delayed because of Sophia’s insistence on first changing into a special peach-coloured dress for the occasion. The result had taken Jones’s breath away and her appearance at the inn when she removed her cloak was sufficiently striking to cause a considerable stir among the theatre audience. Sophia could not help but blush at the comments of the more rowdy members of the audience, though she took their remarks as a compliment.
Hardly had they sat down when a small band struck up the overture. Both Fielding and Jones had been to other productions and so brought a slightly more jaundiced eye to the opera that followed, but Sophia was immediately entranced by its witty dialogue and by its constant flow of tuneful songs. The main plot, such as it was, concerned how a wicked fence called Peachum was seeking to have a highwayman called Macheath caught and hanged for having secretly married his daughter Polly. As the plot progressed Sophia had to admit that her father’s criticisms had not been entirely unfounded because there was no attempt to disguise either Macheath’s criminal pursuits or his immorality when it came to seducing women. She found herself blushing when she heard the highwayman sing ‘Would you have a young virgin?’ and felt Tom’s left hand envelop hers. Equally, she could not prevent herself thinking of her own position when Polly Peachum defended her love of Macheath by singing the song ‘Can love be controlled by advice?’
The audience and its reactions were as surprising to Sophia as the performance. There were people from all walks of life present and the social mix seemed to encourage a boisterous atmosphere in which the audience participated almost as much as the performers in what was happening. Here was no silent, reverent audience hanging on the words of actors and actresses, but a voluble mass who commented freely on the appearance and actions of those on stage and off it. Some clearly gave most of their attention to the drama being played in front of them, but others were happy to indulge in flirtations with their neighbours and in gossip about whatever took their fancy. Others delighted in shouting out what they took to be witticisms directed against the performers or other members of the audience. Each song tended to be met with a round of clapping and yelling and a demand for an encore.
Both Fielding and Jones took as much pleasure in seeing Sophia enjoying herself as in watching the performance until towards the end of Act II when Macheath was arrested and locked up in Newgate Prison. Then their eyes were drawn entirely to an actress who entered upon the stage for the first time in the opera, playing the part of Lucy Lockit, the daughter of the corrupt gaoler. She was dressed in a simple but very effective green dress that emphasized her naturally fine figure. Her extraordinarily pretty face and dark hair had won over half the audience before she even opened her mouth. Here was an actress with real stage presence. All eyes were drawn to her as she began scolding Macheath for having agreed to marry her and then broken his promise. When she began to sing her pure voice held the entire audience captivated.
Sophia suddenly became aware that Tom was completely absorbed in staring at the actress. Before she could take any offence at her lover’s fickle behaviour, she heard him mutter, ‘My God, I know this woman.’ He turned to Fielding and she heard him whisper, ‘Her hair is dyed a different colour and her manner and dress is entirely different, but I’m sure that the actress playing Lucy Lockit is Sarah Darr!’
Fielding was instantly oblivious to the action of the opera. He stared at the actress and then replied as quietly as he could, ‘Because of her make-up and changed hair I might not have noticed had you not said so, but, you are right, it is her. But what on earth is she doing on stage here?’
‘I have no idea. What shall we do?’ responded Jones anxiously, acutely aware that he and Fielding were as much visible to the audience as any of the performers.
‘As soon as the opera is over I will accompany Sophia back to Lady Overbury’s lodgings. It would not be seemly for you to take her unaccompanied by a chaperon. You must get backstage as quickly as you can. Make sure that this clever deceiver does not disappear again. If necessary, restrain her by force until I can return. I’ll see if I can send a message alerting Beau Nash so that he will join us.’ Fielding looked at the actress as she continued to dominate the stage. ‘It is vital we find out more about the most unusually talented Miss Darr.’
Jones readily assented, although Sophia whispered her concern that he might be yet again placing his life in danger. While everyone else in the audience was caught up watching Lucy Lockit help Macheath escape and then try to poison Polly Peachum, Fielding and Jones pondered what had led Lady Overbury’s former maid, if she wanted to evade capture, becoming an actress. It was hardly a sensible thing for her to be appearing on a stage in the city. Had she no concern that she would
be spotted and identified? Surely she was not so stupid as to think that a spot of greasepaint and a change of hair colour would prevent people recognizing her? Their thoughts were interrupted only when the audience yelled for an encore as the opera came to a dramatic end with a reprieved Macheath publically proclaiming his marriage to Polly Peachum yet singing of his continued feelings and desires for all women, black, brown, and fair. Fielding at once got up to leave, taking Sophia gently but firmly with him.
