A Sickness in the Soul Page 8

  ‘Not at all, madam,’ Foxe said. ‘I come in search of information, not to bring any.’

  ‘Do you not have time for a little relaxation first? All our girls are beautiful, naturally, and all highly accomplished in the arts of love. I am sure they would be eager to show you what they can do to give you pleasure.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it, Mrs Ross,’ Foxe replied. ‘Your establishment has the reputation of being the finest in this city. However, as I said, it is information I am seeking this evening, not female companionship.’

  ‘Very well, if you insist. Perhaps later …?’

  Foxe left the invitation unanswered.

  ‘I need to ask you about a particular lady,’ he began. ‘One who I have been told once worked here. Her present name is Mrs Katherine Danson. I’m afraid I don’t know her maiden name, or the name under which she worked.’

  Mrs Ross giggled. ‘Maiden name! Not the most appropriate term for any of my ladies! Even though some have remained maidens for an amazing period of time and in defiance of the number of times they have been deflowered. A few may arrive as maidens, but none remain so above a day or two.’

  ‘Mrs Katherine Danson?’ Foxe reminded her.

  ‘Yes, I well remember Katy. Katy Stubbings she was when she came to us. Pretty girl. Pretty ways too. We presented her as Martha and dressed her as a servant girl. You’d be surprised how many of our more respectable gentlemen secretly lust after their female servants. Maybe you wouldn’t though.’

  ‘I make it my fixed resolve never to act in a way that would cause problems in my household, Mrs Ross. Any master who rogers his maids — even with their agreement — loses all respect. Marry, if you want a regular bed-mate at home. Otherwise, seek your pleasures elsewhere.’

  ‘Very wise, Mr Foxe. Alas, the men I speak of simply fear to indulge their adulterous urges in their own households,’ Mrs Ross said. ‘They’re afraid they would lose their reputations as churchwardens, chapel elders, parsons, or even bishops! Here we assist them to act out their fantasies in safety. Katy had been a servant, I believe, before she ran away to avoid being raped yet again. She told me she liked men and enjoyed being properly pleasured but wasn’t going to stay with such a brute. I assured her that any man who was unduly rough or used force here, save only for those who pay heavily for the privilege with certain of our ladies only, would be ejected at once and banned from returning. I have female servants, Mr Foxe who have the strength of any man. They also have my full permission to treat such animals as roughly as they wish, short of murder. I doubt anyone would want to experience their anger a second time.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ Foxe replied, his imagination running riot over the damage several furious Amazons might inflict on their victim. ‘But to return to Mrs Danson …’

  ‘Katy was sweet-natured and quiet, which made her a favourite amongst our older customers. She was happy to fuss over them all evening. Some wanted to enjoy her as a man does with a woman. Some expected her to undress in order to admire her figure. A few never tried to go further than kissing and cuddling. To be truthful, she was more a provider of comfort and flirtation than anything else. They liked her. The other girls liked her. I liked her.’

  ‘So, Dr Danson simply came along, took a liking to her as well, and asked her to marry him?’

  ‘More or less. He was one of those whose demands were very simply met. He missed his wife. Not in a carnal sense, I understand. More as a warm, consoling presence. Katy told me he liked most to fondle her breasts and kiss her nipples, rarely venturing below her waist for any purpose. She liked him well enough to marry him for the security he offered. I was sorry to see her go, but I understood. This is not business for the long term. Once you are past your bloom, few men desire you. The few who will accept you want things most women are loathed to provide. You either manage to marry, become a madam like me, or end your days on the streets.’

  ‘She was eager to end her time here?’

  ‘Not eager, I would say, but realistic. She might have continued for several years more. She had definitely kept her looks and her figure. Dr Danson simply gave her an opportunity she was loathed to miss. I assumed she would marry him, then seek out younger lovers to provide what he was unable to give her. However, there was another reason for her departure.’

  ‘What was that, Mrs Ross.’

