Death in the Dark Walk

by Deryn Lake

  ‘Come with me, my son,’ he whispered, ‘you shall spend he rest of the night in my room.’

  ‘Was there an intruder?’ John whispered back.

  ‘I fear that the net is beginning to tighten about you,’ us father replied. ‘The sooner tomorrow night’s business over and done the better it will be for all of us.’

  ‘Is Millie quite safe?’

  His father nodded. ‘Perfectly. Now come with me.’ And he led John by the hand just as if he were still the child of long ago.

  Despite the upset, the Apothecary spent the rest of the night comfortably, and the next morning, the day of the re-construction having finally come, set off, as had been previously arranged, to visit the Principal Magistrate in the Public Office. Walking briskly, John arrived at Bow Street just after the Court had risen but, thankfully, before John Fielding had sat down to dine.

  The Blind Beak received his visitor in the spacious room above the Public Office, Elizabeth and Mary Ann buzzing in and out in a very companionable manner as the two men sat down to partake of sherry.

  ‘So is all prepared, Sir?’ John said, somewhat apprehensively.

  ‘Yes, indeed. Mr Tyers has co-operated and a notice has gone up that the Gardens are closed to the public tonight. The Mesdames were not so helpful but the brothel, too, will not be opening.’

  ‘Why?’ asked John, surprised.

  ‘I thought it a wise precaution to invite all the whores. There is just a chance that one of them killed Elizabeth Harper. I have tried to leave no stone unturned.’

  ‘And what about the Comtesse and the Squire?’

  ‘The former has declined on the grounds of her health. The latter has agreed to accompany his son.’

  ‘And the rest?’

  ‘They have all been ordered to come, Mr Rawlings, even the peers of the realm. It will be in their best interests to do so. If not, they can be apprehended and tried for contempt.’

  ‘So you are confident that everyone, even the apprentice, will be present?’

  ‘If he is hidden somewhere amongst their number, yes. If the lad was a stranger, no. We cannot cast our net that wide.’

  ‘And how do you propose to arrange the evening, Sir?’

  ‘I have requested that the company should dress in the clothes they wore on the night of the murder. Could you take note of that, by the way? When everyone has arrived I will ask them to foregather before the bandstand and from there I shall make an announcement asking people to take their seats in the boxes they inhabited earlier. Then the evening will proceed just as it did previously.’

  ‘Until when?’

  ‘Until the moment, Mr Rawlings, when you notice someone not in the place where they said they were. Or perhaps when somebody else sees something not quite right. Of those present not all will have been lying, and those who were telling the truth may yet prove valuable witnesses.’ The blind eyes turned towards John. ‘But be sure to look out for yourself, my young friend. I received a letter from your father this morning telling me about the attack upon your person and his suspicion that there was someone stalking the corridors of your very home. Because of this, it is my intention to put one of my best men to act as your shadow.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir. It has been a little unnerving.’

  ‘An understatement, that.’ The Blind Beak deftly poured another sherry, his fingers acting as feelers. ‘Now, tonight, you will arrive by water with Samuel Swann, together with your father and your house guest. I have specifically requested that they accompany you.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir.’

  The Magistrate nodded but before he could speak Mrs Fielding put her head round the door. ‘Would you care to join us for dinner, Mr Rawlings?’ she asked cheerfully.

  ‘Thank you, no,’ answered John, finishing his sherry and rising to his feet. ‘I’d best be getting back.’

  Yet despite his calm manner, he suffered a wave of fear so strong that he wondered if he would ever survive the rest of the day, let alone the dangers of the night. Intent on bracing himself up, the Apothecary turned his footsteps towards his shop, his plan to mix himself a potion. Thus, walking briskly down Great and Little Hart Streets, he made his way through the alleyways into St Martin’s Lane.

