“Hard at work, I see,” he said. It was a subtle criticism, a matter of course for a member of the peerage, who looked down on anyone who did labor of any kind. Though penning poetry for the enjoyment of friends or one’s self was perfectly acceptable, writing for the sake of commercial gain was beneath him. Particularly since he had no talent for language and wrote no poetry himself, and made all his money by owning things.
“Someone has got to do it.”
“Indeed.” He evidenced no perception of sarcasm, for he did not see himself as having been critical. She was who she was, a commoner, it had always been that way, and she couldn’t help it. He never thought of his comments as insults.
She changed the subject, for this one bored her and if she let him continue with it he would soon annoy her. “Have you spoken to your friend Robert about coming to see Ramsay? I would like this silly question of Diarmid Gordon settled to the satisfaction of yourself and everyone else as quickly as possible.”
Daniel made a noise and put a hand to his forehead. “I was with him all day, and I’ve neglected to ask him.”
“You forgot? I would have thought your only goal in life had become to get rid of that Ramsay fellow, you’ve been so intent for me to send him on his way.”
“I do believe you should send him away. I think he’s bad for the troupe, and he’s bad for you.”
“How so?”
“Well, if he’s a liar and a thief—”
“We’ve no proof of either. Particularly since you have not asked your friend to come see the play. Actually, we have very little cause to even think it. Only that he calls himself Diarmid and that he’s from Edinburgh.” And the ruby necklace, though she thought it a poor thing for such a fuss to be made this far away from Edinburgh.
“But should he turn out to be that Gordon fellow, you’ll want him gone as soon as possible.”
“I think he’s not the man in question. He’s a relative of Gordon, but he’s not the thief himself.”
Daniel’s attention perked with surprise and his voice took on a sharp edge. “What do you mean, he’s a relative?”
Suzanne immediately regretted having opened this can of worms. Now Daniel was going to hound her on the subject. “Well, I spoke to him about his time in Edinburgh before he came here. He admitted he’s a descendant of George Gordon, through his mother’s family in Moray. But he denigrates it. He doesn’t hold himself any closer to the rebel George than any of hundreds of others in Scotland. His time in Edinburgh was as an actor. Ironically, he was forced into the theatre by Cromwell’s war in the north. He’d nowhere else to go for income.”
“Easy enough to say. I expect his performance was as Diarmid Gordon and his audience was wealthy old women.”
“I find him rather charming, myself, and I’m hardly wealthy.”
“You’re better off than he is. Furthermore, my dearest Suzanne, you will more than likely be far wealthier in a few years than you are even now. Surely he would see that and want to charm you at the earliest opportunity, the easier to have your money later on.”
“He wants me to marry him.” It blurted from her mouth without any conscious decision to speak. There was no denying the impulse was to hurt him for not wanting to marry her himself. She knew she would regret it, but the need to see his reaction made her do it.
Daniel’s reaction was not graceful. First his jaw dropped and his gaze appeared as if his mind had quite gone. Then he recovered himself somewhat, clapped his mouth shut, and said, “You can’t possibly be considering it. That would be the most stupid thing you could possibly do.”
Up to that moment, she hadn’t considered Ramsay’s offer seriously. But Daniel’s firm, overbearing statement brought forth her natural contrariness regarding any sort of authority—most particularly authority that had proven itself unworthy—and at that moment she was quite ready to marry Ramsay immediately. On the verge of saying so just for the sake of annoying Daniel, she wisely clamped her mouth shut instead and pressed her lips together. Then, having gotten past the rash urge, she said as calmly as she could, “However stupid you think me, I have not told him no.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’ll ruin you.”
“I have little money and no property. You own the theatre and Piers manages the business. Horatio is the creative force behind the Players. How could Ramsay ruin me, when I have nothing for him to steal?”
“He would want to manage your affairs. He would run off all who would do business with you.”