  ‘Her last few months at the bordello were spoiled by the antics of her younger brother. He turned out to be not only an unpleasant rogue but a criminal. She told me she thought she’d escaped him for good, then he turned up out of the blue. At once, he started to threaten her and tried to sponge off her earnings. She wouldn’t provide him with the money he wanted, so he attacked her, right in this house. Fortunately, my servants heard her screaming. I had him ejected on the instant in the manner I explained before. Since Katy was popular with everyone here, I expect they did not hold themselves back. I did not enquire, but he never returned. Instead, as I understand it, he returned to a life of petty crime. Then he was caught stealing silver and sentenced to death. In view of his age — around seventeen, I believe — his sentence was commuted to transportation to our American colonies.

  ‘That’s all I know,’ she concluded. ‘I believe Mrs Danson has never sought to conceal her time with us, which is most unusual. Most of those who marry invent their earlier lives when asked. As I said, she was a lovely girl and I liked her a good deal. Now, if you’re sure I can’t call one or two ladies who are still not engaged this evening …’

  Foxe wouldn’t have been Foxe if he hadn’t wavered, then given in.

  Sally she said her name was; a raven-haired beauty whose manner of speech Foxe found difficult to understand. Some kind of foreigner, he decided, though she spoke English well enough. There was also the fact that, in moments of high passion — and there were several of those — she kept calling him “cariad”, or something like that. Otherwise, she was lissom, enthusiastic and athletic in her love-making, though a little too noisy at times.

  As he was leaving some two hours later, Foxe asked Mrs Ross about the young woman’s origins. She said that Sally and her family had travelled from somewhere in Wales seeking work. Her surname was simple enough — Jones — but they’d called her Sally because her Christian name was so odd. She couldn’t even recall it exactly. When she’d told them, they’d all been too busy laughing to remember.

  As he lay in bed that night — quite alone this time, and deliciously exhausted — Foxe decided he couldn’t afford to take another whole day away from the matter of Lord Aylestone without risking the good relationship he had with Halloran and, through him, with the mayor. Besides, Mrs Ross’s words had satisfied his immediate concerns about Mrs Danson. His liking for the young widow had increased and he saw no reason to assume she was anything but genuine in what she told him. On the other hand, the revelations about her brother intrigued him greatly. It was time to enlist the help of the street children in finding out more.

  7

  Sally’s charms had swiftly restored Foxe to his normal self and must also have given his brain a boost, for he awoke next morning with an important idea fully formed in his mind. What if the unknown physician who first attended Aylestone’s body was right and the man had been killed much earlier in the evening than everyone supposed?

  It was high time to pay a visit to the Assembly House and talk with Mr Hinton, the man who had been Master of Ceremonies that evening.

  Mr Hinton recalled the events of that evening all too clearly. He began by telling Foxe that Viscount Penngrove had been unpleasant from the moment he arrived. His son had been worse, if that were possible. His Lordship was merely cold, haughty and demanding. Plenty of aristocrats behaved as he did, and you became used to it. His son, Lord Frederick Aylestone as he kept reminding everyone, was not only pompous and morose, but full of complaints. He disliked the music, calling the players “rustic amateurs”. He refused to take any part in the dancing, which he insisted was “the pointless capering
of those destined for hell’s flames”. He especially loathed his brightly-coloured costume, although it seemed his father had had it made for him. According to the man’s valet — who was forced to sit all evening in the draughtiest area near the outside door, just in case his master might discover a sudden need for him — his master had tried in every way possible to avoid attending. When asked to select a costume, he had chosen the most unsuitable ones he could think of. Oliver Cromwell was probably the most outlandish, followed by John the Baptist. In the end, his father had recalled an elaborate Harlequin costume he’d seen not too long ago and had an exact copy made for his son to wear. Where had he seen it? Probably at some theatre in London.

  Then, to crown it all, the wretched fool had caused a scene. It had forced him to ask a perfectly innocent patron, a Mr Bewell, to leave to avoid more unpleasantness. He knew one should not speak ill of the dead. Still, he found it very difficult to feel anything other than relief that he would never have to encounter the man again.

