Death at Apothecaries' Hall (16 page)

‘When and how do you think the poison was mixed with the flour?' the Master asked.

The Apothecary looked over at Joe Jago, who whispered to Mr Fielding. The Magistrate nodded that John should continue.

‘According to the Butler, it would have been impossible for anyone to have done so on the day of the Dinner itself. There were several helpers in the kitchen at the time – I have yet to see the chef – and unless one of them were responsible, which seems highly unlikely, the poisoning would have had to be done during the night before. The flour was used on the previous day and was untainted then.'

Whilst talking, John had noticed out of the corner of his eye that the Master had been sitting more and more upright, nose in air, the bloodhound in him never more prominent.

‘I was in the Hall on the night before the Dinner. In fact I slept here, it being too late at night to travel home,' he stated with a certain excitement when the Apothecary had finished speaking.

‘And did you see or hear anything, Sir?'

Well aware that his audience was hanging on his every word, William Tyson cleared his throat. ‘As a matter of fact, I did.'

‘Well, I'll be blessed,' exclaimed Joe Jago, never a one to stand on ceremony.

‘What was it?' asked the Blind Beak.

‘I was woken in the small hours by a distant sound. It appeared to be a crash, as if someone had fallen over something in the darkness.'

‘What did you do, Sir?'

‘I lit a candletree and went downstairs.'

‘And?'

‘There was nobody about, not a soul. I called out to the watchman, who stays in a little cubby hole near the courtyard. He called a reply that all was well, so I went back to bed.'

‘What time was this?'

‘It was just before two, because the clock chimed as I went up the stairs.'

‘Did the watchman answer you immediately?' asked John, a faint notion just beginning to creep into his mind.

‘Yes. Why?'

‘Oh, no reason, Master, though I would very much like to talk to him. Is he here during the daytime at all?'

‘No, but he lives near by, in Holland Street to be precise. He has a room in a lodging house there.'

‘Then I might call on him.' John thought rapidly. ‘Mr Fielding, at what time do you intend to return to Bow Street?'

‘In an hour or so. Do you want to travel back with us?'

‘If I may. I've just remembered that the cook lives near Drury Lane. I'll get his address from the Beadle, then try a surprise visit. If there's and hour to spare now, I would like to hear what the watchman has to say.'

The Master, who was most definitely playing the part of benevolent leader, allowed a genial smile to light up his drooping eyes. ‘What an eager young fellow you are, to be sure. If you treat your business with the same enthusiasm as you do your tasks for Mr Fielding, I believe you will go very far in your profession.'

The Apothecary was frankly delighted, and a grin, curving upwards at one corner of his mouth, simply refused to be repressed. ‘Thank you very much, Master.'

‘Not at all. Now, the watchman's name is George Griggs and he lives in Holland Street, as I told you. I believe the number is four, but everybody knows him round there. He'll probably be asleep, though.'

Thinking that the wretched man appeared to sleep all night and all day as well, John refilled everyone's glass, arranged to board the Magistrate's coach within the hour, and bowed his way from the room.

Holland Street led off Water Street and ran parallel with the river, a mere stone's throw from George Grigg's place of employment. Enquiries at number four confirmed what the Apothecary had already half suspected, however: the man had two jobs, and during daylight hours worked as a labourer in a nearby timber yard. Cursing his lack of time, John cut through some extremely murky alleyways, passing Lime Wharf, Coalmans Alley, Puddle Dock and Dung Wharf till he came to his destination, Timber Wharf and its adjoining yard. With no space for finesse, the Apothecary stood at the wharf's entrance and bellowed, ‘George Griggs' at the top of his voice.

Several heads turned and one asked, ‘'oo wants 'im?'

‘A message from the Master of the Society of Apothecaries,' John answered importantly.

The speaker dropped the planking he was carrying on one shoulder and approached. ‘What's up, cove?'

The Apothecary decided on a blunt approach. ‘I represent Mr Fielding, the Magistrate from the Public Office, Bow Street, and you know damnably well what's up. Poison was added to the flour at the Livery Dinner, and all those who attended were taken ill. One Liveryman died. You were on duty the night before the Dinner, and that was the occasion when somebody intruded. Do you remember?'

