A Disappearance in Drury Lane

by Ashley Gardner

  I turned around to find her fully dressed, her back to me. I pulled the placket together over her slender spine, hiding the angry welts on her dark skin, and competently did up the buttons.

  She grinned at me when she turned around. “You’re skilled at that, aren’t you? I knew you were one for the ladies.”

  I did not answer as I escorted her out and down the stairs. The landlord met us at the bottom, his lips pushed out in a surly expression.

  “Ye owe me for the room.”

  Felicity took a firmer hold of my arm. “I already paid you, you greedy pig.”

  His lips pushed out further. “That gent was a lord. If he brings the law down on me place, I’ll be finding you, girl. And you.” He switched his glare to me.

  I dug into my pocket, fished out the last of my coins, and dropped them into his hand. “For your trouble,” I said. “If the lordship bothers you, tell him to call upon Captain Lacey. I’ll make certain he does you no harm.”

  The landlord eyed the gleaming silver on his palm, and then he closed his hand around it and spun away, as though fearing I’d take it from him again. He returned to his taps and completely ignored us.

  I led Felicity out into the night. The street was freezing, her wrap was thin, and she clung to me.

  “If you’re in the business of handing out coin, Captain, you can pass some my way. He never paid me.”

  “Sorry, that was the end of my money. Let us get you home.”

  Felicity halted, her hand dropping from my arm. “Not to your posh lady’s in Mayfair again. I’ve had enough of toffs to last me a lifetime. And I ain’t going anywhere near Mr. Denis.”

  “Your own rooms,” I said. “They should be safe enough now.”

  That she agreed to. We did not talk as she led me up the streets and through Drury Lane to the narrow passage to her lodgings. It was far too cold to speak, the wind carrying away any breath.

  Felicity had recovered her spirits by the time she took me upstairs to her cold rooms and shut the door. “You can stay all night if you like. You need someplace warm to lay your head, since your lady’s not in London. And I can properly thank you for rescuing me.”

  Felicity was lovely, but she did not entice me. Even before I’d proposed to Donata, she’d offered, and I’d declined. Felicity had a vulnerability about her, despite her obvious courage and resourcefulness, that I could not bring myself to take advantage of.

  “No, thank you,” I said. “An evening of uninterrupted sleep is what I need.”

  Her smile vanished. “It’s not just for gratitude, or for pay. We’d be a man and a woman, not a game girl and her flat.”

  I knew she would not understand all my reasons, so I said, “I’ve only just married.”

  She looked slightly mollified. “And your wife, she’s a formidable lady. I wager she’d have you sleeping in the scullery if she found out you were with the likes of me, wouldn’t she?”

  “I rather think she’d bar me from the house altogether.”

  “Is she not one to look the other way on a man’s weakness?” Felicity asked, her cocky smile returning.

  “No, indeed.”

  I went to Felicity’s fireplace and built a fire with what little wood was left in the box, using the flint and steel I carried in my pocket to strike sparks to tinder. Felicity plopped herself down on the room’s only chair and let me work.

  That left me nowhere to sit but the floor. I made myself as comfortable as possible on the hearth rug, carefully stretching out my bad leg, the slowly growing fire starting to warm me.

  “I want you to tell me the entire story of Mr. Perry,” I said. “Beginning to end. Leave nothing out.”

  “Ain’t much more to tell than I already told you. He wanted to talk to you about something. Either you or Miss Simmons.”

  “Miss Simmons?” I remembered walking with Marianne through the dark, and being relieved that she’d gone home safely to the house on Clarges Street. “Why?”

  “Devil if I know, do I? Perry comes to me, says he knows I know you, and do I want to make a whole guinea for the night? I couldn’t say no to that. I am supposed to distract you, that’s all. Then his toughs come out of nowhere to beat on you, and then he says I have to keep you or he’ll have the law on me, or he’ll sell me off to Jamaica. He could do it, ’cause I know a girl he did it to. All the questions he asked you about the theatre I didn’t understand.” Felicity laughed. “He thought a lame man like yourself, unguarded, would be easy to take. The fool.”

