Rose Campion and the Curse of the Doomstone

by Lyn Gardner

  “Ah, Inspector, you do like your little jokes.”

  Rose was reminded of two big cats warily circling each other, both respectful but both determined to come out on top in any fight.

  The inspector wasn’t the only one lurking around. She had walked upstairs that morning looking for Thomas, only to find Billy Proctor just slipping out of Thomas’s study. He had looked startled to see her, which had made her suspicious, and her mistrust of him had increased when she opened the door and discovered that Thomas wasn’t there. What had Billy been doing in there? Maybe Thomas had asked him to fetch something for him? She wondered whether she should tell Thomas what she’d seen, but she feared that Thomas, who always thought the best of everyone, would think her a mean-minded sneak.

  Every spare minute she had, Effie was busy practising in any empty corner of Campion’s she could find. Thomas said it was a good thing because it would keep her from fretting about her mother. Sometimes, when she got stuck on a basic move, Lottie, who had once filled in as a magician’s assistant for a few weeks, or Jem, would try and help her.

  “Lottie’s almost as hopeless as me. But Jem ain’t bad. He ain’t a great magician, not like Gandini,” said Effie sagely, “but he’s bin a real help. An’ he’s got really good at card tricks. Says Gandini has been giving him some top tips.”

  Rose and Aurora had tried to get Effie to spill some secrets, but she shook her head and refused to tell them what she and Gandini were going to be performing.

  “Will he saw you in half?” demanded Rose.

  “Will he make you disappear?” asked Aurora.

  “I’ll make you two disappear if yer keep on asking me,” grinned Effie and she leaned forward and produced an egg from behind Rose’s ear. Aurora and Rose goggled.

  “That’s pure magic, Effie,” said Aurora.

  “Nah,” said Effie, “it ain’t. Fact is, more I learn from Gandini, more I think magic and prigging are pretty much the same. Them’s both a deception. It’s just one’s for gain and other’s for entertainment.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Rose.

  “It’s like this. If you’re going to prig you need sharp fingers and sharp eyes. But you also need a sharp mind. When a prigger wants to filch a pocket watch, they don’t just choose the first pigeon them sees walking down the street. They choose their mark carefully, someone who they think will be easier to fool. An then they distract ’im. Same with magic. Just with magic, the audience are more than up to be fooled and the magician plays on that.”

  “Oh, Effie,” said Rory longingly. “Please, please tell us one of Gandini’s secrets. Just a little one.”

  “All right,” said Effie with a goblin smile, “but yer must cross yer hearts and promise never to tell a soul.”

  “We promise,” chorused Rose and Rory, their eyes alight with excitement at the thought that they were at last going to discover every detail of one of Gandini’s tricks.

  “Well,” said Effie, her face solemn, “that Gandini uses hair dye. His hair ain’t black at all. I’ve seen the empty bottles.”

  “Oh,” said Rose, deflated. “That’s not an interesting secret at all.” She thought it quite likely that half the performers who passed through Campion’s were dyeing their hair, and the other half were probably using assumed names or had lost their original name. After all, Rose Campion wasn’t even her real name, but the name Thomas had given her when he found her abandoned on Campion’s doorstep.

  Thinking about that conversation as she collected glasses, Rose began speculating in her head what her mother might have called her. She rather hoped it was a name from Shakespeare, like Viola or Portia. It would be a terrible disappointment to discover she was an Ethel or a Eunice. She chuckled to herself. Effie was certainly learning how to fool her and Rory. Thomas had been right – learning to be Gandini’s assistant was good for Effie. In just a few days she had so much more confidence.

  Rose glanced at the clock and hoped that Rory would come back soon. She missed her. Later, she and Rory would be performing their bicycle act. They did it much less often now that Rory and Edward spent more time at Silver Square.

  After Edward and Rory had been reunited and Edward had taken charge of his inheritance, he and Aurora quickly decided that they didn’t want to live at Easingford Hall in Yorkshire. Rose didn’t blame them. She had visited Easingford, and as far as she could see there was nothing but sheep and moorland for miles around, which was fine for a holiday, but she wouldn’t want to live there. After the constant clamour of London she had found the silence quite deafening.

