Death in the Dark Walk (2 page)

‘Shall we go straight to supper?' asked Samuel, breaking in on his friend's thoughts.

‘Certainly,' answered John, and increased his pace towards The Grove, a quadrangle of about five acres lying between the Grand Cross Walk and the entrance. Here could be found the raised bandstand, an elaborate dining pavilion known as the Turkish Tent standing immediately behind it. Also situated in this area, beyond the trees and standing on either side of The Grove, were the supper boxes and booths, placed in long rows or arranged in a semi-circular sweep. The more exotic of these emulated temples and follies, but even the other, simpler, booths were decorated with paintings, some executed by Mr Hogarth himself, representing sports and pastimes or scenes from popular comedies. Swaggering nonchalantly, John and Samuel passed the magnificent Rotunda, in which the orchestra performed on wet evenings, together with the Picture Room which led into it, on their way to dine.

There seemed to be lights everywhere, adorning the arches, the pillars, even the garlands of flowers looped between them. This brilliant illumination, combined with the fine clothes of the people who promenaded or sat down to eat, created an unforgettable impression. Overawed by such splendour but desperately trying to look as if they belonged in these elegant surroundings, the two young men took their seats in an unoccupied booth.

‘Waiter,' called John.

‘Yes, Sir?' responded a knobbly-kneed fellow with a supercilious expression.

‘A jug of punch, if you please.'

‘The celebrated Vaux Hall punch? The Arrack?' the man asked, obviously picking them out as newcomers despite John's fancy clothes. ‘It's very strong, you know.'

‘Then we'll have two,' the Apothecary replied grandly, and winked at his friend as the man went off.

‘I feel as if I've flown to Paradise,' said Samuel ingenuously.

‘The place is certainly full of angels,' John agreed, and gazed round at all the many beauties who strolled on the arms of exquisites or sat with gallant gentlemen in their boxes. ‘My God, look at that incomparable creature!' he added in an undertone.

‘Where?'

‘Sitting in the booth next to ours. Take a peep but be discreet. I know what you're like.'

Sliding to the end of the bench seat, the Goldsmith peered round the corner and saw a veritable feast for the eye. For there, right next door to them, sat one of the finest, freshest Beauties it had ever been his privilege to look upon. Strawberry hair piled up beneath a cascade of fresh flowers enhanced a complexion of snow and country roses, while the girl's small pert nose was placed most prettily above her full, rather pouting lips. Even from that distance, the flirtatious play of the Beauty's black lashes round eyes so extraordinarily light a blue they resembled forget-me-nots, was clearly visible. Without thinking, Samuel let out an appreciative whistle before returning to his place, mouth agape.

‘What a lovely girl. And with a gentleman of means, I see! Did you notice the quality of his clothes?'

‘Very stylish. I wonder who the lucky rogue is.'

‘Shall we saunter past and get a better look at them?'

‘By all means.'

The friends stood up to go but their plan was brought to an abrupt halt by the appearance of the waiter bearing the punch and the menu. Sitting down again, John and Samuel stared at the selection of meats, consisting mainly of thinly sliced ham, chicken or beef, then turned their attention to the savouries and sweets. On offer in this last category were a tart at one shilling, a custard or a cheesecake, fourpence, a heart cake, twopence, and a Shrewsbury cake for the same amount. They settled for chicken followed by custard, but with this order transacted looked up to find that the girl had risen from her place and was making her way down the Grand Walk on the arm of the gallant. Every red-blooded male she passed bowed and raised his hat to the Beauty, though she ignored them, putting her chin high in the air, whilst in coquettish contrast she openly kissed her lover on the lips from time to time.

‘Ah ha,' said John, smiling his uneven smile. ‘So she's either a Duchess or a whore.'

‘What makes you say that?'

‘It's obvious. She lacks too much prudery to come from the middle classes. I'll wager that girl is either from the highest or lowest walk of life.'

Samuel gazed at him in astonishment. ‘You've become very observant.'

John grinned but did not answer, and with that they fell to eating the meal that was set before them.