  “Well, he succeeded, didn’t he? With your help.”

  Her smile died. “Not my fault. I told you, he forced me.”

  “I know he did. Now, what did he want me to tell him?” I asked this half to myself. I knew now of his connection to Hannah Wolfe—what had he feared I’d learned at Drury Lane? What had he to do with Mrs. Collins, if anything? I could not ask him now, because he was conveniently dead. For the convenience of whom?

  “I don’t know, I’m sure,” Felicity said. “Mr. Perry didn’t get down on his knees and confess his sins to me. I’m just glad he’s gone.”

  “Did you kill him? I wouldn’t much blame you if you had.”

  “No.” Felicity sounded downcast. “Didn’t get the chance, did I? I was hiding from him, not following him to see if he’d notice me. Besides, he died in your rooms, didn’t he? Sure you didn’t whack him with your walking stick? You did a fine job of it on my gent tonight.”

  “No, I did not kill him, though Bow Street would like to think I did.” I shifted my body as the heat from the fire grew stronger. “The trouble with this problem is I don’t know its players. Marianne is my connection, and I confess I know very little about her theatre life. This entire conundrum has been very like a play itself.”

  I’d been seeing Perry as a grand villain—not surprising after he’d had me beaten and hauled off the street. Mrs. Collins, the tragic heroine, spirited away or murdered. Mrs. Wolff, Mr. Coleman, and Marianne—the heroine’s faithful retainers, loyal until the final curtain. I was not certain who played the romantic hero—perhaps I hadn’t met him yet, or perhaps he didn’t exist. Or perhaps he was me, the fool who ran about the stage wailing in despair without doing a bit of good.

  “I am walking in circles,” I said. “I dragged my family and friends to Bath, when the solution is likely in London. I was about to drag them off to Brighton to scour that town as well.”

  “Cheer up,” Felicity said. “I bet your little girl liked Bath. It’s pretty, I’m told.”

  “She did.” The thought of Gabriella pulled me to my feet. I had to help myself up using the warming brick wall for balance, but I managed. “I am finished, Felicity. I believe I will turn the entire problem over to Pomeroy and let him run up and down the country looking for the missing actress. Perry, a threatening man, is dead. I will spend all the time I can with my wife and daughter and leave Mrs. Collins in peace.”

  Felicity rose with easy grace and reached out to steady me. “You know you’ll never do that. You’re like a dog after a bone.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “But perhaps Mrs. Collins might be safer if I leave her alone. Someone tried to send her an incendiary device—if I find her and expose her, they might try again.”

  “Unless Mr. Perry did that,” Felicity said.

  “Perhaps he did, and then someone killed him. No, Mrs. Collins is still in danger, depend upon it.”

  “You see? You’ll never give it up, and you know it.”

  I let out a breath. “At the moment, I only want my bed.”

  Felicity’s grip on my arm softened. “Sure you don’t want to stay? My bed’s a bit narrow, but it would be warmer for all that. Your bed will be empty and cold tonight.”

  I gently pried myself from her. “Then I will make sure the footman tucks in plenty of hot bricks.”

  “Ah, well. Can’t say I didn’t offer.”

  She showed no regret, but I did see a flash of loneliness in her eyes. Very brief, then gone. She m
ight not necessarily want me to fill that lonely place inside her, but she wanted someone.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”

  “Thank you for pulling that lunatic off me,” Felicity said. “Couldn’t see your way to thanking me with something a little more solid than kind words, could you? Like a crown to see me through the next weeks?”

  “I gave everything I had left to the landlord,” I said truthfully. I did not have enough even for hackney fare back to Mayfair. “I will return with a coin tomorrow.”

  “I don’t believe you. But you’re kind to say it. Good night, Captain.” Felicity stepped close to me again, wound her arms around my neck, and kissed me full on the mouth. She danced back, laughing, as I pulled away.

  “Good night,” I said, giving her a dignified bow. I was pleased to hear her laughter, even at my expense. It meant the cruel man who’d beaten her hadn’t left a darkness in her.

