The Malevolent Comedy Page 9

  ‘I’m already committed to Westfield’s Men.’

  ‘Only for this play. What of your next?’

  ‘Lawrence and I are still discussing terms.’

  ‘Bring them to us before you accept them, and we’ll get a far better offer from Giles Randolph for you. Westfield’s Men are past their best,’ said Vavasor, downing some more wine. ‘Apart from Firethorn, there are only three men of consequence in the company.’

  ‘Barnaby Gill is one,’ said Hibbert.

  ‘And that testy Welshman, Owen Elias, another. Close your eyes and he’s Firethorn with a Celtic lilt. They are the only two actors that Banbury’s Men would like to poach.’

  ‘You spoke of three a moment ago.’

  ‘Three people – not three actors.’

  ‘The third person is their book holder,’ said Vavasor. ‘Nicholas Bracewell is the man at the tiller there. He’s steered them safely through every tempest. You must have noticed him.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ replied Hibbert, scowling. ‘I noticed him.’

  ‘Was that your device or his?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I know that he’s wont to arrange their fights and invent clever effects for them. Is that what he did in The Malevolent Comedy?’

  ‘I do not follow you.’

  ‘During the last act,’ explained Vavasor. ‘When the servant died.’

  ‘Ah, that.’

  ‘It was a stroke of genius to have him thresh around and knock over all the furniture as if he were felling so many trees. The boy looked to be dying in earnest. Tell me, Saul, was that your doing?’

  ‘Yes,’ lied Hibbert. ‘Everything that you saw was mine.’

  When she heard his footsteps outside her front door, Anne Hendrik was doubly grateful. She was not only pleased that Nicholas had returned earlier than she had expected that evening, she was relieved that he had not been killed in a duel. Opening the door to him, she received a kiss and took him into the parlour. Nicholas looked weary.

  ‘A tiring day?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘but not without its rewards.’

  ‘What of your quarrel with Master Hibbert?’

  ‘Oh, that’s behind me Anne.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘We met to discuss our differences in private and I left him with a dagger through his black heart.’

  ‘Never!’ she exclaimed. Then she realised that he was teasing her and beat him playfully on the chest with both fists. ‘That was cruel of you, Nick.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, embracing her. ‘Forgive me.’

  ‘Then let’s have no more jests.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  By way of apology, he gave her another kiss. They sat opposite each other and she disposed of her own day in a couple of sentences. Nicholas then told her about the visit to the apothecary in Clerkenwell, and how Simeon Howker’s well-dressed customer had sounded very much like the man who had questioned Leonard at the Queen’s Head. Anne was more interested to hear about the conversation with Hal Bridger’s mother, reassured by the sign of what she took to be pure maternal affection.

  ‘I think that it was a mixture of motherhood and Christian duty,’ said Nicholas. ‘I can see where Hal got his bravery from. Only a very brave woman could stand up against Mr Bridger.’

  ‘Is that what she was doing?’

  ‘She was expressing grief in her own way, Anne.’

  ‘A peculiar way to me.’

  ‘I admired her. Mrs Bridger was sincere enough in her beliefs to tell me to my face that the Queen’s Head was a den of iniquity. It must have rankled that Hal was working so close to home and yet so impossibly far from his parents.’

  ‘At least, they’ll be reunited now, albeit briefly.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’

  ‘Meanwhile, you have a killer to track down. How can you possibly find him in a city as large as London? There are so many places to hide.’

  ‘I fancy that we may bring him out into the light.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘By performing Master Hibbert’s play again tomorrow.’

  ‘I thought that A Way to Content All Women was advertised.’

  ‘It’s being set aside, Anne. There’s been such a clamour for the new play that we simply must present it again. That will at least assuage its author and, perhaps, entice along the villain who tried to ruin its first performance.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll resort to poison again?’

  ‘We’ll not give him the opportunity.’

  ‘What makes you think he’ll come back?’

  ‘Instinct,’ said Nicholas. ‘Having failed to stop us the first time, he’ll want to try again and The Malevolent Comedy is his target. Had the company itself been the mark, he might have aimed at us again today but the performance went unmolested. His grudge seems to be against Saul Hibbert’s play. It’s stirred up real malevolence.’

