It was a crisp, cold Christmas morning. The bells of the churches rang out. The streets were full of excited, drunken revellers. Happy faces could be seen everywhere. However, it wasn’t the birth of Jesus that was the cause of this explosion of goodwill; it was the news of another defeat of the enemy. Word of the Prussians’ victory over the Austrians at Leuthen in early December had reached the town. Everybody was feeling that little bit safer. From some of the more jingoistic shouts, one would have thought the war was over.
Bessie sat Jack in her father’s chair after placing the poker in the blazing fire, and ordered Hilda to fetch some wine for mulling. ‘And mind you spice it well.’ Only a sharp threat from Bessie galvanised the sulky girl. She wanted to be out celebrating with the rest of the town.
As Bessie left the room, Jack sat back and gazed into the flames as they leapt up the blackened chimney-back. Strangely, he felt he had come home. This was the nearest he had had to one since leaving Worcester. And it was only his sister who had made the canon’s large house feel like a home. He thought of Rachel now and her wasted life. He must get round to writing to her. She would be at the cathedral this morning watching their father assisting the bishop. He found he missed the cathedral with its reassuring sense of permanence. He remembered how, as a youngster, each Christmas he would go to the tomb of King John and forgive him for being a “bad” monarch. Now he thought that John was probably no worse than any of the others. The present George didn’t exactly sound like a barrel of laughs.
Bessie returned. She had something hidden behind her back. A girlish grin showed her excitement. ‘As this is Christmastide, I thought I would buy you a gift. I thought this would be a good thing to go with your extravagant clothes.’ With a dramatic flourish, she whisked out a wig. It was a “major” wig, one generally worn by the military. There was a centre parting like the old bob wigs and two corkscrew curls tied together at the nape of the neck, forming a double queue behind. Jack tried to smile. It was horrible. He knew instinctively it would accentuate the fatness of his face.
‘You shouldn’t have,’ Jack protested.
‘ I think ’twill be most becoming.’
‘Most,’ Jack added feebly.
The smile on Bessie’s face withered in disappointment. ‘Oh, Jack, do you not like it?’ She was almost pleading.
‘Bessie, it is a truly wonderful present.’ This reassured her. The broad smile returned. ‘You are the most thoughtful and generous of women.’
‘Let me put it on you.’ Which is what she did. She stepped back, reached forward to adjust it until she was satisfied, and then retreated two paces. ‘It makes you appear most pleasing.’
Hilda barged in carrying a tray with two mugs and a jug of wine. Bessie did not turn round as the girl grumpily put the tray down with a thump on the table. Jack noticed Hilda snigger when she spotted the new wig. ‘Is that all, miss?’
‘That is all, Hilda. You may go and see your relatives now.’ Bessie glanced round. ‘And what is so funny?’
Hilda bit her hand and managed to mumble, ‘Nowt.’
‘Well, be gone.’ And a moment later, she added, as though she were some years senior to Hilda, which was not the case, ‘Strange girl.’
Bloody meddlesome too, thought Jack as he remembered it was Hilda who had passed his Digges letter to Acorn, an action that had triggered off the events that nearly led to his death. And she had no right to laugh at him. But it only confirmed the fact that the wig appeared ludicrous. However, he couldn’t bring himself to upset Bessie, so he would humour her and surreptitiously lose it later.
Bessie took the poker out of the fire and let it fizz in the jug of wine until she was satisfied that the liquid was warm enough. Then she poured each of them a mug. The concoction felt rough and spicy to the throat, but once its warmth had spread through his body, Jack relaxed and even forgot he was wearing the wig.
‘Right,’ said Bessie in her best no-nonsense manner. ‘I did not want to speak of it in the Infirmary for fear of being overheard, but I want to know how you ended up in such an awful state.’
So Jack related the tale up to the point where he was attacked.
‘You said you saw the face of a man standing in the shadows.’
‘Yes. It was fleeting, but you do not easily forget a face like that.’
Bessie was sitting up in anticipation. ‘Well?’
‘It was the man I saw conversing with Courtney shortly after your father’s funeral. One eye. Evil looking bastard… sorry; forgive my strong language.’
Bessie was far from shocked. Conversely, she seemed momentarily distracted.
‘When I blurted out the word “letter” to Courtney at the rehearsal, it must have alerted him to the fact that I suspected him to be your father’s murderer. He then gets his filthy ruffians to follow me and, presumably, I was meant to be killed. Bessie, are you listening?’
‘I beg your pardon. It is just your wig…’
‘I am talking about people trying to kill me and you are worried about my wig! Does it appear ridiculous?’ said Jack as he hesitantly raised his hand to remove the offending object.
‘Please do not, I implore you. It is… so striking. It makes you so… so desirable,’ she purred.
