The Opening Night Murder (10 page)

Shakespeare himself had worked here. He’d trod those very boards near the end of his life. In rehearsal he’d observed his actors from this very pit, and in performance had waited in the ’tiring area for the pleasing sound of applause or the annoying chatter and catcalls that signaled a bored audience.

Now Suzanne looked over the array of galleries, arranged in a circle and towering three stories high. The heavens covering the upstage area still betrayed a hint of blue and white cloud, though the paint was quite faded, dirty, and molded in spots. Moss grew on the roof, and great, rounded ridges of gray fungus were devouring some of the rain gutters along the heavens.

An enormous sigh took her. She wished to have been born in a different time, when theatre had been not merely allowed, but nurtured. When Shakespeare was still alive and working his magic on the stage. If wishes were horses…

One more sigh, and she ducked back out to continue on her walk. Far enough away from the Globe Theatre, she consoled herself with knowing that even had she lived during Shakespeare’s time, she would never have been allowed onstage.

D
ANIEL
didn’t contact Suzanne again, for a chat or anything else. During the days a wistful daydream distracted her, of what it might be like to have a tumble with him once more, for he was the only one she’d ever really wanted in that way. She reminisced of the days when lying with a man was something other than a chore, and with him it had been a soaring joy. But his silence told her he didn’t remember her in the same way she did him, that the curiosity he’d shown on his return to England had been nothing more, and mild at that. Her
daydream stayed a fantasy. Proof enough that her days as a kept mistress were over, she supposed, and it was probably just as well.

Piers contacted the coal merchant friend of Farthingworth, but waited and heard nothing. Suzanne wasn’t sure whether it was better to not hear and hope, or to hear and have a rejection. To not hear at all could mean Piers was being ignored, and that was the worst. The days passed into summer, and still no word. Gradually hope faded.

Now that William was gone and forgotten, Suzanne was free to frequent the Goat and Boar as she pleased, just as she had when living in the brothel. On one hand it was a return to bad times, when she had never known if she would eat that day or whether she might be arrested for one thing or another. On the other hand, it was a return to the world and friends she’d seen infrequently in recent years. Being a mistress hidden away by a guilt-ridden hypocrite, in an England that at the time had been in paroxysms of pretending mistresses didn’t exist, had been a lonely existence. Nowadays it was a pleasure to socialize with people she understood. A circle of old friends convened there of an evening once the sun was down and street traffic had waned. She was pleased to spend her time listening to their woes in order to ignore her own. She would nurse a cup of ale to laugh or gripe as the moment demanded, and her fears went away for a time.

One night she was sharing a jug of wine with some of them when she looked up to see Daniel at the door. He looked across the room, searching, and when his eyes caught hers, he smiled. His doublet of fine brocade and well-cut breeches suggested he was doing well, and that piqued her curiosity. Suzanne wondered whether his father’s lands had been restored to him,
and her heart lifted in hope they had. He settled into his habitual insouciant hipshot stance, and her heart skipped as warm, throbbing memories rushed in. She sat up, suddenly self-conscious. She checked her hair to be sure it had not fallen out of its pins, and tucked back a hank that had.

He claimed a small table near the door and tilted his head to suggest she join him. It didn’t take more than that to convince her to do so. Without a word to her companions she left her cup and the jug, and went to sit with Daniel. Nobody said anything, for nobody would blame her for wanting to spend time with the earl rather than their motley bunch. They understood the economics of people in their station.

“Hello. How have you been?” Daniel’s mood was especially warm tonight, and Suzanne had already consumed enough wine to be especially happy to see him. A bright spot opened up in her, and hope filled it. Daniel gestured for service, and Young Dent hopped to it.

“We’ve been well enough, I suppose.” She knew better than to complain about her life to someone who plainly was looking for a good time. Daniel surely had not come to the Goat and Boar to listen to her problems. “Piers has been looking for work, but there’s no hurry.” True enough, in the sense that they wouldn’t go hungry this year if he didn’t find it right away. Next year would be another matter entirely.

