Pepper stood and shook his head, amused. “Women. I would never turn my back on one.”
Suzanne stood. “How very wise.” She led the way from the room. Pepper could laugh all he wanted. For the first time in her life, she felt justice had been done her.
*
THE New Globe Players next performed the Scottish play the following afternoon. The audience was thin today, for the weather was quite icy, and though snow wasn’t currently falling the air had a bite that kept those with better places to go from coming here. A few braziers standing here and there helped take the edge from the cold, and the actors didn’t suffer as much as they might have in their costumes. The three weird sisters threw on some extra layers of wool and fur, and added some steps and cackling to their dance for the sake of warming themselves.
Afterward in the green room, Suzanne saw Arturo, Big Willie, and Tucker speaking in low tones near a rack hung with costumes. When they saw her watching, though she couldn’t hear them, all talk ceased and each went on his way in different directions. Strange. Like moths from an opened cupboard, they fluttered off. She sat at the paint table to begin removing her makeup.
Ramsay came to sit next to her, and took a clean rag and a bottle of oil to clean his face. It was a long, messy process to get the dark markings off one’s face, but to leave the paint on would cause eruptions and rashes that were far more bothersome than oil and rags. As he wiped, he said to Suzanne, “Good show today.”
She agreed, and continued to clean her own face.
The green room door opened, and in came Daniel and Piers, along with a third man Suzanne didn’t know. “Ramsay,” said Piers. “We’ve someone here who would like to meet you.”
Ramsay stood, a gracious smile on his face, and took a linen towel to wipe his hands. Suzanne stood as well, for she could guess who the third man was, and wanted to hear this conversation. Plainly this was a friend of Daniel’s, richly dressed and with the long-boned look of royal or nearly royal breeding. She concluded it was Robert, the Scot who had brought the story from Edinburgh about Diarmid Gordon.
“Diarmid Ramsay,” said Daniel as he gestured to the actor, “here is Robert Stewart of Edinburgh. I have reason to believe you’ve met.”
Robert held out a hand to shake, and Ramsay took it with a smile. “Yes, I do recognize you,” said Robert. Suzanne’s heart froze. “I saw you when last I was in the north.”
A puzzled look came over Ramsay’s face, but he said nothing and waited for more information.
Robert’s smile was blithe and genuine as he continued in explanation. “You were on the stage last year. It was one of those little plays based on Hamlet, as I recall. The little scenes that were allowed at the time. You played the ghost, did you not?”
Now Ramsay was smiling again as he finally understood the context of Robert’s statement. “Aye, I did, and a good memory you have. Thank you for noticing.”
Suzanne looked over at Daniel and gave him a tiny frown. He returned a wry smile and a slight shrug. So Ramsay wasn’t the Diarmid who had called himself Gordon. What he’d said about being an actor in Edinburgh was true. Suzanne wasn’t terribly surprised, but on a deeper level she was relieved. Faith in a man was hard to come by for her, and now there was no doubt for her to worry over.
Now she, Piers, and Daniel listened to Robert Stewart gush on about Ramsay’s acting talent. Ramsay received the praise with as much grace as was his habit, which meant he held himself proud, chin up, and with a wide, self-satisfied smile. Of course his performance had been brilliant, for he was Diarmid Ramsay of Edinburgh and no man could doubt his talent. He thanked Robert for his many complimentary comments, and bowed as he would acknowledge mass applause after a fine performance. Then Robert left with Daniel and Piers, off to spend the evening at the Goat and Boar. Daniel had heard there was Scottish whisky available in that tavern, and he intended to drink his share of it.
Suzanne sat at the table to resume cleaning her face. Ramsay watched her for a moment, then sat next to her again. After a long silence he said, “I know you thought I was that fellow passing himself off as a nobleman.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I know the story. I heard about the pretender when I was still in Scotland. He got away with quite a lot of treasure, both in jewels and in the charms of noblemen’s wives. When you began questioning me about the Gordons, I realized you’d heard the story as well, and had somehow cast me in the role of the villain. You lit up so brightly when I lied about being a descendant of George Gordon, I—”
“You lied?”