  ‘What is there in it that could cause such offence?’

  ‘Nothing in the play itself,’ replied Nicholas. ‘The playwright is another matter.’ He became thoughtful. ‘I wonder if I might ask you a favour, Anne?’

  ‘Granted before you even put it into words.’

  He smiled gratefully. ‘Come to the Queen’s Head tomorrow and watch the play from the gallery. I need a keen pair of eyes in the audience. You can see things from up there which are invisible to me.’

  ‘Including this Master Hibbert I’ve heard so much about.’

  ‘Even in a crowd, you’ll have no difficulty picking him out,’ said Nicholas with asperity. ‘He dresses to be seen and lets everyone know that he’s the author. Saul Hibbert is extremely vain.’

  ‘How unlike Edmund Hoode,’ she commented. ‘He’s modest and unassuming about his plays. How has Edmund taken this change of plan for tomorrow? He wrote A Way to Content All Women. Does he mind his work being substituted by another comedy?’

  ‘He’s bound to, Anne. It must make him feel he’s been cruelly elbowed aside. Lawrence is showing some sympathy for him at last. To make amends, he’s taking Edmund to supper this evening.

  There were five of them at the table. Edmund Hoode sat beside Lawrence Firethorn while Owen Elias was opposite with the two young ladies in their finest attire. They were in a private room at the Queen’s Head and Firethorn was amusing his female guests with anecdotes from his long and tempestuous career as an actor. Bernice and Ursula Opie were sisters, young, bright and nubile. Owen Elias had got to know them during his visits to their house. Linus Opie, their father, was a wealthy mercer with a passion for music and the Welshman had been engaged to appear at his evening concerts on a number of occasions. Neither Opie nor his daughters realised that the man who sang religious songs with such fervour led a private life that would be frowned upon by any church. Elias hoped to maintain the illusion.

  Firethorn turned his broadest smile on the two young ladies.

  ‘Have you ever seen Westfield’s Men perform?’ he asked.

  ‘Once or twice,’ replied Bernice. ‘Father brought us here for the first time last year. I remember the play well. I loved every second of it.’

  ‘And so do I,’ said Ursula. ‘It was called The Faithful Shepherd.’

  ‘Then you are sitting opposite the man who wrote it,’ said Firethorn, indicating Hoode. ‘Do you hear that, Edmund? You have two admirers at the table.’

  ‘Admirers?’ echoed Hoode with a pallid smile. ‘I was beginning to forget that such people ever existed.’

  ‘There are four of us in this very room,’ said Elias, heartily. ‘Though the two prettiest are sitting opposite you.’

  ‘I endorse that,’ said Firethorn with a chuckle of approval.

  Bernice Opie smiled but Ursula was slightly embarrassed by the compliment. Though they shared a similarity of feature, the sisters were very different to look at. Both had dark hair, a pale complexion and full red lips. Bernice, however, the younger by two years, had a natural beauty while Ursula was undeniably plain. Th
eir demeanour seemed to match their appearance. Bernice was confident, vivacious and aware, whereas her sister was shy, hesitant and solemn. When Ursula did finally speak at length, it was clear that she was the more intelligent of the two, but the attention of the men was lavished on Bernice.

  ‘You have such a lovely name, Bernice,’ said Firethorn.

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied.

  ‘Biblical, I take it?’

  ‘Bernice was the daughter of Herod Agrippa.’

  ‘Not to be confused with her great-grandfather, Herod the Great,’ put in Ursula, pedantically. ‘Agrippa sat in judgement on Paul, with Bernice present at the time, and they both treated him with respect and dignity. Bernice is later thought to have married King Ptolemy of Sicily.’

  ‘And to have been the mistress of the Emperor Titus,’ said Bernice, daringly. ‘She must have been a remarkable woman.’

  The men laughed but Ursula had to hide a blush.

  ‘Bernice is almost as remarkable as her namesake,’ observed Firethorn with a flattering smile. ‘Do you not agree, Edmund?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Hoode, staring in wonder at her. ‘I do.’

  ‘Do you intend to marry a king or an emperor, Bernice?’

  She gave a brittle laugh. ‘I’d never get to meet either, alas.’