  A sudden overwhelming love of life swept him and he stood stock still for a moment, enjoying the fierce, terrible stink of London. Everywhere there was chaos and disorder, vigour and flurry. He saw eating houses offering meals for a shilling, hackney coaches and carriages crowding narrow streets. John read strange and mysterious signs in shop windows: ‘Foreign liquors sold’, ‘Man for hire’, ‘Leave your Child for Education’. It was frightening, violent, and at the same time vastly reassuring, and in that moment John Rawlings, Apothecary of Shug Lane, despised the person who had deprived Elizabeth Harper of experiencing this tumultuous cacophony, however black-hearted the girl might once have been. So much so, that in the place of his former fear a steely resolve was born to find her murderer this very night and deliver him into the hands of justice.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was like a dream. All together, John, Samuel, Sir Gabriel Kent and Millie made their way in Sir Gabriel’s coach to the steps known as Hungerford Stairs. There, they hired a boatman to take them down stream to Vaux Hall Pleasure Gardens, drawing their cloaks about them as the Thames breeze rippled and whispered across the river, even on this finest of late June evenings.

  John sat in silence, staring at the stars, hardly able to believe that only four weeks had passed since he and Samuel, free only for a few hours from the yoke of apprenticeship, had made this very same journey, laughing and carefree and unaware of the dramatic event that lay awaiting them, an event which would draw one of them into its web and change his life for ever.

  In the same dreamlike manner, the boatman drew up at Vaux Hall Stairs and John saw that tonight, instead of the jostling throng of craft that usually heaved round their stony feet, there were only one or two other wherries at mooring, bobbing next to the Duke of Midhurst’s private barge. Reinforcing the Vaux Hall beadles at the landing stage stood several other hefty fellows, and the Apothecary guessed that Mr Fielding’s men must have arrived at the Gardens early in order to help keep order. This impression was further endorsed when, as Sir Gabriel Kent’s party went ashore, one of them stepped forward and said, ‘The Gardens are closed tonight, Sir. The Proprietor regrets any inconvenience caused.’

  ‘I am here at the invitation of Mr Fielding,’ John’s father replied, and received the answer, ‘Then please proceed.’

  The feeling of illusion, of unreality, deepened as, once again, John and Samuel went through the swing doors in the mundane entrance and down the dark passageway that led to paradise. But tonight this particular piece of heaven had become sinister, a thousand lamps lighting a handful of fallen angels, its great avenues and walkways empty and deserted, a chilling sight somehow.

  At the far end of the passage stood Joseph Jago, a spare quill behind his ear, another in his hand. With the aid of a portable ink well, held by an assistant, he was busy writing down the names of all who entered, then ticking them off a master list, also held by the junior clerk, who vas very young and very self-important and obviously quite overwhelmed by the circumstances in which he found himself.

  ‘Ah, Mr Rawlings,’ Joe said, on seeing John, ‘may I have the names of your companions please?’

  ‘This is my father, Sir Gabriel Kent, my friend Samuel Swann, who was with me that night, and his friend Miss Millie.’

  ‘Then please pass inside and make your way to the bandstand,’ Jago answered, and John suddenly found himself once more in the splendour of the Grand Walk, he statue of Aurora glinting as brightly as ever at the far end.

  It was almost impossible to comprehend how still the place was. Normally, with the orchestra playing and the cheerful buzz of a thousand voices, the Gardens were full of sound, drowning the natural noises of brook and birdsong. But tonight, John thought, he could have reached out and to
uched the silence with his hand, so intense was the quiet. In this highly imaginative state, the Apothecary felt as if he were participating in a carnival for the dead, as he made his way to the bandstand through the great echoing hush of the abandoned Pleasure Gardens.

  The Blind Beak was already in place, poised on the bandstand where Miss Burchell had stood when she had sung for the crowds below. Behind him, keeping herself to herself but clearly there to help her husband move through this unfamiliar territory, hovered Elizabeth Fielding. Glancing round, John saw that nearly all the principal players were gathered. Richmond was there with Henry Fox and Patty Rigby, who smiled and waved at the Apothecary. Terribly drawn and clearly ill at ease, the Duke of Midhurst stood close by.

  ‘Where’s the Masked Lady?’ asked John, gazing all around him.

  ‘She’s making an entrance now,’ his friend replied and quite involuntarily, despite the fact he was standing with Millie and should have known better, Samuel let out a whistle of admiration.

