Death in the Dark Walk

by Deryn Lake

  ‘Whatever for? It seems to me that the world’s gone crazed about the place. First you ask me if I’ve been for a visit when you know I’ve lain at death’s door for weeks. And now the Blind Beak wants me to meet him there. Well I’m damned if I will.’

  John shrugged his shoulders. ‘The choice is yours, of course.’

  The Comtesse pursed her lips. ‘And what is the connection between yourself and John Fielding, pray? I thought you were an apothecary and now it appears you are his paid lackey.’

  ‘Lackey, yes. Paid, no,’ John replied shortly. ‘The fact of the matter is the Beak asked me to assist him with the investigation, to be his eyes, as it were.’

  ‘And is that why you came here? Under false pretences?’

  ‘In a way. Though it was true I had heard about your illness and wanted to help you. That much was genuine.

  ‘You’re a fraud, Mr Rawlings,’ said the Comtesse furiously, and snapped her fingers under his unsuspecting nose.

  They were very lovely fingers, strong, white and supple, and John found himself staring at them intently before he impetuously pulled them towards his mouth and kissed them, smiling crookedly as he did so.

  ‘Fraudster, trickster, call me what you will,’ he said. ‘Is there a single member of the human race who can claim to be exactly what they seem?’

  And, with that, he flourished his way out of the front door before the Comtesse de Vignolles had had a chance to say another word.

  The moment John set foot in his home in Nassau Street he sensed a stir of excitement in the atmosphere, and voices coming from the direction of Sir Gabriel’s study told him that indeed there was a visitor. Handing his hat to the footman, the Apothecary made his way straight there, pausing only to knock at the door politely.

  ‘Come in,’ said his father, and John walked into the room to discover, much to his surprise, that the guest was none other than his friend Samuel Swann, pink with importance and looking excessively earnest.

  ‘What’s to do?’ asked the Apothecary, astonished that his companion should be there during the day when he should by rights be in his Master’s workroom, where he was continuing as a journeyman until such time as he could afford to set up on his own.

  ‘It’s Millie,’ said Samuel in doom-laden tones. ‘She is in peril, I fear.’

  Resisting a terrible urge to laugh, John took a seat, not daring to catch Sir Gabriel’s eye. His father, however, seemed more than capable of coping with the situation. Pulling a watch from his pocket, he said, ‘I have invited Samuel to dine with us so that he can explain exactly what has happened. Fortunately, you have arrived just in time, my boy. I suggest that we foregather in the parlour in ten minutes. Now, I must see to my toilette if you will forgive me.’ And he left the room.

  Determined not to get involved in conversation until they had sat down to dine, John got to his feet. ‘That gives me just enough time to change. I was out all night at Mr Fielding’s and feel the worse for it. I’ll ring for some sherry for you, Sam.’ And he, too, withdrew, still barely concealing a smile.

  Sitting beneath the gracious portrait of his mother some while later, waiting until the servants had served the first course, John felt fairly certain he could guess the cause of his friend’s agitated fervour. Millie had obviously been told that she must now enter the ranks of the whores and was resisting, as many an innocent had done before her, and sure enough, as soon as the cover had been set, Samuel burst into agitated speech.

  ‘I went to the house in Leicester Fields the other night, to continue investigations on behalf of John,’ he added hastily, seeing Sir Gabriel’s raised brows, ‘and there Millie told me such a tale of woe. She has been asked to join the other girls as a . . . a . . .’ His voice choked over the word and John looked at him in genuine surprise. It simply had not occurred to him that his friend did more than fancy the little maid, but now he was not so certain.

  Sir Gabriel seemed to have come to the same conclusion, for he said smoothly, ‘This is obviously of great concern to you, my boy.’

  Samuel’s neck went the colour of poppies. ‘It concerns me that any girl should be forced into such a life against her will.’

  Sir Gabriel made no comment, his fork toying with a morsel of fish, and it was left to John to say, ‘There’s rather more to it than that, I imagine. None of us likes to see a young woman enter a life of degradation but you have taken this particular case to heart, I believe.’