“My business is almost entirely with you. Are you so easily run off, then? Surely, Daniel, you’re made of sterner stuff than that.”
He had the good grace to redden at that. “Not myself. But what about Horatio? The others? None of them like him. Are you willing to sacrifice all your friendships and all your authority among the Players for the sake of wedding yourself to someone nobody likes?”
“If he pleases me, then what does it matter what others think?”
“It matters because those others are part of your life, too. If you accept him, you could very well find yourself alone with nobody else for company. And perhaps not even him for company, if his declarations of love prove false.”
“I’m not that great a prize.”
“Do not underestimate yourself. You are as great a prize as any woman I’ve ever known.”
That took her aback. She peered at him, and thought the statement odd in the light of everything else he’d ever told her about how he felt. He only gazed back at her, waiting for her to reply, his expression giving no hint of lie or manipulation. He was being honest with her, and without any understanding that he was expressing something she’d wished for half her life.
She said softly, “I have a most realistic understanding of my worth, Daniel. Life has taught me how much to expect from those who are part of my life. I would not underestimate myself, but even more so I would not overestimate, for that is the most dangerous lie of all and holds the greatest risk of disappointment.”
He considered that for a moment. His reply was thoughtful. “Even more dangerous is to undervalue yourself. A woman who doesn’t know her own worth might give away all she has to barter.”
Her throat tightened, for she’d learned long ago that what she’d had to barter was common and cheap, and it had gone for not enough. “I’ve been told my entire life, in words and in the actions of those around me, that I am only worth what a man would pay to lie with me. And for that, most men pay little. You paid nothing.”
“I paid three hundred pounds.”
“Not for that. Your money was an investment in this business, not me.”
“It was payment for the futures of yourself and Piers. And recompense for the time when I couldn’t support you. You must know that had I been able to turn back time and keep you from the brothel I would have done it. Had I not been living hand-to-mouth in France I would have sent money to you. But Cromwell’s rule took everything from our family, so I was of no use to you. Your worth is far greater than what I had to give.”
Suzanne found herself speechless. No words came for her to reply to that.
Daniel stood. She fully expected him to attempt talking her into going to bed with him, but instead he said, “I must go. Anne is expecting me tonight. I don’t wish to give her reason to suspect my visits here, for I don’t want her to demand I stop making them.” He took her hand and kissed it. “I’ll bring Robert to the next performance of Macbeth, so he might have a look at Ramsay.”
She nodded, and he left. For a full ten minutes she sat, staring after him, thinking over what he’d said. Particularly, Your worth is far greater than what I had to give. The words passed through her mind over and over. Your worth is far greater than what I had to give. These were words that might have changed her life, had he said them twenty years ago.
*
SUZANNE was sound asleep, but floating to the surface of its depths. There was a smell. A stink she’d encountered before but couldn’t place. When she
awoke and realized where she was, the odor seemed even more strange, for her bedchamber ordinarily smelled of roses or wintergreen, depending on what scent of oil she’d set out. But now, beneath the wintergreen lay the sharp stink of old sweat, unwashed linens, and bilges. It was the stench of the docks. For one disoriented moment she wondered idly how a boat had gotten into her apartment, and she pictured men pulling one through the door on rollers, heaving hard on large ropes.
Then she came fully awake, and had the good sense to lie still. The smell wasn’t from a boat, but from someone who’d come from a boat. She opened her eyes and glanced about the room. The low light of the hearth revealed only the highlights of the room filled with black shadows. The smell persisted; it wasn’t a dream. A glance around the room revealed nothing. She wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but the hair was standing up at the back of her neck and goose bumps rose on her arms. She examined each shadow in the room, and that was when she found him.
A man stood next to the armoire, as still as death. She could only see the dim shape of him, but by the smell and his build she knew it must be the sailor from the pirate ship Maiden. Her heart leapt to her throat and choked her with its pounding. She struggled to keep her breaths even and not let him know she was awake, but she couldn’t count on him simply going away because she was asleep. And it was already too late to fool him in any case.