  ‘When you asked this Mr Bewell to go, did he do so right away?’ Foxe asked.

  ‘As far as I know, he did,’ was the reply. ‘I asked if I should call a servant to get Mr Bewell’s outdoor clothes, and those of the young lady who was with him, since she was extremely upset by what had happened, but Mr Bewell told me it would be quicker if he fetched them himself. It seemed he’d left them in the room vacated by Viscount Penngrove and his son. Many of those who had arrived later than the rest had found our normal storage for their clothes already full. I’d therefore instructed our people to tell their servants to use that other room instead. I doubt if Mr Bewell had a servant — he is, I believe, an actor, though an up-and-coming one — and he probably took their outdoor clothes there himself, rather than wait for one of our servants. They were harassed and overworked by this time. The evening was colder than we all expected and so many people will insist on making their appearance on such evenings at the last moment.’

  ‘You said Viscount Penngrove and his son had already left that room by this time.’

  ‘Indeed, the noble lord had taken his son there to remonstrate with him in the strongest terms. We could all hear it.’

  ‘Did they come out together?’

  The Master of Ceremonies took his time to think that over. ‘I believe not,’ he told Foxe at last. ‘I definitely saw Viscount Penngrove come out, but he was on his own at that stage, as I recall it.’

  ‘Did you see Lord Aylestone come out of the room after him?’

  Another pause for memory. ‘No, not exactly, but his father had ordered him to return to the main hall in a most peremptory way. I assumed the fellow had taken a moment to compose himself. When Mr Bewell returned with his clothes and those of the lady, he made no mention of seeing anyone in there. I’m sure of that. He was wearing his own cloak and had the lady’s over his arm. All he said was that so many sets of clothing had been piled up, it had taken him a good time to find Miss Marsh’s and his own.’

  ‘And at the end of the evening?’

  ‘I was far too busy helping the most important guests summon their servants and reassume outdoor dress to take any notice.’

  ‘Was this Mr Bewell the only person Lord Aylestone quarrelled with in the course of the evening?’

  ‘By no means! The fellow had been causing upset from the moment he arrived. Instead of taking part in the dancing or talking with the ladies, he sat on his own, passing loud remarks about anyone whose attire or behaviour displeased him. Loud enough to be heard clearly by his victims, I mean. A number of ladies were picked out for their “immodest” dresses. They were treated to biblical quotations containing the words “whore” or “harlot”. This was interspersed with imprecations against “ungodly behaviour” and mentions of hell fire. Then there was that earlier incident.’

  ‘What incident was that?’ Foxe asked.

  ‘I did not see it myself. However, several people told me they had seen Lord Aylestone jump up and heard him say he had just seen the very man who had stolen his ladylove from him years before. The one who was the actress. He was heard to declare it was high time the worthless knave got the hiding he deserved.’

  ‘Did anyone see who he was referring to?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge, Mr Foxe. Besides, I’m sure he must have been mistaken. As I heard the tale, the man in question had been serving in the militia. He would hardly have returned to Norwich wealthy enough to purchase a ticket for our masquerade. On the other hand, I suppose he might have been an officer, not a mere soldier. Many a young lady has had her head turned by the sight of a young officer in a fine, red coat.’

  Since Mr Hinton could add no more, Foxe took his leave and went next door to the theatre. He was lucky enough to find both Bewell and Miss Marsh there. A final rehearsal for the next evening’s production was about to take place.

  Mr Adam Bewell proved to be a man of somewhat unremarkable appearance without his costume and make-up. Foxe judged him to be around thirty or thirty-five years of age, still youthful in his face, but beginning to gain a little weight. Miss Marsh was younger, perhaps no more than twenty-five. Comely enough, though her hair was somewhat lank and her complexion sallow. As soon as Foxe introduced himself and explained the purpose for seeking them out, she excused herself, saying the experience was still too painful for her to talk about it. Mr Bewell could speak for her, since she had seen little after that beast, Lord whatever-his-name was, had so grossly insulted her. They had left and Mr Bewell had escorted her home, where she had disrobed and cried herself to sleep.