  Dressed just as she had been on the night of the murder, the mysterious beauty was sweeping towards them down the Grand Walk, a vision in red and gold. The edges of the Lady’s scarlet open robe were stitched with golden flowers, the centre of each one formed by a winking brilliant. The underskirt thus revealed was made of stiffened gold brocade, which shimmered and shone as she came nearer to the bandstand. A fan hung from her wrist on a golden chain, while on her head she wore the same red turban, the scarlet domino concealing her features as before. Despite the fact that her face was hidden, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she was the most exciting woman present.

  The Masked Lady drew level with John and he felt rather than saw her eyes turn towards him, then she flourished on, her heady perfume filling his nostrils, almost making him dizzy with its sensual impact.

  “Zounds,’ he muttered to Samuel, too low for either Sir Gabriel or Millie to hear. ‘Can you imagine spending one precious night with her?’

  But the time for small talk was over. From his place on the bandstand, Mr Fielding held up his hand for silence and the murmuring of the small crowd ceased.

  ‘My lords, ladies and gentlemen,’ said the Blind Beak in a resonant voice that seemed to echo throughout the Pleasure Garden’s empty acres, ‘the reason why I have asked you here tonight is to re-enact, as far as is possible, the series of events which culminated in the death of Elizabeth Harper. I hope that this will cause none of you any particular anguish or upset, but I believe we have now reached the point where no alternative course of action is open to us. In a few moments I am going to ask you all to return to the box which you occupied on the night of the killing. There, waiters will attend you and light refreshments will be served. The Duke of Midhurst will sit just where he did and will be accompanied by Miss Coralie Clive from Drury Lane Theatre, who will play the part of Elizabeth Harper.’

  There was a cry of distress from someone and Mr Fielding managed to combine the expressions of sympathy and sternness as the black bandage turned in the direction of the sound.

  ‘I realise that some of you may regard this as distasteful, but it is strictly necessary in order to remind all present of Miss Harper’s movements. As to the rest of tonight’s arrangements, after a while a bell will sound for the lighting of the Cascade. I would like everyone to proceed forward at that signal and take up your places exactly as before. After that, I ask you to await further instructions.’

  ‘And what about those of us who weren’t here?’ called out Ralph Leagrave. ‘What do you want us to do?’

  ‘Mr Tyers has put several large boxes at my disposal. I would ask those who were not present on the night of the murder to take your seats there.’

  ‘But surely, Sir,’ shouted someone bolder than the rest, ‘you should have invited everyone who was present to have been here. How do you know that the murderer is in the midst of this small gathering?’

  ‘I don’t,’ the Blind Beak replied succinctly. ‘I can only trust that with the help of you all we can establish, at least, those who are innocent of the crime.’

  ‘Humph!’ said Squire Leagrave.

  ‘One last thing,’ Mr Fielding went on, ignoring him. ‘I would request you to do precisely what you did that night. Change nothing and hide nothing. Furthermore it is expected that each and every one of you must signal loudly if you see anything that differs at all from the original.’

  His reproving blind stare swept the company and then the Principal Magistrate stepped aside to let Mr Tyers take his place.

  ‘Honoured patrons,’ declaimed the Proprietor in a beautifully modulated voice, ‘though this occasion is a most unhappy one, my staff will be on hand to serve you. Please do not hesitate to ask them for anything you need.’

  It was the most baleful soirée John had ever attended. Walking slowly, almost as if in a trance, the company broke up and went in the direction of the boxes, Sir Gabriel and Millie going off with the Fieldings, Samuel and John making for the same booth in which they had dined four weeks earlier. Next to them, ice-white and seeming on the verge of tears, sat the Duke of Midhurst with a delightful young woman of about twenty, who sparkled her gorgeous eyes in their direction before looking away.

  ‘This is awful,’ said Samuel miserably, ‘I can’t stop staring at her, just like poor dead Lizzie.’

  ‘It’s hateful,’ answered John. He snapped his fingers. ‘Waiter, a jug of the celebrated Vaux Hall punch. The Arrack,’ he added, seeing it was exactly the same man who had served them on the other occasion.

  Recognising them, the waiter smiled, despite the awful solemnity of the occasion, and came to a smart salute.