“Wakey, wakey,” he said. “I know you’re awake.”
She didn’t move, but said, “What do you want?”
“You know what I want. You knew it this morning when you ran away. That wasn’t terribly generous, running away. And here I was, all ready to give you all my money if you was nice to me. Such an offer you refused!” Now she could see he carried his pistol in his right hand. It glinted in the dim light. In his belt was stuck a dagger. It was very long.
“There are men upstairs in the green room.”
“Unlucky for you they’re up there asleep, all oblivious to everything, and you’re down here.”
“My maid is—”
“Tied and gagged in the kitchen. And I told her that one peep from her and I would blow your brains out.”
“A gun report would bring the men running.”
“Aye, but you’d be dead then, right?” He stepped toward the bed and showed her his weapon. Then he opened his breeches to show her his intent for her. He waggled it like a chastising finger. “You had no call to run off like you did. You left me with this.” He then thrust it forward as if it were a great, frightening thing. She wondered why all men seemed to think their cocks were all-powerful and awe-inspiring, when even a large one was only a piece of flesh filled with blood. And a vulnerable bit of flesh as well, for the slightest hiccup in that blood supply made it worthless to everyone.
Rather, it was the gun that frightened her, and what tumbled in her thoughts now was whether it would be best to simply submit and hope he didn’t kill her after. He hadn’t killed Sheila, and that was promising.
At least, he’d said Sheila was still alive. He hadn’t fired the gun, but there was the knife in his belt. The truth of things might be something else entirely. She struggled to assess the various likelihoods.
He sat on the edge of the bed next to her, and leaned over. The rum on his breath blasted over her. She coughed and blinked. What if he intended to kill her regardless of whether she resisted? Besides not wanting to die, the idea of being cheated made her angry. She could lie with him to save her life—in the past she’d sold herself for much less—but if he was going to murder her anyway she would rather die beforehand and salvage whatever honor might be left to her.
He said again, “You really shouldn’t have run away.” He swayed some, and she realized how drunk he was. That decided her, and she didn’t hesitate. She rolled away from him. He fired and put a hole in her mattress. Feathers puffed into the air. He dropped the empty pistol and drew his knife.
The bed was now between them, but moving had also put him between herself and the door. She hopped up into the alcove where her desk stood, and grabbed an old dagger she kept there for cutting letters and the pages of new books. She turned to face him with it.
“Out! Get out!” she shouted with full theatrical projection. “Help! Matthew! Louis! Help me!” She prayed the ceiling boards were not too thick for them to hear her. “Help me! Murder! Intruder! Come help me!” She heard nothing from the room above.
But the pirate didn’t wait to know whether the others would come. Without another word he dashed from the room and through the rest of the apartment to the outer door.
Suzanne ran after him, heedless of her lack of dress. Still shouting for help, she chased him out and saw him disappear up the stairwell. Now voices could be heard upstairs, and a cry went up. Pounding footsteps raced across the ceiling and off into the rest of the building. She stood at her doorway with the dagger, listening, but heard no shout of victory. There was no more shouting at all. She guessed the pirate had made his escape.
She returned to her bedchamber, quickly donned a dressing gown, and took the dagger to the kitchen to look for Sheila. She found her as the pirate had said, bound and gagged atop the pallet she slept on at night. When Suzanne lit a candle, Sheila began to weep with relief. Suzanne went to her and cut the rag gag and kitchen twine that bound her. Sheila threw her arms around Suzanne and sobbed.
“Oh, mistress! I was so frightened! I thought for a certainty we were all dead! Did they catch him? Did Matthew and them catch him?”
“I don’t think they did.”
Louis came from outside. He wore only his linens, hung low around his slender young man’s hips, and carried a pike from the properties in one fist. Though it was old, rusty, and rather cheaply made—which made it ideal for the stage—it was weapon enough to chase off a coward. “Are the two of you all right? Did he hurt you any?”