Daniel’s smile faded some. “Yes. Piers.” Young Dent waited to hear his order, and Daniel requested a bottle of French wine and two clean glasses. He would pay more for them, but it was worth it to not have someone else’s ale or milk in his expensive wine. Dent nodded and disappeared to the back. “What about yourself? How is Suzanne Thornton today?”

She had to think about that, but in the end replied what she thought he wanted to hear. “I’m well, thank you.”

“Are you certain?” He lowered his chin and peered closely at her, doubting she was well.

She laughed, and hoped it was a convincing laugh. “Of course I am.”

“You don’t sound terribly sincere.”

She gave him a well-practiced coy smile. “A woman must maintain a certain amount of mystery, don’t you think?”

Daniel shook his head. “I can certainly do without it. I rather enjoy a woman who comes straight out to say what she means. I’ve grown to dislike the game of hide-and-seek most women play. What I always liked about you was that one always knew where one stood. I wonder why you’ve changed.”

“Many men have told me that, you know. You all love to know where you stand, and you insist you prefer honesty. But over the years I’ve found that men only want to hear the truth when it happens to be what they wish to hear. One must conclude that a man’s wish to know where he stands is more a desire to know early on whether he is going to get what he wants, in order to not waste time or money in pursuing it. I’ve never known any man to prefer unvarnished truth of any kind.”

Daniel appeared to not know what to say to that, then finally said, “Well…I suppose you’ve just made your point.”

Suzanne sighed and graced him with a rueful smile.

The wine came, and when Daniel poured it, she took a deep draught. It warmed her and numbed all her sore spots. She didn’t want to think about where she stood with Daniel, because for tonight at least it felt like old times. She took another long drink, then smiled at him.

They engaged in small talk for a while, then moved to
weightier subjects. He complained that his father’s lands had been given by Cromwell to someone Charles wished to keep as an ally, and so the king would not be able to restore those lands. It was a huge disappointment and something of a slap in the face for the king to prefer a Roundhead over one who had always been loyal to him and his father. But that was the way of politics, and Daniel understood his place in the current regime just as the king understood his own precarious perch in the scheme of things.

On the other hand, there was good news in that Daniel had been provided with other lands outside of London, and a patent involving the manufacture and sale of certain types of metal bits and harness pieces for horses, oxen, and donkeys. There were other patents in the offing, and these things promised a living more or less appropriate for his station. Before long he would be wealthy enough to no longer depend on his brother-in-law to keep up appearances.

She avoided speaking of her own financial situation. One truth she’d learned men never liked to face was that women required upkeep. As a prostitute she’d always been insistent about being paid, and as a mistress she never held back in asking for money, but she never mentioned money to anyone who was not a client. Every time Daniel asked a question about her, she deflected with an answer that focused on Piers.

“How have you kept yourself entertained of late?” he asked.

She glanced around the room. “I come here. Or I stay at home and read. Piers has recently bought for me a number of the classics, and I enjoy them immensely.”

“In the original Greek?”

Her cheeks warmed. He knew better, and was teasing. He should know she hated that, and her spotty education was a terribly sore subject. It annoyed her even more that he didn’t
seem to know or care she was embarrassed. “No. My father felt education for girls was a waste of money. Mother taught me and my sisters to read, but languages other than English were beyond her.” Then, to steer off the subject she said, “Piers is terribly attentive, you know. I don’t know how I got along without him for those seven years he was in Newcastle. We can spend the evening in conversation and never know where the time has gone. Or he reads to me while I simply sit back and listen. I especially enjoy that. He’s the most entertaining delivery when he reads. All that time spent on the stage when he was small, I suppose.”

“Are you happy and safe?”

