Again he nodded. “You’ve mentioned it.”
“Are you also aware that there are several theatres about town that stand empty and only lack some repairs and an acting troupe to make them useful?” She paused for emphasis, then leaned forward ever so slightly and added, “And profitable.”
Daniel smiled. “Let me guess; you’ve a lover you would have gain that profit.”
She sat straighter in her chair and looked down her nose at him. “No, I mean to have it myself.”
A bark of a laugh escaped Daniel before he caught himself and realized she was serious. “You’re serious.”
“I am.”
He laid his elbows on his chair arms and clasped his fingers over his belly. “You couldn’t possibly imagine you might be one to manage such a venture yourself. Besides being a woman, you’re a common whore.” He said it as matter-of-factly as if he were referring to the color of her hair, and she knew him well enough to understand that he meant it as harmlessly. It was a fact, and no getting around it.
“Yes, a common whore who is the mother of your only son. Surely that deserves some consideration”—here she allowed her voice to go a bit low and ominous—“particularly since you wish your relationship to him kept quiet.” She paused ever so briefly to allow her implication to sink in, and when there wasn’t a flicker of alarm from Daniel, she then pressed on in a newly bright and chipper voice. “Besides, I don’t expect to manage the theatre myself; Piers is my guardian now and he will be charged with those things more easily accomplished by those possessing male parts.”
“You want me to loan him money so he can hand it over to you. Then he will take responsibility for your use of it, yes?”
She shrugged. “In essence. Had I a husband it would be the same. He will lease the building and hire out the work to restore it. I will manage the troupe itself and guide the business to its success. Piers will handle the money, take legal responsibility, and thereby give the appearance of control over the venture.”
“And what will you do if I decline your business proposition?”
“More than likely I will spin out the next year or so in my present state, then become a burden on my son, who so far has been unsuccessful at finding gainful employment and runs a risk of being seduced by the criminal element, for which life he is so unsuited as to find himself dead or incarcerated within a very short time, and then I will be left to my own devices as a whore and at my age must starve in that profession. So, without your help, within two or three years you will find me dead in the gutter somewhere, I imagine. My life will end in poverty, for lack of assistance from the man whose son I bore for love rather than money. A story that, should it come to light—and I can assure you the chance is great—would shock and dismay your wife.” The threat was entirely bluff, but Daniel didn’t necessarily know that, and whatever alarm he received from it was most deserved after his behavior at their last meeting.
Daniel thought it over for a moment. Suzanne thought she might have seen a small blush of shame on his cheeks, or perhaps ire, or it could have just been a red light from the fire. But he said, “How much money do you require, and why do you think I have any in any case?”
That made her chuckle, and bounce a little in her seat. “Oh come, Daniel. It’s been nearly a year since you returned with the king. Surely your business interests have paid something. When we last spoke, you said you had lands and a patent, with the promise of more.”
His head bowed slightly in agreement. “I confess I’m better off than I was this time last year.”
“Then you must see the advantage in becoming a patron of the theatre, something the king supports and encourages.”
“There you are again, looking for another patron.”
“Indeed I am, and this time my proposal is entirely legal, and moral as well. Let us all collapse from the shock of it! The king wishes for the theatre to thrive, and he and his brother are providing entertainment to those with money. I and my friends can bring similar pastimes to the commons in the setting they prefer. Dramatic art will flourish once more because of it. England will be known for its fine theatre enjoyed by all; we shall surpass even the smug, arrogant, self-satisfied French. I know it in my heart.”
“I like your enthusiasm, but again I ask: How much cash will this venture require?”
Only then did Suzanne realize her error in not learning the answer to that question before coming here. She’d not thought any further than just to know whether Daniel would be willing to talk to her at all; she hadn’t considered what to tell him if he proved willing to listen. Without hesitation, she invented a number and it leapt from her mouth.
“Five hundred and fifty pounds.”
Daniel blinked, and Suzanne’s heart sank. She must have asked for too much. “Or thereabouts,” she added. Still he was quiet, but he didn’t say no and only sat for a moment, considering.
Yes, considering. Suzanne’s heart lifted. He was considering giving her more than five hundred pounds. Father would have choked and turned purple at being asked for so much money. He certainly would never have had that much available. But Daniel was in an entirely different class. He thought of himself as barely solvent, but only because he compared himself to the king. He surely had the resources to help her. Her head then went light. Dizzy, that she might have that much from Daniel.
But then he said, “I don’t know whether I can spare it all at once.”
Quickly she replied, “Half to start. To lease the theatre and make repairs on it. The poor thing has been neglected horribly these last two decades. I think I can bring together the actors and pay them later. Within a year or two the venture might even be self-supporting.”
“And Piers will accomplish the business tasks?”
“Other men will speak more comfortably to him than to me. Were I to attempt to do it myself I would spend all my time proving I cannot be taken advantage of. Piers would only have to prove himself once; I would be challenged every minute of every hour of every day, ad infinitum. The job will simply be easier for him than for me.”
“Of course, everything will be in his name. He uses one, then?”
