by Lyn Gardner
“One false move and I pull the trigger.”
Rose wasn’t going to argue. Aurora’s eyes were liquid with fear. The Duchess tickled Rory’s temple with her pistol.
“I’m going to ask one last time, and if you do not tell me the truth I’m going to blow your brains out. Where have you hidden the emeralds?”
There was a tiny pause, and Rose sensed movement in a distant part of the graveyard. She shifted her head very slightly. She could see a figure moving in the shadows, clambering over the graves. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought it was most likely Sir Godfrey. The Duchess’s view was obscured by the mausoleum behind her. Rose suddenly had a rush of certainty. It was Sir Godfrey, and she knew why he was there: he had come to retrieve the necklace, as agreed with Ambrose. And she was certain she knew where he had hidden it: in the gap at the base of Effie’s mother’s headstone. It was a perfect hiding place. She might be signing their death sentences by doing so, but she had to speak out.
“Aurora didn’t take the necklace, but I know who did.”
The Duchess narrowed her eyes. “Enlighten me, Rose Campion. Or should I say, Rose Valentine. Who stole the emeralds?”
Rose felt the ripple of shock pass through Rory and Effie’s bodies at this news. She had told Effie what had occurred in Madame de Valentina’s dressing room, but she had not mentioned that she had originally gone to confront her because she had mistakenly believed that Elenora was her long-lost mother.
“Godfrey Caskins stole them. He was in league with Ambrose. You were right, Duchess. They double-crossed you. They were going to cut you out of the deal and share the proceeds themselves.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Rose took a deep breath and said, “Because if you look to your left now, you will see Godfrey attempting to retrieve them from their hiding place under the headstone of Effie’s mother’s grave.”
For a second the Duchess hesitated, but then she turned her head, and as she did so Rose kicked out at her, grateful for all those years spent learning the cancan. The gun skittered out of the Duchess’s hand.
“Run!” she called to Effie and Rory. “Get help.”
Rose reached down for the gun but the Duchess was on her, and although she was older than Rose and far less agile, she was heavier and she pinned Rose to the ground. Rose saw Effie and Rory hesitate, and Rose shouted, “Get help” again, and there was something so terrible and commanding in her tone that they obeyed her.
The Duchess and Rose rolled across the ground, and the Duchess’s hand found the gun first. She grabbed at it, raised it and fired it. Rose winced at the whipcrack sound, but then she realised that the Duchess was not pointing the gun at her, but at Sir Godfrey. She had grazed his arm. The Duchess was up and after Sir Godfrey, who was crouching by Effie’s mother’s tombstone, frantically scrabbling in the earth. The Duchess was firing wildly, fury and greed affecting her aim. Rose ran after her and ducked just in time, as Sir Godfrey returned fire. The Duchess tripped over a tree root and fell, her gun cartwheeling into the bushes. But, seeing Rose pelting headlong towards him, Sir Godfrey raised his gun once again and took direct aim at Rose. He went to squeeze the trigger, but as he did, a shot whizzed towards him from the other side of the graveyard, hitting him expertly in the thumb and knocking the gun out of his hand. It bounced across the ground and out of reach. The bullet had taken his thumb clean off. Blood poured from his hand and he was bent double in pain.
“Stay exactly where you are,” commanded a voice, “or it will be my great pleasure to take off your other thumb too.” It was Perdita, remarkably calm and collected and standing atop a small hillock. “There’s no point looking for the emeralds, Godfrey. I’ve already taken them from their hiding place. I guessed it was you who stole them. I saw you slip a sleeping draught in Grace’s drink when you insisted on that toast at the end of the evening, and I assumed you must have had a very good reason for doing so.”
The Duchess was rising painfully to her feet, her back to another of the broken-down mausoleums that dotted the graveyard.
“Stay right where you are too, Duchess,” said Perdita. “Rose, pick up both of their guns and give them to me.”
Rose walked gingerly forward towards the bushes, but as she passed by the Duchess, the woman lunged at her with the speed of a snake trapping its prey. She caught Rose and held a second gun to her head, backing them both into the entrance of the mausoleum. The Duchess gave a devious smile.
