‘Master Hoode. There’s no name given but it has to be him.’
‘Are you sure of this, Bernice?’
‘Who else could it be?’ She handed the scroll to her sister. ‘Read it for yourself. He calls me his opal and plays upon my name.’
Frowning with concentration, Ursula read the sonnet, taking more notice of its artful construction than of anything else. There were clear hints that it was, in fact, addressed to her but she discerned none of them, thinking it inconceivable that any man would dedicate such a poem to her. The depth of feeling that was revealed brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks. She gave the scroll back to her sister.
‘Is it not the most wonderful thing you ever read?’ asked Bernice.
‘I do not care for some of the rhymes.’
‘Ursula!’
‘And the final couplet is a trifle clumsy.’
‘I’ll not have a word said against it.’ She handed back the book. ‘Be happy for me. Your sister is loved and loves the man in return. Does that not please you?’
‘It might if I could be sure that Master Hoode was the poet.’
‘Look to “Hope’s jewel” and you’ll see it must be him.’
‘It could equally well be Master Jewell,’ warned Ursula. ‘You saw from his song that he has a gift for language.’
‘Master Jewell is far too religious,’ said Bernice with mild disgust. ‘His breast could never harbour such love and devotion. Besides, I gave him no encouragement. “E” must stand for Edmund.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘I’ve written a letter to him.’
‘Is that wise, Bernice?’
‘It’s only polite.’
‘You must not be too impulsive. That’s ever your failing.’
‘What would you do, then, in my position?’
‘Nothing at all. I’d simply wait and watch.’
‘Edmund has declared himself. He deserves an answer.’
‘You must at all costs preserve your dignity,’ said Ursula. ‘Our parents brought us up to be honest and open in all our dealings. You should not have a secret correspondence with a man.’
‘Why not? It makes my blood race.’
‘Bernice!’
‘I could never show this poem to Mother or Father. They would both disapprove strongly. I’d not be allowed to see Edmund again.’
‘That would only be for your own good.’
‘How can you say that?’ protested Bernice. ‘I love him.’
‘You hardly know the man.’
‘I know enough to realise that I adore him. When he wrote this,’ she said, holding up the poem, ‘he was reaching out to me. I felt that I had to respond.’
‘No,’ said Ursula. ‘You are too hasty and unguarded. I can see how much this has affected you, but you must restrain yourself. Whatever happens, Bernice, do not send that letter.’
‘That advice comes too late.’
‘Why?’
Her sister smiled dreamily. ‘It’s already on its way.’
The search for the missing apprentice went on for hours but to no avail. Nicholas Bracewell adjourned to the Queen’s Head with Edmund Hoode and Owen Elias so that they could review the situation. They sat around a table in the taproom with a jug of ale to help their deliberations. Their concern for Richard Honeydew was growing.
‘I pray that Dick is still alive,’ sighed Hoode.
‘I feel sure that he is,’ said Nicholas.
‘They did not stop short of murder before, Nick.’
‘No,’ said Elias, anxiously. ‘Look what happened to Hal Bridger. If the same people kidnapped Dick, then he’s in mortal danger.’
‘I prefer to think not, Owen,’ said Nicholas. ‘Had they meant to kill him, they could have done so in the churchyard. The young woman must have won his confidence so that he could be seized unawares by her accomplice. Mrs Bridger saw it happen. Why carry the boy off like that if murder was their intention?’
‘They’d not have struck him there on consecrated ground.’
‘Then we’d have found the body in some alley by now.’
‘How did they know he would visit Hal’s grave?’
‘I think he was followed from here, Owen. The street was far too crowded for them to pounce on him there. They bided their time until he turned into the graveyard.’
‘Villains!’ cried Hoode. ‘And one of them, a young lady.’
‘The two of them deserve hanging.’
‘The three of them,’ said Elias, sourly. ‘Add the name of our new playwright to the list. But for him, none of this would have happened.’
‘They’ve finally found a way to keep his play off the stage,’ said Nicholas. ‘My fear is that they’ll try to take Dick far away from London to make sure that The Malevolent Comedy is truly finished. That’s why I’ve posted someone at every gate out of the city. If we keep them there, we’ve a chance of finding the boy.’
‘We’ve not had much luck so far, Nick.’
‘No, but we’ve only searched the streets. Now we turn to the inns.’
‘Why?’ asked Hoode.
‘Because that’s where they might be, Edmund. These are strangers to London, remember. Leonard spoke to them both and each had a voice that came a long way from the city. That means they would have found somewhere to stay.’
‘Then it’s probably somewhere close enough to the Queen’s Head to keep an eye on us. ‘
‘Yet no common tavern,’ decided Nicholas. ‘They were well dressed and educated. I fancy that they’ll be used to comfort. They’ll have chosen their accommodation with care.’
‘Then let’s visit every inn that might attract them.’
‘You go with Owen. I’ll partner Leonard. He, at least, has seen the pair. If we divide our strength, we can cover more establishments. Drink up,’ he said. ‘It will grow dark soon.’
‘Teach us the way to go, Nick.’
‘We’ll search all night, if need be,’ vowed Elias.
‘So will I,’ said Nicholas.
‘When Anne is waiting for you in a warm bed?’
‘I’ve sent George Dart to tell her I’ll not be home tonight, and to explain why. Dick Honeydew’s safety obliterates all else.’
‘Then let’s get out there,’ said Elias, rising to his feet.
‘Yes,’ said Hoode, getting up and stroking the hilt of his sword. ‘I’m armed and ready for action. We’ve many crimes to avenge.’
‘We have to find the malefactors first,’ Nicholas told them, ‘and I’ll not rest until that’s done. Dick is here in London somewhere — I feel it. And he’s relying on us to rescue him.’
He got up and glanced across the taproom. Leonard was talking by the counter to one of the servingmen, who handed him a letter. Leonard brought it across to them.
‘It’s for you, Master Hoode,’ he said.
‘Me?’ asked Hoode, taking the letter.
‘It has the sweetest smell. I think it’s from a lady.’
‘An answer already?’
Nicholas was crisp. ‘Read it later, Edmund, whoever she may be. This is no time for letters,’ he said, leading them out into the street. ‘We have something far more important to do. Dick Honeydew needs us.’
He had never watched the evening shadows fall with such attention before. Still locked in the stable, Richard Honeydew saw the fingers of light grow paler and paler until they vanished altogether. In their place came a darkness that crept slowly under the door before searching out every corner of the stable. He was at length enveloped in a blackness that was deep and impenetrable. Honeydew could still hear voices in the street but they were far fewer in number. The crowds had gone. Horses passed with less frequency. The breeze had stiffened, making him shiver and blowing wisps of straw across the floor. Though he could no longer see the rat, he could still hear him, scampering to and fro.
Fear kept him awake but fatigue nibbled steadily away at him. Sleep eventually came as a blessed release. He slumped to the floor. No sooner had he dozed off, however, than he was awakened again. The sound of the bolts and the creaking of the doors brought him out of his slumber. A candle glowed in the dark. It was set down beside Honeydew then blown out. Firm hands grabbed the boy.
‘Hold still,’ ordered a man, ‘or it will be the worse for you.’