The Opening Night Murder (13 page)

Suzanne wondered why Daniel liked his privacy so well, but didn’t dwell on the question just then. She thanked the page, handed him a threepence, and let him go. Whereupon he thrust the money into a purse inside his belt and scampered away as fast as his feet would carry him.

She glanced around to see who might be watching her, and when she saw everyone in sight was absorbed in his own business and cared not a fig for her, she picked up her skirts and headed straight for the building indicated by the page.

North entrance, first door on the right. It was a rather dank, old place, being so near the river and likely built when the palace was new. The door was small by current standards, badly worn in spots, medieval-looking, and bound in old iron. She raised her hand to knock.

The door swung open beneath her knuckles before she touched it, and she found herself face-to-face with Daniel. The sight of him melted her resolve in an instant, and her courage quite deserted her. She quickly retrieved her hand, wishing she could run away and forget she’d ever thought about knocking on his door. They stared at each other for a moment, neither sure what to say or who should speak first. Then Daniel did.

“Suzanne.”

Now it was her turn to speak, and he’d given so little on which to base an opening. Her lips parted but she found her
voice nothing but a squeak, then she cleared her throat and tried again. “Daniel.” There. Now the ball was in his court.

“What are you doing here?” His tone gave her to understand he meant
How on God’s earth did you get into the palace?

She ignored his true meaning and answered the question as asked. “I have a business proposition for you.”

“I’ve already a mistress, thank you.”

Anger flushed her cheeks, but she held her temper. This meeting was far too important to ruin it with a fit of pride. She said evenly, “How lovely for you. But I expect you’ll want to send her back to her husband for the nonce, since we need to speak of business and you’d rather hear what I have to say without any…distraction.”

He thought about that for a brief moment, then said, “I happen to be alone…
for the nonce
…and was on my way to dinner, though it be de facto breakfast. However, I can order food brought in for us. Come in and we’ll sit.” He stepped back and gestured graciously that she should enter. She stepped inside.

His quarters appeared to consist of several rooms in a succession ever deeper into the old tower. The outer room contained a table and several chairs against one wall, plus another two more comfortable chairs with upholstered seats near the hearth. A boy wearing Daniel’s dark blue livery had just finished stoking the fire and now turned to his master to be given further orders or dismissed. He appeared perhaps seven or eight years old and had the translucent, ruddy-cheeked complexion of high rank, good food, and indoor occupation. More than likely he was a distant cousin of Daniel’s on his mother’s side, where Suzanne knew were a couple of dukes and a Scottish marquis. Daniel requested dinner be brought for himself and Suzanne, and the boy bowed before making his exit.

There was movement in the next room, and through the door Suzanne saw a valet going about his business, tidying up. She sensed that though Daniel was alone at the moment, she’d missed the mistress by bare minutes. In any case, she reminded herself she was no longer attached to Daniel in that way, had no desire for a repeat of that night in his carriage, and pressed ahead with her business proposal.

“Daniel, I’ve a venture in mind I’m sure will interest you.” She allowed him to help her out of her cloak, then settled into one of the upholstered chairs, liking the softness of it. The fire was just comfortable, not too high and not dying embers. “So ask me what my idea is.” She said it as if she were bursting to tell him some excellent news, and in a way she was. The idea had taken hold as if it had a hand at the back of her neck and was shaking her, and more than anything she wanted to grab it in return and bring it under control.

Daniel thought a moment, an indulgent smile on his face, then he draped her cloak over a chair, removed his own cloak and laid it on top of hers, then took the seat opposite hers before the fire. “Very well. I’m curious. Tell me your brilliant idea.”

“Well!” Suzanne leaned forward with all her energy, her hands in her lap and her chest thrust toward Daniel. It was a posture that generally made men agreeable, and she was pulling out all the stops. “You’ve surely heard that the king and his brother the duke are very much interested in the theatre and are encouraging its return to English culture.”