“Of course. Anyone who asks is told his mother is a widow. Most don’t bother to ask.” Few asked because they already knew her history and assumed Piers was the son of an anonymous client at Maddie’s brothel, and she wondered whether that might be the reason he’d not found a position. It briefly crossed her mind that Daniel might be undermining Piers, but she set the thought aside. Daniel might have no interest in his son, but surely couldn’t wish him harm.
“And what name would that be?”
Suzanne blinked, surprised. She hadn’t realized she’d never told Daniel the name their son went by. “Surely I mentioned it in my letters.”
Daniel only shook his head and waited for a reply to his question.
Suzanne nearly stammered, unhappy the issue had come up at this most unfortunate moment. “Naturally he uses Thornton; you’ve never shown any indication you might acknowledge him. He calls himself Piers Thornton after me, though the name is meaningless. You certainly wouldn’t want him to call himself Stockton, lest your wife hear rumors.”
“Of course.” Daniel was examining his thumbnail and appeared to have drifted off the discussion. This reaction puzzled her; everything she knew of him made her think he wouldn’t care, but now he seemed to. Now she didn’t know what to think.
“He could hardly have presumed to call himself Stockton. As you said, you wish to keep him secret and therefore cannot acknowledge him. By law he is not your son, and so the name he uses has no bearing because it is false. By your statement you wish his paternity to remain unknown, so it’s far better he call himself Thornton.”
Daniel considered that and grunted in grudging agreement. “Well, in any case, Piers must handle the money, no matter what he calls himself. Three hundred pounds to start. That’s all I have for him, so he must secure the theatre building and make it useable with that m
uch.”
In a sudden burst of energy, he sat up in his chair and grabbed the arms of it. “And, come! There is another thing we must address. Someone else to convince as you have me.” He rose from his seat, took her hand, and drew her with him. “We will need the goodwill of the king.”
Suzanne’s heart leapt up and choked her. The king! She hesitated and hung back. “Why? What will you tell him? Why must we go to him?”
“You wouldn’t wish me to be in conflict with the king, would you? How would it be if I were to sponsor a theatre when he and the duke are both doing that very same thing? Surely you realize he must have control over what plays are performed. He cannot have actors acting willy-nilly about the city, without sanction from his majesty and control of the crown.”
“And you wish to speak to him now? This very moment?”
“Now is all we have. There is no such thing as later. And if he declines permission, then that will be that and there will be no further need of discussion of this venture.” He settled her terribly ordinary cloak about her shoulders, then donned his own, and his broad-brimmed hat from which flowed an enormous red plume. “Come, let us catch him early in his day, before the crush of courtiers, while he is still in a pleasant mood.”
Now Suzanne saw his plan. He would take her to the king and let Charles tell her no, so he wouldn’t have to say it himself. As he guided her from his rooms she blinked back disappointment. But as anger rose to take its place she swallowed that also because she realized what Daniel said was true. There was no theatre without the king, no business without his approval, and so they must petition him. The sooner the better. She nodded and allowed Daniel to draw her along with him to the presence chamber so the king could tell her to go home.
Daniel walked much faster than Suzanne and pulled her along at a slight trot across the courtyard, through some rooms and out to another courtyard. They crossed it at the same pace while palace denizens and workers stared at their hurried passage. They entered another stone building and breezed past the guard with no more than a nod of recognition to the earl. Up some stairs and to the opposite end of a great gallery lined with windows, through another door, and they were finally halted by a row of more guards with pikes just before the entrance to what appeared to be the royal presence chamber.
One of the guards came forward to hear Daniel’s business with the king, then disappeared deeper into the palace. Perhaps a minute later he returned with news that the king would hear him, and Daniel drew Suzanne onward.
Just inside the chamber loitered a cluster of nobles in private conversation that didn’t seem to involve their sovereign. Dressed in the height of French fashion, they wore the long wigs in vogue because the king never let himself be seen without one. Everyone knew his hair was thinning badly, and he never left his privy chamber without a prodigious head cover with great masses of dark curls that draped over his shoulders, down his back, and over his chest halfway to his waist. His court, filled with older men whose hair was gray and thinning, were happy to emulate him, so enormous wigs could be seen nearly everywhere in London these days. Even Daniel, whose hair was thick and not yet entirely gray, wore an elaborate wig befitting his rank.
She recognized each man as a former client from the early days of the Commonwealth, when everyone had been much younger. Names escaped her. She had never kept track of names because even if she was given one it was usually false. She remembered faces according to their preferences, physical oddities, and limitations both physical and emotional.
She remembered the tall one with a bright red wig required her to moo like a cow when he was in his throes. He paid her extra because her animal noises were so enthusiastic and “realistic.” She dared not contemplate what that might mean.
The one who appeared in control of the conversation at hand, whose brocade jacket glittered in the sunlight streaming through the window, had never taken much of her time but paid well regardless. She thought him a true gentleman and remembered him warmly.
The third was a vague memory of those days, though she was certain she’d seen his face before. The three glanced at her as she passed, and she could see not one of them recognized her.
Good.