“Och, aye. I’ve no more Gordon blood in me than that of an elephant. I only said I did in order to see how you would react.”
“So none of what you said was true?”
“Of course, some of it was true. As you heard from Master Stewart, I did perform on the stage in Edinburgh—under sanction from the authorities, I would add. But my dear mother is alive and well, and still living on her family’s lands in Moray. Though ’tis true my father died before the war. I went to seek my fortune in Edinburgh not because I was forced off my ancestral lands, but because I was selfish and arrogant, and did not care to till soil all my life. My older brothers were capable enough to manage my mother’s inheritance, and so I left to seek a less rural life.”
“Which is what brought you to London.”
“Aye. You’re not as silly a woman as you appeared a moment ago.”
“Pardon me for having trusted you to tell me the truth.”
“You assumed without cause that I was a chamberer and a thief. You thought that bit of rubbish in my pocket was a ruby necklace. I deserved some fun from that.”
“The necklace isn’t real?”
“Of course, it’s real. It’s real glass and real brass. And not terribly impressive for all that. Were you to look closely, you’d see the color is uneven in some bits, and one of them has a bubble you can see without help. It cost me but a thruppence, and all I need to send a woman into a tizzy is to give a glimpse of it.”
“You show it to a great many women, then?”
“Aye, and most times it works like a faerie charm. You’re the first woman who’s ever seen it who did not want to climb me like a pole at the prospect of having it. I even let you handle it, but it never moved you. You never suspected it was false, and yet you still did not invite me to your bed. That was when I knew what a treasure you are. I knew then you were worth pursuing.”
She considered him for a moment. Plainly he thought he was complimenting her, but she felt insulted nonetheless. “You tested me?”
He nodded, grinning.
“You lied to me in order to test me?”
He nodded again, but his smile faltered as he began to realize she wasn’t flattered.
“Do you seriously think I would want to entertain a suit from someone who would engage in that sort of manipulation?”
He shrugged as if none of this truly mattered and she should also shrug it off as a lark. “Perhaps not right away, but you can see how well suited we are for each other. You’re an honorable woman, in spite of everything in your life that has encouraged you to be otherwise. The rest of the world doesn’t know what a treasure you are. I could do worse.”
“Indeed, you could. Most men do.” She considered fleeing to her quarters to get away from him, but decided not to act the silly, hysterical girl. Instead she said, “Congratulations on being the rare man to recognize my worth. I suppose now I’ll have to assess yours. I’ll let you know my conclusion once I’ve determined it.” Then she rose and retreated. Not to her quarters, but away from the theatre and to the Goat and Boar. She needed a pint of ale and a good, hard think on the subject of her own true worth.
Chapter Seventeen
When Suzanne arrived at the Goat and Boar she found two tables filled with men she might have deemed entertaining. At one table were the three weird sisters, heads together and talking in low voices, their drinks mostly untouched. Strange in itself
that they weren’t tossing back their ale and rum with abandon, but to be huddling in private conversation just wasn’t the usual for them. Ordinarily she would have expected them to shout greeting to her and wave her over to their table, in competition with other tables full of friends to have her company. This was just strange. She wondered what might be afoot, but wasn’t in a position to query them on it casually.
At the other table were Piers, Daniel, and Robert Stewart. Their conversation seemed livelier and less private, so she steered toward them, and when Piers saw her approach he reached over to offer her an empty chair. She hung her cloak on a peg by the door, greeted everyone as she sat, then gestured to Young Dent for her ale.
“So, she said, “we’ve determined that our friend Ramsay isn’t the notorious Gordon from the north.”
“Don’t gloat,” said Daniel. “It’s unbecoming.”
Suzanne lifted the stoneware cup of ale brought by Young Dent, and as it neared her lips she said, “If I never did anything unbecoming to a woman, I would get very little done in this world.” She sipped, then set the cup down. “On the other hand, you shouldn’t be so disappointed. Now we can relax and trust our Macbeth not to murder us in our sleep. He is what he says he is, which is also what he appears. A talented actor who has come to London for the sake of making a career from performing in a place where the best theatre thrives.”