Daniel nodded. “I’ve seen a number of plays staged here in the palace, and some of them are quite entertaining. Some of those are even English.” The last was said with a wry smile and a tilt of his head.

“And you are aware I acted with a troupe during the interregnum.”

Again he nodded. “You’ve mentioned it.”

“Are you also aware that there are several theatres about town that stand empty and only lack some repairs and an acting troupe to make them useful?” She paused for emphasis, then leaned forward ever so slightly and added, “And profitable.”

Daniel smiled. “Let me guess; you’ve a lover you would have gain that profit.”

She sat straighter in her chair and looked down her nose at him. “No, I mean to have it myself.”

A bark of a laugh escaped Daniel before he caught himself and realized she was serious. “You’re serious.”

“I am.”

He laid his elbows on his chair arms and clasped his fingers over his belly. “You couldn’t possibly imagine you might be one to manage such a venture yourself. Besides being a woman, you’re a common whore.” He said it as matter-of-factly as if he were referring to the color of her hair, and she knew him well enough to understand that he meant it as harmlessly. It was a fact, and no getting around it.

“Yes, a common whore who is the mother of your only son. Surely that deserves some consideration”—here she allowed her voice to go a bit low and ominous—“particularly since you wish your relationship to him kept quiet.” She paused ever so briefly to allow her implication to sink in, and when there wasn’t a flicker of alarm from Daniel, she then pressed on in a newly bright and chipper voice. “Besides, I don’t expect to manage the theatre myself; Piers is my guardian now and he will be charged with those things more easily accomplished by those possessing male parts.”

“You want me to loan him money so he can hand it over to you. Then he will take responsibility for your use of it, yes?”

She shrugged. “In essence. Had I a husband it would be the same. He will lease the building and hire out the work to restore it. I will manage the troupe itself and guide the business to its success. Piers will handle the money, take legal responsibility, and thereby give the appearance of control over the venture.”

“And what will you do if I decline your business proposition?”

“More than likely I will spin out the next year or so in my present state, then become a burden on my son, who so far has been unsuccessful at finding gainful employment and runs a risk of being seduced by the criminal element, for which life he is so unsuited as to find himself dead or incarcerated within a very short time, and then I will be left to my own devices as a whore and at my age must starve in that profession. So, without your help, within two or three years you will find me dead in the gutter somewhere, I imagine. My life will end in poverty, for lack of assistance from the man whose son I bore for love rather than money. A story that, should it come to light—and I can assure you the chance is great—would shock and dismay your wife.” The threat was entirely bluff, but Daniel didn’t necessarily know that, and whatever alarm he received from it was most deserved after his behavior at their last meeting.

Daniel thought it over for a moment. Suzanne thought she might have seen a small blush of shame on his cheeks, or perhaps ire, or it could have just been a red light from the fire. But he said, “How much money do you require, and why do you think I have any in any case?”

That made her chuckle, and bounce a little in her seat. “Oh come, Daniel. It’s been nearly a year since you returned with the king. Surely your business interests have paid something.
When we last spoke, you said you had lands and a patent, with the promise of more.”

His head bowed slightly in agreement. “I confess I’m better off than I was this time last year.”

“Then you must see the advantage in becoming a patron of the theatre, something the king supports and encourages.”

“There you are again, looking for another patron.”

“Indeed I am, and this time my proposal is entirely legal, and moral as well. Let us all collapse from the shock of it! The king wishes for the theatre to thrive, and he and his brother are providing entertainment to those with money. I and my friends can bring similar pastimes to the commons in the setting they prefer. Dramatic art will flourish once more because of it. England will be known for its fine theatre enjoyed by all; we shall surpass even the smug, arrogant, self-satisfied French. I know it in my heart.”

“I like your enthusiasm, but again I ask: How much cash will this venture require?”

Only then did Suzanne realize her error in not learning the answer to that question before coming here. She’d not thought any further than just to know whether Daniel would be willing to talk to her at all; she hadn’t considered what to tell him if he proved willing to listen. Without hesitation, she invented a number and it leapt from her mouth.

