Death in the Peerless Pool (25 page)

‘'Zeeth! And what of Nick?'

‘He fought like a demon and loved every minute of it. I do believe that in his mind he saw himselfas a knight of yore rescuing his beloved from the clutches of evil.'

‘And the beloved herself? How did she behave?'

‘With remarkable coolness once she had got over her fit of weeping. The little imp actually played cards with me while we waited to be rescued.'

‘I am afraid,' said Sir Gabriel severely, ‘that I suffer an overwhelming urge to land a well-aimed smack on that particular party's arse.'

‘She can be immensely irritating,' John answered with a grin.

‘And what yarn did you pitch to the Magistrate – or did you tell him the truth?'

‘I decided on the truth. It seemed to me that he of all people should know about Mrs Tredille's establishment.'

‘Particularly in view of the refuge he has opened for orphaned girls.'

‘Quite. Anyway, I returned scantily clad Mary Ann to the arms of her family.'

‘And?'

‘Her aunt cried and cuddled her. Mr Fielding gave her six of the best and cuddled her. And Nick, in a moment of total frenzy, asked for her hand in marriage, and cuddled her.'

‘God's truth!' exclaimed Sir Gabriel, gulping his coffee. ‘What then?'

‘The Beak, may his patience be blessed, paid my poor apprentice the honour of listening to him with great seriousness, then suggested that all such proposals should be shelved until Mary Ann reaches the age of eighteen.'

‘And do you think the little minx has learned a lesson from all this?'

John, mouth full again, nodded. ‘Yes. She was very frightened indeed. I shall never forget her face as I walked into that room. It is criminal that children should be exploited in such a way.'

‘Which leads me naturally to my next question. When do you return to Bath?'

‘Today, dear Father. Joe Jago is taking on the task of seeing Toby and trying to find out what he knows about the mysterious coachman. And I intend to track down that same young coachman and learn the truth. I also want to follow a thought of my own.'

‘Which is?'

‘That the disappearances of Meredith Dysart and Lucy Allbury are in some way connected. It is not as far-fetched as it sounds. The Dysarts' Somerset home is only twenty miles from Bath.'

‘Umm,' said Sir Gabriel, considering. ‘You may well be right.' He smiled mischievously. ‘Of course, there is one other thing that you will be anxious to discover as well.'

‘Which is?'

‘Just how much Miss Coralie Clive has missed you while you have been apart.'

‘That,' John answered, ‘is the thing I want to find out most of all.'

He travelled overnight as he had done before, ensuring he slept by taking a mild draught, and awoke next morning aching in most of his limbs but refreshed. Booking himself a room at The Bear, John enquired whether a Miss Clive was staying and was told no. However, a detailed description yielded the information that a Marchesa di Spinotti was in residence and resembled the lady he had depicted.

‘Of course,' the Apothecary answered, and murmured something about the Marchesa using an alias when travelling abroad. ‘And is the lady here now?' he asked.

‘No. Madam has gone to the baths. You may well catch up with her in the Pump Room, Sir. I think it is her habit to go there.'

‘Thank you,' said John, and went to his room to unpack and repair his dishevelled appearance before presenting himself to his beautiful mistress.

Afterwards he was glad that he had done so, for the Pump Room was more like a Welsh fair than ever that day. The musicians were in fine loud form, blowing for all they were worth, while the chatter and aspect of the crowd resembled an aviary swarming with birds of brilliant hue. John, gazing around, saw Coralie at once. Surrounded by a swarm of gallants, she held court in their midst, her dark hair glistening as she turned her head to listen to first one, then another. Very straight-faced, the Apothecary approached.

‘Madam la Marchesa,' he said in thrilling tones, and bowed to the ground.

Coralie wheeled round, and it was only her acting training which saved her from giving the game away. ‘Er …' she said, as if she couldn't quite remember who he was.

John bowed again. ‘Rawlings, Marchesa. John Rawlings. We met at the assembly given by Serafina de Vignolles when you were last in London.'

‘Of course,' Coralie cooed, tapping him lightly on the cheek with her folded fan. ‘How could I forget? You are an actor, are you not?'

‘An apothecary, Ma'am.'

