Rose Campion and the Curse of the Doomstone

by Lyn Gardner

  “I know that, Rosie, but most of ’em never went to school. I did until I was eleven and I still can’t read and write proper.” She sighed. “It must be because I’m stupid. That’s what they said I was at school.”

  But Rose, Aurora and Thomas knew that Effie was far from stupid. She was remarkable with her fingers and could work out how to fix equipment that sometimes even the stagehands said was broken beyond repair. Only last week she had managed to repair part of the trap that Tobias Fraggles had insisted needed to be replaced, which had clearly narked the flyman, who muttered mutinously about “girls being let loose” in the workshop. He had complained to Thomas, who had given him short shrift. Thomas knew Effie’s worth. She could draw exceptionally well too, catching a likeness of anyone. And she also had an extraordinary imagination, and was always making up stories, the bloodier and more ghoulish the better. She liked to tell them to Rose and Aurora as the three of them lay in bed together late at night. Although recently, Aurora and Edward had been spending more time at the Easingford London residence, an imposing house in Silver Square, so it had only been Effie and Rose top to tail in the bed, which wasn’t quite the same. They were a trio.

  “All right, I’ll read it one more time,” said Rose, seeing Effie’s pleading face.

  “It’s so detailed,” said Aurora. “Almost as if the reporter was actually there.”

  “He’d have asked around,” said Effie. “There were loads of people there. All them swells from up West. And half of Southwark and Bermondsey were out for the night. An’ they all hung around long after the hall was cleared. Bet they were all ready to tell everything what they saw to any reporter prepared to dish ’em a penny or two.”

  Rose frowned. “But that’s the odd thing, isn’t it? There were three hundred or more witnesses to the crime and it seems not a single one of us actually saw anything happen, even though the lights were up and Lydia was sitting in full view of everyone.”

  “That’s because we were all lookin’ at them doves,” said Effie sagely. “We didn’t have eyes for anything else.”

  “Well,” said Rose, “somebody stole the Star of the Sea, so who do you two think did it?”

  There was a small cough, and they looked up guiltily to see Lydia leaning against one of the gilt pillars, looking as fragile and delicate as a priceless porcelain vase. She was pale as morning milk. A bandage was wrapped around her neck.

  “Lydia! Miss Duchamps!” exclaimed Aurora, jumping up and offering her chair. “Should you be up? Are you feeling better?”

  Lydia smiled wanly as she sat down. Thomas had found her a bed at Campion’s, after the doctor had suggested that she was in a shocked state and should not be moved.

  “I still feel a little dizzy,” she whispered, and her fingers wandered to her neck. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’ve had a lucky escape. I could have been murdered.” She looked fearfully around. “I should never have agreed to wear the Doomstone. But I didn’t see how one night could matter. I thought the story of the curse was a foolish tale, but I was the fool not to heed it. I almost lost my life to the curse.” She shivered. “It may yet catch up with me.”

  Effie was nodding sympathetically. Aurora took Lydia’s hand and patted it soothingly. Rose gave a quick supportive smile, but she thought that Lydia was being over-dramatic. She had heard the doctor tell Thomas and the inspector that the wounds to Lydia’s neck were superficial. Lydia glanced curiously at the open copy of The Times.

  “Has the newspaper reported the theft of the diamond?” she asked. “Does it give the whole story?”

  “Yes,” said Effie. “We’ve all just bin reading it. It’s very exciting. Specially the bit where you almost get your throat cut.”

  “Lydia, has the inspector questioned you yet?” asked Aurora.

  Lydia nodded. “Yes, he asked me lots of questions.” She sighed. “But I’m afraid I was of very little help to him, although he was very kind. I was the victim of a terrible crime. I might have been killed. But, as I told him, I do not remember anything. Maybe it was the shock. I felt nothing until I realised there was blood on my neck. Surely those two men standing so close behind me must have seen something? One minute the diamond was there, and the next it was not, and I was bleeding. It is a great mystery. I wonder whether those two men were not quite what they seemed.”