“Five hundred and fifty pounds.”

Daniel blinked, and Suzanne’s heart sank. She must have asked for too much. “Or thereabouts,” she added. Still he was quiet, but he didn’t say no and only sat for a moment, considering.

Yes, considering. Suzanne’s heart lifted. He was considering giving her more than five hundred pounds. Father would have choked and turned purple at being asked for so much money.
He certainly would never have had that much available. But Daniel was in an entirely different class. He thought of himself as barely solvent, but only because he compared himself to the king. He surely had the resources to help her. Her head then went light. Dizzy, that she might have that much from Daniel.

But then he said, “I don’t know whether I can spare it all at once.”

Quickly she replied, “Half to start. To lease the theatre and make repairs on it. The poor thing has been neglected horribly these last two decades. I think I can bring together the actors and pay them later. Within a year or two the venture might even be self-supporting.”

“And Piers will accomplish the business tasks?”

“Other men will speak more comfortably to him than to me. Were I to attempt to do it myself I would spend all my time proving I cannot be taken advantage of. Piers would only have to prove himself once; I would be challenged every minute of every hour of every day, ad infinitum. The job will simply be easier for him than for me.”

“Of course, everything will be in his name. He uses one, then?”

“Of course. Anyone who asks is told his mother is a widow. Most don’t bother to ask.” Few asked because they already knew her history and assumed Piers was the son of an anonymous client at Maddie’s brothel, and she wondered whether that might be the reason he’d not found a position. It briefly crossed her mind that Daniel might be undermining Piers, but she set the thought aside. Daniel might have no interest in his son, but surely couldn’t wish him harm.

“And what name would that be?”

Suzanne blinked, surprised. She hadn’t realized she’d never
told Daniel the name their son went by. “Surely I mentioned it in my letters.”

Daniel only shook his head and waited for a reply to his question.

Suzanne nearly stammered, unhappy the issue had come up at this most unfortunate moment. “Naturally he uses Thornton; you’ve never shown any indication you might acknowledge him. He calls himself Piers Thornton after me, though the name is meaningless. You certainly wouldn’t want him to call himself Stockton, lest your wife hear rumors.”

“Of course.” Daniel was examining his thumbnail and appeared to have drifted off the discussion. This reaction puzzled her; everything she knew of him made her think he wouldn’t care, but now he seemed to. Now she didn’t know what to think.

“He could hardly have presumed to call himself Stockton. As you said, you wish to keep him secret and therefore cannot acknowledge him. By law he is not your son, and so the name he uses has no bearing because it is false. By your statement you wish his paternity to remain unknown, so it’s far better he call himself Thornton.”

Daniel considered that and grunted in grudging agreement. “Well, in any case, Piers must handle the money, no matter what he calls himself. Three hundred pounds to start. That’s all I have for him, so he must secure the theatre building and make it useable with that much.”

In a sudden burst of energy, he sat up in his chair and grabbed the arms of it. “And, come! There is another thing we must address. Someone else to convince as you have me.” He rose from his seat, took her hand, and drew her with him. “We will need the goodwill of the king.”

Suzanne’s heart leapt up and choked her.
The king!
She
hesitated and hung back. “Why? What will you tell him? Why must we go to him?”

“You wouldn’t wish me to be in conflict with the king, would you? How would it be if I were to sponsor a theatre when he and the duke are both doing that very same thing? Surely you realize he must have control over what plays are performed. He cannot have actors acting willy-nilly about the city, without sanction from his majesty and control of the crown.”

“And you wish to speak to him now? This very moment?”

“Now is all we have. There is no such thing as later. And if he declines permission, then that will be that and there will be no further need of discussion of this venture.” He settled her terribly ordinary cloak about her shoulders, then donned his own, and his broad-brimmed hat from which flowed an enormous red plume. “Come, let us catch him early in his day, before the crush of courtiers, while he is still in a pleasant mood.”