The repast consumed, the two strolled forth to hear the inimitable Miss Burchell rendering an aria, standing in front of the raised orchestra box, music in hand. Then, having blown her flourishing kisses and been rewarded with a flattering if somewhat grave bow of her head, they hastened towards the north side of the Gardens in response to the ringing of a bell. This denoted that the hour of nine o'clock had arrived and the famous Cascade was about to be lit. With much excitement, the friends jostled amongst the crowd who had already foregathered to witness the spectacle.

The lamps were suddenly extinguished so that all stood in darkness and then, as if by magic, an enormous curtain was drawn to one side disclosing a landscape scene illuminated by concealed lights. A fine grotto became visible, surrounded by the statues of Neptune, a mermaid, a dolphin and various other sea creatures, all placed in, as the woman in front of John remarked, ‘very agreeable attitudes'. Behind the statues fell showers of crystal water which plunged into a spacious basin, full of swimming fish, then spouted heavenwards once more through the mouth of a grinning dogfish. Despite the
oohs
and
aahs
and thunderous applause, John found himself rather in agreement with
The Connoisseur
who had described the sight, somewhat scathingly, as the ‘tin cascade'. And, as was his habit when slightly bored, the Apothecary found his attention turning to the crowd, thinking that people were always more interesting than mechanical effects.

It seemed that the
beau monde
had gathered in force at Vaux Hall this night, for amongst the throng John recognised the Duke of Richmond, notorious young man about town and the idol of his contemporaries. Lost in admiration, John saw that the nobleman was wearing a blue coat of quite stunning splendour and wondered if the day would ever come when he would be able to afford such a fabulous garment. Standing beside the Duke was his brother-in-law, Henry Fox, older than Richmond by far, and one of the most celebrated politicians of the day. He was also wearing blue, though a far more sober cut.

Next to them, part of the melée and yet somehow alone, there hovered an extravagant being, a female of both mystery and fascination, whom John had glimpsed earlier sitting in a booth with a rouleau of rakehells, part of a small group all bent forward eagerly as the dice box rattled. Though there were no gaming tables at Vaux Hall, what people did in their private booths was their own affair, but that a member of her sex had been seen gambling in public would have been intriguing enough, without the fact that this one was also masked. John studied the extraordinary creature closely, wishing he knew her identity.

She was quite tall for a woman, in fact not a great deal shorter than he, yet supple for all that, a delicate racehorse of a female. Her facial bones, too, looked as if they might well be good, what John could see of them behind the concealing scarlet mask. Yet the full mouth with its lovely tilt of amusement was superb, its owner's sense of fun impossible to hide. Staring at her, wondering what colour her hair might be, for that, too, was concealed, swept aloft into a wire turban set with glittering brooches, John longed to know more about this elegant denizen of the town.

And he was obviously not the only one, for the Masked Lady was catching the attention of a tall man of foreign appearance, dressed from head to toe in a black cloak, only a hint of blue at the throat revealing the colour he wore beneath. John's eyes wandered on and took in the fact that two old harpies, dressed in identical blue gowns in a horrid pastiche of young female twins, were also jealously regarding the exotic being who lingered so close to them. Wondering why everyone in the Pleasure Gardens seemed to be wearing the same colour, and feeling hopelessly out of fashion in his new mulberry satin, John continued to observe.

An apprentice lad, too small to see over the heads of the crowd, had crept forward and was crouching in front of the circle of onlookers in order to get a better view. He looked so tiny, a rascally little fellow in a coat of such fine stuff, inevitably a dazzling shade of blue, that John immediately wondered if he had stolen the garment, for how else could a poor ‘prentice manage to be so smartly clad. The Apothecary watched him with amusement, seeing the boy's youthful profile turned in wonder towards the shining waterfall and its fanciful aquatic attendants. Then he forgot all about the apprentice as he saw who stood behind him: the Beauty, her escort gone and now quite alone, had joined the throng.