“London? I should think Paris would be the best for that.”
“Better London than Edinburgh. Or anywhere else in the kingdom, I think. And I daresay we’ll be hard put to keep him if either of the royal companies catches sight of him and tries to woo him away. We haven’t the money to overcome the lure of playing for the king.”
“He won’t leave,” said Piers. “He’s got his sights set on becoming master of The New Globe Players, which is a position he could never hope for with either of the others.”
“Well, he’ll have to unseat Horatio to accomplish that.” Suzanne took another sip of her ale. “And there’s nothing Horatio doesn’t know about Shakespeare. Besides, why ever do you think Ramsay wants to take Horatio’s place?”
“Not Horatio’s place. Daniel’s.”
“I beg your pardon?” Daniel gave Piers a frown of surprise that was surprisingly false. He pretended not to know what Piers meant, but Suzanne figured he knew very well that Piers was referring to Daniel’s place in her life and her regard. With Robert present, she couldn’t respond, so she changed the subject.
“Well, I suppose you all have heard we’ve caught the villain who threatened me in my rooms the other night.”
Robert inquired about the incident, and Suzanne told the story. Daniel and Piers had only heard snippets of rumor on the subject, and so were as rapt as he as she told of the pirate with both his gun and willie pointed at her.
“And you say he’s been caught?” asked Piers.
“He’s in lockup, and will likely be taken to Newgate tomorrow or the next day. He’s confessed to the assault, and with my testimony he’ll more than likely be convicted. So long as the king doesn’t pardon him, he’ll hang.”
Without even a slight hesitation, Daniel said, “I’ll make certain the king understands the importance of this man being removed from the populace. He’s already once sought you out, and would surely do it again if freed. Given the chance, he would surely kill you for revenge. You needn’t fear a pardon.”
“I have faith he will never see the outside of Newgate again other than for his ride to Tyburn.” Suzanne knew she could count on Daniel to prevent that pirate from being pardoned. She took a long draught from her cup, satisfied that in this case justice would be served.
The outer door of the public house opened, letting in a blast of cold, blustery wind along with Diarmid Ramsay. He shut it behind him, and looked around. When he spotted Suzanne sitting with the three men, he appeared to want to come sit with them, but he hesitated. Then he looked over at the table where the musicians and mummers sat, and still hesitated as he removed his coat and gloves. Finally he stuffed his gloves into the coat pocket and hung it next to the door, then he approached Suzanne without taking a seat at the table, and bowed.
“Good evening, mistress. I hope you are well.”
Suzanne looked up at him and waited to know what this formality was about. The men sitting with her also waited to hear what Ramsay was about.
He continued, as stiff as any courtier before a queen. “I wonder if the lady would care to accompany me on a carriage ride through the park on the morrow?”
“A carriage ride? Awfully cold these days to enjoy the park, wouldn’t you think?”
“I hope the lady would trust me that it would be a pleasant morning regardless.”
Suzanne considered for a moment, then glanced around at her companions. They waited, attending as closely to what she would say as if she were putting on a performance and they would either boo or applaud her decision. Had Daniel not been there, she would not have hesitated to accept Ramsay’s invitation, but he was and she would rather he not know about her relationships with other men. Piers’s presence didn’t help in that, either, since he’d never approved of anyone she knew, including Daniel. Nevertheless, there was nothing for it but to reply to Ramsay as she would. She said, “Yes, Diarmid, I would like to go with you through the park.”
Ramsay beamed his pleasure. Daniel suddenly found the bottom of his glass intensely interesting. Piers’s brow furrowed. Robert’s pleasant, polite smile made him look like an idiot since he was the only one at the table who did not know what was going on. Suzanne smiled at everyone and hoped they would all keep their opinions to themselves. Ramsay held out his hand and Suzanne gave him hers so he could kiss the back of it. “Then I will see you bright and early in the morning. Good evening, my lady.”