She pealed with laughter, in which all the gallants joined. ‘There you are. I knew it began with an “a”.'

Her Italian accent was a triumph, trilling up and down as if she were singing. John, shaking his head very slightly at the sheer audacity of his mistress, fell in love with her all over again. None the less, he decided to give her a run for her money.

‘I attended your husband just before I left town,' he said casually.

He saw the amusement spark in the depths of Coralie's eyes. ‘Beloved Marco. How is he?'

‘I have been trying to persuade him to join you here, Marchesa. He really would benefit from taking the waters.'

She sighed. ‘But he is so busy with his diplomatic duties, alas.'

‘But he might surprise us yet and arrive unexpectedly.'

‘I hope not,' said a shrill little voice. ‘We want the Marchesa all to ourselves.'

It was young Sidmouth joining the party, stomping up on high red heels, his small mouth petulant at the thought of an elderly husband appearing without warning and spoiling his flirtation. He eyed John briefly, then recognised him.

‘Mr Rawlings,' he screeched, jumping into the air in his excitement. ‘We've missed you here. Orlando was quite put about after you left. He'll be delighted to hear that you've returned.'

‘How is he?' asked the Apothecary, drawing the silly creature to one side.

Robin Sidmouth pulled a face. ‘Rather poorly. His health ain't all it should be.'

‘He does tend to overdo things.'

‘By that do you mean his drinking or his fornications?'

‘I know nothing about the latter. They are entirely Orlando's affair.'

‘You wouldn't say that if you were an irate mama.'

‘A condition in which I am very unlikely ever to find myself.'

‘Oh la, la,' said Robin, giggling.

Coralie approached them. ‘Gentlemen, we have decided to go and eat Sally Lunn's buns and undo all the good of taking the waters. Do you care to join us?'

John bowed. ‘It would be a pleasure to spend some time in your company, Madam.' He offered his arm. ‘May I escort you? I would like to talk further about your husband's health.'

‘That would be most enlightening,' said Coralie, and curtseyed formally.

It was enormous fun, strolling along as if they hardly knew one another, discussing the ailments of poor old Marco and all the time sending each other hidden messages with their eyes. Eventually the gaggle of gallants, about half a dozen in total and all very much the stamp of young Sidmouth, emasculated nothings who swore pretty oaths and painted their faces, drew ahead of them and they were able to speak freely.

‘You are lovelier than ever,' said John. ‘I've missed you so much.'

Coralie gave a graceful shrug. ‘It's only been a few days.'

‘If I say that every minute seemed like an hour I suppose you'll laugh.'

‘Yes, I think I well might.'

‘Then I won't say it, ‘John responded. He bent his head closer to hers. ‘How have you got on with your investigations?'

She lowered her voice. ‘I have met Orlando a couple of times. I think he is quite taken with me but so far I have received no invitation to dine, which is very annoying indeed.'

‘So you've had no chance to talk to Jack the coachman?'

‘None. But, strangely, I've seen him. Sir Vivian Sweeting came into town the other day and Orlando presented him to me. I noticed a young man sitting on the coachman's box as Sir Vivian stepped out of the carriage. A handsome fellow, about twenty-one years old.'

‘That's him. By the way, how is Orlando? Young Sidmouth said he was ill.'

Coralie shook her head. ‘He might well be. He wasn't at the ball last night.'

John fingered his chin thoughtfully. ‘I wonder if I dare risk calling.'

‘Why shouldn't you? You are an apothecary, after all.'

‘Yes, but his uncle knows that I am interested in Hannah Rankin. I was forced to hide in a most uncomfortable cupboard last time I was there in order to avoid him.'

The actress frowned, considering. ‘But supposing I were to go, expressing concern for my new-found friend. Sir Vivian can hardly ask me to leave.'

‘No, in all politeness, he can't.'

‘Then we shall cross the river this very afternoon. You can accompany me and wait in an ale-house while I call laden with fruits and flowers.' Her eyes glowed. ‘Then supposing I beg for a carriage home. Do you think Sir Vivian might lend me Jack?'

‘There is another, more senior, coachman beside him, you know.'

‘Which one I get is a chance I shall have to take.'

