The Masque of a Murderer (29 page)

Closing the offending chamber pot, Lucy set it aside and tried to soothe the woman. “No, no! You are all right,” she said. “Help is on the way. Please, can you tell us what happened?”

Deborah looked around the room then, taking in the intent gazes of everyone around. With one hand still on her head, she spoke in a very dramatic fashion. “Pray, do not think me dead,” she murmured. “Pray, do not bury me. I do still live.”

“Deborah, please. We know you are alive. We know, too, that you will be all right,” Lucy said again, trying to keep the irritation from her voice. “Could you tell us what happened to you?”

“’Twas your warning that did it,” Deborah said, staring resentfully at Lucy.

“What?” Lucy exclaimed as everyone’s attention swiveled toward her. “I never sent a warning.”

“The warning came from your printer’s apprentice,” Deborah said more curtly now, as she struggled to sit up. “Said the warning was from you.”

Recalling her desperate conversation with Lach before she raced away from the printer’s shop, Lucy slapped her head. What a time for Lach to develop a conscience. “Oh, he must have thought they were all in danger, when really it was Sarah in danger of them. Oh, no!”

The magistrate asked Deborah to proceed with her explanation, which she did, all the while rubbing her head. “The carriage arrived. Four horses they had hired! I could scarcely believe it. Joan, of course, said she would rather walk to Bristol, that the Lord had not given her two feet to sit in such a thing. So she just started walking on her own.”

Theodora nodded. “That makes sense. We believe that the Lord will provide shelter and sustenance to all who act in his name. We need nothing other than the clothes on our back and the Inner Light to guide us.”

Deborah laughed scornfully. “Esther does not hold by that notion, I am afraid. She said that the Lord did not want her to miss boarding the ship. She seemed glad when Joan set off on foot, and it was not long before I discovered why.” She paused. “She had several large trunks, no doubt full of valuables.”

Theodora frowned. “’Tis not the Quaker way.”

A smile still tugged at Deborah’s lips. She seemed to be about to say something. Instead, she just shrugged. “I heard her tell Gervase that there would not be room for us all, so it was better that Joan had set off on her own. It was then that Esther sent me back into the house, to retrieve a mirror from Jacob’s table, she said. I could not find it. While I was still turned to the table, I heard a step behind me. Then I felt a terrible blow against the back of my head.” She frowned. “That is the last thing I remember before you thrust that disgusting pot under my nose.”

“You did not see your assailant?” Lucy asked, disappointed. “You cannot say for certain whether it was Esther, or maybe Gervase?”

“No, I cannot.”

Lucy looked at her closely. The woman seemed to be telling the truth.

“What about Sarah?” the magistrate broke in. “Where was she when this happened? Do you know if she was injured as well?”

“As far as I know, she is in fine health,” Deborah replied. “When I last saw her, she was in the carriage. She seemed intent on staying near Esther, for some reason. Although—” She broke off, her eyes taking on a distant look. She appeared to be remembering something.

“What is it?” Lucy asked.

“I remember now Gervase whispering something to Esther. I do not know what he said exactly. I did hear her reply, though. ‘We may need her, at least for a while.’ That is what she said.”

“We may need her?” the magistrate repeated, his jaw tightening. “At least for a while?” He looked at his son. “I am afraid that they may have taken Sarah, thinking that her presence would lessen suspicion, thus ensuring themselves safe passage. The question is, does she even know she is in danger yet?”

He turned back to the searcher, who had been watching the proceedings silently from a corner of the room. “I would still like to know what you were doing in this house.”

“Perhaps she is the one who struck Deborah!” Adam said.

“Bah!” the searcher said, her eyes narrowing. “Now why would I do such a thing? No, I heard that woman you call Esther Grace bid this simpleton here to go inside. The man, he was tending the horses, and the younger woman—your daughter, I suppose,” she said to the magistrate, “was in the carriage. I saw Esther Grace follow this one inside”—motioning to Deborah—“and then come out alone a few minutes later. Heard her tell the others that Deborah had changed her mind, and would not be accompanying them on their journey. I was … curious. What has that murderous impostor done now, I wondered.” She chuckled.

Theodora looked up sharply. “Murderous impostor?” she repeated.

“I am afraid that Esther Grace was not truly a Quaker,” Lucy explained. “Nor Gervase, nor Deborah.” She turned and stared at Deborah. “Impostors all. They have fooled you.”

