He was there. The others were undoubtedly there, yet they appeared to inhabit another country. Their words sounded as though they were wrapped in thick woollen garments. His lines rushed around his head. He opened his parched mouth, the lips moved and they seemed to hear what he said, though he could not. He promised God that never again would he drink in Southby’s company. This time his decision was irrevocable.
Jack’s head was still ringing from Bessie’s brusque interrogation of him an hour before. It hadn’t been easy, bent over a wooden bucket in which he had deposited most of last night’s drink.
‘So where was Southby that night?’
A good question, and one that he had asked Southby in a more roundabout way after their fifth tankard. The only problem was that he couldn’t remember the answer, though he was positive one was given. He may have even enquired about Mrs Trump and Courtney. Whether Southby had enlightened him, he would never be sure, though, quite sensibly he thought, he had assured Bessie between vomits that once his head cleared he would remember the vital details. Bessie thought otherwise and stormed out of his bedchamber, slamming the door as she left. It had been like a crash of thunder booming in his brain.
The interminable morning rehearsal ended, and not wanting to face Bessie’s wrath once more, Jack had remained at the theatre when the others had gone, curled up in one of the spectator boxes on the side of the stage, and had slipped into a heavy, dream-tormented sleep. He was woken by loud voices. For a few moments he wasn’t sure where he was. Then he saw Courtney leaning over the front of the box.
‘We would be most grateful, Mr Flyford, if you could spare us a few moments of your precious time to join the company.’
The afternoon rehearsal was under way. Angel Bright took great delight in telling him that he had only been discovered when he had started to snore like an agitated pig. Jack was mortified that Catherine Balmore had heard him making such unedifying sounds. It would confirm her belief that he was nothing more than a common drunkard, especially following his drink-induced lunge at her magnificent chest. Ashamed, he felt he needed to change her false impression of him before it was cast in stone.
Jack got his chance sooner than he had dared hope. At the end of the rehearsal, Courtney took him to one side and offered a few suggestions as to how he should play Slap. Fortunately, considering his condition, he only appeared in three short scenes; Courtney had quickly judged Jack’s meagre capabilities. On going to the dressing room, he found it deserted, with the exception of Catherine Balmore. His heart kicked wildly against his chest, followed by such a gut-wrenching attack of nerves that he was about to flee the room. Then Catherine smiled. It transfixed him.
‘I trust that you are recovered from your excursions of yesternight? You have not looked yourself today.’
Jack had to lick his crusty lips before he could reply. ‘I am trying to tell my head that I am mending. Sadly, it does not agree.’
Catherine tossed her dark, ringleted hair as she laughed. ‘If you are to drink, you should choose your companions more carefully. Mr Southby has a formidable capacity for ale.’
‘And much else besides. I must tell you, Miss Balmore, that I do not make a habit of strong drink.’ She raised an amused eyebrow. He panicked. She didn’t believe him. ‘Truly. The only reason I was with Mr Southby was to gain information from him.’
‘Information?’ she said with a quizzical grin.
‘Yes.’ He was not sure whether he should go on. Then again, this could be a golden opportunity to gain her confidence. Impart his knowledge, and they would be bound together by a shared secret. It would also provide him with a ready excuse to see her alone in the future.
‘Miss Balmore, can I trust you?’
Her eyes twinkled with delight. ‘I am sure you can. Is it about unrequited love or some awful episode from your past?’
‘No, Miss Balmore, it is a far more serious matter.’ He stopped for effect. He then made a great play of making sure that no one was listening at the door. ‘The matter of which I speak is the murder of Mr Acorn.’
Her smile was as quickly extinguished as a blown-out candle. Jack realised that the subject must be painful to her. ‘If you possess pertinent information, is it not a matter for the sheriff?’
‘It is not as simple as that. I need someone I can confide in. I am sure that I can in you, Miss Balmore.’
‘I am most flattered. If you think it will help, I will listen – and keep your secret.’ Jack was beginning to enjoy the situation.
How best to proceed? ‘I had cause,’ he began tentatively, ‘to go back to Mr Acorn’s house after he had had his battle with Thirsk here at the theatre.’ He wasn’t going to divulge the reason to Catherine. He didn’t want to further ruin her already blemished view of him. ‘I was in an upstairs room when I heard Mr Acorn enter the house. He was not alone.’
‘You know who was with him?’
‘No. Though I have my suspicions.’ Jack sat down. The effort of standing and thinking at the same time was proving too much. ‘I heard someone leave. Then Miss Acorn, who was in another room… not the room I was in, you understand,’ he blustered, ‘went down the stairs. She found her father dead upon the floor. Her cries alerted me and I ran down to see what the trouble was.’
‘So what you are saying is that you were in the house when Mr Acorn was done to death.’
‘Yes.’
‘And have you told the sheriff this?’
