The Opening Night Murder (18 page)

“I think I might enjoy that, Mistress Thornton.” He addressed his companions. “If you both will excuse us, gentlemen.”

The two nodded their acquiescence, and Daniel and
Suzanne fell away and to the side of those accompanying the king, while following the same general path.

Daniel’s mouth was a hard line when he turned back to Suzanne, but his words were mild and he offered her his arm. She laid a hand on it, lightly. He said, “You really ought not to come here, Suzanne.”

“I embarrass you?”

“Not today, but what if Anne were here? She does sometimes come to the palace, if not to see me specifically, then to visit with her brother.”

“She can see her brother anytime. She doesn’t need to come to the palace.”

“She likes to socialize with others of her rank. At home are only servants, and no family or friends to keep her company. No children. I can hardly blame her for wanting to spend time here of an afternoon. Very often, she does.”

“But she doesn’t happen to be here today. Aren’t you the fortunate one.”

Daniel gave her another thin-lipped look, then said, “What might I do for you today? Is there anything wrong at the theatre that couldn’t have been brought to my attention by messenger?”

His tone stung once more, but she pretended it didn’t, and kept her own voice light. “I was wondering when you would come to the theatre and see what your money has bought you.”

He grunted and gazed out across the park lawn as if enjoying the view, though she could sense he was enjoying nothing about this stroll. “I’ll be along soon enough. Meanwhile, I trust you to make certain nothing goes awry. You’ve always been skilled at getting what you want; you don’t need me to meddle in your affairs.”

Suzanne didn’t quite know how to take that. She was quite certain she rarely got what she wanted, and wondered why Daniel thought otherwise. Further, she wondered why he sounded as if he thought success a character flaw. Succeeding in getting what one wanted was a skill she valued, and envied in those who were more wealthy and charismatic than she. Why should one ever want to be the sort who failed to get what one wanted? How was that more virtuous than success? She sighed and decided she was eager to see the park and was quite enjoying the walk, and never mind what Daniel thought about anything.

She allowed an excited smile to lift the corners of her mouth, and she began looking around, trying to see everything at once, like a squirrel in search of danger. The place was beautiful; she’d never seen such orderly nature. Smooth, mowed grass, perfectly trimmed trees and shrubs in shapes nature never imagined. Even the birds seemed to behave as if they’d been born to the nobility and taught manners from an early age. They sang with a music never heard in other parts of the city, where gulls and rats climbed over one for food and warmth, and crows leapt upon dead and dying people and animals for their dinner. It struck Suzanne how odd it was that this park, landscaped as it was in the French fashion, was nature made far more orderly than the jumbled, reworked, rotting, catch-as-catch-can man-made squalor that made up the rest of London. While the city built by men leaned against itself every which way and had been constructed according to whim for a millennium and a half, this sanctuary of the natural world, with its birds, grasses, shrubs, and trees, was as disciplined and organized as a Calvinist pastor’s study.

Movement among the trees and shrubbery caught her attention. There cavorted men and women who thought themselves
unobserved, or else didn’t care that they were observed. Suzanne had a glimpse of one couple as they casually disappeared into a thicket, their shaded movements still visible from the lawn. For a moment she watched them fumble at each other until she was bored with it and she found something else to look at.

She saw peeking from another part of that same thicket a face she recognized, but couldn’t quite place it for a few seconds. It was only a wide-eyed face she saw, framed with leaves and shadowed by trees. Then she realized who it was, and still didn’t truly believe she saw correctly. William Wainwright peered out from between two low trees, watching the king and his escort stroll across the lawn. He crouched like a stalking cat, staring hard at Charles. Like the brazen lovers, he thought himself unobserved, so she had a good look at him. It was he, for a certainty. Though he appeared unusually pale, his lowered brow and pressed lips expressed his habitual anger. His gaze followed the king for a space, then he ducked back into the bushes and that was the last she saw of him, even when Charles drew much nearer to the thicket before veering off in his wandering.

Why hadn’t William gone to France? Had he even intended to go as he’d said? She wished he had, and she tensed to realize he was still lurking about London. Her mind tumbled with questions, until she realized Daniel was talking to her and she’d not heard a word.