“Even if she fooled us,” Theodora said, reaching out for Deborah’s arm, “she did not fool the Lord.” With Ahivah’s help, they brought Deborah to her feet and led her to Jacob Whitby’s bed. “Who are they?”

“Players.” Lucy pulled
The Player’s Last Play
from her pocket and waved the murder ballad in the air. “It’s all here!”

They all looked at Deborah expectantly. Her mouth tightened, although she said nothing. Lucy could see the fear that had filled her eyes. To their surprise, Ahivah reached over and pinched her niece’s arm.

“Ow! ’Tis true!” Deborah said. “Grace and I were players, not Quakers. Gervase, too. He had joined the company a short time before. She and I were not regulars, though, just when they needed us to prance and trot about.” She tossed her head. “We had,” she said with a smirk, “
lived
at a house nearby.”

“A brothel?” Lucy asked, darting a quick glance at Adam. “On Leather Lane?”

Deborah looked surprised. Still, she nodded her head. “Yes. We were quite favored by the players. And those swells from the Inns of Court, too,” she said, batting her eyes at Adam, who looked away.

Now Deborah seemed more eager to talk. “Grace was the one who wanted to perform on the stage. So when Basil Townsend and Gervase started
calling
on us,” she said with a wink, “Grace got them so heated for her that she could get them to do anything she wanted them to do. Still has Gervase wrapped around her finger.”

“So you began to perform on the stage?” the magistrate asked.

Deborah shrugged. “Sometimes we just did little songs or dances before the show or after. I did not really care for it, except it brought in easier money than the way I usually made it. More patrons, too. I was glad enough to just sell oranges. Grace, though, she loved performing. Said she was born to play the stage. I believe it, too.”

“So do I, verily,” the magistrate said grimly. “Tell us more about the actor Basil Townsend. What is the truth of his murder? Do not be coy now. This is the time for truth.”

Deborah’s mouth tightened, but she did not speak.

“You saw it happen, did you not?” Adam asked.

“Yes, I saw it happen,” Deborah said in a resigned way. Sighing, she continued. “Gervase was the one who killed Basil Townsend. I know that it was at Esther’s bidding. Stabbed Basil through and through, he did. Right there on the stage, ten feet from where I was changing out of my costume.”

“Why did he do it?” Adam demanded.

“Was he jealous?” Lucy chimed in.

Deborah shook her head. “I am sure Gervase
was
jealous. The way Esther tempted and taunted Basil—it could have driven any man mad with jealousy. And Esther knew it, too. It was not Gervase’s choice to kill his fellow player, but Esther had a way of getting under a man’s skin. That is why she was so angry at Basil when she could not get him to do as she asked.”

“Which was—?” Adam asked.

“Near as I can figure out, Basil had refused to speak to the duke—you know it was his company—about giving Esther real parts to play. She wanted to play Desdemona, Juliet—all those leading roles. And he would not make it happen.”

“So she had Gervase kill him,” Adam concluded.

“Yes! I was so angry about this! Basil had always paid me well, treated me well enough,” Deborah said, the remembered fury causing a flush to rise in her cheeks.

“Why, then, did you lie whilst on the stand?” Master Hargrave asked, his tone steady—and still a bit menacing.

“They paid me a tidy sum to put the blame on Abel Coxswain. I told Grace that I would play along, so long as it helped me.”

“You changed your testimony in the midst of the trial. Put the blame on someone else, who—praise the Lord—was not hanged for your perjury,” the magistrate continued to scold her.

“I was already punished for changing my testimony!” Deborah cried, struggling to sit up. “I have the stripes on my back to prove it!”

Hearing this, the magistrate softened his tone. “Yes, I remember. I agree, you have paid for your lie.”

“What about thy other lie! The lie in which thou didst claim the Inner Light?

Theodora broke in. She had been listening to the exchange with astonishment and now seemed on the brink of tears. “Why ever for? Why wouldst thou seek to betray us in such a way? What did we ever do to thee?”

Deborah put her hand to the wound on her head, wincing as her fingers touched the bump. “After Basil was murdered, there was no place for any of us in the company. Not long after, the plague hit and the king closed all the theaters. We all had to flee elsewhere. I did not set out to be a Quaker. However, I found it became quite convenient to hide out among the Quakers.” Without looking at her aunt, Deborah muttered. “’Twas easy enough, to be certain. Ahivah had come to the plays several times, so that I would understand that the Lord had a plan for me.”