  Rose and Effie had been thrilled by Aurora and Edward’s decision to make a permanent return to London. But even though he was appearing on the West End stage, which some considered a rackety profession, Edward was already moving in far grander circles, meeting daily with people who thought his acting was a charming pastime for a man with a considerable personal fortune, an extensive country estate, a London town house and one of the oldest titles in the land. Acting only added to Edward’s glamour. Aurora was being swept into this orbit, and Rose saw less and less of her at Campion’s. An image crossed her mind of her and Aurora meeting accidentally one day many years hence, and of being like strangers with nothing to say to each other, even though for so many years their fates had been entwined, and for months they had squeezed top to tail in a bed at Campion’s, laughing uproariously together.

  She glanced back at the bar. Jem was standing by it, surrounded by a large group of men, including Gandini, and he appeared to be ordering them all drinks from Billy Proctor, who had just let another glass slip through his butterfingers. Billy Proctor had told Thomas he was an experienced barman, and had given Thomas references from The Anchor at Rotherhithe to prove it, but he barely seemed competent. Rose wondered if Thomas had actually taken up the references. Billy handed Jem four glasses of brandy and two tankards of ale. She frowned, wondering where Jem’s new-found wealth had come from. It certainly wasn’t from what he was being paid at Campion’s, even though Thomas prided himself on paying all who worked for him rates above all but the biggest and most successful music halls. She wondered whether Thomas had noticed that Jem was flashing the cash around.

  The door swung open and Aurora, Edward and Lydia walked in together, followed by Amy. Rose’s mouth almost dropped open. Aurora was dressed like a smart young society lady in a sapphire silk tea gown edged with navy damask. Her outfit was completed by navy silk gloves and a chic matching little bonnet. She looked like a small replica of Lydia, who was also dressed in shades of blue, and she would not have been out of place on the streets of St James. Aurora hadn’t spotted Rose, and Rose didn’t call out a greeting, but she watched as the party progressed across the hall, attracting lots of interest. As they passed the bar, she thought she saw Gandini give an almost imperceptible nod towards Amy, who was lagging behind the main party looking glum in her dull mustard dress. Rose’s eyes came back to rest on Aurora. She couldn’t help thinking that Lydia’s recent appearance in Edward’s life was hastening the process of Aurora moving out of Campion’s and settling permanently in Silver Square. She thought you’d have to have your eyes shut not to notice just how besotted Edward and Lydia were with each other.

  She was in such turmoil that she barely registered the voice at her side.

  “It’s Rose Campion, isn’t it,” said a young man wearing a bowler hat and a creased tweed jacket. He had a trim little moustache and sharp terrier-like eyes. He nodded around the auditorium. “Another packed house, I see. Since the Doomstone was stolen, Campion’s has been overflowing every night.”

  “Long may it continue,” said Rose tersely.

  “You were here, weren’t you, on the night the Star of the Sea was stolen?”

  “Yes,” said Rose impatiently, piling glasses on to her tray. The man was obviously a reporter. “I was here, and like everyone else I didn’t see anything. Not a thing, so I can’t help you.”

  The man shook his head. “Strange
that, ain’t it? It’s very convenient that everybody at Campion’s was struck blind on the very night the Doomstone was stolen.”

  “If it has been stolen,” said Rose darkly, her mind still on Rory in that silk dress. Rory was transforming into a lady more and more each day.

  “What do you mean?” asked the man.

  Rose shook her head impatiently, eager to get rid of the man. She felt his attention like a buzzing fly that she longed to bat away quickly. “Well, the Doomstone is definitely missing, but do we know that it’s definitely been stolen?”

  The man’s eyes brightened. “You mean it could be an inside job?”

  Rose laughed derisively as if she thought the man was being stupid, and shook her head as she expertly balanced the last few glasses on the tray. She was keen to go backstage and find Rory.

