CHAPTER THIRTY

Philidor

AFTER HIS BUSINESS with the trollop and the printer was concluded, he returned to the club. He settled down in the small drawing room, amidst oak panelling and worn oriental rugs. He was reading the paper and enjoying a whisky when he looked up to find Dr Gribble had taken the seat opposite him. ‘I hear you’ve acquired a substantial debt with the Collector,’ he said, in his quiet tones. He crossed his thin legs and studied the open fire.

Philidor licked his lips. ‘They told you?’

‘I visited earlier this evening. The madam is not pleased.

Neither is he.’

‘They shouldn’t be discussing my personal business with you.’

‘Nothing is personal in so far as this particular business is concerned,’ said Gribble. ‘And because I recommended you to the establishment, well, your conduct reflects on me.’

The man’s tone was still neutral; he didn’t appear angry or offended. He was an enigma. And those round spectacles with thick glass made it difficult for Philidor to see where he was looking.

‘Oh, my good man, I would never intend such a thing, but you know my situation. The show did not go as intended, and it won’t be until after our next show in six nights time that I will be possessed of more money. Is he … I mean, does he know where I am?’

‘The Collector is impatient,’ said Gribble, and turned his eyes upon Philidor. For the first time, he wondered exactly what Gribble was capable of. ‘He has ways of acquiring information.’

Philidor moistened his dry lips with his tongue.

‘I am also given to understand you have been gambling here quite heavily at whist.’

Philidor sipped his drink. The liquid, which a moment ago had soothed his throat, now felt as if it was choking him with ash. ‘Why are you smiling?’ he asked, as he put his glass down.

‘Because I have some news for you.’

Philidor went very cold and still. ‘What?’ Had he been betrayed?

‘I have paid your debts.’

‘You’ve what?’

‘I’ve paid your accounts with the club and the Collector.’

‘Why?’ spluttered Philidor.

‘Aside from my natural generosity, you mean?’ said Gribble, with another little smile as he pushed his spectacles back up his nose.

‘Aside from that.’ Philidor’s heart was thumping again as normal.

What good fortune!

‘I wondered if you may be able to help me in return,’ said Gribble.

‘Anything! And I thank you, sir, for your generosity. It is a relief to know I won’t be hunted by that man. And I do apologise, I really do, for your involvement in the first instance. I hadn’t considered what it would mean to your reputation.’

‘No, you did not. But I am a generous man, and I believe you are too. You possess something I need.’

‘And that is?’

‘Marie Tussaud. She would make for a most interesting study to add to my collection. Such a mind. So many horrors endured. It is a rare thing indeed to find a woman of her … shall we say, character, who is available for analysis.’

‘My apologies if I have misunderstood you, Gribble, but I want to be perfectly clear. You would like me to introduce you to Marie in order for you to form a romantic acquaintance with her?’

‘No, I have a professional interest in acquiring her for the asylum.’

‘Oh, I see! Yes, I quite understand now. Well, as it happens, this suits me perfectly because although she is highly skilled, I have been given cause to wonder at times if she may very well be …’ He left the word unsaid.

‘You have?’

‘I’m only an amateur, of course, nothing like you, but indications of hysteria have suggested to me, on more than one occasion, that her mind may be unstable.’

‘She has children, does she not?’

‘Yes.’

‘That alone predisposes her towards the condition. Yes, this news intrigues me greatly. As you know, I am guided only by my desire to help such women.’

‘Nothing could be easier.’ Philidor dropped his voice. ‘To be transparent with you, I have harboured some concerns that if she is left without assistance, she may be a liability for me. And I cannot have that, you see, not when I have so many obligations.’

‘I quite understand. Which is why the arrangement may suit us both.’

‘Let us stay in correspondence. Together, perhaps, we may find a way for Marie to give both of us what we desire.’

Gribble returned to studying the fire. ‘I look forward to it immensely.’

The dawn coach ride from London to Welbeck certainly woke him up. He had left early in order to show Marie the new playbills over breakfast, although he had already requested that a hundred be printed and displayed around the city that day. Their first performance would be in five nights, which gave them ample time to rehearse and ensure that the ballroom’s final touches were ready.

He went directly to wash in his bedchamber. The quietness of the building after the London noise was oppressive. No wonder men went mad left alone in these large houses; one could almost think sounds into being out of sheer isolation. He placed his bag on the bed, pleased to see everything was in order. When he went to ring the bell for hot water, he paused.

His desk. There was nothing on it. His gold tobacco box that held the ring was not on it.