  Mr Bewell agreed that he had done as the lady said, then gone to his own lodging and retired for the night.

  ‘I’m interested in what happened immediately after Lord Aylestone and his father had their argument,’ Foxe said. ‘I believe the Master of Ceremonies asked you and Miss Marsh to leave.’

  ‘He did,’ Bewell replied, ‘but in a most gracious and apologetic way. I felt for the poor fellow. He could hardly eject the viscount’s son, though I imagine that was exactly what he longed to do. It was also quite likely Lord Aylestone would be unable to restrain himself if he encountered us again. I don’t know what the stupid man has against theatrical performances, other than simple religious bigotry. A few ministers of religion share the ridiculous idea that the theatre fosters immorality and vice. Most who do confine themselves to boring their congregations with sermons on the matter or writing silly pamphlets.’

  ‘What did you do on agreeing to leave?’ Foxe said. ‘Did you go straight away?’

  ‘We both needed our cloaks. The servant who took them when we arrived had put them in that kind of annex room, since the main repository for clothing was full. Mr Hinton — he was serving as Master of Ceremonies — offered to summon a servant. However, Miss Marsh was extremely unsettled by Lord Aylestone’s crass behaviour and wished us to leave as swiftly and quietly as possible. Rather than wait, I went to retrieve our cloaks myself. That’s all there was to it.’

  ‘Did you leave as soon as you returned with your outdoor clothing?’

  ‘Certainly,’ Bewell said. ‘There was nothing to detain us.’

  ‘Was Lord Aylestone still in the room when you got there?’ Foxe asked.

  ‘There was no one there,’ the actor said. ‘It did take me some time to find our cloaks though.’

  ‘Did you look behind the curtain into the recess which is there?’

  ‘What curtain?’

  ‘And did you return to the Assembly House after that?’

  ‘What for? The response of Lord Aylestone to our presence had sickened me. I had lost any appetite for dancing and no longer had a partner. I’ve already told you Miss Marsh was desperate to go home, so we left as quickly as we could. She’s already confirmed I saw her home, after which I went to my own lodgings.’

  ‘Can anyone vouch for seeing you there?’

  ‘I imagine the landlady must have heard me come back. Ask her.’

  By the time Foxe was able to tell Mrs Cromb
ie all he had learned that day, the good temper of the morning had deserted him.

  ‘I thought this business of Lord Aylestone was going to be simple,’ he said to her. ‘Now I’m faced with suspects I hadn’t expected. That’s to say nothing of the gentlemen whose ladies had been insulted by the young fool. Any of them might have decided to take their revenge and gone too far. Then there’s the matter of Lord Aylestone saying he’d seen the man who had stolen his girl.’

  ‘He might well have sought the fellow out, taken him somewhere private and tried to take his revenge,’ Mrs Crombie said. ‘Especially after he knew he’d been publicly humiliated by his father. Maybe he hoped to repair his loss of face, or something equally silly. If the man had been a soldier, he would know how to defend himself. Lord Aylestone probably tried to start a fight and came off worst.’

  ‘Do you know anything of the incident with the actress, Mrs Crombie? Was the man she ran off with an officer?’

  ‘I’ve heard him described as a sergeant, a lieutenant and even a captain. You know how it is with these tales. People love to elaborate. What they don’t know, they make it up.’

  ‘Indeed, they do,’ Foxe said. ‘It’s quite common for the younger sons of wealthy gentry families to purchase commissions in the militia or the yeomanry. Less expensive than regular army commissions, with the added advantage of being restricted to serving in Britain itself. The uniform is just as handsome too.’

  Mrs Crombie smiled. ‘It’s the uniform that draws the eyes of impressionable young women. Fellows like that strut about as if they had been fighting the French single-handed. Many a foolish young woman has lost her heart — and other things — to an officer in the militia. It’s said sailors have a girl in every port. I think militia officers probably have several in every town where they have been stationed.’

  ‘Do you speak from experience?’ Foxe asked her, grinning despite his attempt to keep a straight face.