There was no point in arguing with her, one glance at Coralie's face told John that. She was like a player with a grand new part dangled before her, determined to obtain and succeed in it.

‘There's an ale-house on the banks of the Avon, The Ship. If you get into trouble of any kind you are to leave the house and find me there,' he said firmly.

For answer, Coralie, after glancing round to see that they were not observed, gave him a kiss on the lips which left the Apothecary in no doubt that her feelings for him really were of the most affectionate kind.

They crossed the river at noon, complete with a pair of chairmen whom John had hired in Bath to take Coralie from the ferry up the hill to Welham House. The men had then been instructed to depart, deliberately leaving her without transport for the return trip, a ruse which both of them hoped might enable Coralie to have a private conversation with Jack. This stratagem arranged, and having seen his mistress safely on her way, the Apothecary retired to The Ship.

Whether fortune would favour Coralie that day remained to be seen, but it most certainly favoured John. As he went up to the bar, a figure in the corner waved its arm and a voice called out, ‘Lady Allbury's nephew, isn't it?'

For a moment the Apothecary's mind went blank, then he remembered the old ferryman and the yarn he had spun him. Turning, he saw that the gaffer was sitting in exactly the same spot as when John had last seen him, almost as if he hadn't moved. Blessing his luck, the Apothecary went to join him, determined to extract some more information, but before he could speak the old man started to babble excitedly.

‘I've got that name for you, the one you wanted. I seed him in the street, by God's cods, and I went and asked him.'

John was completely bemused. ‘What name? Who are you talking about?'

‘Last time we met, Sir. You asked me the name of the man who finds things out. The one who tried to locate poor Lucy Allbury.'

‘Yes, of course,' the Apothecary answered, now remembering clearly. ‘Well, what is his name?'

‘Dick Chandler, Sir. A tidy enough man in his way. He lives just outside the city at Widcombe.'

‘How can I find him?'

‘Very easily. He informed me he's given up discovering things – too old for it, he said – and has become an attendant at the King's Bath instead. I told him about you and he said he'd like to talk to you. You won't be able to miss him, Sir. He stands over six foot and has hair like an old badger, all black and white stripes. Very unusual it is.'

‘It sounds so.' John reached in his pocket and produced a guinea. ‘Thank you for all your help. Let me refill your glass.'

‘I won't say no, Sir.' The ferryman held out an enormous tankard. ‘Glad to have been of service.'

The Apothecary joined the old fellow in a quaff of ale, then stood up. ‘I think I'll walk along the riverbank, if you'll excuse me. Another fill?'

The ferryman nodded. ‘Never said no to that in my life.'

John obliged, then, well satisfied with this latest turn of events, stepped outside.

August was nearly over and it was a high, bright, glorious day with just a hint of autumn in it. Across the Avon to the west, Bath glimmered in the afternoon sunshine, while the river water, picking up the radiance, had little golden rivulets swirling over its blue expanse. Fisher boats were out everywhere, their sails rigged to catch the breeze, and John caught a glimpse of a larger craft, white sheets billowing purposefully, going downriver in the direction of Bristol. Beneath the surface of the waterway, fish swam in lazy dark shoals, defying the anglers who stood on the banks, ever hopeful. Overhead flew river birds, wheeling and crying to the sun, and in the shallows a heron perched sedately on one leg. It was a peaceful scene and John could have watched it, totally absorbed, for another good hour. But thoughts of Coralie were creeping in and he found himself wondering if she were safe. Almost reluctantly, he turned his back on the Avon and started to climb the hill towards Welham House.

But the Apothecary was not destined to reach the top. Halfway there, with the gates and the lodge just coming into view, he suddenly heard the sound of horses' hooves approaching at speed. Staring upward, John saw a coach and four come charging out of the drive and start heading downhill towards him at a frightening rate. Instantly jumping aside, it was only as they drew level that John saw that the horses were not attached and were pulling away from the vehicle, running free, swerving to one side in a frenzied quartet, while the coach rolled on at an ever increasing pace, driven by its own momentum. Helplessly, he stared as the conveyance careered past him and on towards the bottom of the hill. It could never stop, of that the Apothecary felt certain, and he started to run after it as the carriage hurled itself towards the river.