He glanced uneasily at his feet. ‘No.’
‘Is this wise? Would it not be best to lay the facts before him?’ Jack was suddenly aware that Catherine’s hand was upon his knee. He realised the gesture was not flirtatious, more one of intimate concern. Her eyes caught his, and he knew how easy it would be to tell her everything.
‘The truth is, I have not confessed to the sheriff for fear that he points the finger of suspicion in my direction. I think he already believes I am guilty of the crime, or have some connection with it. If he knew I was in the house at the time, it would look black for me. Fortunately, he cannot prove it and will have difficulty doing so. I got Miss Acorn to say that the murder took place half an hour later than it actually did. That was to enable me to say that I was at the theatre at the time.’
‘You seem to have thought most quickly.’
Jack took this as a compliment. ‘Aye. It also meant that Miss Acorn was not compromised.’ Here Jack turned away. ‘People might have misconstrued the situation – her and myself alone in the house.’
‘In separate rooms.’
‘Yes, as I have said.’
‘And there were no servants in the house?’
‘The cook had finished and gone home, and the maid had been given the evening off.’
Catherine’s hand returned to her lap. ‘I appreciate your predicament,’ she said kindly. At least he was worming his way into her sympathies. Seated so close, Jack found her rose-petal scent intoxicating. Despite the numbness incurred by last night’s drink, his head was becoming frothily light.
Jack decided to play his “honourable” card. ‘I asked Miss Acorn to lie on my behalf. Therefore, I feel it my duty to her to help catch the villain who killed a man I much admired and who gave me food, shelter and a theatre to play in. Miss Acorn has tried to dissuade me from this potentially dangerous quest. However, whatever the personal cost, I see it as a challenge from which I cannot waver. A terrible wrong has been perpetrated. I intend to right it.’
‘Fine words, Mr Flyford. I applaud you for your spirit.’
Jack heard his heart thump once more. Had he struck a chord? In his excitement, he held her arm. ‘And I believe I know who is behind the murder.’ Realising he was touching her, he immediately let go.
‘Dare I ask who this person might be? Many think it must be Mr Thirsk.’
‘I thought so at first. Now I am sure it is not. I believe it is one of our troupe.’
‘Surely not!’ This appeared an appalling suggestion.
‘I examined those with reasons to harm Mr Acorn. The names I came up with were Mrs Trump, Mr Southby and…,’ he paused for a moment, ‘Mr Courtney.’
‘Mr Courtney? That I cannot possibly believe.’
Catherine was so innocent in many ways, thought Jack pleasantly. So trusting.
‘I am sorry to report that all three had cause to see the back of Mr Acorn. All three were also absent from the theatre at the time of the murder.’
‘I must admit, I do not remember seeing any of them, though I was engaged in conversation with Captain Hogg at the time.’
‘I know,’ Jack blurted out.
‘Ah,’ she said teasingly, ‘you were investigating my movements also.’
Jack was flustered. ‘Of course not. How could anyone suspect you, Miss Balmore?’
‘When we are not in company, you may address me as Catherine.’
He gulped. ‘Miss Bal… Catherine.’ The name sounded so beautiful when spoken aloud. A delicious tingle ran up his spine. ‘I only know because someone remarked that they had seen you with the captain.’
‘So what makes you think our three fellow-players are potential murderers?’
Jack outlined his case against each one. Catherine listened intently until he had finished. ‘The story about Courtney’s letter has the ring of truth about it. I had a feeling all was not well betwixt them. If the letter is missing, only he would have reason to take it.’
‘That is the nub. You see the argument so clearly… Catherine.’
‘I also see that you must move carefully. If Courtney has killed once to protect his name, he may do so again if he thinks he is about to be unmasked.’
That was an unnerving thought. He hadn’t been keen to take on this ridiculous task in the first place. Now his life might be in danger. That bloody girl Bessie, he cursed to himself.
‘If death awaits me, so be it. I must not flinch.’ He could see Catherine was impressed.
‘You will need all your courage, Jack.’ She had called him Jack! She had actually spoken his name. This was indeed a fortuitous meeting. A day never to be forgotten.
‘Talking to you has given me courage.’ Staring into those wide blue eyes, she really did make him feel brave.
‘Have you told anyone else of your suspicions?’
‘Only Miss Acorn.’
‘Though I am no authority on such matters, I think it would be advisable to keep your own counsel until you have gathered enough evidence to go to the sheriff.’
‘Catherine, your advice is sound. However, you can do me a service. If you hear or see anything that will help build my case, will you tell me?’
‘You may depend upon it.’ Catherine stood abruptly. ‘Now I must be gone, for I think the time must be late. It is almost dark in here.’ She laid a soft, cool hand upon his cheek. ‘Jack, take care. Trust no one.’
Was he in heaven?