Jones tried to make his way backstage. His progress was not swift because many of the audience had poured onto the stage area. However, his mounting panic that he might find Darr already gone proved groundless. As he slipped through the door that led from the stage to the room behind he saw her sitting on a bench. She appeared to be engrossed in talking to some of her fellow performers and so she did not see him enter. Looking at her he could see no trace of the woman who had served Lady Overbury. Here was a woman who was outgoing, a strong personality with the world at her feet. She appeared to be in sparkling form and whatever she was saying was causing much mirth. Hoping that she would not look in his direction he moved as quickly and silently as he could towards the room’s other exit and hid behind a rack that contained costumes.
From there he watched her without being visible. His mind whirled with questions. What had led such a talented actress to take on the subservient role of maid to Lady Overbury? If what Charles Wesley had said was true, her motivation stemmed entirely from hatred of the government that had destroyed her father. But what links could this woman have developed with the Jacobites? She had been but an infant when the 1715 rebellion had taken place. She had gone to Wesley in the hope that he was a Jacobite supporter and to show her support for Bonnie Prince Charlie. This in itself argued that she had at that time no strong connections of her own. So who had subsequently recruited her and persuaded her not only to become a maid but also to murder first the unfortunate housekeeper Miss Grey and then Lord Kearsley? More importantly, did she now possess the incriminating documents following the killing of Joseph Graves? And why was she still in Bath and performing in such a public place?
His reflections were interrupted when the actor who had played Macheath moved away from the group towards the room’s exit. Effectively this meant that he had to cross behind the costume rack, moving out of Darr’s sight but straight into the area where Jones was hiding. Jones decided his best course of action lay in barring Macheath’s path. There was just a chance that he could extract information from him that might shed light on what Darr was doing. Knowing that few are immune to flattery, he immediately opened a conversation with the actor by saying, ‘I cannot praise your performance tonight enough, sir. It was superb!’
These words had the desired effect because the actor did not walk past Jones. Instead he stopped and smiled. ‘Thank you, sir. I thought it went well tonight and the audience was certainly a very receptive one.’
Jones gave the man one of his engaging smiles. ‘Have you worked long with this company?’
‘A couple of years.’
‘You must all know each other very well.’
The man who had played Macheath nodded. ‘Aye, though we have a few new people who have just recently joined.’
‘The actress who played Lucy Lockit being one, I surmise, because I have not seen her before.’
‘Yes, and we were very fortunate to get her. None of us know why but Sally – her predecessor in the role – disappeared a few nights ago.’ His mouth relaxed into a smirk and he winked at Jones. ‘Gone after some man or other I suspect.’
Jones thought it more likely that the unfortunate Sally had met the same fate as others who had crossed Sarah Darr’s path, but he made no reference to this. ‘So who is the new actress who plays Lucy Lockit so well and from whence did she come?’
‘Her name’s Kitty Pike and fortuitously for us she heard of Sally’s desertion. She had only just arrived in Bath and was looking for new work, having performed for some months in London. Take my word for it, she’s far better an actress than Sally ever was. You were lucky to see her perform because we move on tomorrow.’
‘Where is your next engagement? I enjoyed myself so much tonight that I think I might like to follow and see you perform again.’
The actor laughed. ‘I think you will change your mind when I tell you that our next two engagements are in Coventry and Warwick.’
‘You are right – that’s far too far for me,’ replied Tom, trying to hide his amazement. ‘I would have assumed you would have a normal touring pattern that involved less travel.’
‘We do, but it has been cancelled. The whole company has been specially commissioned to perform at the homes of two lords.’
‘They must be paying your manager a pretty penny for him to abandon your normal tour.’
The actor shrugged his shoulders. ‘I suppose so. I don’t know the details. It all happened very recently. If you had asked me two days ago, I’d have told you we were going to Oxford.’ He stopped to yawn. ‘I must move on to my bed. We have an early start tomorrow because we have been told we must travel with all speed.’
