‘Then why is she locked away like this?’ he said sternly.
‘You used a key to let us in here and I see that bolt upon the window. It should be wide open to admit fresh air not shut tight like that.’
‘It will be opened,’ she promised. ‘It will, it will.’
The doctor put his head to one side and studied her for a moment. Guilt made her shift her feet and rub her hands nervously together. He clicked his tongue in disapproval.
‘What has been going on here?’ he asked.
‘Nothing, nothing.’
‘Why has the girl declined so?’
‘I wish I knew.’
‘Let me give you a warning,’ he said, fixing her with a cold stare. ‘Do not try to meddle with nature. Rose is unwed and she was shocked to learn that she was with child. You and your husband must also have been shaken by the tidings. That is nothing new. I see it happen all the time to the parents of young girls who give birth out of wedlock. They are hurt,’ he continued, ‘they feel ashamed and desperate. They blame their daughters and make them suffer bitterly. In some cases, they are even driven to extremities.’
‘Extremities?’ croaked Sybil.
‘I think that you know what I mean.’
‘No, doctor.’
‘Unwanted children are conceived all the time,’ he said with a glance at the bed. ‘London is full of quacks and charlatans who will offer to get rid of those children at a price. They are not only tricksters. Such people can cause great damage.’
‘Can they?’
‘What they do is to slaughter innocent babes in the womb. That is not only a heinous crime, it is a sin against nature and an offence before God.’
‘I know that now,’ she gabbled.
‘Never expose your daughter to such witchcraft,’ he insisted. ‘Or you may put her own life in jeopardy.’
‘Will she die, doctor? Will Rose die?’
‘I hope not.’
‘What must we do? Tell us and it will be done.’
‘The first thing you must do is to love and cherish your daughter. Nurse her tenderly. It is always the best medicine.’
‘I will sit beside her day and night.’
He crossed to open his case. ‘I will leave a potion for her,’ he said, taking out a little flask and handing it to her. ‘Give her two drops of it in a small amount of clean water twice a day and make sure that she swallows it. Use a damp cloth to wipe her brow and keep it cool. And open that window to clear away this smell of sickness.’
‘I will, I will, doctor. What else must I do?’
His instructions were long and specific. Sybil made a careful note of them but avoided his piercing gaze because it made her sense of guilt almost unbearable. She plied him with questions of her own and stored up each answer in her memory. Before he left, the doctor casually slipped a hand under the pillow and extracted a battered Roman Catholic Prayer book. Sybil backed away and shuddered violently.
‘This has no place in a Protestant household,’ he chided. ‘You know the law. We have put aside the old religion. How did this forbidden book come to be in the girl’s bed?’
‘I do not know,’ she lied, snatching it from him. ‘But I will throw it away at once, doctor. I give you my word.’
‘Honour it,’ he said sharply. ‘Or I will have to report this to your parish priest. You will not save your daughter with Romish incantations or with concoctions sold by quacks. Medicine is the only cure.’
‘Yes, yes.’
He looked at Rose. ‘Call me if her condition worsens.’
‘We will, doctor.’
‘And remember that you are a mother.’
The words were a stinging rebuke and Sybil felt the full force of them. When the doctor scurried out of the room, she sat down on a stool and wept contritely. Rose seemed peaceful now, eyes closed and breathing regular. But the fever was clearly still upon her and Sybil suspected that it had originated in a Clerkenwell backstreet.
She was still sobbing when her husband eventually arrived.
Alexander Marwood was even more appalled than usual.
‘The doctor asked for his fee,’ he moaned. ‘Do you know how much the man charged me?’
‘It does not matter,’ she said.
‘It matters to me, Sybil. The fee was exorbitant.’
‘If he can save Rose, I would give him every penny we have,’ she said, crossing to the bed. ‘We have wronged her, Alexander. We treated her like a criminal instead of a daughter. I feel so ashamed of what you made me do.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes,’ she said, trying to shift some of the blame. ‘You badgered me, sir. You forced me to punish Rose.’
Marwood was dumbfounded. No husband was less capable of forcing a wife to do anything than him. Obsequious requests were his only means of influencing Sybil. He peered over her shoulder at the slumbering girl. He was sorry that Rose was so ill but his first thought was still of his own humiliation.
‘Has she lost the child?’ he said hopefully.
‘No, Alexander.’
‘But you told me that she would.’
Sybil’s words burnt into him like a branding iron.
‘I told you nothing of the kind. Do you understand?’
When Nicholas Bracewell finally reached the Queen’s Head, he found the company in a buoyant mood. The stage had been erected, properties had been set out and the actors were chatting happily in groups. Nicholas was given a mocking cheer when he appeared. Usually the first to arrive, he was now the straggler in the party. Lawrence Firethorn sought to rub the message home.
‘Ah, Nick!’ he said good-humouredly, ‘so you have risen from your bed at last, have you? You are unconscionably late, dear heart. It is not like you to put the caresses of a lady before the needs of your company. Why the delay?’
‘I will tell you in private.’
‘Secrets, eh? I long to hear them.’
Nicholas drew him aside to break the sad tidings. He explained that the delay was forced upon him. When the body of Sylvester Pryde was uncovered, constables were summoned and the crime reported. Nicholas supervised the transfer of the corpse to the morgue before giving a sworn statement to the coroner. It was only then that he was able to hurry to the Queen’s Head.
Firethorn was thunderstruck by the news.
‘God in heaven!’ he murmured. ‘This is a tragedy!’
‘We must decide what to do,’ said Nicholas quietly. ‘My advice would be to cancel this morning’s rehearsal so that we may appraise the situation. Black Antonio needs little enough attention. We have performed the play so often that we could do so at a moment’s notice without any rehearsal.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Firethorn. ‘We need time to think.’
‘Let me speak to the company. They will have to be told sooner or later and I would rather they heard it from my lips. In any case,’ he added, ‘they will be able to help me.’
‘In what way?’
‘Someone must have seen Sylvester leave here last night. They can give me some idea of what time that was. I had already returned to Bankside so I have no knowledge of his movements. Sylvester Pryde was a good friend to us. I will track down his killer,’ he vowed, ‘and the trail starts here.’
‘We will all want to follow that trail, Nick,’ said the other vehemently. ‘The culprit must be made to pay for this hideous crime. He has not only murdered Sylvester. He has killed our new playhouse stone dead.’
‘That may not be so.’
‘But Sylvester was our intermediary.’
‘The loan is secured and the terms agreed.’
‘Might not our benefactor wish to withdraw the money?’ said Firethorn anxiously. ‘His only reason for helping us was his friendship with Sylvester. That can no longer exist.’
Nicholas was calm. ‘Let us not race to meet a problem that may not exist,’ he said. ‘Two things must be done as soon as possible. We must find this guardian angel of ours and acquaint him with this terrible event. My hope is that he will want the playhouse to be as much a theatre as a memorial to Sylvester Pryde. Our loan may still be safe.’
‘You spoke of two things, Nick.’
‘I did.’