Jack held the looking glass straight out in front of him. Then at various angles. He was pleased with the effect. Sky blue definitely suited him. He was sure the golden “round cuffs” would cause a pang of jealousy in Tyler Courtney, especially as the waistcoat gave his figure such shapely lines. Less stout, to be more exact. He shook his left wrist to give the ruffles an airing. They made his hands less stubby and awkward. He tipped the glass until his shoes came into view. The leather shone and the silver buckles positively dazzled. Once again he held the glass to his face. Did he need a wig? Yes, he should have thought of that, though he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of having his head shaved. But he had always hankered after one of the popular bag wigs; he especially liked the ones with the large, slightly curving roll of hair at each side. Never mind; Catherine would surely like what she saw – a man of sophistication. So would Bessie. She would be easily impressed. He laid down the glass on the table, straightened the pleated stock at his neck, fluffed out the extravagant lace ruffles of his shirt like plumage, checked his breeches were buttoned at the knee, then inelegantly tugged at his crotch – here, they were a trifle tight. At least the ladies would have something else to stare at.
Jack searched the house for Bessie. To his surprise, he found her in the parlour sitting next to a large wooden chest in the corner.
‘Miss Acorn, what do you think?’ He twirled around, then gave a graceful bow in the manner Digges had taught him – low and expansive. Bessie stared blankly and said nothing.
‘Bessie, do you like my new clothes? Nothing but the best. They are from Van Schip’s.’
‘Most fine.’ The monotone reply vexed Jack. Why this show of indifference when she should be admiring his finery? If it wasn’t going to impress Bessie, then what chance Catherine? Then he noticed the chest was open.
‘What have you been doing?’
‘I have been looking for something in my father’s chest; I noticed the key was in the lock. He must have opened it the night he died.’
Jack could see the chest was full of papers and documents. ‘What were you looking for?’
‘A wooden box with a rounded top. Not very big.’
‘You have found it?’
‘No, it is gone.’ She agitatedly plucked at her skirt.
‘Did it contain anything important?’
‘Yes, important to my father.’
‘Maybe he put it in another place. At the theatre perhaps,’ he suggested helpfully.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘He always kept it in a secret compartment in his chest, which has travelled with us everywhere. Both the chest and the box were always locked. He was most particular on the matter.’
‘Are you thinking that whoever killed your father might have taken the box also?’ Her eyes answered his question. ‘Was there something in the box that was worth killing for?’
Her reply was almost too quiet to be audible. ‘For one man possibly.’
‘Did you say “man”?’
Bessie took the handkerchief she had been clutching in her lap and dabbed the corner of her eye. ‘There was a letter in the box that was most precious to…’ She was finding it difficult saying the name. ‘…Tyler Courtney.’
‘Ah, so is it this letter that gave your father a hold over him?’ Jack needed no reply. ‘Have you seen the contents?’
‘Yes. Without my father’s knowledge, of course. He always kept the key about his neck, but when he was ill once, it somehow fell into my possession.’
‘And the key just happened to slip into the lock! So tell me about the letter.’
She started reluctantly. ‘It was written many years ago when father and Courtney were young actors together in Portsmouth. The writer of the letter was a young lady. She and Courtney were obviously very much in love. The letter was most indiscreet.’
‘Surely it is of no consequence now?’
‘The lady has married well. She is now Lady Lammondale.’
The name was familiar to Jack, though in what connection he couldn’t remember. Bessie enlightened him.
‘Lady Lammondale is a Lady-in-Waiting to the Queen. Can you imagine the scandal such a letter would cause? Her propriety called into question. And to have committed an indiscretion with a common play-actor. It would ruin her.’
‘Courtney must have loved her very deeply to avoid exposing her, even though it thwarted his ambitions.’
Bessie stood up and walked over to the narrow window. Rivulets of condensation meandered down the thick glass. She let her finger follow the path of one of them before absently outlining the letters TC.
‘Many have wondered why Tyler Courtney has stayed with father so long. Now, with him dead and the letter gone, Courtney is as free as a bird. Yet, strangely, he has not flown south for the winter.’
The letters on the glass were disfigured by fresh streams of water. Bessie didn’t take her eyes off the window pane.
‘I fear that he may be our murderer,’ said Jack as gently as he could. ‘I have discovered this morning that Courtney was not at the theatre when your father was killed.’
Another thought occurred to Jack. What if Courtney had got someone else to commit the murder? He found it difficult to see the actor bashing anybody over the head with anything heavier than one of his lace handkerchiefs. That could explain Courtney’s extraordinary companion outside St. Nicholas’ Church. Now there was a man who wouldn’t lose any sleep over the odd bit of butchery.
‘Was Courtney the only one to leave the theatre?’ asked Bessie, who had now returned to the warmth of the fire.
‘No. Mrs Trump and Mr Southby were absent also.’
A gleam of hope sprang into her eyes. ‘So it could still be one of those two.’
‘We cannot discount them.’
‘And Balmore?’
‘She was with Captain Hogg.’
Bessie shrugged disappointedly. ‘What shall we do next?’
‘We will need to discover more before we go to Sheriff Ridley. I will make further enquiry as to Courtney’s whereabouts. Mrs Trump’s and Southby’s also. In fact, I go now to meet with Southby at the Queen’s Head. I will try to ascertain what his movements were.’
‘When you return, you will come to my chamber?’
Jack smiled. ‘Of course. In these dangerous times, a lady needs protection.’
He opened the door. ‘They will not impress her.’ He swung round. ‘The clothes. She only has eyes for rank.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jack said defensively.
‘Your fine clothes will be wasted on Balmore.’
‘They were not bought for that purpose.’ The denial was too emphatic.
‘Then for what? I am astounded that you have the resources to purchase such garments. You arrived at our door with very little. And my father wouldn’t have given you more than what was needed to quit Newcastle.’
‘No, that’s true. It was… West Digges. West Digges dispatched money that he owed me, which I received three days since. And Bowser. I told you he gave me money also.’
He could see she was sceptical, though she pressed the point no further. It was half true. She would never forgive him if she found out that he had taken Thirsk’s thirty pieces of silver.