I smile at my own foolishness. I’m beginning to expect myself to act ridiculously in front of this woman and so I say simply. ‘No. I mean that we are having a ball.’
‘Weed, how wonderful!’ She takes my hand and holds it to her breast in an exaggerated gesture. ‘Of course, I know of your party. It’s only the talk of half the cast. But apparently it is a deeply secret affair and is not open to the rabble.’
‘It is a modest dwelling. I cannot have an open house.’
‘I’m going.’ Offers Cao.
‘Well in that case. I can hardly refuse your invitation.’ Jessica accepts. ‘But how will I find your apartment?’
‘Perhaps Weed can show you the way there tonight. A dry run so to speak.’ Cao offers, smirking.
‘What a fabulous idea. Here wait a moment.’ Before I can say a word Jessica pulls off her wig, thrusts it into my hands before pushing Cao and myself out of the door and slamming it in our faces. I turn to Cao, holding Jessica’s limp wig at arm’s length.
He laughs at me. ‘Well you wanted to get to know her better. Now you have her hair. Albeit a rather disgusting memento.’
A moment later and Jessica emerges in street clothes. Her face is washed clear of all trace of makeup, candid and naturally elegant. I think that she is more beautiful than ever. She takes my arm and puts it through her own. ‘Shall we?’
‘What about us?’ Tunde and Ajani emerge from the dressing room.
Cao laughs. ‘My good ladies! May I escort you on a merry round of the members’ clubs of Seven Dials? My credit is good at any number of reprehensible establishments.’
‘Ah ah! He thinks he can handle it!’ Ajani mugs to her sister and laughs. They thread their arms into Cao’s, almost carrying the small man between them and out into the night.
‘How are you feeling, Jessica?’ I ask her as we step from the backstage door into the street.
‘I’m flying high as a kite. I always am after a performance. It is like a sweet drug to my system. My blood is pumping. I want to jump and shout.’ Her smile runs from ear to ear and she leans into me and kisses me on the cheek. ‘Thanks for coming. I saw you in the audience.’
‘When we came to the dressing room I thought you didn’t recognise me.’
‘I didn’t want to appear too eager.’ She says and thrusting her hand out, she hails a Hackney Carriage. When we are at ease in the back seat, Jessica allows her fingers to play in mine. It is an excellent tonic to my soul and my troubled head. Together we endure exquisite anticipation before we reach my home, and as we descend she asks casually, ‘Does Ruth wait for your return?’
‘No. She is visiting with Nessa in the East End and will spend the night there tonight.’
She hears my answer and a glint flashes in Jessica’s eyes. We ascend the stairs but pausing mid-way I kiss her briefly on the lips, and this time she consents the kiss. Her scent is musky from the night’s exertions and I can smell her sweat through her clean linen. The smell is intoxicating like nothing else and I am eager to get inside my apartment. We reach the top of the flight and I fumble for the lock; finally we fall into my living room.
‘Heavens, Weed. I had not dreamed to find such a home of industry here within. You are like our Apothecary, though you are not so lean and mean as he.’
I lead her past the overflowing table. ‘I thought myself more of a type with Friar Lawrence. The poison-bringer and the cause of the tragedy.’
She turns to me and runs her hand through my hair. ‘Oh no, Weed. Why do you talk so?
It’s hardly his fault anyway. The tragedy is the rashness of the boy and girl. Young ones. They look ever so fine. Even in the middle of the night or with three days and no sleep, don’t you think? But their minds are not ready for love. Love is a complicated thing. Too rashly approached, like a wild beast, it will bite you. Love is to be coaxed.’
I take her hand again and draw her silently into my chamber, lighting an oil lamp in the corner. I try to clear some of the boxes from my bed but Jessica stops me and takes me in her arms, kissing me. I stand back from her a moment, relishing my own excitement. I feel strangely nervous in the company of this woman. She is honest, sincere and in the half-light she pulls her simple dress from her shoulders. She lets it fall down her breasts and when it catches on her hips, a simple shake and it falls to the ground. She steps daintily out of the garment and kicks off her shoes. She approaches me in plain nakedness, although her mouth wears a smile.