  “I’m sure the inspector will have thought of that,” said Rose.

  “I’m sure he has. Is Edward here?” she asked Aurora, who shook her head.

  “He’s gone to the house at Silver Square to bathe and change. The Times is doing an interview with him at the Pall Mall this afternoon.”

  “How thrilling,” said Lydia, but she looked disappointed. “I must go soon myself.” Then she asked, “And what has happened to the Great Wizard of the North?”

  “Gone to his lodgings,” said Effie. “Them coppers were questioning him for ages, but I reckon they lost interest in him. They turned his dressing room upside down and they didn’t find a blinking thing. They even looked in his fez and they didn’t find no stolen diamond, not even a dove.”

  “It’s impossible for Gandini to have stolen the Doomstone,” said Rose thoughtfully. “He didn’t come anywhere near our table, and he would have had to have done that to steal the diamond. When he was doing his act, I notice he’d always been close at some point to the person he’s bamboozling, and he didn’t come near our table.”

  Lydia gazed levelly at her. “You are very observant, Rose,” she said.

  Rose was still frowning. “There’s something else. I hadn’t thought of this before. But isn’t it a coincidence that one of Scotland Yard’s leading detectives was in the audience here on the very night that the Doomstone was stolen?”

  Aurora hooted with laughter. “You aren’t suggesting that the detective is the culprit, are you, Rose? That would be just too unlikely. That kind of thing only ever happens in plays.”

  “I wasn’t suspecting the inspector of stealing the Doomstone,” said Rose. “I was just wondering why he was here at all. Did he have some reason to think that something was going to happen, and the Doomstone would be stolen? Was he on the tail of somebody who he thought was a criminal?”

  “Or maybe he’s just a big music-hall fan? Blimey, Rosie, you do like to make things complicated,” said Effie.

  Lydia laughed. “Effie’s right, Rose. The inspector can’t possibly have known that the Doomstone was going to be stolen. After all, I was wearing it, and I had no idea myself that I’d be coming to Campion’s last night until minutes before we set off. I had expected to be showing off the jewel in the Ritz, and then maybe later at the Alhambra or somewhere else in the West End, but I could never have known that I’d find myself in a little music hall down by the Thames. So how could the thief?”

  Rose shrugged. That was true, so it must just be a coincidence that Inspector Cliff was in the audience.

  Lydia suddenly gasped. “I quite forgot. Little Amy! Whatever happened to poor little Amy?”

  “The three of us took her in a cab over to Rotherhithe after the inspector had spoken to us all together.”

  “How kind of you to go out of your way,” murmured Lydia.

  “She was terribly shaken up,” said Rose. Everyone had tried to comfort her, even Gandini, who had spoken to her in a low, calming voice.

  “I feel responsible for her, although I hardly know the child. Did the inspector question her?” asked Lydia.

  “Yes,” said Effie. “He spoke to us all together. Just like the rest of us, Amy said she was watching them doves. She was really upset she couldn’t be of more help to the inspector, wasn’t she, Rosie? It was almost as if she thought the whole thing was her fault.”

  Rose nodded. They had barely been able to get a word out of Amy, who shook like a leaf all the way to Rotherhithe, as if she was very frightened and expected her throat to be slit next. She kept trying to get them to drop her before they got to her lodgings, saying she didn’t want to be any trouble. But
Rose had insisted they take her right to her door, and they had watched her as she disappeared down an alley and turned into a back gate.

  “Well, it seems that there are very few leads for the police,” said Lydia.

  “Except,” said Rose, “I did tell the inspector about the man we saw. The one with the handlebar moustache and blue waistcoat who spoke to us at the Pall Mall and told us about the Doomstone. He seemed to know a great deal about its sale. Then he turned up here at Campion’s too. I told the inspector that I’d seen him talking to Billy Proctor and that then he just melted away.”