  ‘You are meeting both at this very moment,’ Elias told her, pointing a finger at Firethorn. ‘In his time, Lawrence has played a host of kings and a dozen different emperors.’

  ‘I have ruled the world in its entirety,’ said Firethorn.

  The next course arrived to interrupt the conversation but it soon resumed. Firethorn and Elias were pleased with the way that things were going. Bernice Opie was angelic yet with a knowing quality that made her even more tempting. Unaware of the fact that she had been brought there to ensnare Edmund Hoode, she enjoyed being the centre of attention and luxuriated in it. Ursula, on the other hand, became more withdrawn but she listened carefully to all that was said. Hoode was as polite as usual, showing an interest in both guests and asking about the concerts organised by their father. Ursula, it transpired, was a talented musician, able to play any keyboard instrument. Bernice was a singer.

  Firethorn and Elias were on their best behaviour. Seasoned in the ways of the world, they had both supped with beautiful young ladies in a private room before, always with one object in mind. They were not in pursuit of another conquest this time so they acted with uncharacteristic restraint, treating their guests with avuncular propriety. Both of them tried hard to bring Hoode to the fore so that Bernice could appreciate his talent and versatility.

  ‘Edmund is a complete man of the theatre,’ said Firethorn with an arm around his shoulder. ‘Poet, playwright, actor, philosopher and artist. Did you know that Edmund designs the scenery for his plays?’

  ‘No,’ answered Bernice. ‘How clever of you!’

  ‘When I write,’ explained Hoode, ‘I see clear pictures in my mind.’

  ‘And you act a role as well?’

  ‘If you saw The Faithful Shepherd, then you saw me onstage.’

  ‘I believe that we may have seen you in The Loyal Subject as well,’ said Ursula, making a rare contribution. ‘It was a wonderful play.’

  ‘Also from Edmund’s magical pen,’ said Firethorn.

  ‘We must get father to bring us to another play here, Ursula,’ said her sister, excitedly. ‘Now that we’ve met Master Firethorn and Master Hoode, I cannot wait to see them on the stage again.’ She turned to Elias. ‘What could we see at the Queen’s Head tomorrow?’

  ‘The Malevolent Comedy.’

  ‘What an intriguing title! One of your plays, Master Hoode?’

  ‘Not this time, alas,’ said Hoode.

  ‘We’ll see it nevertheless if we can persuade our father. Oh, it’s been such a lovely evening, hasn’t it, Ursula?’ Her sister gave an obedient nod. ‘We can’t thank you enough for inviting us.’

  ‘It’s we who are overwhelmed with gratitude,’ said Firethorn.

  When the meal was over, a coach came to pick the guests up and the three men waved them off in the street. Hoode was transported. He gazed after the vehicle until it disappeared around a corner, his face aglow, his eyes luminous, his mouth agape. Firethorn nudged Elias and they shared a secret smile.

  ‘Did you enjoy your meal, Edmund?’ asked Firethorn.

  ‘It was like supping with a goddess,’ said Hoode.

  ‘Bernice Opie is truly celestial, is she not?’

  ‘You feasted your eyes on her all evening,’ noted Elias.

  ‘And she obviously adored you.’

  ‘I sing at their house on Sunday. I’ll take you with me, Edmund.’

  ‘Will you?’ said Hoode, eagerly. ‘I’d love to meet her again.’

  ‘What man would not?’ asked Firethorn with a sly grin. ‘I think that Bernice Opie is one of the most gorgeous creatures in London.’

  ‘That may be so, Lawrence, but she was immature and shallow.’

  ‘I thought you liked her.’

  ‘I did,’ confirmed Hoode, ‘but it was her sister who really caught my eye. Bernice cannot begin to compare with Ursula. She’s my choice.’

  Lawrence Firethorn and Owen Elias goggled in astonishment.

  The decision to stage The Malevolent Comedy on the following day was by no means universally popular. Among the actors, only Firethorn and Barnaby Gill were enthusiastically in support of the idea. Most of the others were still haunted by the tragedy that had occurred at the earlier performance, fearing that something equally disastrous might happen. Edmund Hoode had opposed the notion on the grounds that it was too soon after the death of Hal Bridger but his protests were waved aside. To a company so anxious to increase its takings, a revival of the play was essential. Word-of-mouth would guarantee a full audience and the chance to sell so much refreshment to them might even serve to appease the nagging landlord. Horrified that a murder had taken place in his yard, Marwood was too shrewd a businessman to let emotion get the better of commercial gain.