“As much as anyone can be without an income, as I’m sure you’re aware.” She hurried to cover the slip into money talk. “But Piers will alleviate that soon, I’m certain. He’s hard at work finding a position, and before long will be supporting us both adequately. I have complete faith.” She didn’t like the look of doubt in his eyes, and went on. “Piers did well in his apprenticeship, I’m told.” She was told no such thing, but Daniel didn’t need to know that. As far as she knew, Piers had done well and there was no complaint from Farthingworth. “He’s smart as a whip, and terribly strong. Farthingworth taught him swordsmanship, you should know, to have him as a sparring partner, and Piers tells me he became a formidable opponent.” That much was true. Piers liked to tell her about the times he’d bested Farthingworth in a contest, and she was proud of him for it. Gentlemen carried swords, and it pleased her that Piers had learned swordsmanship and manners from his master.

They talked on, the evening became quite late, and Suzanne hardly noticed how the time was passing. The bottle of wine emptied, and another was brought and likewise emptied. The
drink warmed Suzanne so the world fell into a fuzziness that comforted. Daniel’s presence had always taken the hurt from the day, and when he took her hand in his all pain fell away. There was no thought that he should have done anything but that. He held her hand, and she let him. Then he kissed her palm.

The sensation took her back to the time when she was a young girl and had never been kissed by anyone else. Back when the only man she would consider kissing was this son of an earl. He had been so handsome! So intelligent, so strong. She had thought herself in love, and when she was young, perhaps thinking it made it so. Now, two decades later, a kiss on her palm made her feel young again.

“Would you care for a drive in the moonlight? The weather is warm and the moon is full.”

“I would like that.” The seventeen-year-old still residing deep within her danced with joy at the prospect, though the adult she had become held deep reservations. The wine, in dulling the pain of her life, had also robbed her of her maturity. A wide, happy smile lit her face and she could hardly wait to get out of the Goat and Boar.

Daniel held her hand as he guided her to the carriage that awaited him on Bank Side. It was true the night was clear and warm, and moonlight reflected from the Thames and outlined the silhouette of the bridge that stood to the east. He helped her into the carriage and she settled in. The upholstered seat was deep and soft, covered in fine leather that gave way in all the right spots. As the driver urged the team off down the street, Daniel laid an arm across her shoulders and drew her near. She leaned against him, happy to be there once more.

Conversation waned as they moved away from Southwark and south to the countryside. The highway became narrow,
and the view was endless fields glowing silver in the moonlight. It was quite late, and they saw no traffic. No animals in the fields, no farmers at work. All was silent except for the thuds of horses’ hooves and the creak and rattle of leather, wood, and iron as the carriage moved onward. Every so often Daniel would murmur something about the beauty of the night landscape, and she could only agree. His fingertips brushed the lace at her neckline, higher than was fashionable this year, but low enough that her bosom tingled with pleasure. Daniel was the only man ever to have made her feel that, and it was a pleasant surprise to learn she still could.

When he kissed her, the touch of his lips lifted her heart, then set it free to soar. She returned it with all the passion and joy left in her. She laid a hand aside his face to keep him there, and he stayed.

Soon he encouraged her to lie back on the seat so he could lift her skirts. His hand went beneath to release her drawers under hoops and petticoats, and for the first time in twenty years she felt excitement. Her knees splayed on their own, and there was no thought but to open herself to him. She reached for the tie of his breeches and loosened them. It set up a fire in him she could feel on his skin, and he moaned into her mouth. Suddenly urgent, where before he’d been casual, he shoved down his breeches and drawers just far enough for service, arranged her and her skirts on the carriage seat, and entered her.

She still loved him, she was sure of it then. He was the only man she had ever loved, though she’d been with thousands. He shoved himself into her with a passion nobody else ever had. She knew he loved her as well, as he had never loved his wife. That thought made her want to laugh, for the victory was sweet.

He finished quickly, and Suzanne took that as a sign he’d not been with anyone for a while and was not sleeping with his wife. It was a small victory, but sweet nonetheless. He restored his breeches, helped her arrange her clothes, then he checked his wig to make sure it was straight. They righted themselves in the seat, and the carriage rolled onward as if nothing special had happened inside it. The silvery countryside passed, as beautiful as before, but Suzanne thought she would never look at a night landscape again without remembering tonight. She and Daniel rode in comfortable silence.