  “Oh,” said Lydia. “It could be an important lead. Clever girl, Rose. You could be the one with the crucial piece of information that solves the mystery of the stolen Doomstone. Though I say good riddance to it. No diamond, however valuable, is worth a curse on your head. I wouldn’t want it anywhere near me again.”

  Rose hoped the inspector had taken note of what she had told him about the man. She would like to be the one to help solve the mystery.

  “Well, I must go,” said Lydia. “But I must say, although I was robbed and almost met my death here, Campion’s really is very quaint.”

  Rose felt slightly insulted to hear Campion’s called quaint, but she said graciously, “You must come again. You can come and see Rory and me perform our bicycle act together. Rory dresses up as a boy. It’s been quite a hit.”

  Lydia looked scandalised. “You appear on stage dressed as a boy? Does your father approve?”

  “He loves Campion’s as much as we do,” said Rose firmly, because she had seen the flicker of dismay that had crossed Aurora’s face.

  “He is so forward-thinking,” trilled Lydia. “I might call by the Pall Mall and see if Edward is there. In any case, I promised Stratford-Mark I would visit today. We have my debut and other business to discuss.” She saw Tobias Fraggles hanging around watching her with a look of awe on his face. She gave him a dazzling smile with just a hint of a promise in it. “Would you be a dear and find me a hansom?” she asked.

  He nodded happily and raced away. Lydia left looking much brighter and far less fragile than she had a few minutes previously.

  Thomas appeared almost immediately after Lydia had gone. He had confided to Rose that he was worried that the police would close Campion’s down for several days, which would be terrible for business, and that when they reopened all the adverse publicity might make people stay away. But he was beaming.

  “Good news, girls,” he said. “The inspector says that Campion’s can open tonight and carry on after all. In fact, he seems very keen to encourage business as usual.”

  “But will people come?” asked Rose.

  Thomas grinned. “Nothing will keep them away. It seems that notoriety is good for business. Most of the tables for tonight and tomorrow have already been reserved by swells from up West.” He added drily, “I don’t think it’s the acts so much as an opportunity to see the scene of the crime that’s the main attraction. But punters are punters for whatever reason they’ve come.” He paused dramatically with a twinkle in his eye. “And of course, when I announce that the Illustrious Gandini will be continuing to perform at Campion’s for a limited engagement, they’ll be beating the front door down.”

  “I hope not,” said Rose with a grin. “That new door was very expensive.” She looked thoughtful. “If Gandini is staying, it’s all the more reason to think that he didn’t have anything to do with the disappearance of the Doomstone.”

  “Yes,” agreed Effie. “If he ’ad anything to hide he’d have scarpered quick.”

  “How long is Gandini going to perform at Campion’s?” asked Aurora.

  “He hasn’t said,” replied Thomas, “but he indicated that he intends to stay long enough to require an assistant.” He looked pointedly at the trio. “I wondered whether one of you would like to volunteer?”

  “It’s not for me,” said Aurora quickly.

  Rose was surprised. She would love to be a magician’s assistant, and she was certain that Aurora, who was as passionate about performing as she was, would like to be one too. “Why ever not?” blurted Rose.

  A flicker of embarrassment crossed Aurora’s face. “I just don’t think it’s quite right for me, not now, not now that…” She trailed off and looked awkwardly away from Rose as if she couldn’t quite meet her eye.

  Rose inwardly cursed Lydia’s questioning the appropriateness of a lord’s daughter performing on the Campion’s stage, and she suddenly felt bereft. In the few months they had known each other she and Rory had become firm friends, a bond further strengthened by the fact that they had been abandoned together as tiny babies side by side on the front step of Campion’s. Aurora had sworn that the discovery she was the daughter of a toff would make no difference to her, and when she and Edward had chosen to live in London over Easingford Hall, the family estate in Yorkshire, Rose had been thrilled. But she was beginning to realise that both she and Aurora had been naive to think that life could just go on as before. Aurora was a lady. Rose wondered whether the days of them doing the bicycle act together were numbered, and she felt a pang of sadness at the gap that had opened up between them because of an accident of birth.