The scene took on the frozen quality of a painting; the crowd intent upon the Cascade, their faces glowing in its reflected light, the loveliness of the girl dominating all. Then the moment passed. The lights dimmed on the spectacle and the great curtain fell. The throng, with nothing to look at, began to move away, and John turned to find that Samuel was no longer standing beside him. Gazing in all directions, the Apothecary saw that most people were milling towards the bandstand where the concert and supper were about to resume, though others who had already eaten or wished to take the air were starting to promenade down the two great avenues. With no idea where Samuel could have gone to, John eventually decided to traverse the Gardens in search of him.

It was a quivering night of argent moonshine and purplish shadows, the breeze bustling in the leaves, the smells and sounds of the black satin Thames drifting on its breath. The sky was dark as a cloak, yet spangled with a million sequinned stars, while the big indolent moon bathed in milk, throwing a shower of white about itself. There was a stirring everywhere, a nervousness abroad, as though a splinter of lightning might at any moment crack across the heavens and transform the evening's gaudy beauty into something fierce and uncertain.

Feeling slightly uneasy, the Apothecary strode on and, having reached the point where the Grand Walk and the Grand Cross Walk met, John turned into the crossing avenue and walked determinedly along, staring all about him, particularly when he reached the South Walk, at which point he stopped beneath one of the vast archways and peered up and down its length. Still there was no sign of that familiar windmill figure, and John had no option but to go on towards The Dark Walk, whose inky depths lay before him. It was then, just as he stood hesitating, not knowing whether to turn left or right, that he heard the sound of a scream, a momentary anguished cry which ended abruptly, as if a hand had been clapped over the mouth of the woman calling out.

John waited uncertainly, poised like an animal ready to race, wondering whether he had merely heard sweethearts at play or whether that choking cry denoted something far more sinister. Then came another noise, a dull thud as though something had fallen to the earth. It was enough to spur him into action and John hurtled into that dark cavernous avenue, turning left, the direction from which the sound had come.

He had entered a pit where the tall trees blotted out the moonshine and there was nothing but the high hedge on one side and dense woodland on the other. Hardly able to see, John rushed on, regardless of the fact that his hat had fallen off, that his fine stockings were tearing, his one purpose to find the woman who had cried out in despair. And it was then that he glimpsed a figure rushing out of the trees and speeding away as he approached. Just for a second he saw an oval of a face turn in his direction, saw a dim flash of blue as the creature hastened off. Then, charging into the clump of trees from which the figure had run, John Rawlings tripped over the other occupant of The Dark Walk and found himself lying prostrate beside the Beauty.

She lay sprawled upon the grass like a shattered doll, her strawberry hair streaming out about her, the flowers that had so recently bedecked its curls trampled and broken where they had fallen. In a second the Apothecary was on his feet, stooping to lift the inert form, then delicately turning it over. The glorious eyes stared into his sightlessly, but still he felt for her heart, kneeling and leaning low to the lips to catch any sign of breath. Then a shaft of moonlight came slanting through the trees and John saw that the roses in her cheeks had turned to snowdrops, that there was a blueness about her mouth, and round her neck, twisted like an obscene serpent, was the thing that had choked the life out of her.

Very gently, almost with reverence, John laid the Beauty back on the ground and straightened out her clothing, which had become torn and disarrayed as she had helplessly fought her attacker. One of her legs was bare, he noticed, the other covered with a black stocking held up by a garter. Her stays and small clothes seemed undisturbed, suggesting that this was no common rape, that sexual molestation had not been the reason for this killing. Leaning over the body once more, John stared hard at the thing drawn tightly round the girl's neck and recognised it for what it was. This most lovely of creatures had been brutally strangled with her own dark stocking.

‘Is she dead?' asked a tremulous voice, making the Apothecary leap in fright.

A wide-eyed girl, clinging to her sweetheart's arm as if it were an anchor, was approaching him through the trees.

‘I fear so,' John answered, standing up and brushing his knees.

The girl went paler than the moon, staring at the body in horror.

‘What's that around her neck?'

‘A stocking. She's been strangled.'

‘Oh God's faith!' ‘she exclaimed, clapping a hand over her mouth, while her lover, a burly boy if ever there was one, turned his eyes up in his head and fell to the earth without a sound.