“You underestimated me, didn’t you, Perdita Black? Did you really think I would have only one weapon? Shoot me and this meddling child will die. Or maybe I should address you as Portia White, as I believe you were once known.”
Rose suddenly recalled the programme for The Winter’s Tale. The actress playing Perdita, the one who Florrie said was supposed to be looking after Rose when she had been stolen from her pram, had been called Portia White. She frowned. Could Perdita, the woman standing here before her, be the same woman whose negligence had led to her loss?
Perdita saw her confused face. Without lowering the gun, she said, “I’m afraid the Duchess is right, Rose. I am indeed responsible for your disappearance from the pram outside the Imperial Grand. I was supposed to be looking after you. Your mother had paid me handsomely to do so. But just as she was leaving, she told me that she was going to see the manager at another theatre, about playing Viola in Twelfth Night. She just happened to mention that he had told her that none of the other actresses he had seen were up to the role, and it was hers for the asking. What she didn’t know was that I was one of those actresses. In fact, I was confident that the role was already mine, although nothing had been agreed. I was already jealous of Nell Valentine’s abilities. I was even jealous of her baby. To hear that I wasn’t good enough fuelled my jealousy and resentment.
“She went off. A few minutes later, you woke up. You were crying and I couldn’t settle you, so I put you in your pram outside the theatre where I couldn’t hear the noise. Of course, I regretted it almost immediately, but when I returned just a few minutes later you were already gone, stolen away. Two days later the police found a baby’s body in the river. Nell was in no state to identify the body. It was her second loss in just a few months – her husband had died of consumption just weeks before you were born – so I identified the body. It was such a tiny little thing, so small and defenceless. I thought it was Nell’s child.” She began to weep.
“Later when I went to look after Freddie, of course I heard your story, and how you had been left on the steps at Campion’s. But I never made the connection between you and Nell Valentine’s child. Why would I? I believed that I had identified your tiny drowned body. It wasn’t until the day Inspector Cliff turned up, saying he had discovered you had been snatched from outside the Imperial Grand, that I made the connection and started to wonder if I had made a mistake when I identified that poor babe. I’m not asking you to believe me – but barely a waking moment passes when I don’t regret what I did. Even my dreams are haunted by it. When I lost that poor baby, I lost myself too. I changed my name to Perdita Black to remind me of my negligence every day, and I resolved never to step foot on stage again.”
“What a nice little sob story,” said the Duchess.
“I don’t expect any sympathy,” said Perdita quietly. “I fell as low as it was possible to fall. I was living on the streets. I applied to one of Sir Godfrey’s charities for help, and I was refused. But then I saw a notice pinned inside the porch of St Olave’s, with a list of all the women and children and families who had been given help by his charity. My name was there. I started asking around, and discovered that the names of the poor who had been refused aid regularly appeared on the lists of those who had received it. So where was the money going? Was he lining his own pockets? I started to help in a school, and gradually I got my life together, and eventually started to work as governess. When I was employed by the Easingfords and came across Sir Godfrey again I decided to keep a close eye on him
, and find out what I could, because I was convinced he was a cheat.”
“You are a liar,” said Sir Godfrey. “Who will ever believe anything you say – a woman known for her negligence and the loss of a child.”
He started to try to crawl away on his knees, and Perdita fired a warning shot. Rose could see someone making their way across the darkness of the graveyard, nimbly darting between the gravestones. She decided to try and keep everyone talking.
“I can see why you wouldn’t make the connection between me and the lost baby,” said Rose. “But when you came to Campion’s, weren’t you concerned that Elenora de Valentina and Nell Valentine might be the same person, and your past would come back to haunt you?”
“As soon as I saw her on stage I knew it wasn’t the same person,” said Perdita. “It was clear that the name was merely a coincidence. In any case, the Nell I knew was an actress, not a hypnotist.”
“Ah,” said another voice. “I learned those skills to survive in America.” Ella suddenly stepped out from behind a gravestone very close to Perdita.