  *** *** ***

  I departed the house, found a messenger boy, and directed him to South Audley Street with a message for Barnstable to send a carriage for me. I told the lad the butler would give him a shilling for the message, as I had no more money. The lad gave me a wary eye, but he went.

  While I waited, I walked about, lost in thought. Part of me truly did wish to give up the wearisome investigation. Another part of me admonished me, telling me I could not abandon Mrs. Collins and also Marianne, who was very worried. Marianne must know more than she was telling me, and so might Mrs. Wolff and Coleman. They might not know what they knew, but even so, I should speak with them again.

  The curiosity that was my besetting sin rose again. Drury Lane theatre was not far. I knew there would be a performance tonight, but perhaps I could speak to Mrs. Wolff while the play was going on.

  Nothing for it. I tramped down the cold but crowded streets and made for the back door of Drury Lane theatre.

  Unfortunately, I was unable to get in. Mr. Kean was performing tonight, and a large man, not Coleman, was stationed at the door to keep those without tickets from slipping inside. He was a surly man and not inclined to listen to me. When I asked him to find Coleman or Mrs. Wolff, he did step inside to inquire, but returned a few minutes later to tell me they were too busy to see the likes of me. I’d have to return after the performance.

  I decided tomorrow would do. I made my way back to Covent Garden, where I’d told the boy to send the carriage, and found Lady Breckenridge’s coachman waiting for me.

  I at least had a warm ride home, with coal boxes inside the comfortable landau to cut the cold. When I arrived at the South Audley Street house, Bartholomew was there, and also the party from Bath. Mrs. Lacey, Gabriella, and Peter, Bartholomew informed me, were upstairs and had already gone to bed.

  “Mrs. Lacey made the journey in one go?” I asked in surprise. “I would have thought it too tiring for her.”

  “She was adamant, sir.” Bartholomew gave me a warning look. “Her ladyship’s not in the best of tempers at the moment. Just thought I’d give you a hint, sir.”

  Meaning he advised me to quietly go to my own chamber and leave Donata until morning. Donata’s maid passed by above, her face grim. The entire house seemed tense, not the haven of peace I’d sought.

  I thanked Bartholomew for looking after everyone and climbed the stairs, my leg aching from the cold and all the walking I’d done. I decided I would leave Donata alone, not because I feared her mood, but because she would need to sleep. She’d be exhausted from the long journey.

  When I entered my bedchamber, Donata rose from my armchair. She was clad in a blue silk dressing gown, her hair in a single plait under a white lawn cap. We stared at each other a moment, then Donata rushed to me.

  “Gabriel.” She flung her arms around me, and I swept her into an embrace, burying my face in her neck.

  This was why I’d married, to come home to the soft warmth of a woman, to lose myself in her and forget my sins. I held her and felt the pain inside me ease.

  Donata pulled back to look up at me, her dark blue eyes holding fury. “Gabriel, what in heaven’s name possessed you to let yourself be arrested? Running off to Bow Street in the middle of the night? What the devil were you thinking?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I took a step back, releasing her with reluctance. “I went because Spendlove was about to insist we make a family party of it. All of us in Bow Street together.”

  Donata turned away from me, her nightdress swirling about her slipper-clad heels. “Good Lord, Gabriel. The entire town was agog with it.”

  “I am pleased I could supply the diversion. I came to London to clear things up so you could return home to quietness. I haven’t quite finished yet, but you can see I managed to keep myself out of Newgate.”

  “Bloody hell.” She swung to face me. “I have three solicitors employed to handle various situations for my family, and they keep solicitors for more complicated events. If you had waited, I would have had all those solicitors on our doorstep, ready to do battle for you. You wouldn’t have had to leave ignominiously, dragged from our house like a common criminal.”

  “I was accused of murder, Donata. That is common enough.”

  “Accused, yes. There is no reason for you to be tried for it until they have the evidence. This man, Spendlove, has an obsession about you. You know that, and yet you let him sweep you up without regard to what might happen to you. Do you think your daughter wanted to watch you be bundled away by Runners, leaving her alone with strangers? She was quite upset.”