‘Don't give it mouth,' George answered through blackened stumps that once were teeth. ‘There was no intruder. Never 'as been since I've been akeepin' watch.'

‘There was one then. The Master heard him.'

George spat noisily. ‘Wot night are we talkin' about?'

‘The one before the Livery Dinner.'

‘'ow would I know when that was? One shift's just like another to me.'

John clicked with impatience. ‘It was the night the Master called out to you to see if everything was in order and you shouted back that all was well.'

George shook his head and sucked his stumps. ‘'e's makin' it up. The Master never called out to me. 'e must 'ave been dreamin.'

The Apothecary snatched off his hat and ran his hand through his curls, his wig still in his pocket where he had placed it when he entered the alleyways. ‘Are you certain of this?'

A pair of blue eyes flashed in the grime-filled lines of George's face. ‘Certain as me cock's in me kicks.'

‘How very interesting,' John answered thoughtfully. ‘How very interesting indeed.'

Just for a moment, after alighting from the hackney coach which had conveyed him from Nassau Street to the graceful building which was number twelve Hanover Square, John Rawlings stood quietly in the street, gazing up at the four storeyed wide-windowed house, at present ablaze with candlelight and alive with the sound of music and voices, and let memory consume him.

Four years had passed since he had first set foot over the threshold, visiting for the very first time that enigmatic creature the Comtesse Serafina de Vignolles. In the time that had elapsed since, his passionate youthful love for her had matured into friendship of a deep and lasting nature, a friendship that John regarded as one of the most important things in his life. As important indeed as his commitment to Coralie, a commitment which, however, had been delivered a grievous blow by her latest rejection of his proposal of marriage.

He and Serafina had weathered some emotional storms together. John with his penchant for falling in love with the wrong women, she with a husband she did not altogether trust. But now the Comtesse and the Apothecary had sailed into calm waters. Comte Louis adored his wife, was completely in her thrall, while she had given him one child, Italia, and was about to produce another; John, on the other hand, was certain that his future must be with the beautiful Coralie Clive. That is he had been certain until recently, when she had wounded him so deeply.

‘Damme,' said John, and kicked the cobbles with his fine buckled shoe. Marching up the steps, he rang the front door bell and was admitted by a footman dressed as smartly as any guest.

Handing over his cloak and hat, the Apothecary made his way up the curving staircase to where Serafina and her husband waited, he dark and French and very splendid, she dressed in flowing white, a ship in full sail.

‘My darling,' said John, and kissed first her hand and then her cheek.

Louis, who was quite used to this kind of behaviour between them, bowed beautifully. ‘My dear friend, how nice to see you again. This is a very small gathering tonight, just a dozen or so. Our last entertainment before the baby is born.'

‘Just to be in your house is pleasure enough,' the Apothecary answered fulsomely.

‘Your father is here already,' said Serafina. ‘He tells me that you have acquired a place in Kensington.'

‘A country home,' John answered. ‘You will come and visit us there, won't you?'

‘As long as I can bring my children to breathe the fresh air, of course.' Serafina narrowed a knowing eye in a half wink, meaning that nothing would keep her away from her old friend's new residence.

‘Children are no hindrance to me,' the Apothecary stated pompously.

‘Born for fatherhood, eh?' said Louis, and laughed as the next guest was announced from below. ‘Miss Coralie Clive.'

John stood where he was, emotions churning, watching one of the most delightful women in London, a woman who was his companion both in bed and out, ascend with elegance the equally elegant staircase. At that moment, staring at her hair, dark as midnight, and her vivid green eyes, shining as she smiled at her host and hostess, he wanted her more than any female alive. Yet, equally, he was tired and hurt by their situation, wishing for more but well aware that she was going to reject him whenever he suggested their relationship should be formalised.

Glancing up, Coralie noticed him. ‘John, my dear, how wonderful to see you. I wondered where you have been.'

Beside him, the Apothecary was enormously aware of Serafina listening, knowing how quick she was to pick up undercurrents.