As she advances I feel my nerves, not as a tremble but as a deep warm heat that flutters inside me. This warmth is pleasant; it centres my body and I feel solid and anchored to the floor by sure feet. She takes my waistcoat and unbuttons it skilfully, watching my face all the while. As she removes it and starts on my shirt heat fires in my belly even as it is exposed to the air. She stands back and appreciates my white torso in the shadowed glow of the smoky light.
‘Dark and light play across the contours of your body, Weed. Just like a Caravaggio.’ She says. ‘But with one difference.’ She approaches me again and takes my trousers in her hands, unfastening them at the waist. As they fall to the ground she follows them and gently unties my shoes. I step out of my trousers and in the lamplight I watch as she unbuttons my underwear and lets them fall to the ground as well.
As she rises I want to move closer to her but she steps back to appreciate me from arms’ length. ‘One moment, Weed. Let me see you first. I stand every evening on a stage under the glare of many eyes. For once it is a pleasure for me to be the voyeur.’
She puts her finger to her lips, studying me. ‘Your legs: white as marble, strong in thigh and calf and curled with hair, dark as your head. Very nice.’ I look up at her from beneath my black locks. Jessica speaks with roused anticipation. ‘A hard belly and chest. Flawless white skin stretched taught over muscle. Your body speaks of a life lived out of the city and used to work.’
She touches my cheek with her finger, drawing it along my jawline. ‘And then your face, Weed, your face is perfect: a strong chin, open mouth, used to smile. Even, white teeth, straight nose, and then those eyes. Weed, your eyes of deepest green are more beautiful than anything. A high, clear forehead and your hair, growing wildly to frame such a classical face. You’re beautiful. And that’s all.’ She smiles brightly. ‘Now it’s my turn.’
She steps away from me and I linger in front of her, awed by her poise, her words. What could I say about her figure to do it justice? She is tall as I am but there are no straight lines on her body. Her long, curly hair tumbles over her shoulders, pointing to her full round breasts topped by dark nipples. The curve of her waist contours in before sweeping to a broad hip and tapering down shapely legs to high calves and delicate feet. Her skin is flushed a light pink except at her throat and face where the colour deepens, contrasting magnificently with her shining black eyes.
‘I am abashed, Jessica. I do not have your way with speech, but –’ I approach her and put my hands on her hips. I lean in and kiss her gently on her left cheek and then her right. I look at her beautiful face for a moment and then I kiss the nape of her neck and her breastbone. I gently place my fingers on either side of her head and draw her downwards and towards me to kiss her forehead. I lean back and look into her eyes once more, pushing her hair behind her ears.
‘Quite eloquent after all, Weed.’ And then she steps into me and kisses me on the lips. She takes the hands I placed on her hips and winds them around her waist, drawing me further into her. Her fingers cross my back and find my shoulders. She grips me tightly as we soften into one another. I pull her down onto my bed and the taste of her lips is salty-sweet. The smoke of the guttering oil lamp curls, drifting and licking at our skin. Yet the heat of the lamp’s flame is overmatched by the heat we generate, and the licks of its smoky coils are nothing compared to our own tongues when passion plays beneath the sheets.
Chapter 31
Dawn is breaking over the city. My head is foggy and my vision blurred as I am led from S
outh Molton Street towards St James’ Park. In my haze I try to remember where I am and what I am doing. I look and see Cao and Jessica walking on either side of me, steadying me. I feel safe and happy in their company. Especially in Jessica’s company. I remember the taste of her skin and her smile. At least I can remember that.
‘Why on earth are you grinning, Weed, you fool.’ Jessica speaks in anger but there is concern in her face.
‘Don’t look so troubled, my love.’ I blink groggily and take her hand.
She yanks it back. ‘Oh, Weed! Wake up, for God’s sake. Cao this is so wrong. We must turn back.’
‘Yet they’d be waiting for us at the apartment.’ Cao looks worried too.
I feel a touch at my waist and look down to see Ruth. ‘Sweetest Ruth. How are you?’
‘I’m awful, Weed. I cannot believe that you are doing this.’
‘What am I doing?’ My words are a tumbling mess. I shake my head, trying to focus on the breaking dawn light but even its feebleness hurts my eyes. I hear the pounding of running footsteps and turn to see Issa sprinting towards me with a wild look in his eye. He’s carrying something in his hand and he throws it at me.