  Nicholas Bracewell was opposed in principle to the revival but the decision did not lie with him. Had it done so, he would have opted for A Way to Content All Women on that warm Saturday afternoon. Since the company were forbidden to play on the Sabbath, it would have meant that Saul Hibbert’s play waited until Monday before being staged again, giving Westfield’s Men a longer interval to absorb the blow it had inflicted on them at its first outing. Since the die was cast, Nicholas did all he could to make the revival a success, making sure that someone was in the tiring-house at all times so that no stranger could enter it unseen.

  The morning rehearsal was slow and uninspired, allowing Hibbert to voice his displeasure in the ripest of language. Seated alone in the middle of the lower gallery, he looked like an eastern potentate who had just discovered an outbreak of lethargy in his harem, and who felt deprived of full satisfaction. Only Firethorn and Gill escaped his biting criticism. Hoode was censured and Francis Quilter sharply reprimanded. The playwright reserved his most stinging rebukes for the book holder, however, blaming Nicholas for mistakes that were not his responsibility and trying to shame him in front of his friends. Nicholas was unperturbed. He trusted the judgement of his fellows. The actors knew that he had done his job with customary efficiency.

  ‘Ignore him, Nick,’ counselled Hoode when the rehearsal was over. ‘He was picking on you needlessly.’

  ‘I’d rather he berate me than the actors. If he wants to bring the best out of his cast, he should treat them with more respect. They’re not dray horses, to be forced into a trot with the lash of a whip.’

  ‘Lawrence can be too fond of the whip at times.’

  ‘That’s different,’ said Nicholas, tolerantly. ‘He’s one of us. We’re used to the feel of his lash.’ He looked into Hoode’s cheerful face. ‘I hear that you supped with him last night.’

  ‘With him and with two charming young ladies, sisters whom Owen knows. He’s sung at their father’s
house.’

  ‘Then they must be the daughters of Linus Opie, a man who loves his music, by all accounts. Owen has mentioned him before. Dick Honeydew has taken part in their concerts as well.’

  ‘When I attend the next one, the only person I’ll hear is Ursula.’

  ‘Ursula?’

  ‘The elder of the sisters. She plays upon the virginals.’

  Nicholas was amused. ‘From the sound of your voice, a virgin has played upon you. Who else was at this supper?’

  ‘None but Lawrence and Owen.’

  ‘Did either of them have designs on these young ladies?’

  ‘No,’ said Hoode, ‘they stayed their hands for once. Owen was keen that I should meet his two friends, and I thank him from my heart.’

  ‘I thought Lawrence bought your supper because he repented of the unkind things he said about your last play.’

  ‘They were not unkind, Nick, they were all too accurate. And your own objections to it were also just. How to Choose a Good Wife was a feeble comedy and I knew it when I was writing it.’

  ‘Your inspiration will soon return,’ Nicholas promised. ‘We burden you with high expectation, Edmund. All that you need is a long rest.’

  ‘Not any more.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve had enough of lying fallow,’ said Hoode, joyously. ‘When I met Ursula Opie, my creative urge was suddenly fired again. As soon as I got back to my lodging, I started work on a new play.’

  Gracechurch Street was even more crowded than usual that afternoon but it was not solely because of the market. So many people converged on the Queen’s Head to see the play that, eventually, the gatherers had to turn some away. Every seat was taken in the galleries, every square inch in the yard. Even generous bribes could not get gallants past the door. Disappointed spectators refused to leave until they had been given a guarantee that The Malevolent Comedy would be performed again soon. Westfield’s Men were the victims of their own success. Their inn yard playhouse was too small to satisfy the demands of their public.

  Lawrence Firethorn was cheered by the news that so many people had been eager to see the play. On some of the cast, however, it had a different effect. Like Nicholas, many actors were worried that there might be a second attempt to bring their performance to a halt. It made them nervous and unhappy. Francis Quilter even went so far as to suggest that the play had a curse on it and there were several murmurs of agreement. Firethorn stamped heavily on the dissenters.