“You! Nell Valentine!” said the Duchess, and she turned white. “You are dead! I hit you over the head and dumped you in the river.”
“You did,” said Ella, “but Nell Valentine is a survivor.” She smiled at Rose. “And now I want to talk to my daughter. My Rosalind, as I called her. My Rose by any other name.”
Her eyes were full of tears as she held out her hand to Rose and took a step forward. As she did so, the Duchess fired directly at her. Perdita flung herself in front of Ella, taking a bullet to the arm and dropping her pistol. The Duchess would have fired again, but Inspector Cliff’s voice carried across the graveyard.
“You are surrounded, Duchess. You cannot get away.”
“Then what do three more deaths matter?” she said, with her gun trained on Rose’s head. “Shoot me, and they die too.”
Rose could see the Duchess’s finger on the trigger. Her eyes were granite. She had no doubt that the Duchess would do exactly as she said. She closed her eyes and just hoped that Inspector Cliff didn’t bungle this one. This wasn’t the kind of scenario that she had imagined when she had daydreamed about being reunited with her long-lost mother.
“I want safe passage,” said the Duchess.
“No chance,” said the Inspector.
“Refuse me and I will kill them one by one.”
“I will not negotiate,” said the Inspector.
But Rose wished that he would – at least long enough to keep her alive. The Inspector may have the graveyard surrounded, but no one could take out the Duchess from behind, with her back protected by the large stone mausoleum. She started to drag Rose back into its mouth.
“I’m going to count to three, and then it will be the final curtain for Rose Campion,” said the Duchess, and she sounded as if she was enjoying herself.
“One… two …”
There was a sudden roar from behind the Duchess, a flash of fur and stripes, and the tiger rushed from out of the mausoleum and was on the Duchess. With a scream, the Duchess fell sideways, dropping the gun and releasing Rose from her grip, who managed to stumble forwards into Ella’s arms. Despite her wound, Perdita darted forward and retrieved the fallen gun. But there was no need. The tiger had pinned the Duchess to the ground and was snarling in her face.
The Inspector’s policemen appeared from all sides of the graveyard, followed by Thomas, Effie, Rory, Edward and Grace, and surrounded the Duchess and the tiger. Some of the policeman eyed the tiger nervously. Several had their guns raised.
“Don’t shoot,” cried Rose.
Hearing her voice, the tiger looked up, jumped off the Duchess and sauntered to where Rose and Ella were locked in an embrace. The tiger purred and weaved between their legs, rubbing its head against Rose’s knees, purring loudly.
The Duchess, snarling as loudly as any tiger, and Sir Godfrey – his head bowed in shame – were taken away by the police. Thomas hurried towards Rose and Ella. Ella looked up at him and smiled.
“My name is Nell Valentine. You have done a wonderful job bringing up my daughter, Thomas Campion. I couldn’t have wished for her to have a better father.”
She held out her arm to encompass him in their embrace and Rose thought that this was what it really felt like to have a family of her own.
Rose and the rest of the Cinderella cast stood in a blizzard of snowflakes on the Campion’s stage, taking their final bow. It was Christmas Eve. Rose glanced along the line at their shining faces. One face shone more brightly than anyone else’s: Ella’s. Or rather, Nell Valentine’s. She was as luminous as one of the stars in the night sky. Everyone was still getting used to calling her by her real name. Nell, as she was now known, had just played Cinderella for the first – but not the last – time.
Dolores had given up the role with alacrity, saying that acting really wasn’t her thing, and that as Nell was a “proper” actress she would do a much better job. She had, and the Campion’s audience had immediately taken Nell to their hearts, as if she had been performing on the Campion’s stage for her entire life. Rose looked up the line again and Nell beamed at her. There was such love in the smile, and so much happiness that Rose thought her heart might burst. She still couldn’t get used to the word “mama” on her tongue.