  Samuel looked wildly confused. ‘Well, I . . .’

  ‘Oh out with it, man,’ John went on, half irritated, half sorry for his oldest friend. ‘You’re infatuated with her, aren’t you?’

  Samuel braced his broad shoulders. ‘More than that, I think. I feel that I have fallen in love.’

  ‘How long have you known the young woman?’ Sir Gabriel asked casually.

  ‘Well, only a few weeks, to be honest. But I was drawn to Millie from the moment I saw her.’

  ‘Is she the girl you mentioned the night we all met at Marybone?’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘So you fell in love at first sight, presumably?’

  ‘I am certain I did.’

  ‘Hum,’ said Sir Gabriel, and there was a fraught silence.

  ‘What do you intend to do?’ John asked, feeling some of his friend’s wretchedness, his irritation and amusement gone by now.

  ‘That’s just the devil of it, I don’t really know. I have no proper place of my own to take her to, and I most certainly couldn’t afford to put Millie in lodgings.’ Samuel turned to Sir Gabriel. ‘I had wondered, Sir, if you might be looking for a servant.’ He went an even brighter shade of red. ‘I know it is most damnably forward of me to ask such a thing, but I really am rather desperate.’

  Sir Gabriel put down his hovering fork and delicately sipped his wine. ‘To be honest with you, Samuel, I am not. The household complement is full.’

  ‘Oh I see,’ said the younger man dejectedly.

  ‘Furthermore,’ John’s father continued, ‘it would put you in an awkward position, would it not, if I were to engage the girl in such a capacity?’

  ‘I don’t quite follow you, Sir.’

  ‘You are my son’s friend, your father is my friend, though somewhat distanced since he has moved out of London to Islington. If, as you say, Millie is the woman of your choice, then it would hardly be fitting for you as someone to whom our doors are never closed, to pay court to one of my servants.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I approve entirely of these rigid structures in society,’ said John.

  ‘Whether one approves or whether one doesn’t, the fact remains that they are there.’

  Samuel put down his eating implements and stared glumly at his food. ‘Then what shall I do?’

  ‘It is obvious that you need to act quickly,’ Sir Gabriel went on, ‘so I suggest you get the girl out of her sordid surroundings as soon as you can. I can certainly put her up as a guest for a week or so, which should give you enough time to discuss the whole matter with your father.’

  John smiled, thinking what a wily creature his parent was. No doubt, Master Swann would disapprove violently of his son’s impetuous choice and try to persuade him otherwise. So at least by removing Millie from imminent harm, Sir Gabriel would allow time for the dust to settle before any further complications came about.

  ‘That would be tremendously good of you, Sir,’ Samuel was saying enthusiastically.

  ‘Think nothing of it. My feeling is that the sooner your father is involved the better. The wisest course is for the three of you – you, he and Millie – to discuss the future sensibly.’

  ‘He probably won’t approve of her,’ Samuel remarked pessimistically.

  ‘That,’ Sir Gabriel answered crisply, ‘remains to be seen.’

  It had grown unseasonably dark as they spoke and, glancing out of the window, John saw to his surprise that the street outside was grey with mist. ‘Are you going to fetch Millie tonight?’ he asked his friend.


  ‘Yes, indeed. There is no time to lose.’

  ‘Then I’ll come with you. The weather looks threatening, not fit for a man to be out on his own in. Besides, I might be able to cause a diversion while you smuggle the girl away.’

  ‘What a good plan,’ Sir Gabriel said, nodding.

  ‘Then shall we leave as soon as we can?’

  ‘Yes,’ John answered, ‘let’s put action to the words.’

  As he spoke, a chill of excitement tempered by an inexplicable feeling of fear engulfed him and he shivered as he went to fetch his outdoor clothes.

  By the time they left Nassau Street to walk in the direction of Leicester Fields, it seemed more like November than June. The mist had turned into a clammy swirling fog and John thought that, had it not been for the rescue of a harmless virgin, likely to be defiled at any moment, nothing would have induced him to have left the house. It was a night for footpads and blackguards to be abroad, and the Apothecary was never more glad than to see the glow of the linkman’s torch as he walked steadily in front of them. And then all of a sudden the light was gone. He and Samuel had reached the open space of Leicester Fields and had walked into a rolling ocean of mist.