  “Well, if Ror don’t want it, I’d love to be a magician’s assistant. I’d think I’d died and gone to heaven to find meself on stage with the Illustrious Gandini. Me ma would be so proud if she could see me,” said Effie.

  Rose and Aurora starred at Effie in surprise. She had never been one for the limelight, always preferring to stay backstage while her two friends did their bicycle act and vied affectionately with each other to play the juvenile roles. Rose had never expected that Effie would want to do it.

  Thomas glanced at her meaningfully. “Rosie? Is that all right with you if Effie tries out with Gandini?”

  “Of course,” said Rose brightly, determined not to show her disappointment. She smiled at Effie. “You’ll be brilliant, Effie, just brilliant.”

  Thomas turned to Effie. “I’ve got more good news for you, Effie. Mr Cherryble and Edward’s lawyers have secured a visit to Holloway, so you can see your mother. But it will take about a week for the paperwork to be done.” Effie gave a scream of delight and flung her arms around Thomas. But Rose saw that Thomas’s eyes were sad. Even with all the clout of the lawyers, Effie’s mother must be very sick indeed if the prison authorities were allowing her daughter to visit her.

  6

  It was an early Friday night at Campion’s – over a week after what the newspapers, the penny dreadfuls and the latest edition of the Illustrated Police News had christened “the crime of the century”. There was so much newspaper interest that Thomas joked that at least half the Campion’s audience was made up of journalists, all of them on expenses, which was why the bar-takings had been so staggering over the last few nights. Rose thought he may be right. Inspector Cliff certainly did. He had asked everyone at Campion’s to be circumspect about talking to people he referred to as “the gentlemen of the press”, because that was the way rumours were spread that might not be helpful to his investigation. Inspector Cliff clearly didn’t like the journalists, and they showed little sign of liking him. There had been much baiting in the press about his failure to discover the whereabouts of the Doomstone and make an immediate arrest.

  Thomas had another reason for wanting to keep anyone connected with Campion’s from gossiping to the newspapermen. He feared for Campion’s reputation. Earlier in the year he had faced huge debts and had almost lost Campion’s. Although the immediate danger was past, the fact that he had been in financial difficulty was well known, and he knew that with the disappearance of the Doomstone, journalists would be looking to rake up any muck they could about him or Campion’s. He didn’t want anything to threaten Campion’s future.

  Rose gazed around as she helped to stack glasses. On stage, the Fabulous Flying Fongolis were more than living up to their name as they tossed each other across the stage with acrobatic flair. Campion’s was pac
ked out again, as it had been for every performance since the disappearance of the Doomstone, even though Gandini had not once topped the bill since that night.

  Gandini said that he wanted to get used to working with Effie as his assistant before he performed again. He and Effie could be found together every morning, working either in his dressing room or on the Campion’s stage, where onlookers were not welcomed – although that didn’t stop Inspector Cliff loitering whenever he wanted.

  Rose wondered whether the press might be right, and Inspector Cliff wasn’t entirely on top of the investigation. She had told him about the man in the peacock waistcoat who had spoken to her and the others at the Pall Mall, and how the man had turned up at Campion’s and then mysteriously disappeared. But although the inspector had made a note of what she said, she could tell that the policeman wasn’t as interested as she thought he should be in what she had told him. He had seemed dismissive when she said she had seen the man talking to Billy Proctor, and that he might know his identity.

  Inspector Cliff had conducted no further formal interviews or searches. He simply seemed to be hanging around Campion’s a great deal, stopping to chat to people in a casual way and watching the everyday activities that went on around the music hall. That included sometimes watching Effie and Gandini try out the new act. Gandini didn’t seem to mind or, if he did, he was disguising it very well.

  “Ah, Inspector Cliff,” he said with a smile one morning, as Rose was passing through the bar area, “soon you will know all my secrets.”

  “Do you have something to hide, Mr Gandini?” answered the inspector affably, and Gandini had roared with laughter.