Over the next week, Jack’s recovery speeded up. The constant pain was replaced by a numb throbbing, which then receded to an occasional twinge. The puffiness of his face deflated until his features returned to their normal places. In fact, he felt right in body if not in mind. With little else to occupy him, the last week had given him time to reflect on the extraordinary events he had found himself caught up in. He was, of course, kept busy at night with the demands of Bessie, who now shared his bed (or to be exact, he shared hers) as they were virtually living as man and wife. Hilda, the maid, showed her obvious disapproval but said nothing, particularly after Bessie caught her in mid-gallop with the baker’s delivery boy in the pantry when the cook was out. Bessie herself had been most amorous, and each time they made love, she insisted Jack don his “major” wig. Jack couldn’t fathom the obsession, but was happy to oblige if only to get out of wearing the awful hairpiece outside the bedchamber. He had explained that he could never wear the wig in public because it would be a constant reminder of their frolics together and would, therefore, induce the hardening of his ardour. To his surprise, she believed him and accepted it without a murmur.
What troubled him was Courtney, whom, Jack began to imagine, was planning devious ways of murdering him. He hadn’t dared venture out for fear of being attacked. Even when hobbling round the house, he jumped at every creaking door or groaning floorboard. Yet he knew he must act before Courtney did. Bessie argued that he was wrong. Jack put it down to Bessie having a childhood crush on the handsome actor. Catherine would believe him. The thought of her brought pangs of sadness. He had not seen her for what seemed like a lifetime. Maybe Bessie was frightening her off.
After days of procrastination, Jack at last made the decision to go and see the odious Sheriff Ridley and place all he knew before him. As far as Jack was concerned, the evidence was building up against Mr Tyler Courtney: he wasn’t at the theatre at the time of the murder; he had a strong motive, the missing letter; and Jack’s reference to it had led to Courtney’s accomplices, the leader of whom he had seen with him, attempting to kill him. Even a nincompoop like Ridley could see that. He would seek an audience the very next day.
Courtney wasn’t the only person who was causing concern. Thirsk had once more called for his money, only to be sent away by a belligerent Bessie while Jack hid behind the parlour door. It was obvious that he was not going to give up. After the visit, Bessie was even more convinced of Thirsk’s guilt. Jack hadn’t the courage to disillusion her. He hoped fervently that Bessie would not insist they go to the sheriff together and accuse Thirsk. Then the truth would emerge. Virtually all his money (the remainder of Thirsk’s, and Bowser’s) had been stolen during the attack, so he couldn’t repay Thirsk even if he had wanted to. That was the last time he would carry large sums around with him – that’s if he ever got his hands on such an amount again.
Another vexation was the regular visits of Bowser, now a grizzled romantic. He brought Bessie gifts, paid her plodding compliments, and even refrained from taking snuff in her presence, though he would often bring out a beautiful snuffbox, always different, tap it and put it away. What most annoyed Jack was that Bessie did nothing to discourage him from returning. The opposite in fact. Her coy flirtatiousness only encouraged and emboldened him further. He was such a pig. No amount of money and fine clothes could cover up his ill manners, thought Jack snootily. Jack hated the thought that Bessie might pledge herself to this man for the rest of her life. He had now proposed twice. She deserved better. Not that Bowser was anything but pleasant to Jack. He was always enquiring as to his health. He fulminated against the vagabonds who set upon innocent people so that the streets were no longer safe. He said he would have words with the sheriff himself, not only about the attack on Jack, but also to see how the investigation into Acorn’s death was proceeding. He declared that it was a disgrace that no one had yet been arrested, especially as everyone in the town knew that it was the blackguard Thirsk. These opinions were expressed when Bessie was not in the room so as to spare her feelings. Jack described the one-eyed leader of the attackers on the off chance that Bowser knew this lowlife. After all, he must have mixed with many such people on his dubious way up to his present, elevated station. Bowser had narrowed his eyes thoughtfully before declaring that he did not know such a man, though he would put the word around. With that, he gave a conspiratorial wink and knowingly tapped his battered nose.
Bowser filled him in on the theatre. The Intriguing Chambermaid had been a roaring success. So was John Hume’s The Gentle Shepherd, which was on this week. He had heard that Thirsk was getting desperate, as few were attending the Moot Hall. His backers were running out of patience, Bowser said with undisguised relish. The field would soon be left open for Courtney and himself, he predicted confidently. ‘That’ll show Carr and his high-and-mighty acolytes not to try and get the better of Lazarus Bowser.’
Jack promised that two days hence he would return to the theatre, which seemed to please Bowser. Jack was torn. On the one hand, there was the threat from Courtney – though he was unlikely to try anything at the theatre himself – and on the other, the delightful prospect of seeing Catherine Balmore once more. He had come to the conclusion that he was fond of Bessie, but he was in love with Catherine. Even the unrequited kind had a certain romantic appeal.
If he was to return to the theatre the day after next (there was talk of rehearsals for A Comedy of Errors), he must seek out the sheriff.