  ‘I’m lost,’ said his friend’s voice, right beside him. ‘Which way is it?’

  ‘Over there,’ answered John, striking out bravely, to become aware only a moment or two later that he was alone, that Samuel had disappeared into that grey sea and there was no-one to keep him company as he traversed the chilling stretch of land that lay before him.

  ‘Samuel,’ he called, but his voice bounced back at him, as if off a wall, and there was no reply.

  Straining his ears, the Apothecary listened for any sign of life but could only hear the beating of his heart and the singing of his blood.

  ‘Samuel,’ he called again, more loudly. And then John was aware of a sound behind him and he swung round, a greeting on his lips. Thus, the hammer-blow to his guts. came without warning, harsh and terrible as it knocked the wind clean out of him.

  ‘Oh God,’ John gasped as he doubled over in pain. Then the clammy air stirred as another blow came out of the murk, this to the side of his head. Without a sound, the Apothecary dropped to his knees and the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was the sound of a woman screaming in terror, quite close to where he lay.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  He had not regained consciousness fully until he reached Nassau Street. Before that, John had been vaguely aware of being thrust into a hackney and put to lie on one of the seats, opposite the limp figure of a girl. He had also taken in the fact that Samuel was with them, large and capable, lifting him and the young woman to safety. Then finally had come a sea of willing hands, helping him through his own front door and up to his bedchamber, where John had summoned up sufficient energy to speak to Sir Gabriel, who hovered over him like an anxious elegant black moth.

  ‘Father! What happened?’ he had asked painfully, aware that there was a trickle of blood drying by his mouth.

  ‘You were attacked in the fog. Samuel found you lying unconscious.’

  ‘And the girl?’

  ‘It’s Millie. She heard a commotion and rushed out of the brothel to see what was happening. The next second she, too, was set upon.’

  ‘By the same assailant?’

  ‘So it would seem. And yet, my son, the motive is obscure. You see, you were not robbed. I have been through your pockets and nothing is missing at all.’

  John sat up in bed, wincing as his head throbbed agonisingly. ‘I fear that the murderer is growing alarmed.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Sir Gabriel, blanching a little.

  ‘I was warned by Mr Fielding to be on the alert. I feel that now the invitations are out for the reconstruction of the crime, it has grown imperative for the killer to make sure I am silenced.’

  ‘My God,’ said his father. ‘We must arm ourselves. I shall see to it at once.’

  John smiled weakly. ‘Then I can rest assured. For at the moment I’m too feeble to fire a shot in my own defence.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ answered Sir Gabriel softly, ‘for whoever it is who is coming after you will first have to deal with me.’

  Then, having poured his son a draft of poppy juice, the Apothecary’s father waited by his bedside until John fell into a deep dark sleep from which he did not wake until the evening of the following day.

  The weather had changed again while he slept. Now it was unbearably hot and oppressive and every window of number two Nassau Street appeared to have been thrown open in order to get a current of air flowing through the house. Trying to get out of bed, John found that he was weak as a baby and could do no more than crawl back beneath the covers and ring his bedside bell for attention. To which summons Sir Gabriel came so quickly that his son suspected he had been sitting in the servants’ quarters for hours, awaiting that very signal.

  ‘Ah, you are awake at last,’ he said, looking down at John benignly.

  ‘How long have I been asleep?’

  ‘A night and a day. Even the girl Millie awoke before you did.’

  ‘How is she after such a terrible experience?’

  ‘Rather subdued, but then that is only to be expected. Samuel called earlier today, which raised her spirits somewhat.’

  ‘Did she see who attacked her, by any chance?’

  ‘She said it was a man, that is all.’

  ‘Then she observed him more clearly than I did.’