“I don’t know how I ever thought I could live without this,” breathed Grace, who was standing to one side of Rose. The crowd stamped their feet and called out Grace’s and Rory’s names. Grace was going to continue to play Prince Charming for the rest of the pantomime run. Pru had said that she had quite enough on her plate now she was back at the top of the bill, and besides, she preferred singing to acting.
The audience was calling for Thomas to come on stage, and he clambered up with a big grin on his face as he caught Ella’s and Rose’s hands and gave a bow. Rose thought she had never felt happier. Everything she longed for had come true.
They came off stage, where Perdita was waiting for them. Her meagre luggage was stacked up beside her. She was clapping as best she could with her wounded arm done up in a sling.
“I just wanted to say goodbye to you all. I must go soon if I’m to get the boat train to Liverpool.” She was going to America to put the past behind her and begin again. Edward had paid for her passage.
Perdita pulled Nell towards her and hugged her.
“I did you a great wrong, Nell. My jealousy caused the loss of your baby. I thought that I could never forgive myself, but your forgiveness has meant everything to me. Thank you. I will never forget your generosity.”
“Are you sure you won’t stay, Perdita?” asked Rose. “At least spend Christmas with us all. You would be so welcome.”
Perdita shook her head. “I would love to, but I won’t. The longer I stay, the harder it will be to leave. And I must be brave and begin again.” She smiled pensively. “Perhaps in America I might even start acting again.”
Tomorrow Campion’s would be closed. Great trestle tables would be set up on the stage, two huge turkeys would be roasted in the kitchen ovens and all of the Campion’s staff who were without relatives – a great many of them – would join in the feasting. Pru would be there, and Lottie and Jem and O’Leary, as well as some of the servants from Silver Square, and all the mudlark families. But that was tomorrow. Tonight, there was still one more thing to be done.
Rose and the others paid off the cab and hurried towards the dark entrance to the Zoological Gardens in Regent’s Park. Edward was carrying a sleepy Freddie in his arms. Mr Burns, the Zoological Gardens director, was waiting for them, wrapped in a heavy cloak with a scarlet muffler. He shook hands with everyone and then he took a large key from out of his pocket and unlocked the gate.
“Of course, this is strictly against the rules,” he smiled, with a twinkle in his eye. “And if anyone ever asks, it never happened. But when I heard what had occurred, and what a good friend you have been to the tiger, Rose, I wanted to give you all a small Christmas present.”
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They followed him along the zoo’s winding paths, past the sleeping giraffes and the monkeys. But they didn’t stop until they reached their destination – the big-cat enclosure.
Rose ran forward to the side of the cage, and the tiger, which had been dozing in the corner, looked up, stretched and then padded over to Rose and put its muzzle between the bars. Rose scratched its nose, and the tiger purred. “You saved my life,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Mr Burns beckoned Rose round to the front of the cage.
“As you are theatre people, I thought we should have a little theatrical flourish at our ceremony,” he said with a smile, pointing to a pair of small red velvet curtains attached to the wide wooden panel that ran around the cage beneath the protective bars. “Rose, would you like to do the honours?”
Rose bent and pulled the curtains back. Underneath was a small brass plaque engraved with the legend: “Ivy Puddlewick. Siberian tiger.” Everyone clapped.
“The tiger’s female then?” asked Rose.
Mr Burns nodded.
“Oh, Ivy would have loved this,” said Rose. “Having a tiger named after you is even better than being top of the bill at Campion’s.”
“We are already confident that the animal will be one of the zoo’s star attractions. She’s drawing the crowds,” said Mr Burns.
After saying their goodbyes to Mr Burns and the tiger, the party arrived back at Campion’s just as flakes of snow began to fall. It was an unusually clear night. The moon was bright – a silver disc hanging amid the winking, blinking stars. Somewhere in the distance they could hear someone singing “Silent Night”, and they all joined in, their voices rising and falling in the icy air. They reached the front door of Campion’s, and Rose went to pass by it and enter through the stage door as they always did, but Thomas stopped her, and pulled out the key to the great front door, which was decorated with painted garlands of fruit and over which was written the legend: “Campion’s Palace of Varieties and Wonders”.