“I’m sorry, my lord. What did you say?”

He went silent for a moment, then said darkly, “How far back need I go?”

“Tell it all to me in short.”

He sighed. “In short, I do wish you would refrain from coming to the palace. If you must see me, send a message and
let me come to you. And please make certain the message is delivered discreetly.”

“Whatever for? Puritan rule is over; there’s no need to pretend you have no mistresses.”

“Anymore, I don’t have any mistresses.”

“I no longer count?”

“We are no longer sleeping together.”

“Thank you for letting me know. After last summer, I wasn’t entirely certain.”

He gave her a puzzled look, blinking and squinting. “I found you whoring at the Goat and Boar. I thought you were looking to earn some money. I know you needed it. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

Shame reddened her cheeks. She wanted to walk away from him, leave the park, and never speak to him again. Instead she drew a deep breath and told him what she thought. “I was visiting with friends. When you invited me to sit with you, I thought you were trying to rekindle feelings.”

There was a long silence as they strolled. Suzanne could hardly breathe, waiting for what he would say next. Finally he cleared his throat and said, “I don’t dare.”

She also had to cough to make her voice work. “I disagree. We’re both adults. We’ve both matured these past years. I believe we could be together and be quite reasonable about it.”

“Of course we could. And it might be nice. But it would also be unwise.”

“In what way? Surely the king wouldn’t judge you for it.”

“Of course he would not. He’s entirely reasonable about such things, and could hardly be anything but. Others, however, would judge me, and harshly.”

“I doubt there’s a man in London who hasn’t his hand up the skirts of several of his friends’ wives. Or isn’t
buggering the friends themselves. And nobody seems to care who knows who’s banging whom. Such as those over there.” She pointed with her chin toward the thicket where the couple she’d seen before was now emerging, straightening their clothing, and appearing inordinately pleased with themselves as they glanced around to see who had observed them. “Plainly those two haven’t the least worry about who saw them groping at each other in the bushes.”

“Ha! Those two are the worst kept secret in London. They would most likely strip naked on the lawn in broad daylight if they wouldn’t be chastised for stealing everyone’s attention from Charles and his growing brood. Less a mortal sin of adultery, and more a case of poor sportsmanship.”

Suzanne chuckled, and leaned in close as if in conspiracy. “Naked on the lawn; there’s an image to dwell on. That fellow’s belly nearly touches his knees, and she’s so tiny she can barely get her arms about his waist. Her size rather suggests his, don’t you think?”

Daniel laughed. “So you see, though others may indulge in unseemly French behavior, I am far better off being more decorous.”

“And how did you behave when you were in France? Just how French did you become?”

He sighed and shrugged, still smiling, but somewhat ruefully now. “I did make two daughters. I can’t say I behaved particularly well.”

“And now that you’re once again by my side you’ve a sudden fit of conscience and will only be with me if you think it a charitable gift?”

“I’ve a sudden need to please my wife.”

“She’s being a bit unreasonable, I think. To expect you to behave differently from other men.”

“Differently from other men whose fortunes are more secure than mine. Or who don’t care much how their fortunes rise or fall.” There was an edge to his voice now, but Suzanne ignored it and carried on the banter.

“I think you should—”

Daniel stopped walking and held her arm tightly so his fingers dug into her flesh. His voice had more than an edge of anger now. “Listen to me, Suzanne. You will do what I say, and never come to the palace again uninvited. Do you hear me?”

She pulled away and rubbed her arm, which was sure to bruise by tomorrow. Alarmed, she examined his face, hoping for humor but finding none. Coming here had been a mistake, that was plain. She said, “Yes, your
lordship
. I do hear you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a chair waiting to return me to my place.” Without another word, she left him standing on the park lawn and returned to the palace gate with all the scant dignity left to her.