Suzanne bade him a good evening also, and felt only a little uneasy for being called “lady.” That term was usually a sarcastic pejorative for someone like her. Ramsay seemed to mean it as a compliment, but she found it difficult to forget all the times she’d been called that when it had not been complimentary at all. She watched him go to sit with the three witches.
Daniel said in a low, dire voice, “Be cautious.”
She shot him a sideways glance and said with an edge to her own voice, “Yes, Daniel. I’ve learned that lesson well.”
He had nothing for her in reply.
The following morning Suzanne was still asleep when a pounding came on the outer door of her quarters. Sheila, in the midst of preparing breakfast, went to admit Ramsay.
“Rise up, my lady! The day awaits, and there is much of it to enjoy! Come and be merry with me!”
Suzanne sat up and struggled to consciousness. She called out, “Be patient! I’ll be there momentarily!” Then she stood and drew on her dressing gown. Her fingers fumbled with the ties, but she managed them, tied back her hair in a quick roll, and went to deal with her overenthusiastic suitor.
“Ah! My lady, ever so sparkling!”
“Ramsay, it’s very early.”
“’Tis the east, and—”
“The sun is barely over the housetops. Come, sit. We’ll have breakfast, then if you’ll allow me to dress, we’ll go then.”
“I could help you dress.” With enormous cheer and limitless hope, he took a step toward the bedchamber. Suzanne stopped him with a palm to his chest.
“Thank you, no. Sheila is quite competent at it.”
“As you wish. But Sheila should never mind the breakfast. I’ve provisions for us in the carriage, and they await.”
Suzanne said as she returned to her bedchamber to dress, “Very well. Sheila, I’ll not need breakfast this morning, thank you.”
“Aye, mistress.”
Suzanne was still groggy and fumbled around as she dressed. Through the open door Ramsay spoke to her of St. James’s Park.
“’Tis a lovely park the king has there. We’ve naught to compare in Edinburgh. Even the grounds at Holyrood are poor and ragged by comparison.
And of course our castle is perched on a great chunk of rock and has no grounds to speak of at all.”
“It’s terribly cold today.” Though Sheila had stoked all the hearths well this morning and there were cheery little fires all through her quarters, they did not quite overcome the terribly stiff cold that had descended on London the night before. Today she wore a heavy dress. It was her very heaviest woolen one, a rust brown that made her brown hair appear nearly blonde and ashen by comparison. The neckline was higher than she might have worn for a suitor, but she reflected that in the first place the air was too cold for an exposed chest to be comfortable. In the second place she wasn’t certain how much she wanted to encourage Ramsay in his pursuit. So she dressed for comfort and went with him to the coach he’d hired.
It had snowed the night before. This early only a few carriage tracks and footprints marked the fall that appeared to be six or eight inches. Little piles of it stood atop posts and fences, and it clung to window sills and flower boxes. It all made the air so crisp and cold Suzanne’s nose began to feel numb. Breath puffed from her mouth, and the horses standing ready to pull the carriage looked as if they were snorting smoke in readiness to carry her across the sky in a sun carriage.
It wasn’t a sun carriage, but it was a clean one, unusual among hired conveyances. There were no orange peels on the floor, nor globs of spit, nor drops of blood, as were often found in the hired coaches and sedan chairs of London. Ramsay helped her into it with as much pomp and grace as if she were a queen. She enjoyed the pretense, like a little girl at play, whose prince had come to sweep her off to his kingdom.
He climbed in after her, and helped her settle in beneath a large bearskin robe. He tucked her in until she could barely move, but she was quite comfortable, snug inside the wrap. In spite of the wide open windows in the carriage, she was warm beneath the robe and next to Ramsay. At their feet sat a rather large basket covered with a bright, bleached linen cloth. She could smell warm, seasoned beef, and her stomach growled for breakfast.
The Scottish Play Murder (A Restoration Mystery) Page 23