Jack reluctantly withdrew his hand. ‘Bessie, can we get back to talking about Courtney? And I would be grateful if you would stop staring at this mop of false hair. It is most off-putting.’
Bessie had the grace to blush slightly. ‘So you believe that Courtney and this man are in league?’
‘I would have thought that it was obvious. Is it not curious that Courtney failed to pay a visit to the Infirmary? If he is innocent, surely he would have come to see how one of his leading performers was faring.’
‘Leading performers?’ Bessie put in with a mischievous grin.
‘Very well, one of his performers. The least he could have done was to check whether his cutthroats had done a decent job and ascertain whether I was going to die or not.’
‘So he is guilty for not visiting you and equally guilty if he had! As it happens, he did enquire.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Mr Courtney came round here the week past and asked after your health.’
‘The insolent…’
‘He seemed most concerned about your welfare. He was even wondering when you would be able to resume with the company. Plays need to be planned.’
‘Do you not see? It was an excuse to find out what condition I was in.’
‘Jack, please calm yourself. I know that the evidence appears to be pointing in his direction.’ Her voice softened. ‘But I cannot bring myself to believe that he was responsible for my father’s death. He had ample cause, that I cannot discount. After all, it was I who supplied you with the motive. Yet, after speaking to him, I believe he is incapable of such an act.’
‘Bessie, he might not be capable of doing it himself, but his blackguards are. The man who organised my attack might have killed your father on Courtney’s instructions.’
Bessie slowly shook her head. ‘Despite everything, Tyler Courtney is innocent. Of that I am convinced.’
She was going soft in the head. Or did she find Courtney attractive? He was old enough to be her father! Jack felt a little stab of jealousy. ‘Was my health the only reason for his visit?’
Bessie hesitated. ‘No… not exactly.’ So, Courtney had been paying her court while Jack was lying helpless in the hospital. This was adding insult to his considerable injuries. ‘He asked me if I would like to join the company.’
‘I thought your father had always set his face against such a prospect.’
‘He did… when he was alive. I know he always wanted me to enjoy a higher station in life and he worked hard to achieve that. And I obeyed him and stayed away from the theatre as he wished. Yet acting is in my blood. My mother was an actress before she died. That is why I am seriously considering Courtney’s request.’
Jack drank from his mug – the wine was going cold and the spices tasted bitter. ‘By all means consider the stage. What I do not countenance is you throwing in your lot with Courtney. Whatever your feelings for him, I will tell you now he is our murderer. That means my life is still in jeopardy – and for all I know, yours too.’ It suddenly struck him what he had said. He had just given himself an unpleasant jolt. Courtney, having failed once, would presumably get his henchman to have another go. Now he was out of the Infirmary, where there were numerous people wandering about, it could be done anywhere quiet. Even here in the house.
He realised that Bessie was saying something. ‘I had another visitor while you were in hospital.’
‘A visitor?’ Jack racked his brains as to who it could be.
‘Mr Thirsk.’
‘Thirsk? Why here?’
‘Why indeed! You point the finger at Courtney because he asked about your health. Well, I think Thirsk’s visit here was most suspicious.’
‘What reason did he give for calling?’ Jack asked guardedly.
‘That is what makes it all the more peculiar. He trumped up some ridiculous story about you having to pay him money back because you had broken your promise to join his horrible little theatre.’ Jack gave a muted groan of pain and held his side so he could divert his gaze from Bessie’s face. ‘I was most curt with him. I told him he should not tell such tales. I said you would never contemplate such a despicable course of action. I knew he only wanted to ascertain whether you were still alive.’
‘’Tis a strange story, certainly,’ Jack mumbled, once again feeling his side and making sure he made no contact with her eyes.
This time Bessie reacted. ‘Oh, Jack, are you still in distress?’ She came over to the chair and knelt before him. ‘And it is all my fault that you were attacked. ’Tis my doing that you are involved in this business. You are so brave, putting your life at risk for me.’
Jack gave a martyr’s shrug and patted her hair. To say anything would ruin the flow of her guilt and sympathy. Why shouldn’t he milk her approbation? He had been beaten black and blue on her behalf. She held his knees and gazed up at him through misty eyes. ‘I am so sorry. You will forgive me?’
A gracious nod did the trick, though he threw in a wince to confirm his suffering. She smiled with relief. Then her tone of voice completely changed. ‘Jack, that wig, it does… things to me.’ Her hand slid along his thigh until it reached the front of his breeches. Her fingers began to gently rub the material until she felt a reaction. ‘I think it is time for your other Christmas gift. So I do not cause you any pain, you just sit there and let me take care of everything.’ With that, she started to unbutton his breeches with nimble dexterity.
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad wig after all, decided Jack. He closed his eyes. ‘Bessie, be gentle with me.’