  My anger fled before the wave of worry for Gabriella. “Is she all right?”

  “Gabriella is resilient,” Donata said. “But she is angry at you. When I explained that you ignored all offers of help to let yourself be hauled to Bow Street, she was most indignant.”

  “As you are.”

  “Indeed, Gabriel. I would go so far as to say I am furious. How could you?”

  “Because, damn it, it occurred to me that you might not want a battle between Spendlove, Pomeroy, the patrollers, and myself in your dining room. I thought I’d take myself and my sordid life out of your house.”

  “Our house.”

  “Your house, Donata.” My sleeplessness, temper, exhaustion, and worry got the better of me. “Your house, your leases, your life tenancy, your money. Everything protected so I cannot touch it. I prefer it that way. You married me, a man who is in scrape after scrape and to whom finances are wavy lines on a piece of paper. When I’m about to touch you with one of my scrapes, I will do my damnedest to leave you out of it.”

  Donata planted herself in front of me again, her anger matching my own. “Is that what you believe? That I married you to have you hang on me like an illicit lover, while I dole out an allowance? No thank you. I had such a wretched time of my first marriage, I thought I’d try marrying a man who could be a partner and friend. Foolish of me for supposing you might feel the same.”

  “I do feel the same, devil take you. What I do not want is to drag you into disgrace, which I have done only days after our wedding. I wanted to sort it out and spare you the humiliation.”

  “Oh, it is far too late for that. The newspapers are making a meal of us. That is another reason I’d prefer you to have the solicitors handle things instead of bursting about like a lit firework.”

  “A lit firework is what I am. I have no idea how to stay home and be quiet. That is why my first wife fled me for a stolid Frenchman. The poor woman was terrified of me.”

  “You might take note, Gabriel, that I am not that poor woman. I met her—she must have been quite pretty when she was young, because that is the only explanation for your madness in marrying her.”

  I stopped, startled. “When did you meet Carlotta?” I’d done my best to keep the two ladies apart.

  “I made it my business to, when she was in London for the divorce. Do not worry; she had no idea at the time who I was other than a friend of Grenville’s. I did not take her to task for being a limp ninny, though I l
onged to.”

  I was torn between laughing and shaking her. I settled for scrubbing my hand through my hair. “You do not have a good opinion of women, do you?”

  “My opinion is my opinion, regardless of whether the person is male or female. Lady Aline is a fine specimen, not a mean bone in her, nor does she find it necessary to pretend to be frail and weak. Louisa Brandon is a kind woman with a core of steel, though she ought to have bashed both her husband and you over your heads years ago.”

  “I quite agree. And you are the most exasperating woman of my acquaintance.”

  “I believe I am. That is what you look for in a bride, is it? The first Mrs. Lacey must have been very exasperating.”

  “She was.”

  “Then I am pleased to carry on the tradition.”

  Her eyes sparkled, and her color was high. She was outraged, and I’d embarrassed her. Donata had been subjected to endless gossip about her first husband; I doubted she wanted to go through it again with me.

  “Spendlove would not have waited for your London solicitors,” I said, trying to speak evenly. “If I had not gone alone without fuss, he would have found a way to punish you for it, or perhaps demand that the parish constable lock us both up for the night. Your neighbors would have had much more to talk about then.”

  “My family never would have stood for that, do you not understand? My father wields much power and has influence in high places. Mr. Spendlove is only a commoner who works for the magistrates. His position is tenuous, while mine is unshakable. The newspapers might twit me about my choice of husbands, but I will weather such things. Spendlove, on the other hand, had better have a care.”

  I balled my hands. “Perhaps I dislike using my wife’s position to pry myself out of trouble. I see that often enough—I saw it tonight—gentlemen who think nothing of running roughshod over others and hiding behind the security of their family’s position. Do you wish me to be such a man?”

  “Of course not. But when you are in trouble, I only ask that you trust me to remove you from it. I can. Allow me to.”