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‘But it stands right before you, man. The only way that Nicholas Bracewell could be aware of the Welshman’s death, was if the body had been washed up out of the river. In short, he was clever enough to go to the morgue in order to check.’

‘And was the body found?’

‘I suspect that it might have been. When I’ve calmed you down, I mean to visit the morgue myself in order to be certain. Yes,’ he added, draining his wine, ‘and I shall ask the coroner who else has shown an interest in Hywel Rees. I believe that I know the name he’ll give me.’

‘Nicholas Bracewell,’ said Beechcroft, curling his lip. ‘Who is the fellow?’

‘We’ll find out somehow, Joseph, and he will lead us to her.’

‘Who?’

‘Dorothea Tate. He must be working in league with that little scorpion.’

‘We were wrong to discharge her.’

‘We could hardly keep her here to rant and rave. Besides,’ said Olgrave with a cackle, ‘I’d had my sport with her. When we turned her out, I thought she’d end up in the stews of Bankside. Dorothea would make a lively trull now that I’ve introduced her to the trade. She fought like a terrier,’ he recalled. ‘I still have the scratches down my back. Until they heal, I’ll not dare to lie with my wife.’ He cackled again. ‘I only lie to her.’

Beechcroft was on the move again. ‘And you believe that she and that man are confederates? That disturbs me, Ralph. They could bring us down.’

‘Not if we keep our nerve.’

‘I lost mine for a second when he called at my house.’

‘He’ll not come again, I warrant you. And he can hardly reach us here,’ Olgrave reminded him. ‘Bridewell is our kingdom. No power in the land can threaten us.’

‘Dorothea Tate might do so, if she has enough help.’

‘Then we’ll have to make sure she does not get it. Nicholas Bracewell paid a visit to our houses. When we find out where he lives, we’ll do the same to him. My guess is that the girl will be staying there as well. Relax, Joseph,’ he said, confidently. ‘We’ll do what we should have done before.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Hit two marks with the same shot.’ His eyes shone. ‘We’ll kill the pair of them.’

Chapter Ten

Margery Firethorn was smouldering with anger as she sat in the half-dark of her parlour. There was a single lighted candle beside her. It was the second night in succession when she found herself waiting up for an errant husband and that served to sharpen the edge of her temper. Everyone else in the house in Shoreditch had retired to bed but she was determined to sit up for her spouse, no matter how long it might take. Such was the strength of her resolve that there was no danger of her falling asleep. A hundred candles burnt brightly inside her.

At long last, she heard the sound of a horse’s hooves, clacking on the hard surface of Old Street. She blew out the flame and plunged the room into darkness, listening to Firethorn dismount, stable the animal and, after some delay, let himself into the house. Leaving his hat on the wooden peg behind the door, he stole into the parlour on tiptoe, intending to creep up the stairs with the least possible noise. Firethorn had just reached the first step when a voice shattered the silence.

‘Lawrence!’ snarled his wife.

‘My God!’ he exclaimed, a hand to his chest. ‘Is that you, Margery?’

‘Who else would bother to stay up for a worthless husband like you?’

‘Ah,’ he said, as she was conjured out of the gloom to stand a few inches away from him. ‘There you are, my angel.’

‘Angel me no angels,’ she warned. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Business affairs kept me away from your warm bosom.’

‘That was your excuse yesterday and I did not believe it then. You swore to me that you’d return early this evening so that you could welcome Jonathan.’

‘Jonathan?’

‘Have you forgotten that my brother-in-law was arriving today?’

‘It went quite out of my mind,’ he confessed. ‘I’ve had such a day at the Queen’s Head that all else fled from my busy brain.’

‘So I am left alone to feed the children, the apprentices and our visitor, while you are revelling with the other actors. It’s not fair, Lawrence. It’s not kind.’

‘A thousand pardons, my love,’ he said, reaching out to embrace her, only to have both hands smacked away. ‘Instead of scolding me, you should pity me.’

‘Pity you!’ she echoed. ‘I’d sooner beat you black and blue.’

‘If that relieves your anger, you may do it. I’ve suffered so much today already that I’ll not even feel the blows. I’ve been knocked about until I am quite numb.’

Margery grabbed his beard. ‘What’s her name, Lawrence?’

‘Who?’

‘The woman who has kept you out late for two nights. Who is this jade? Come, sir,’ she demanded, tightening her grip, ‘who is this wanton hussy?’

‘She goes by the name of Dame Fortune,’ he groaned, ‘and she’s battered me harder than you could ever do. It was not enough for her to deprive me of Edmund, Nick and the takings from The Maid of the Mill. She also robbed us of our costumes and took away my sanity.’

Margery released him. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘The slow death of Westfield’s Men.’

‘Your costumes were stolen?’

‘All that were of any value,’ he said. ‘Hugh Wegges discovered the theft this morning. The landlord offered us five pounds to cover our loss but we’d need ten times that amount at least. And the worst of it is, Nick Bracewell was not there to help.’

‘Why not?’

‘It would take too long to explain, Margery.’

‘He’s never let you down before.’

‘No, that’s why I summoned him. I knew that he’d call on Edmund at some time so I left a message there about the loss of our wardrobe. How can we play Love and Fortune tomorrow if we have nothing to wear?’

‘Nick is the only person who could answer that question.’

‘He’s promised to try,’ said Firethorn, wearily. ‘And, since we are so embattled, he’s agreed to hold the book for us tomorrow afternoon instead of deserting us.’ He gave a low moan. ‘I never hope to see a day as bad as this again, Margery.’ A mirthless laugh followed. ‘And there’s my wife, thinking that I’m lying in the arms of some buxom wench. Dame Fortune keeps a cold bed, I can tell you. I’ve had no pleasure between her thighs today.’

‘Oh, you poor man!’ she said, embracing him. ‘I misjudged you, Lawrence.’

‘I’ve been bound to Ixion’s wheel.’

‘Why did you not send word of all this trouble? I’d then have been able to explain to Jonathan that you were delayed. He was so anxious to speak to you.’

‘I had anxieties of my own to occupy me.’

‘You can see my brother-in-law tomorrow, and travel with him into the city.’

‘Must I?’ protested Firethorn.

‘Jonathan wishes to go to the Queen’s Head so that he can watch the rehearsal.’

‘When we are in such confusion? Keep him away, Margery. He’ll see us at our worst and take a low opinion of our work back to your sister in Cambridge. Instead of watching Love and Fortune, your brother-in-law will see only Hatred and Misfortune.’

‘You’ll rally somehow.’

‘Even Lazarus could not rise again from this. Help me, my dove. Jonathan Jarrold is a tedious fellow at the best of times. Spare me his company.’

‘Leave we that decision until the morning. Our bed calls us.’

He smiled hopefully. ‘Are we reconciled, then?’

‘No,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘But we soon will be.’

Nicholas Bracewell rode into the yard of the Queen’s Head on the horse that he had borrowed from Anne Hendrik. Across the pommel were several garments that he had managed to collect from Anne and from some of her neighbours. She had also supplied the selection of hats that he had carried in a bag. George Dart came scurrying across to him to take everything he had brought. He took it off to the tireman. Nicholas dismounted and gave the reins to the ostler who stood by. He was pleased to see that their makeshift stage had already been erected but even more delighted to note that Owen Elias was there so early in the morning. The Welshman came across to him.