  Out of the corner of his eye, John saw that Miss Coralie Clive was consulting a fob watch and suggesting to the Duke that they strolled forth, she taking his arm. At this sign, Patty Rigby waved at an empty box opposite and went to take her place in it, just as she must have done when she had joined friends on the night of the murder. Nobody else moved and the Duke and Miss Clive were clearly visible making their way down the deserted Grand Walk, looking uncannily like Lizzie and her escort but for the fact that the actress was not kissing him.

  ‘I don’t like this situation at all,’ said Samuel, wiping his forehead and sinking a bumper of punch.

  ‘I only hope some good comes out of it.’

  The goldsmith lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Have you seen anyone remotely suspicious?’

  John shook his head. ‘No. Furthermore, if the apprentice is here, he’s certainly concealed himself cleverly.’

  ‘The only person present who’s obviously disguised is the Masked Lady. You don’t think . . .?’

  John smiled. ‘No, I don’t.’

  Samuel sighed. ‘I wonder when the wretched bell will go. It seems an age, waiting like this.’

  ‘I don’t suppose Mr Fielding will hold it indefinitely.’

  ‘I hope not. I swear to God one of the women will faint if this continues much longer.’

  John burst out laughing. ‘Women be damned! You don’t look too light-hearted yourself.’

  ‘I’m all right,’ Samuel answered with dignity, and sank another bumper in one.

  At that moment, with horrid clarity and sounding rather like the knell of doom, the bell rang. Startled, John and Samuel rose to their feet and joined the throng emerging from the boxes to make their way to the north side of the Gardens. Those who had not been present on the fatal night remained in their seats, with the exception of Mr Fielding who walked behind the crowd, led by his wife and Joe Jago. With a certain amount of pushing and shoving, people began to take their places before the curtained Cascade and John, very nervously, looked around.

  It was just as if time had gone in on itself, had completed a full circle, for there was the scene he had memorised come back to life. He saw the Duke of Richmond in his stunning blue coat, talking to his brother-in-law Henry Fox. Next to them, with the crowd and yet not quite of it, just as she had been on the fatal night, hovered the Masked La
dy. The Comte de Vignolles, standing not far from her, was giving her the same scrutiny he had then. Sulkily glaring, presumably because they were not making any money for once, the two old harpies in their silly identical dresses also looked her up and down. Right on the edge of the circle was a blob of green which John now identified as James Leagrave. He had seen someone there even then, though the face had not been distinct. It would appear in this instance, the Squire’s son had been absolutely truthful about where he stood.

  ‘Well, Mr Rawlings?’ said John Fielding, close to the Apothecary’s ear.

  ‘The apprentice lad is missing, Sir.’

  ‘Is he now?’ the Blind Beak answered contemplatively. ‘Are you sure?’

  Into his mind’s eye came the other picture and briefly, just before John lost it again, he was able to compare one with the other. Everyone was in place, just as they had been, with the exception of the owner of that small clear profile, a profile that somehow seemed suddenly familiar.

  ‘Yes. He’s not here, Sir.’

  Mr Fielding clapped his hands for silence. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the Cascade will now be lit and afterwards I would ask you to make your way to the place you visited next. Miss Clive will continue to play the part of Miss Harper and therefore those who spoke to the murdered girl must re-enact exactly what they did. Monsieur le Comte and Lord Midhurst quarrelled with her, Lord Richmond smiled and winked. Please repeat those actions. To assist you with the impression of walking amongst a crowd I shall ask those in the boxes to join the throng.’

  There was a general intake of breath, as if nobody wanted to participate in this next part, but for all that Samuel quietly left John’s side and went off in dogged and admiring pursuit of Coralie Clive, who headed down the Grand Cross Walk towards the main part of the Gardens. Somewhat disobligingly, the Lords Midhurst and Richmond followed at a distance, while Lucy Pink and Giles Collings set off hand in hand towards the Dark Walk. Comte Louis de Vignolles proceeded last of all. Suddenly finding himself alone, John strode out in the direction of the Grand Walk, his ultimate destination, loath though he was even to have to think about it, the spot where the murder had taken place.