  “I think,” she said scornfully, “we can safely assume that whoever took the diamond was in the hall that night, don’t you? After all, it’s not as if the Doomstone could have been spirited away by magic, is it?” She stalked off, leaving the man, who immediately got out his notebook and began scribbling in it feverishly.

  Thinking no more of the conversation, Rose took the glasses back to the bar and put them carefully on the polished mahogany surface.

  “There you are, Billy, I’ve collected these for you,” she said. He didn’t offer a grunt of thanks. She turned to head off backstage when there was an almighty clatter and the sound of broken glass. Billy had knocked the entire tray off the bar.

  “It’s all your fault,” he snarled. “You shouldn’t have left them balanced so precariously. You better clear it up; you can see we’re rushed off our feet here.”

  Rose sighed and picked up the broom. She was furious with Billy Proctor, but she didn’t want to make a scene.

  7

  Aurora and Rose, the latter wheeling the daisy-sprigged green bicycle that they used in their act, ran off the stage together. The audience were still roaring their approval. The girls had been doing their bicycle act for almost six months now but the audience never seemed to tire of it, and Rose made sure that they kept on making little changes so it was never exactly the same and stayed fresh. Thomas had reminded her that if an audience liked an act enough, they didn’t seem to mind even if they had seen it over and over.

  As the Rubber Rubies, a pair of contortionists, ran past the girls and on to the stage to do their routine, Aurora swept the boy’s cap from her head and her rusty brown hair tumbled down over her shoulders. She rubbed at her britches. The rough material was making her thighs itch in the heat from the gaslights.

  “That’s a terrific little act you’ve got there,” said Inspector Cliff, stepping forward from the shadows and making Rory jump. Rose thought that the inspector was a bit like a cat, prowling around watchfully and suddenly appearing in places where you’d least expect him.

  “We do our best,” said Rose cheerfully, peering out into the auditorium. She could see Lydia and Edward at a centre table near the front. They were gazing at each other rather than at the stage. She glanced at Rory. Her friend had said nothing about her father and Lydia’s blossoming relationship and Rose sensed that it was off-limits. She wondered if Rory realised quite how infatuated the pair were with each other even though they had only met just over a week ago.

  “It’s fascinating, isn’t it,” said the inspector turning to Aurora, “the way the people watching know that you are a girl and yet believe you are a boy when you’re on stage.”

  Rory nodded. “That’s the point. They enjoy the fact that they know. They don’t feel that they’re being deceived because they’re already one step ahead. It’s what makes it fun for them.”

  “Have you ever seen Vesta Tilley perform, Inspector?” asked Rose. The inspector nodded. Vesta Tilley was the toast of the music halls, and had been dressing up as a boy and singing since she was very small. “Well,” said Rose, “when Vesta first began dressing up as boy, audiences thought that she really was a boy, and they didn’t like her act at all. It was only when she changed her name to Vesta, which is clearly a girl’s name, and began being introduced as Miss Vesta Tilley, so it was clear to audiences that she was a girl pretending to be a boy, that she found success.”

  “Interesting,” said the inspector. “I suppose, in your world, people are always pretending to be somebody they’re not.”

  Rory frowned. “Of course,” she said. “We’re all performing or acting when we’re out there.” She nodded towards the stage.

  “Yes,” said the inspector. “I realise that. I was thinking more about when people are off stage rather than on stage. That they may pretend to be something they are not.”

  Rory looked confused. “You mean you think I might only be pretending to be me?” Then she added indignantly, “I’m Edward’s daughter. It’s been proven beyond doubt. I’m not an imposter. Although…” The others looked at her expectantly. Rory blushed quite crimson and said, “…although when I was out with Edward and Lydia in Hyde Park this afternoon wearing all that finery I did feel like a complete fraud. I look at Lydia, and whatever people say about her, and that she might not have born to it, you can see that being a lady comes naturally to her.” Rory sighed heavily. “But me? I feel as if I’m just playing a part or conning people, and that they will see through my silk dress and bonnet and start pointing at me and saying, ‘She’s just a little guttersnipe who was dragged up by that blackmailing con-woman, Lizzie Gawkin, in the music halls.’”