“And Esther Grace?” the magistrate asked. “What happened to her?”

“Esther disappeared—to live with that tailor, I know now,” Deborah said. “She knew that I had gone to live with my aunt. It was me she was visiting when she met Jacob Whitby. He was entranced by her, as men usually were. The next thing I knew, the Beetners had died and she was wedded to Jacob.”

“And then she killed Jacob!” Lucy cried.

Deborah raised her eyebrow. “That I do not know.”

From the window, they heard a carriage pull up along the street below. “We must go,” the magistrate said to his son. “We must go after Sarah. She is in danger.” He looked back at Deborah. “We will have the constable deal with
her.
” He took the searcher by the arm. “I would like for you to accompany us. There are still some questions I need you to answer.”

To their surprise, Sadie Burroughs did not resist and allowed the magistrate to lead her out of the room. Lucy and Theodora followed suit, with Ahivah remaining behind with her niece.

Once they were outside, Theodora touched the magistrate on his arm. “We shall let you know, should Esther or Gervase ever return to London. It may well be too late. However, if we see them again, we will detain them.”

“And then—what?” Adam raised his eyebrow. “Turn them over to the authorities?”

“Certainly,” the Quaker said in an equally cool voice. “Gervase and Esther are not Friends. They do not deserve our protection.” She smiled slightly. “We do what we do for thy daughter. We care about her, and we do not want her to be hurt.”

“I thank you.” The magistrate touched his hand gently to his hat, and the Quaker nodded. Nothing else needed to be said.

As they approached, John hopped down from the carriage he had hired at the livery. To their surprise, another horse, this one saddled, was tied behind the carriage. “Saw Sam Leighton,” John explained in his typical clipped fashion. “Told me what happened. Thought you might also need a faster horse if you are trying to overtake them.”

Indeed, the carriage looked durable, and the horses looked well rested and hearty. Adam clapped his father’s servant on the back. “Good man, John. Excellent thinking.” He began to untether the saddled horse from the carriage.

Hearing a shout then, they saw the constable and Hank running down the lane toward them. Sam was not with him, no doubt fetching the physician to tend to Deborah.

In quick, terse words, Adam apprised the constable of what had transpired within Jacob Whitby’s home. He turned to his father. “I will ride ahead, Father, on the road to Bristol. If you follow me in the carriage, we will have a means to bring Sarah home. I will then double back to the carriage when I find them. With any luck, this will be well before they reach Chippenham.”

“I will accompany you,” the constable said, stepping forward. “You cannot go alone. They could be dangerous.”

John spoke up then. “No other horses at the near livery. Stable-man said they had all been hired.”

“No time to go to another livery,” Adam said. “Constable, you must ride in the carriage with my father.” He frowned at the searcher. “I know that you know more than what you are saying, but I have not the time to deal with you now.”

“I can attend to her,” Hank said.

“No, we will bring her with us,” the constable said. “I would like to hear what she has to say as well.”

The searcher grinned, showing her gaping smile. “It would do my heart good to see Esther Grace arrested. Better still when she is hanged.”

“That is well enough,” Adam said. “Father, if you would board the carriage. We must make haste.”

As Adam helped his father into the carriage, Lucy knew she could not let them go without her. She stepped forward, putting her hand on the side of the carriage. “Please, sir,” she said to the magistrate. “Please let me join you. Sarah might need me.”

She held her breath, knowing that adding one more body to the carriage would keep the horses from moving as fast as they might otherwise travel. They could only hope that Esther Whitby was traveling slower still, with all the belongings they seemed to have stuffed inside the cart.

Although she could see that Adam looked to deny her, the magistrate leaned down and extended his hand. “Come, my child. Make haste.”

With that, it was decided that Lucy would accompany them on this madcap race against time.

20

Lucy sank back into the cushioned seat of the carriage, too anxious to enjoy the unfamiliar luxury. They were moving now at a brisk pace. The city dwellings had already begun to give way to fields and pastures as they moved west. She hoped that their horses would not tire before they reached a coaching inn. Adam had mounted his horse, sitting straight and tall in the saddle, and ridden off ahead of them in an effort to catch sight of Esther’s cart before she and the others got too far.