Suzanne stood and pulled her gown around her, then showed him her dagger. “No. I got hold of this before he could.”
“Who was he? Did you know him?”
Suzanne was about to explain about the pirate ship, but thought better of it and said, “No, I don’t know who it was. I don’t know how he got in, either.”
“More than likely he was in the audience last night and stayed behind in the necessary house after the show. Nobody checks the bog, though we should.”
Matthew entered, all huffing and out of breath, also carrying a property pike, as she asked, “How did he get away, then?”
Matthew replied for Louis, “The entrance bolts from the inside and requires no key. He simply dashed past us, unbolted the door, and slipped out, then dashed away down the street in the darkness too quick for us to catch him.”
Suzanne sank to a chair at the table. “Then he’s gotten away. He’s still out there somewhere.” She knew where. Just as he’d known where she lived because she’d stupidly mentioned her theatre, she knew where he would be when she sent someone after him. It was nearly sunrise. Pepper would be in his office in a few hours, and she would be there to put him to work before he could uncork his bottle.
Chapter Sixteen
Alas, she didn’t arrive soon enough. The smell of brandy in Pepper’s office this morning was unusually off-putting. Ordinarily she liked the smell of alcohol, but today was too soon after her experience with the pirate last night and the rum on his breath. Her stomach turned. Suzanne took only shallow breaths and leaned back away from the constable as she described the events of the night before to him. He sipped and smacked his lips as he listened.
When she finished her tale of the assault, he looked at her and said, “And why are you telling me this?”
She sat up straight and raised her chin. “I think you should have him arrested.” She nodded to affirm her words.
“Were you injured?”
“No. I was able to lay hands on a dagger and I chased him out of my apartment.”
“Then there was no harm done to you.”
“I was frightened out of my wits.�
��
He made a wry face. “A superhuman feat to frighten you, and I doubt any mortal man could hope to rob you of your wits. I say he’s not worth the trouble of prosecuting. From the sound of it, you didn’t get much of a look at him in the dark, and neither did any of your troupe. Being actors, they would not make such credible witnesses in any case.”
Suzanne had been down this path with Pepper before. His laziness was legendary. But today she had an ace up her sleeve. “Dear constable, I understand what a busy man you are, and how you must conserve your resources in order to do your job to the satisfaction of his majesty. But I say to you, there is value in apprehending this pirate.”
“How so?”
“Aside from the fact that he is very much a pirate, he also may very well be the man who killed Henry of Larchford.” It was a bald-faced lie, for which she felt just a twinge of guilt. She knew he couldn’t have killed Larchford if he was in the St. Martin’s lockup at the time, but she also knew it wouldn’t hurt for Pepper to confirm that statement, and this was the only way to get him to arrest the pirate. Besides, who knew what information might be had by such interrogation? It would be a benefit for Pepper to believe the pirate could have killed Larchford.
Pepper was nonplussed for a moment. Well into his bottle, he had to think hard to formulate a reply. Finally he said, “The fourth man, you say?”
“The intruder was one of Santiago’s crew on Maiden. I spoke to him yesterday afternoon, and he told me all about how the ship operated in the waters of England, France, and the Mediterranean Sea. They attacked English and Scottish ships, and sold the plunder at the nearest ports. That ship made Larchford wealthy enough to have great influence at court. He confirmed what we already suspected about Larchford’s business, and he told me that Angus was acting as a fence for the ship’s plunder. Santiago had contacts all over Europe and Britain, where he could unload his cargo and never be caught with it. Sometimes at a port, sometimes on a deserted beach frequented by smugglers. He said Santiago and Angus had not been paid well by Larchford and were stupid in their dealings with him, which supports our theory that Larchford killed them when they insisted on more money and threatened him with exposure.”
The Scottish Play Murder (A Restoration Mystery) Page 21