‘Aaaaaa!’ the most appalling sensation grips my head and sets my teeth chattering. I open my mouth and feel clear liquid moistening my dry mouth. I put my hand to my hair and it’s sopping wet. I’m covered in freezing water.
‘I’m going to get more!’ And Issa runs off again.
‘Hold on! Just hold on a second!’ I shake some of the water out of my eyes and try to recall. There was a party. It was our party. I feel like I’m going to retch and I bend over, putting my head between my knees. Only Jessica’s hands stop me from falling right over. I remember our apartment filled with people, all enjoying themselves, dancing and drinking.
‘Come on, Weed!’ Jessica rights me and slaps me fully in the face with an open palm. ‘Wake up! When I catch that goddamned Issa and his absinthe, I swear to God I will kill him!’ I remember absinthe. In my mind’s eye Issa produces a sugar cube and holds it over a glass of green liquid. He lights the cube with a taper and lets the flaming confection fall into the vessel. We watch as a ghostly flame haunts the crystal for a moment and then we drink and then we dance. The first one was good.
‘Oh dear.’ I mumble to myself. The walls were hung with rich velvet in black and purple. Someone had woven a constellation of glass and crystal into the fabric. It was a night scene captured in our apartment, a Galaxy of stars twinkling in candlelight. Lords and ladies were dressed in expensive masques. They swirled within, dancing to a gypsy orchestra beneath our counterfeit heaven. ‘Ruth, I think may have drunk too much. Did I spoil our party?’
‘It was that fat-headed Dartmouth who spoiled it.’ We are crossing Berkeley Square and a pounding headache blooms inside my brain. I do not know if it is my usual affliction or the final curse of the absinthe as it leaves my system.
Guests were arriving late into the evening and there was an altercation. An energetic quadrille championed by Ajani, Tunde and their partners caused an upset, a simple bump and jostle, which escalated quickly. ‘Tunde, Ajani. Where are they now?’
‘They’re in prison of course, Weed!’ Jessica is stumbling on, sweating under my weight. This is unseemly. I right myself and walk under my own wavering power. ‘And you’re their bond.’
‘Why do you humour this ridiculous challenge? You needn’t, of course. You could simply leave the city.’ Ruth fidgets at my side, wringing her hands together.
‘There ought to be a law against challenging a drunken man to a duel.’ Jessica takes my hand in hers.
‘There should be, but Dartmouth is the Lord Chamberlain and he is the law.’ Cao turns to me and lifts my eyelids one after the other, staring into my eyes. ‘Well. He can focus. That’ll help in the pistol fight.’
‘PISTOLS?!’ I’ve never fired a gun in my life as far as I know. I groan inwardly. I see Issa again out of the corner of my eye and another pitcher of ice-cold water lands squarely in my face. I shake my soaking locks out of my face. ‘Will someone just tell me what in the name of God is going on?’
‘Oh Weed, you rubber-head.’ Issa wipes my face with his hanky. ‘Do you remember nothing at all? Tunde was whooping up a storm and she knocked into Lord Dartmouth’s wife. The haybag was angered by liquor and threw a vase of water onto Tunde, which did little to dampen her spirits. There was a tussle when Ajani came to her sister’s aid. I think Lord Dartmouth was enjoying the spectacle but one glare from his screw-faced wife and he went mad. He called the Justices to arrest Tunde and Ajani for – what was it?’
‘Affray. It’s pathetic. Just about the colour of the skin. And right in our front room!’ Ruth looks up at me.
‘When the law arrived you menaced Dartmouth. Oh, Weed! You whacked him a great whack to the jaw. That was when he challenged you.’ Issa is looking up at the clear sky.
‘Aboard a ship that warrants a brawl and nothing more. Over and forgotten about before breakfast. But things work differently around here. Now we’re out in the freezing morning facing your imminent death. Is that clear enough or shall I fetch more water?’
‘Issa! This is all your fault.’ Jessica glares and Issa holds out his hands ruefully.
‘Oh, Cao,’ I moan. I feel rotten. ‘If only I had left off the alcohol and stuck to your pipe.’ My friend nods sadly.
‘It’s too late for that now. Forget about all this.’ Begs Ruth. ‘We’ll hide you in the East End. They’ll never bother looking there.’
‘But what about Tunde and Ajani. They’re in prison already. What a mess. And after I offered him my hospi–hic–hospitality.’