There she found Samuel and Thomas, still loitering by the palace gatehouse, hoping for a fare to take them in the direction of Southwark. They were quite pleased to see Suzanne, and gestured her into their chair most kindly and with wide smiles. Then they saw her flushed cheeks and lips pressed together as she stepped into the chair, and shadows fell over their faces. Samuel and Thomas said nothing, though they plainly wanted to ask what could be the matter. She sat back in her accustomed seat, ready to sulk all the way back to the theatre.

But a whim overtook her for the second time that day. After Daniel’s behavior in the park, Suzanne wanted to see Anne Stockton, the woman who loomed so large in Daniel’s life, whom Suzanne had never seen. The urge was suddenly
all she could think about. She would lay eyes on Daniel’s wife. Why, she couldn’t say. But at that moment nothing would do but to catch sight of the woman who was privileged to spend her evenings and nights with Daniel, and who would prevent him from coming to the theatre to meet his son.

“Samuel. Thomas. Be so good as to take me around to the Pall Mall, would you?”

Thomas readily acknowledged the request, and the chair changed direction.

Pall Mall was a street near St. James’s Palace, where the ruling class liked to amuse themselves with a game of that name. The place was open, almost parklike, and though there were yet few homes there, it was getting to be a place for the returning nobility to build new London residences. Daniel couldn’t have chosen a more advantageous neighborhood to install his wife, which probably well suited the woman and her brother the duke. This was Suzanne’s first sight of the area, for she’d never had occasion to come this way before. There had been little enough here during the interregnum, and never anything to interest her. Until now.

Daniel’s house was not terribly far from the palace, amid a small clump of new houses, each one more beautiful than the last, each struggling to steal attention from the others. Though dwarfed by the palace itself, to Suzanne they were enormous. Her father’s house, which she’d come to remember as astonishing luxury, was a hovel compared to these magnificent structures. And there was Daniel’s house, which she recognized by his carriage standing out front, waiting to carry away someone from inside. The house was built of fresh-cut stone, spotless iron, and gleaming wood, all new and sparkling clean, free of vines or moss. The landscaping around it was still unsure of itself, its newly planted trees all saplings surrounded by fresh-dug earth
and a lawn of barely sprouted grass. All around was fresh earth that showed little more than promise.

Samuel and Thomas set the chair down a distance from the house and across the street, and slipped their yokes to await further instruction. Suzanne sat still in the shadows of her seat and gazed across at the house. It was where Daniel lived. He’d built it for the woman who shared his life, and with no thought at all about herself or Piers. It had nothing to do with them, and was a world they could never inhabit.

A shadow passed behind the curtain of one window, then was gone. Had that been Anne? A maid? Anne wasn’t with Daniel today, probably not even at Whitehall at all or Daniel would have mentioned it, so perhaps it was she. Although, Daniel had said Anne sometimes went to the palace to see other people, so perhaps this was a maid.

The carriage at the front of Daniel’s house was surely there to take someone somewhere. Suzanne sat forward in her seat to see who might come out. Certainly not a maid. She couldn’t imagine Daniel sending his carriage for a maid. Surely it was there for the use of the lady of the house.

A woman emerged. Suzanne’s heart clenched, for she knew it must be the countess. The dress this woman wore was elegant and rich. It was the costume of a woman who had been born to enormous wealth and knew how to spend it and how to carry it. Someone who was secure in the knowledge there would always be silk and pearls to wear, rich and tasty delicacies to eat, and a thick feather mattress covered in fine, clean linen to sleep in every night. Her posture as she strode from her house was rod-straight and her gait smooth and graceful—the sort of natural grace Suzanne herself had struggled for all her life and never quite achieved. Her face was of radiant beauty, not merely “handsome,” though she was the same age
as Suzanne. Her hair, which peeked from under a fashionable hat adorned with white feathers, shone a bright red-gold. Suzanne had heard there was Tudor blood in her lineage, and now she believed it could be true. She imagined Queen Elizabeth must have looked very much like Anne did today.

Suzanne caught only a glimpse of her as she made her way to the carriage and the footman helped her up into it, then the driver cracked his whip over the horses and they drew the vehicle and its passenger off down the street, leaving Suzanne to stare after it with the bottom fallen out of her heart. She shored it up by reminding herself that she had something Anne never would. She had Piers.