He pulled out the chair in case the maid had moved his box onto the seat while she dusted. No. Underneath? He crouched down to peer into the shadows. No, and impossible it should fall of its own volition anyway. He pulled aside the heavy curtains to let in more light; there was nothing on the floor. He surveyed the room. Bedside table? No. A rummage through the wardrobe. Why would it be there anyway? He never moved it from the desk where he could lie in bed and stare at it. The golden box was the first thing he saw upon opening his bed curtains each morning, and the last thing he saw before closing them each night.

Upon entering the breakfast room, Philidor was pleased that Marie’s diminutive form, dressed in black, was already seated at the table. He sat down with a grunt and put the playbills beside his plate. ‘Good morning.’ He unfolded his napkin and laid it across his lap. It would be of no use to give way to the anger that boiled in his chest about the theft; he needed to be strategic about introducing the subject.

‘Good morning, monsieur. And how was your trip?’

‘Bumpy. Those confounded roads need to be sealed properly before someone has an accident.’

She said nothing but nibbled at her roll. This habit of hers was fast becoming more than annoying.

‘I have the playbills here,’ he said, and beckoned to the valet, who had just entered the room with a serve of bacon.

The valet placed the tray down and took up the playbills, depositing them into Marie’s hand; she did not acknowledge his presence.

She laid one before her and looked it over. ‘It is good,’ she said finally. ‘I am pleased.’

‘I thought you would be. So I ordered one hundred to be put up around London this very day.’

‘You have already organised this?’

‘I had to,’ he said stiffly. ‘If we want a full house in five nights time, the playbills have to go up now, and the personal invitations must be sent out. I followed your specifications, so I knew you would be happy. And I have been proven right.’

‘Personal invitations? Do you mean to Druce?’

He felt the colour rise to his face. ‘Don’t be vulgar. We don’t need her anymore.’

‘And is that what you do to people, to women you feign affection for and then tire of – you simply cut them off?’

‘It is none of your concern whom I feign affection for. Know your place, madame, and hold your tongue. No love was lost between you and Druce anyway.’

A long silence. He was prepared for a sharp retort. None came. She met his gaze but said nothing, only bit down harder on the bread.

‘I have been to my bedchamber just now,’ he said. ‘And I find it has been disturbed.’

She continued chewing, swallowed then reached for her coffee. ‘I do not understand.’

‘It is disturbed.’

‘You need to explain yourself further.’

‘An item has disappeared.’ He stressed the word as if she were a simpleton. ‘You have not admitted any visitors, I assume?’ Philidor looked pointedly at the valet, who was refilling Marie’s coffee.

The valet shook his head.

‘You are certain no one has been allowed entry?’

‘Forgive my impertinence, sir,’ said the valet, ‘but it’s all my job is worth to ensure no unexpected visitors are permitted to the manor. No one steps foot on these grounds without my knowledge.’

‘Well then,’ said Philidor, looking back at Marie. ‘Given it is just you and I, and the valet and the maid in residence, the suspicion falls upon you all.’

Marie stood up quickly, catching the tablecloth by accident. The china cup and saucer knocked together with a clang – finally, a proper outburst in front of a witness. He knew if he kept pushing she would show signs of hysterics.

‘You are suggesting I behaved like a common thief,’ she said. ‘I will not stand for such accusations.’

‘My gold tobacco box is missing. It contains a valuable piece of jewellery. There have been no visitors. That leaves the maid, the valet and the ground staff, whom I for one have hardly even glimpsed and are not likely to have stolen up into the house and then… you. You have had, by the mere fact of living in the same wing, the means and opportunity to do so. No more than that.’

‘I have no need of your pathetic tobacco box.’ She tossed her hair. ‘It stinks. Besides, I do not have to resort to thievery to get what I want.’

He steadily served himself a heap of bacon with the silver tongs. The valet stood by the doorway, hands behind his back, and stared straight ahead.

‘Perhaps one of your … “voices” told you to take it,’ Philidor said quietly.

‘What did you say, monsieur?’

‘You heard me, madame.’

‘All I heard was the snort of a pig who is squealing with anger at his own stupidity while trying to blame someone else for it.’ She pointed her finger at him. ‘And you stoop so low as to accuse me in front of a servant. I will not forgive this impertinence, monsieur, nor your inferences about my state of mind and my character.’

Philidor began slicing his meat but shot a glance at Marie as she threw her napkin on her chair and brushed past the valet. That outburst had just sealed her fate.