‘Oh don’t start with all that hospitality nonsense again, Weed. This isn’t the countryside; it’s the city. And you’ve tangled with a vengeful bastard.’ Jessica holds my hand. ‘Let’s just run away, Weed.’
‘And what about you? Actress of Covent Garden.’ I touch her beautiful cheek, but she brushes my hand impatiently away. ‘You’d lose your part. You talk of pride in being your own woman, being independent. All that would all be gone.’
The ground seems to shake beneath me and I look up to see a man galloping towards us on horseback. He yells, entirely too loudly for my comfort. ‘Sirrah Weed! I’ve been sent by Lord Dartmouth to show you the way in case you had lost the path.’ He smiles a grim self-satisfied smile and conspicuously shows a pistol hanging at his waist.
‘Yes. Yes. We all hear you.’ Cao waves his hand at our escort, ‘Now get out of the way or I’ll take that pistol and shove it up your arse.’
‘Heathen swine! Watch your mouth!’ He blusters.
‘And you watch your arse. Footman! You’re a slave to a slave.’ I see Cao close his eyes, concentrating and practising breath control. Then almost quicker than the eye can see he lunges at the speaker, stopping just short. If the man is too witless to take note the horse is not and rears up, backing off. Cao regards me, smiling. ‘Did you see that?’
‘I did.’
‘Good. Your eyes are sharp. Even when you’re addled.’ Cao falls in step with me, speaking in a quiet steely voice. ‘You’re not quite like ordinary men, Weed. You pretend to be, but you’re not. You’ve come to the city for anonymity. I should know; I run an Opium den. I can smell a troubled soul a mile off. Do you think you’re really fooling anyone with this pretty boy makeup man act? You’ve been hiding from yourself too long. If you’re going to best this be-wigged idiot then you’d better get wise and fast. Today you have to trust your instincts. If you can manage that then really it’s just a question of mechanics. Have you ever fired a pistol before?’
‘I honestly can’t remember.’ As the park of St James’ approaches us I wince. Not because of the impending duel but because I have avoided the green and growing spaces of London since my arrival. I have buried their obligations deeply and now I come amongst these old roots and shrubs with a musty head. I fear that my mental strength to halt their chatter will fail. My head throbs
louder. ‘You just point and shoot, don’t you?’
‘More or less. I am your second. I will be there to ensure your pistol works as well as your opponent’s.’ Entering through the wrought iron gates of the park I see great trees peppering this wild space. The sun has climbed over the horizon and its bright light speaks to me clearly for the first time in what seems like an age. I feel a connection in spite of myself, a gentle nudge inside my head.
‘At least the sun is unclouded. This uncommon season of greyness seems to be finally at an end,’ says Jessica.
Ruth takes my hand as we walk in greenery. ‘Weed! I don’t pretend to understand you through and through. Here you have played the doyen of London, the gentleman of means. But I do know that beneath the money and all the finery you are heart-sore. It is more than Hannah and more than Malina; the Green world threw some heavy obligation to you and you avoid it desperately. You grow no garden here.’ She looks at me with tears in her eyes. ‘Once I knew a different man: faster than the wind and sharper than the sun breaking dawn. He spake to the earth and drew strength from deep wells. You must do so again. You promised to protect me and I cannot bear it if you die here.’
I look at young Ruth and feel the weight of old burdens. With the wind whispering in my ears I fix my gaze ahead. Nearby, under the branches of a Yew tree I see the blurry form of Lord Dartmouth. He is accompanied by two others dressed in culottes and rich fabrics. They hold a case between them and as we approach one of the men cries at me, ‘Sir Weed! Well met this morning. Who is your second?’
‘I will do that duty.’ Cao steps forward. ‘Weed, a moment please. I must check that all is good and proper with these weapons.’
Jessica leads me to the great Yew and lets me rest against its rough bark. The woody smell enters my nostrils and the hard ridges dig into my back. I feel its voice brush lightly against my mind and immediately, though the effort pains me, I block it cold. Taking a deep breath, I try and focus on old Cao; he is a master of gunpowder. He fills the barrel of the first pistol, loading shot and saltpetre, and fires the weapon into the air. The sharp report of the pistol makes me jump almost out of my skin; I am shocked and my concentration is shattered. A sound whispers in my ear.
Weed: The Poison Diaries Page 20
