‘Come,’ said Bowser, and Jack followed him through a side door which he hadn’t noticed before in the panelling in the corner; if you hadn’t known it was there, it would have been hard to detect. The room they entered was small and almost cosy, in sharp contrast to the dining room. A fire crackled merrily. Above it was another portrait of Bowser by a different artist. He hadn’t been any more successful than the first. Two upright chairs were placed close to the fire. A large, elegant kneehole desk stood in the centre of the room; at each of the back corners stood elaborate twin-branched candle holders in the form of naked nymphs. Their light picked out bundles of documents laid carefully on the desk’s surface. Against one wall was a stout cupboard, above which an ornate, gilded clock ticked rhythmically; French by the look of it. A map, edges curled, covering Northumberland, Durham and as far down as the Humber, was affixed to another wall. ‘My business interests,’ Bowser said in dismissive explanation.
‘Sit you down and we’ll share a fine claret.’ It was about time he was offered a drink, thought Jack.
The claret was already warming on the hearth. The glass he was offered had the words Prosperity to Bowser engraved on it. They drank in silence, which Jack found awkward. Bowser seemed in no hurry to speak, gazing abstractedly into the fire and absently unbuttoning his breeches at the knee. Was he already imagining his conquest of Bessie? Jack moved uneasily in his chair. Bowser raised his head.
‘There’s something I was meaning to ask you, or Mr Courtney was, to be exact.’ The mention of Courtney’s name sent a slight shiver down Jack’s spine. ‘With all this business of Acorn and that brigand…’
‘Thirsk,’ Jack suggested.
‘Aye, that murderer.’ Again Bowser’s thoughts went elsewhere while Jack waited patiently. Presently they returned. ‘Courtney’s a success, there’s no doubt. Yet why not go the whole hog? Why not reach for the stars?’ Bowser was becoming almost lyrical. ‘Why not the king of Drury Lane?’
Bloody Garrick! Would that cursed yarn he had spun continue to tie him in awkward knots? Acorn, Thirsk and now Bowser and Courtney.
‘I’m sure you’ll be able to use your considerable influence and good offices to persuade Mr Garrick to venture north.’ It was voiced and phrased in such a way that the answer ‘no’ was out of the question.
‘I am sure he would be delighted. However, he is a famous man with many demands upon his time. A theatre to run, performances to give, society to please. Naturally, I will implore him, but it may be some time before he will be free of his commitments to make the journey north.’
Bowser didn’t seem pleased. Men who make money and gain power and influence through it often lose touch with day-to-day realities because they have accumulated their wealth by acting decisively and making things happen quickly. They then assume that their minions can fulfil their requests just as swiftly, however impractical the task and the timing. Bowser was such a man. He expected Garrick to drop everything and rush north just because he willed it.
The frown suddenly disappeared from Bowser’s knotted face. ‘Then I’ll help you persuade him to come soon.’ Jack’s heart stopped. He couldn’t cope with another threat of violence.
Bowser rose and swayed as though standing on the deck of a lurching ship. He smacked a fist into the palm of his hand. This is it; please don’t hit me, Jack winced. Bowser approached his chair, and Jack instinctively ducked. Bowser unsteadily carried on past. Now he was out of sight behind the high back of Jack’s chair.
Tentatively, Jack peered round. Bowser was facing him; he moved forward and stood over Jack. Uncurling his large hand, he brandished a bright object balanced on his palm. It was a gold and lapis lazuli, oval snuffbox. Enhancing the border of the lid and four delicate pilasters on the side, embedded in intricate filigree, were at least thirty breathtaking diamonds, which twinkled as they caught the light from the candles. ‘Is it not a wondrous sight?’
‘I am bedazzled, sir.’ And Jack was. There was no denying the exquisite craftsmanship that had gone into the artefact. What must it be worth? he wondered.
‘French,’ Bowser said with approval. ‘They’re good when it comes to indulgent trinkets.’
What this had to do with Garrick, Jack couldn’t conceive.
‘Here, hold it,’ said Bowser pressing it upon him.
Jack felt he had better make some remark. ‘It must be of great value.’
‘Oh it is. Worth more than you are likely to see in a lifetime.’ In his present financial circumstances, that wouldn’t be difficult. ‘It’s one of my best,’ and Bowser pointed to behind Jack’s chair. Jack stood up. The cupboard he had spotted when he had first entered the room was now open. Though it was difficult to make out in the poor light, it must have contained dozens of snuffboxes in every conceivable shape; most of them bejewelled, like the one Jack had in his hand.
‘You seem to have a fine collection.’
‘You won’t find better outside France,’ Bowser replied with pride.
‘I am surprised you do not display them so more people can behold their beauty.’
Bowser scowled. ‘I trust no one. They’ll stay under lock and key.’
Bowser went over to the cupboard, closed the door and turned the key, which he then slipped into his waistcoat pocket.
‘Where do you find all these beautiful snuffboxes?’
Bowser slumped back into his seat. ‘Through my business contacts. Before the war started, I had many in France.’ He screwed up his eyes. ‘Now they steal my colliers and ask huge sums for their return. The sooner the war comes to an end, the sooner we men of trade can return to making a few honest pennies.’ Jack doubted if all Bowser’s pennies had come honestly. ‘’Tis the fault of the bloody politicos. They’ve misused their powers. Aye, and I’m not just talking about the lunatics in parliament. The ones that wield power round here are just as mad. But they’ll get their comeuppance soon, you’ll see.’ His tirade came to an end with an accurate spit into the midst of the fire, which hissed back.
Bowser was indeed a strange man. Jack understood little of what he was talking about and he was still clutching the gold snuffbox. Bowser glanced towards him, his eyes shining as brightly as a zealous preacher’s. ‘Now, let me ask you this. Does your friend Garrick partake of snuff?’
Jack hadn’t the slightest idea. ‘I know him to be most partial to the occasional pinch.’ He reckoned it was best to say anything to please Bowser.
The merchant slapped his thigh in delight. ‘Capital! I knew he must be a man of sophistication like myself. So, you have the means to tempt him north.’
Jack did not follow. ‘Sir, you have the better of me.’
‘There!’ Bowser pointed aggressively. ‘There in your bloody hand!’
Jack gazed at the snuffbox he was holding. ‘You mean you want me to get this to Mr Garrick?’
‘Every man has his price. That is a gift from me.’ Bowser may have quaffed a great deal, but it didn’t stop him being businesslike. ‘I’m sure that with this little symbol of my esteem, promises of a further handsome payment and your influence, he will come swiftly. Next month would be ideal. You’ll see to it.’ The drink was not affecting him now. ‘Don’t disappoint me.’