  ‘Obviously, and is therefore a vital witness. For that reason I have been trying to impress upon the foolish child that it is essential she come to the reconstruction, for she may notice something that you do not. However, she is not happy about doing so.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I think she is afraid, poor soul. Anyway, enough of that. I shall arrange for a table to be set up in here so that we may have supper together and meanwhile I shall go and change. I am in the mood for déshabillé.’

  John smiled broadly. ‘That sounds splendid.’

  ‘May I ask Millie to step in and have a word with you?’

  ‘By all means.’

  He had thought her pretty when he had seen her in the brothel. But now, washed and dressed with care and without the terrible signs of fatigue about her, the girl had assumed the charm of a delicate piece of china. In fact, other than for a bruise on her forehead, she seemed quite perfect.

  ‘Oh Master John,’ she said, dropping a curtsey in the doorway, ‘how glad I am to find you better.’

  The Apothecary fingered his head carefully. ‘It was a damnable hard knock. I get the feeling that whoever did it might well have wanted to lay me out for good.’

  ‘You mean . . .?’

  ‘Finish me off. Millie, how much did you notice of the attacker?’

  ‘Not a lot really. It was very foggy. Anyway, it all happened so quickly after I heard you shouting.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware that I did.’

  ‘Oh yes. You let out a great cry and I came running out of the door to see what was afoot – and then the person hit me.’

  ‘I’ll need you at Vaux Hall,’ John said urgently, ‘I really will.’

  The forget-me-not eyes brimmed. ‘But I don’t want to go. I’m afeared for him to see me again.’

  ‘I’m not exactly looking forward to it myself, but it’s got to be done and that’s all there is to it. Anyway, Samuel will be there. He’ll look after you.’

  Millie made a reluctant face. ‘Must I?’

  ‘Yes,’ John answered firmly, ‘you must.’

  Anything further the girl might have had to say about the matter was cut short by the arrival of Sir Gabriel, a sight to daunt a far mightier mortal than she. Clad in a black silk night-rail that swept the floor, a black turban woven about his head, a diamond brooch pinned casually within its folds, John’s father loomed like some legendary figure from the Arabian Nights.

  ‘Oh Sir,’ she said, dropping a respectful salute.


  ‘Supper has been laid for you in the small parlour, my child,’ he said kindly, ‘for I would be private with my son.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘So, good night to you my girl, and remember what I said about securing your window.’

  ‘Oh I will, Sir Gabriel. You can depend on it.’

  ‘What’s this?’ said John.

  ‘A mere safety precaution. We want no trespassers during the dark hours, do we Millie?’ His golden eyes flicked over her knowingly.

  ‘Indeed we don’t. Sir,’ she answered, and turning on her heel went meekly about her business.

  It seemed to John that his father had kept both the supper and the conversation deliberately light, for they supped on salad, sipped champagne and talked trivia. And yet he, who knew Sir Gabriel Kent so well, was aware of a tension in the magnificent being which, together with his dark clothes, made the Apothecary see the older man as a stalking panther, tensed for anything that might happen once night fell. None the less it was Sir Gabriel who drew the evening to a close, yawning and bidding John sleep well, yet securing the window personally before he left the room.

  Still suffering from the effects of the blow and the large dose of poppy juice, the Apothecary did indeed fall asleep almost straight away, only to dream that he saw the Masked Lady walking through the most bewildering of mazes. ‘Wait for me,’ be called out in the dream, and woke to find that not only was he mouthing the words but also that he was listening intently.

  There was absolute silence in the sleeping house, broken only by the distant tick of the great clock in the hall below, and yet John suddenly felt his spine tingle with fear. Somehow, even though he could hear nothing, a sixth sense told him that someone was creeping towards his room, someone who should not have been in the place at all. It would appear that Sir Gabriel’s security arrangements had not succeeded. Sitting bolt upright in the darkness, John prepared to defend himself as best he could. And then, from deep in the heart of the house, a door flew open and he heard his father’s voice call out, ‘Who’s there?’

  Not a mouse drew breath, not a creature moved, and yet John was aware of an easing of tension and knew that the danger was past. His door opened to reveal Sir Gabriel, till clad in his night-rail and turban, a candle in his hand.