She went down to the Moor’s Head, but Sadie was cross and tired, and had no time to listen to her. Starling glanced around for familiar faces, but the only ones she saw belonged to people she had no wish to speak to. So she left again, and walked slowly along the street until she came to the foot of the abbey, a vast hulk of medieval architecture that dwarfed the new townhouses surrounding it, like a bear sleeping amidst cats. She gazed up at the carvings around the doorway; the massive Gothic window above. There was a stone ladder on the right-hand side of the façade, with tiny angels climbing its many, many rungs. That is like life, Starling thought. An endless ladder, and sometimes it is too hard to keep climbing. Suddenly, she felt very small. She felt small, and lost, and unbelievably tired, standing in the dark at the foot of the huge building. She swayed, and for a second she was seven years old again, starving and beaten, standing outside the farmhouse at Bathampton, too weak to take the final step towards it. The city rushed around her in a giddy blur, she tottered, and would have fallen if strong arms hadn’t stopped her, appearing from nowhere to catch her under her arms.
Bewildered, Starling twisted around and found Richard Weekes looking down at her with a strange expression on his face. The starry sky wheeled behind him, the buildings and street were a blur, and for a moment his face was the only thing she could see, the only thing that made sense. With a cry, she threw her arms around his neck, and held on to him tightly. An inexplicable sob made her chest clench painfully. After a moment, Dick disengaged her arms, his fingers gripping tightly when she tried to hold on to him.
‘Leave off, Starling!’ he said, with a shove that made her stumble again.
‘Dick, I-’ Starling broke off, and shook her head to clear it. For an awful moment, she’d been about to declare her need for him.
‘What are you doing, standing here mooning up at the abbey at this time in the evening?’
‘I was just… I was walking back. It’s none of your business what I do, is it?’ She took a deep breath to steady herself, drew back her shoulders and ignored the treacherous little voice inside her head that said: Let him want me again. Let him. But though Dick did reach out to her then, it was to take her arm in a painful grip and give it an angry wrench.
‘It is my business when what you do involves my wife.
‘What are you talking about? Let go!’ Starling pulled against him, but it only made him hold her tighter.
‘I’m talking about the way my wife keeps having cause to mention you. She’s seen you here, she’s seen you there; you’ve helped her with Mr Alleyn, she’s seen you stealing, and taking a barge out of the city… what in hell are you playing at? I told you to stay away from her!’
‘What? She’s seen me do what?’ Starling frowned in confusion. ‘I’d have nothing to do with her if it were up to me! How is it my fault if she comes creeping around the Alleyns’ house? If she spies, and follows? How can I help that? It was you that brought her to meet them, you that brought her into my way!’
Richard paused, and seemed to think, but he did not let her go. Starling’s arm was going numb where he held it; a tear slid down her cheek and she hoped he would not see it in the darkness.
‘Why were you watching her? Why were you in the room when she met Mr Alleyn?’ he said at last.
‘It was a good job I was, or he might have killed her! Haven’t I always told you what he’s like? He’s a murderer, as she nearly found out first hand-’
‘You’re up to something, Starling, and I want to know what it is. Speak.’
‘Are you drunk? Leave off!’ Starling tried to twist away but Richard caught her other arm as well, and shook her.
‘Speak! Are you trying to turn her against me? Have you spoken to her about me, about us? If you have, I swear, I shall-’
‘I’ve said nothing! As little as I can! It’s her that seeks me out!’
‘I don’t believe you. You knew of her visit to Jonathan Alleyn – her first visit. You knew to spy on them… what was the meaning of it? I will hear it, Starling, or I will have your teeth out…’ He spoke vehemently, with his face thrust into hers; flecks of spittle flew from his lips to land on her. He spits on me now, like this, when just weeks ago it was kisses that left such traces on my skin.
‘There’s something… there’s something about her you don’t know. That you can’t know…’ Starling said reluctantly. He shook her again.
‘What?’ The word fell hard, like a blow.
‘She looks… she looks just like Alice. Alice Beckwith.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Your Rachel Weekes looks just like Alice Beckwith! My mistress, slain by Jonathan Alleyn!’ Starling swallowed, breathing hard. ‘That’s why he near killed her.’
There was a moment of stillness then. Starling waited, trying to ignore the pain in her arms; Richard stared into her face and some unreadable expression smothered his anger for a second. But only for a second. He released Starling, pushing her away so hard that she staggered. Then he laughed a bitter, joyless laugh that echoed across the square.
‘Alice Beckwith!’ he cried, and then laughed again, throwing his head back and appealing to the heedless sky. ‘I will hear no more about Alice bloody Beckwith! Dear God, Starling, you have plagued me with her so much her very name sets my teeth on edge!’
‘You wanted to know the reason they invited her back, and the reason he flew at her, and the reason they have arranged to keep her visiting… well, there is the reason. You wanted it and I’ve given it to you. Alice Beckwith. Mrs Weekes is the spit and image of his lost sweetheart. Now you have the truth of it don’t harp on at me if you like it not,’ said Starling. Dick ran his hands through his hair and down over his face, then folded his arms and glared at her.
‘I know how Mrs Alleyn feels about that girl – the Beckwith girl… What reason could she possibly have to encourage her son in his obsession?’
‘She thinks it will help him, in the long run. For he has a visitor now at least, some link to the outside world. If she must put up with Mrs Weekes’s face to get him that, then it seems she is willing to.’ Again, Richard paused to think.
‘And you knew of this – you knew of this likeness from your first sight of my wife.’
‘Of course. It was like seeing the dead walk. She chilled my blood, truth be told; though your wife is older, of course, and not as fair.’
‘You saw her first of all, at our wedding feast. Did you… did you have anything to do with our invitation to Lansdown Crescent? With me being asked to present my wife to Mrs Alleyn?’
‘Well, you didn’t think it was through any merit of yours, did you?’ said Starling, recklessly. Richard clamped his jaw shut and looked away. In the dark, she couldn’t see the blush she was sure would be mottling his skin. She swallowed, and felt her tenderness towards him coming on in the guise of regret, and shame for mocking him. She raised a hand to touch his arm but thought better of it. ‘Dick, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…’
‘Didn’t mean what?’ His voice was cold.
‘I didn’t mean to… keep this from you. But you broke with me, and told me to speak no more about Alice… I only wanted to see if… to see if seeing her brought out some confession in him. In Mr Alleyn. I thought that if he saw her, he would-’
‘You’re behind it all, then? This is all your plan? And what is that plan? Do you intend him to fall in love with my wife? For her to betray me for that mad cripple? Is that how you plan to be reunited with me?’