Jones did not try to stop him lest he arouse his suspicion. Instead he began reflecting again. If Sarah Darr had joined the company it must be so she could travel with it to Coventry and Warwick. But why did she want to go to those places? And why had she chosen this particular means? It was hardly the quickest of travelling methods, however fast the company moved. These reflections were broken by the sound of the other actors and actresses also leaving for their rooms. Kitty Pike, alias Sarah Darr, was among them. Jones moved into the shadows as she passed and she appeared too engrossed in discussions with her fellow players to notice him. He heard her say to a companion that her room in the inn was a comfortable one and this led him to cease worrying that he might lose her. He determined to go out into the inn’s yard and await Fielding’s return, confident that his astute friend would know what to do next.
‘Shall I get you a drink, sir?’ Jones was startled by this unexpected request. It came from a young lad. He had a wide face dominated by a short but strong nose and freckled cheeks. His thin-lipped mouth and small black eyes did little to enhance his appearance, but he appeared honest enough. The fact that he wore an apron indicated he must work at the inn. ‘There’s plenty of space inside, sir, but, if you prefer to stay out here in the cold night air, I can get you a whisky to warm you up.’
‘Aye. Fetch me a drink while I am waiting for my friend and I’ll pay you well for it.’
The youth disappeared and very rapidly returned with a well-filled glass. Jones gratefully took it and handed him a few coins. Then he drank the whisky, welcoming its warmth in his throat. Within minutes an overpowering sleepiness flowed over him and he felt increasingly dizzy. It was as if all his vitality was seeping out of his system. His vision became blurred and, before he could summon assistance, he collapsed unconscious onto the ground.
‘Help me get him to a room before others get involved,’ said Sarah Darr, emerging from the shadows. ‘If anyone asks, we’ll say he’s had a bit too much to drink.’ Gone was the sparkling and witty actress and in her stead stood a cold, calculating woman, whose eyes gleamed with a murderous fanaticism. The youth nodded. It was clear from his manner that he was very scared of her. He placed his hands under Jones’s armpits whilst she took hold of his feet. Together they lifted up the unconscious man and carried him first through a side door and into a corridor and then into a bedroom. They lifted him into a chair and a grim-faced Darr proceeded to strap him securely to it by means of a strong rope. Once this was done she placed a gag in his mouth. She turned to the youth. ‘Go and find John and tell him what has happened and that we must leave Bath at once. While you are gone I will wake this stupid clown and find out what he knows before killing him.’
14
THE IDENTITY OF THE ACCOMPLICE
Had the youth waited just a few minutes longer his path would have crossed that of Henry Fiel
ding in the inn yard. As it was, neither saw the other. Fielding had been looking for Jones with mounting concern. ‘Where on earth has the young lad gone?’ he muttered to himself. He did not know whether to be cross or fearful. Had Jones tried to confront Sarah Darr on his own and been perhaps injured or had he followed her to some other place? It was with some relief that Fielding saw the figure of Beau Nash emerging out of the night because he knew that the Master of Ceremonies had the authority to act in ways that were not open to anyone else.
Even as the two men were voicing their anxiety at his disappearance, Jones was being rudely awoken from his induced slumber by his captor, who was waving a phial of smelling salts below his nose and slapping his face vigorously. As the drugged man’s vision slowly came into focus he saw Darr’s blue eyes staring harshly at him. There was no hint of the attractiveness with which she had endowed the role of Lucy Lockit, or of the subservience that had marked Lady Overbury’s maid. Instead malice seemed to seep out from the very pores of her skin. ‘You don’t know when to leave things alone, do you, Mr Jones?’ she snarled viciously, giving him a final hard slap that rocked his head backwards. ‘I would have thought your experience on Guy Fawkes’ Night would have warned you to stay clear of matters that don’t concern you. Why have you sought me out?’
She removed the gag and desperately Jones tried to clear his befuddled brain but he found himself unable to think of any story that might deceive her. She lashed out at him again, hitting him so hard that his head felt as if a hammer had hit it. Blood trickled out of his mouth. He glared at her but started to answer her question. ‘I followed you because the truth has come out. We know about your early life and what happened to your father. We know that you wish success for the Jacobites who invade our nation. We know that it was your hand that lay behind the deaths of Agnes Grey and the others.’