  Inspector Cliff bowed gallantly and took her hand. “Miss Aurora, if I may say so, I thought you were the one who looked every inch a lady when I saw you arrive at Campion’s earlier.”

  “That’s kind of you to say, Inspector,” said Rory graciously. Then she grinned wickedly. “But those silk bonnets aren’t half itchy on a hot day like today.” All three of them laughed, and Rose felt relieved. Maybe she wasn’t losing Rory quite as quickly as she had thought.

  “Inspector, Campion’s has always been full of people pretending they are something or somebody they’re not. After all, I’m not really Rose Campion. I’m just a baby who was abandoned here without even a name. But that’s one of the reasons I love Campion’s. It lets people be whoever they want to be. It can be a haven. And if they’re not quite who they say they are – well, often they have a good reason for it. They’re not trying to con anyone else out of anything – they’re just looking for a place where they can be safe and be themselves.”

  “You love Campion’s very much, don’t you, Rose?” said the inspector quietly. Rose nodded vigorously. “You must have been very worried when Thomas’s investments failed and it looked as though he would lose Campion’s if he couldn’t raise a great deal of money very quickly.”

  Rose was suddenly as alert as a rabbit sensing a fox. Maybe the inspector was less of the fool that the newspapers would have him be, and was actually being very clever hanging around Campion’s, always watching, and engaging people in conversation when they weren’t expecting it. She glared at him. “You don’t think that Thomas…You couldn’t possibly think…?!” She shook her head as if she had never heard such stupidity. “Thomas hasn’t got a crooked bone in all his body.” She drew herself up indignantly. “You’d do far better to look elsewhere, Inspector, and spend your time observing those who are quite obviously pretending to be something that they are not.”

  The inspector followed her gaze out through the auditorium to the heaving bar, where the customers were four deep waiting for their drinks and Billy Proctor was looking very flustered. He gave a wry little smile.

  “I think that you are very observant, Rose,” he said softly. But Rose had already turned on her heel and stalked away.

  8

  It was later the same evening. The final bows had been taken, the staff were clearing the bar area and the stage, and the sweltering day had turned into a balmy night. Any of Campion’s staff or performers who weren’t required were sitting out in the yard. A man had come by selling penny lick
s from a cart and everyone was enjoying the fast-melting ice crystals on their tongues. Effie was busy sketching their faces, quick drawings that somehow captured not just the features of the person but something of their spirit. Edward took a final lick of his ice and disappeared back inside, no doubt looking for Lydia, who had said that it was too hot outside and that she wanted to talk to Stratford-Mark to plan her debut. The portly Stratford-Mark kept appearing red-faced, perspiring heavily and unannounced at Campion’s whenever Lydia was there with Edward. Rose wondered if he was jealous of the younger man, and that was the reason he was so watchful of this blossoming relationship. Perhaps he had romantic yearnings for Lydia himself? Or maybe he had other reasons for his watchfulness. In recent days it had felt increasingly as if everybody at Campion’s was watching everyone else. It was just Edward and Lydia who had eyes only for each other. Rose had to admit that she had initially thought Lydia might only have eyes for Edward because of his wealth and title, but unless Lydia was a consummate actress she really did seem to be as smitten with Aurora’s father as he was with her.

  Gandini smacked his lips in satisfaction as his ice disappeared. “It’s the taste of my boyhood. And the taste of the sea. When I was a child we went to Southend for our holidays. There was a little café run by a delightful family of Italians, the kindest people in the world, and they had a cart on the seafront selling penny licks, run by the oldest son, who was blind. They were the most delicious ices, and although the seller was blind nobody ever tried to cheat him. They trusted him to sell the best ices and he trusted them to pay him the fair price. That is how the world should be. For five happy summers he let me help him and his wife, before my mother said I was too old to play shopkeeper and I had to learn my trade.” He sighed. “I would love to recover the innocence of that time, but life and love makes fools of us all.” He looked sad. “I would so have treasured being an ice-cream maker, bringing nothing but pleasure and good to the world.”