‘Coralie,' he said, and taking his mistress's hands in his he contrived to both kiss them and lead her slightly out of earshot. ‘I'm so sorry I haven't called on you. Truth to tell, I've been very absorbed with one of Mr Fielding's cases.'

She gave a slightly mocking smile. ‘Last time we met, my dear John, you hurled yourself into your kicks and would have left the house had I not persuaded you otherwise. I think perhaps your absence has been deliberate.'

The Apothecary knew to admit the truth would be fatal so he lied manfully. ‘I could never deliberately keep away from you. It is merely that fate, together with the Blind Beak, has directed me elsewhere these last few days.'

‘Still the strange affair of the poisoning at Apothecaries' Hall?'

‘Yes, still.'

‘How are you proceeding?'

‘The more I learn the less I know.'

Coralie smiled. ‘Like life itself.'

‘Yes,' said John, a fraction sadly. ‘Just like life itself'

The actress slipped her hand through his arm and together they walked into the first floor drawing-room, where Sir Gabriel, stunning in black satin, a diamond brooch carelessly clasped in his cravat, was chatting with a fascinating redhead of middle years. Samuel, who adored going to any type of social gathering, was laughing heartily at somebody's joke, while Dr Drake, a fat old favourite of John's, was in earnest conversation with a man that the Apothecary half recognised.

He bowed in the direction of them all, took a glass of champagne from a passing tray, and went to speak to Mr Sparks, a fellow actor of Coralie's and an outrageous queen who had the whole of London at his feet as a result of his high antics.

‘Beloved,' said the actor, and kissed Coralie soundly, before kissing John, who smiled as best he could.

‘How lovely to see you,' she answered. ‘Do you know my friend John Rawlings?'

‘The honour's mine, Sir.' Mr Sparks minced a step then gave a bow fit for an Emperor. ‘La, but you're a pretty fellow. You must bring him backstage, Coralie, so you must.'

Making a responding bow, John told the truth. ‘I hardly know what to answer.'

Mr Sparks, who had obviously been on the champagne for some while, cut a caper. ‘I'm sure we could find ways of making you speak.'

‘But I might not say the right things,' John countered.

Mr Sparks fluttered his eyelashes. ‘Oh, a wit into the bargain. You should join the charmed circle, young person.'

‘Leave him alone,' said Coralie. ‘He's mine and there's an end to it.'

They all three laughed but, for all that, John was decidedly grateful when someone at his elbow made a bow and said, ‘So we meet again, Sir.'

The Apothecary turned and could hardly believe who he saw. Dr Florence Hensey whom he had first encountered in a Flying Coach on the way to Romney Marsh and who had brought him back to consciousness after a crunching blow from the fist of a reprobate called Lucius Delahunty, was standing beside him.

John forgot his good manners and embraced the physician heartily. ‘My very dear Sir. What a great pleasure to see you again. And what a surprise.'

‘Isn't it indeed. I have recently become acquainted with the Comte de Vignolles and he was good enough to issue me with an invitation for his wife's soirée.'

‘Were you aware that I knew them?'

‘Yes, your name did come into the conversation when we discussed matters medical.'

‘Did you never meet the Comte when we were all down on the Romney Marsh?'

Dr Hensey frowned. ‘I didn't realise he was there.'

Fearing that perhaps he had made a faux pas, as Louis at that time had been employed by the Secret Office, John covered quickly. ‘He came for a short visit only. You probably wouldn't have run into him.'

Serafina came to join them and the conversation changed course. ‘I feel enormous,' she said, ‘and vowed that I would not see another soul until this little creature had made its entrance into the world. But, truth to tell, I grew so bored and missed everyone, and the thought of another three months without seeing a friendly face was too much to bear.'

‘Am I not then friendly?' asked Louis, joining them.

‘Too friendly,' Serafina answered, and touched the roundness beneath her loose robe.

Mr Sparks, a little put off by all this natural talk, shrieked an hysterical giggle and the company burst out laughing, at his reaction as well as at the Comtesse's words.