Death at the Beggar's Opera

by Deryn Lake

  The music, Bonny Dundee, came to an end and the orchestra struck up a new refrain, a longways dance, Would You Have a Young Virgin. Everyone led their partners into position and it was then that the Apothecary saw Coralie Clive, flushed and laughing, and dancing with none other than that celebrated young rake, the Duke of Richmond. Jealous yet torn, because Richmond was someone whom John held in high regard and deep affection, he turned all his attention onto Elizabeth Fielding, who was obviously enjoying the rare pleasure of being able to dance.

  The music changed again, this time to Maid in the Moon, a round for six. There was a general shuffle about and the Apothecary found that his immediate partner had gone to join a circle of others and he was now standing with Sir Gabriel Kent, Serafina de Vignolles, Samuel Swann, Amelia Verity and Coralie Clive.

  ‘Well,’ said Serafina, slanting her eyes at the others, ‘this could be a reflection of our situation, do you not think?’

  Amelia looked blank. ‘What do you mean, Comtesse?’

  ‘Why, that this dance reflects our lives. When I first met Sir Gabriel, Samuel and John, we formed a quadrille as we slowly discovered the truth, each about the other. Now here we are, six of us, who no doubt will meet again and continue to dance round one another as time goes by.’

  Sir Gabriel spoke, looking down at his fellow guests from his commanding height, his heavily powdered nine-storey wig making him seem taller than ever. ‘My dear Serafina, what a pretty conceit. Is it your contention that the weaving threads of fate are, then, but a dance?’

  ‘And that life is a series of steps, some of which might make us fall over, whilst others send us leaping on?’ asked Samuel. Then, not waiting for an answer, added, ‘I think it is a splendid notion, don’t you, Amelia?’

  The milliner smiled happily and nodded, the faintest hint of deepening colour appearing in her cheeks as the fiddle struck the opening chords.

  Emboldened by the punch and the brilliant surroundings and the generally heightened atmosphere, John took Coralie’s hand in his.

  ‘And what about you, Miss Clive? Will you continue to dance in our circle of friends or, indeed, in my circle? Or will you seek other partners?’

  Her green eyes were as bright as the mistletoe berries which garlanded the mirrors and cascaded down from the chandeliers.

  ‘That remains to be seen, does it not?’

  ‘And what do those words mean exactly?’

  ‘That we are both young yet and have a great deal of living to do.’

  ‘I see.’

  The music was starting up and John glanced quickly round the room. The Martins were still together, as were the Delaneys, sitting out the dance but surveying their guests with obvious pleasure. Melanie Vine, standing in her circle, had Jack Masters and Tom Bowdler on either side of her, Mr Garrick doing likewise with Madame Violetta and Peg Woffington. That loveable fox, Joe Jago, had appeared from nowhere and was now partnering Mrs Fielding. While sitting in a high chair besides his hosts, the Blind Beak was tapping his foot and had turned his bandaged eyes towards the musicians, obviously enjoying their lively sound.

  There was only one missing face in all that bright company; the beautiful, haunted countenance of Elizabeth Harcross. John had never questioned his parent, not feeling it his right to do so, about what had happened when the terrible news concerning her children had finally reached her, as inevitably it must. All the Apothecary knew was that she had been missing for several days from the downstairs rooms in Nassau Street, confined to her bedroom, and that his father had spent a great deal of time talking to and comforting her. Finally, though, the unhappy woman had moved back to Kensington, leaving Sir Gabriel strangely quiet and pensive.

  John was aware that a tactful interval had elapsed before his father had gone to call, only to find the house empty, all the furnishings gone. And then a letter from Mrs Harcross had arrived from Italy telling Sir Gabriel that she had gone to live with an invalid cousin, whom she was intending to nurse for the rest of his days in order to atone for all her past wickedness.

  ‘A ruined life! How sad,’ said John, remembering both her and her daughter with a desperate sense of pity.

  ‘What do you mean? Your life is ruined because we are both still young?’ Coralie exclaimed, astonished.

  He seized her round the waist and executed the initial sequence of steps. ‘No, just for a moment I was thinking about something else.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Do you know, it suddenly occurs to me that at long last we are even.’

  ‘Even?’ she repeated, looking still more puzzled.

  ‘You saved my life once and I, though somewhat clumsily I admit, also saved yours.’

  ‘Then are we not supposed to be responsible for one another? Is that not the superstition?’

  John shook his head. ‘I really don’t know.’ He paused, then drew her closer still, ignoring the others who by now were dancing in the centre. ‘But perhaps when we have done all this living you talk about we might be able to find out,’ he said softly.

  Coralie Clive regarded him with a quizzical expression.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she said as, with the music gathering momentum and the lights from the chandelier glistening in their eyes, the two of them started to dance.

  Historical Note

  John Rawlings, Apothecary, was born circa 1731, though his actual parentage is somewhat shrouded in mystery. However, by 1754 he had emerged from obscurity when on 22 August he applied to be made Free of the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries. After two unsuccessful attempts to be made Free, he eventually became a Yeoman of the Society in March, 1755, giving his address as number two Nassau Street. His house still stands and can be found in Gerrard Place in Chinatown. Well over a hundred years later, this was the address of H. D. Rawlings Ltd., Soda Water Manufacturers, proving conclusively that John Rawlings was probably the first apothecary to manufacture carbonated waters in this country. After some early research on him, his ebullient personality continued to haunt me, and I brought him into the spotlight, in the first book in this series, Death in the Dark Walk.