Voices of children came from ahead, and as Daniel and Suzanne entered a well-lit chamber with large, wide-open windows, she realized the king was entertaining some of his children by mistresses he’d kept in France. Neither of those women seemed present at the moment, but several courtiers watched as two boys of eleven or twelve played at sword fighting with wooden swords, chasing each other about the room with great noise of shouting and laughter. Their governesses observed from the side, laughing and applauding as if they were the boys’ mothers, and Charles laughed with his sons as he lounged on a great wooden chair raised on a dais. He tossed advice to whichever boy was losing at the moment, and egged them both on with an enthusiasm Suzanne had never seen in a father toward his sons. Particularly her own father had never enjoyed any of his children this well, not even her brothers. A warmth crept into her heart, and she was gladdened to see a ruler who appreciated his family.
Daniel drew her onward by the arm, past the cluster of courtiers who appeared not to notice their passing, but Suzanne could sense their attention on her like the heat of a large fire. This close to the king, they now noticed her ordinary costume and lack of fine jewelry. She was a commoner, and there was no hiding it.
She then realized she was hanging back, which surprised her because it was unlike her. Very little frightened her, so she shouldn’t be intimidated by even Charles. There was nothing magical or immortal about him. What made this encounter different from meeting anyone else was that this was the king. What made the king different was that he wielded a great deal of power and could take things away as readily as he could give them. Suzanne was accustomed to being in the presence of men who had more power than she, because most men were more powerful than most women, particularly herself. Though she currently lived in more or less comfortable circumstance, just then she had nothing much that could be taken from her beyond her freedom and her life. Since she had no reason to believe she would be thrown into the Tower of London and beheaded even if she misspoke today, she had nothing to fear from the king. At the moment, to her, he was little more than a richly dressed man who was in a position to make her dream come true, which would surely be good. Either he would or he wouldn’t, and neither case was life-or-death. All fear fell from her and she began to imagine the king would give her what she wanted.
She picked up her pace as she and Daniel were announced. The king turned a genial smile on them, and Daniel immediately halted his approach for a deep bow. Suzanne followed suit with the deepest curtsey she could manage without any practice. She faltered in her balance, but counted herself fortunate not to trip to the floor like a collapsed tent. A breeze lifted curtains at the window, and she welcomed it for taking the sudden sweat that beaded on her brow. She regained her balance and stood as straight as she could once she stopped teetering.
“Greetings to my loyal Throckmorton! How fare you today?”
“Well, your majesty. And I hope the day has treated yourself well.”
“What brings you to me this fine morning?” Morning had passed at least an hour ago, but Suzanne felt her heart lift that the king seemed in a good mood.
Daniel replied, “Please forgive the unscheduled visit, your grace. I have an urgent and private petition that should require but a moment of your valuable time.”
Charles had been caught somewhat in disarray with his coat thrown across a chair and the neck of his shirt quite open, but he didn’t seem to mind much. He waved off the apology as if it were nothing to barge in on the monarch during a personal moment with his children, closest advisors, and immediate servants. “Dear Daniel, what is the matter at hand?” The breeze lifted a curl in his tall, heavy brown wig, and he brushed it back. It lifted out of place once more, and he tucked it back in so it would stay. It appeared a bit odd, stuck in like t
hat, but it apparently didn’t annoy the king anymore and nobody was likely to tell him he looked odd.
“I wish to petition your majesty for a patent to stage performances of plays within the city.”
“Plays? Theatre?” It was a fairly unusual request, and his majesty might have thought it too minor for consideration. But the mention of theatre brought a light of curiosity to his eye.
“Yes, your majesty.”
Charles’s smile dimmed, and he had the beady look of a crow eyeing a fresh carcass. “You’re aware, Daniel, there are already troupes sanctioned by myself and my brother. The first theatre is under construction and there are plans for a second. We’ve no need for a third.”
“Yes, your majesty, the nobility are well served by the king’s and the duke’s fine players. There is no theatre that is to be preferred over the royal troupes, for they bring the best from Paris and make it their own. However, there are many in London who could benefit from a theatre more suited to commons. Less sophisticated folk, who might not understand the new plays. A friend…that is, the son of this woman here, whom I’ve known for many years, wishes to address this need among the commons. That they might also enjoy performances of sanctioned plays.”
The puzzlement deepened, and the king straightened his seat in the chair to lean forward as if to hear better. “Why can they not pay their penny and stand with the groundlings in our theatre once the duke’s troupe has their public venue? Or else be happy with the commedia dell’arte, which is more to their liking and understanding in any case? What interest could the masses have in serious theatre?”
Suzanne knew she had to reply to that, for Daniel wouldn’t answer well. “Your majesty, if I may…” The king thought for a moment, then nodded that she might speak. “Your majesty, perhaps it’s not well known that the commons have a thirst for the older plays. Ones well established in the culture of England and the monarchy. Shakespeare. Marlowe. But especially Shakespeare, whose work has surely been performed somewhere every day for more than a hundred years, even during the dark days of the Commonwealth. A troupe offering those plays to the masses, and the lower theatre as well, would be a service to the city and therefore an advantage to the crown.”
The Opening Night Murder Page 10