“Are you suggesting that we find such adrawing-room and – ”
“We shall use Oakwood Manor, Cyrus. What goodis it to have a splendid home like mine and not deploy it to theuttermost?”
“But there is still the matter of theladies,” Horace Fullarton said. “You mentioned Lady Madeleine and -”
“And in addition to that sterling gentlewomanI can guarantee the avid participation of my wife’s niece, LizzieWade. We shall require one or two more, of course, and I would begyou to inquire after your spouses and daughters in that regard. Noprevious experience is necessary, and you might suggest to themthat the gracious hospitality of Oakwood Manor will be lavishedupon all who participate.”
There was much to digest in theseunlooked-for and gratuitous offers on the part of a genuine Englisharistocrat. Sensing this, Sir Peregrine said in his summing-upvoice, “I have stretched your patience far enough for one evening,gentlemen. In the coming week, I suggest you mull over thepossibilities I have presented. Let us meet again as usual at eighto’clock next Wednesday.”
With that, the meeting broke up. Most of themembers left via the cloakroom and back stairs to the alley inorder to avoid the clatter and stink of the taproom below.Fullarton and Brodie, however, remained behind until Gillian Budgeand Etta Hogg came up to clear away the mess. Fullarton – aconsiderate man and one who, with an invalid wife, seemed sensitiveto a woman’s delicate health – had suggested to Brodie that theysend for a taxicab and drive young Etta home, should she not haverecovered from her ordeal, the details of which Brodie had earlierconveyed to him.
Certainly Etta looked even paler and moredistracted, dropping a glass and tipping over an ash-tray – beforeGillian said, not unkindly, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, girl, go offwith these gentlemen and get yourself a good night’s rest. Thatblackguard, whoever he was, will not set foot in this place again.If he tries to, he’ll have me to contend with, not myham-fisted husband!”
“Come on, Etta,” Brodie said. “Let’s get yourcoat and be off.”
“You won’t tell Jasper or my mom abouttonight, will you?” Etta said as they started down the stairs tothe tavern.
“What did that man say to upset you so?”Fullarton inquired as gently as he could.
“Oh, I couldn’t repeat it, Mr. Fullarton. Notin a million years!”
And that, Brodie suspected, was all they werelikely to hear about the matter.
***
Some time later, one of the club members might havebeen observed walking north up Peter Street. Crossing Wellington,he carried on north towards King. But instead of continuing in thatdirection he paused, made certain he was alone, and turned into theeast-west service lane that ran behind the houses and shops on thenorth side of Wellington. He seemed to be counting the buildings ashe went along – cautiously, furtively, perhaps – with onlyintermittent pools of moonlight to guide him. Then he stopped,appeared to be checking his bearings, spotted some object ofsignificance, and eased over to it. It was a trash-barrel set outbehind a butcher shop. From a deep pocket the gentleman drew out abrown-paper package tied up with string. Glancing – fearfully? -from side to side, he slid the parcel onto the lid of the barrel.Then he wheeled about and hurried off, not once looking back.
It was some minutes later before one of theelongated shadows on the wall of the shop shuddered, and adark-suited, male figure emerged, moving with surreptitious butconfident steps towards the barrel. Peering east and west along thelength of the lane, he picked up the parcel and tucked it into hiscoat. Then he strolled off towards John Street, whistling.
FOUR
Brodie and Horace Fullarton dropped Etta off at herhouse on Sherbourne Street. She had said nothing to them during theentire cab-ride from The Sailor’s Arms at the other end of town.Brodie put this uncharacteristic silence down to her reticence toreveal the details of the insult directed at her in the taproom. Asshe, her mother, and her brother Jasper lived next door to theEdwards, Etta had met Brodie a number of times in Briar Cottage,and was normally a greater chatterbox than Jasper’s lady-love,Charlene. Moreover, Brodie had caught her more than once casting afurtive glance his way. But tonight she mumbled a “thank you” andvanished up the walk.
“She’ll get over it,” Brodie said. “She’syoung.” That she was not more than a year or so younger than he,did not enter into his calculations.
“Does anybody know the name of the fellow whoaccosted her?” Fullarton said, ever solicitous of those indistress.
“Not really, though I’m pretty sure thevillain had been drinking in there on other occasions.”
Fullarton asked the cabbie to drive themfarther up Sherbourne Street to Harlem Place, where Brodie lived.He himself lived downtown on George Street. The night-air waschilly – after all, it was past mid-October – and doubly so afterthe simmering brightness of an Indian summer afternoon and aspectacular sunset. They drew their lapels up over their scarvesand spoke without turning their heads.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, sir, how arecent arrival like Peregrine Shuttleworth managed to revive theShakespeare Club?” Brodie said as they bumped along the ruttedroadway in the moon-washed dark. “I’d heard it was pretty welldead.”
“Please, Brodie. Outside the bank, I insistyou call me Horace.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Fullarton laughed, something he rarely did,though the lines around his mouth and eyes suggested he had done sooften in his younger and happier days – before Bernice’s illnessand the realization that they would have a childless marriage.“Well, Mister Langford, I must accept some of the blamemyself.”
“I am not surprised.”
“Thank you for that, but my role was reallymore of a prompter than a director or leading man. You see, whenthe Shuttleworths arrived in the summer, Sir Peregrine came to ourbank to do business.”
“Yes, I do remember seeing him there.”
“In the course of our conversation hementioned that he was setting out to complete the construction ofOakwood Manor, and he invited me for dinner that evening. I almostnever go out, as you know – I don’t like to leave Bernice alone toomuch – but her sister was staying with us for a few weeks, so Isaid yes. After the meal, he toured me about the half-finished wingand outlined the changes he was contemplating for the main section.I made a few comments here and there, and suddenly Sir Peregrinedecided that I had an eye for architectural design. He insisted Ireturn and continue our discussion of his plans. Well, the upshotwas that I must have gone out there nine or ten times over thecourse of a month.”
“So you met Lady Madeleine and herfamily?”
“Yes. Mrs. Wade and all six of her children,though the baronet rationed their appearances.”
“During which time the subject of Shakespearearose?”
“Indeed it did. Both the baronet and his ladyare mad about plays and play-acting. As he hinted tonight, hisballroom was designed to be converted into an amateur playhouse atan instant’s notice. So, naturally, I told him about the on-again,off-again Shakespeare Club here in town.”
“And the rest is history.”
“Something like that.”
“Have you been out to Oakwood Manor since, tosee the finished product?”
At that moment the cab struck a rock in theroad, the horse lurched, and the vehicle came close to tippingover. When the ride had smoothed out (relatively), Fullarton said,“Bernice took a bad turn in September and I – ”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know – ”
“She’s much better now, Brodie. Muchbetter.”
The cab pulled up in front of the gatesbefore Harlem Place. The two men, so much like father and son, saidtheir goodnights – reluctantly.
Brodie was let in by Petrie, who had beenRichard Dougherty’s valet and butler, but was now an all-purposeman-servant who lived in, along with his sister, Mrs. Crockett, thecook and self-appointed “nanny” to young Celia. Stan Petrie and theWidow Crockett arranged for occasional help to come in and do thechores that needed doing about the house and garden. Petrie,however, insisted on looking after the newly purchased horses andanything remotely connected with them.