‘Is she not a fabled beauty?’ asked Firethorn.
‘And rightly so, Lawrence. She is wasted on that old fool of a husband she married. No,’ said Lord Westfield with a knowing chuckle, ‘I was not at all surprised when Cordelia threw her weight behind us. It is one sure way to strike back at Viscount Havelock.’
‘Why should she wish to do that?’ said Nicholas.
‘Revenge,’ said the other. ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman spurned. Before she was married, it is rumoured, Cordelia was his mistress until he cast her aside. The Countess of Dartford would love to see Havelock’s Men perish.’
Chapter Nine
Viscount Havelock lived in a style which was the envy of his friends and foes alike. His house in Bishopsgate was palatial, surpassing in extravagance, though not in size, the neighbouring Crosby Place. The Viscount was a man of considerable wealth and a passion for displaying it. His theatre company were not simply a reflection of his devotion to the arts. They were a public statement of his importance, an expression of his vanity and a glittering jewel which he could wear to impress the rest of London. Viscount Havelock never resisted any opportunity to polish that jewel.
‘Well, Rupert?’ he enquired.
‘All things proceed to our advantage,’ said Kitely.
‘I am delighted to hear it.’
‘This latest device of Sir Edmund Tilney’s makes our position ever more secure. We are to play at Court in sequence with Banbury’s Men and Westfield’s Men so that we may be judged side by side. Choice of the fare we select will be critical, my lord, and fortune favours us.’
‘How so?’
‘We have a play, fresh and new-minted, the sprightliest comedy which has come our way in years.’
‘What is it called?’
‘A Looking Glass for London.’
‘I like the sound of that.’
‘You will like it even more when you see it, my lord,’ said Kitely with pride. ‘It was to have been staged at The Rose on Monday but we will save it for Court. A Looking Glass for London is the ideal piece to set before Her Grace. Our rivals, meanwhile, will have no new offering ready in time. They will have to ferret through their old playbooks to find something fit. Our work will be fresh and lively against their dull, stale, careworn dramas.’
‘This serves us well, Rupert.’
They were at the house in Bishopsgate and Kitely was extremely flattered to be invited there. At the same time, he was reminded of his position as the servant of his patron by being kept waiting when he first arrived then by being made to stand while his host lounged in a chair. They were in a small but well-appointed antechamber and Kitely could hear the sound of busy preparations in the adjoining dining room. The noble Viscount Havelock would never deign to invite the actor to his table. Though the theatre troupe brought them close, and even permitted a degree of friendship, the social distance between them remained vast.
‘What of Westfield’s Men?’ asked the patron.
‘They are beset by problems,’ said the other complacently.
‘And we will create more to vex them.’
‘Have you been able to raid the company?’
‘We have taken one prisoner so far, my lord. Their young playwright, Lucius Kindell. You saw his work at the Queen’s Head recently.’
‘Saw it and admired it,’ recalled the Viscount. ‘This fellow has talent. But I would sooner you had poached Edmund Hoode from their pantry. They feed chiefly off him.’
‘Hoode will come in time, my lord,’ said the actor. ‘And Lucius will help to bring him there. My calculation was that Hoode would be desolate at the loss of his young apprentice. And so it has proved. Westfield’s Men are a lesser company when their playwright is dejected.’
‘You are a wise politician, sir.’
‘I need to be in my profession.’
‘And Banbury’s Men?’
‘They are of no account, my lord.’
‘Do not dismiss them lightly, Rupert.’
‘You know the terms of the edict better than I, my lord. One playhouse to stand north of the river and one south. Banbury’s Men cannot hurt us while they are in Shoreditch.’
‘But they must also have designs on Westfield’s Men.’
‘Indeed,’ said Kitely, ‘they have set themselves the task of stealing Barnaby Gill away.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Such information can be bought, my lord.’
‘A spy in their camp?’
‘He warns me of all that happens at The Curtain,’ said Kitely with a thin smile. ‘One Henry Quine, an actor with the company, was used to see if Gill could be tempted. It seems that he can be. Gill has met with Giles Randolph.’
‘I would sooner he met with Rupert Kitely.’
‘That, too, will come in time, my lord,’ promised the other. ‘For the moment, I choose to let Banbury’s Men work on our behalf. If they take Barnaby Gill from the Queen’s Head, they disable the company badly and that serves our purpose. It is The Angel which threatens The Rose. Our rivals will help to clip its wings.’
Viscount Havelock rose to his feet to deliver his command.
‘I want this new playhouse strangled in its cradle.’
‘It will be, my lord.’
‘The Rose must have no rival in Bankside.’
‘Nor will it,’ pledged the other. ‘Havelock’s Men will be unchallenged. The Angel theatre is the doomed project of a company which will soon be disbanded. Your company will reign supreme, my lord.’
‘That will please me mightily.’
Viscount Havelock rose from his chair with a smile of satisfaction then gave his visitor a nod of dismissal before going off to join his guests. He would have something to boast to them about now.
Nicholas Bracewell was deeply troubled. His walk home from the Queen’s Head was a series of recriminations. A casual remark from their patron had made him see their situation in an entirely different light. When he left the house in the Strand, he firmly believed that their benefactor was advancing a loan to the company out of fondness for Sylvester Pryde but it now transpired that she might have another motive. Cordelia Bartram, Countess of Dartford, had struck him as a beautiful woman who was grieving over the death of a close friend and Nicholas had sensed that the friendship might well have been of the most intimate nature. He passed no moral judgement on that. It was not his place to do so.
If, however, the lady really was the discarded mistress of Viscount Havelock, and if she was using Westfield’s Men as a weapon against him, then the company’s position was precarious. They were mere pawns in a private quarrel between estranged lovers. When they had served their purpose and brought about the demise of the rival company, the scheming Countess might have no further use for them and the loan which she had so readily supplied might be recalled or laden with crippling additional interest payments. Instead of ensuring their salvation, Sylvester Pryde might unwittingly have loaded them with an intolerable burden.
What made his predicament worse was that Nicholas was unable to discuss it with anyone. Having given his solemn word, he was duty bound to stand by it and that meant holding back from his fellows any knowledge of the threat which their benefactor posed. He could now see all too well why the Countess of Dartford insisted on her anonymity. She did not wish Viscount Havelock to know that she was funding a campaign against his theatre company, nor, Nicholas suspected, did she want her husband to become aware of how she disposed of her money or how she spent her time away from him. Judging by his portrait, the Earl of Dartford was a proud, haughty man with a possessive nature. Had he realised that his wife had been entertaining a young lover at their London home, he would have been justifiably roused.
The more Nicholas reflected on the situation, the more complicated it became. Lord Westfield had his faults but he was a supportive patron. He could be weak, erratic and prone to interfere at times yet he never failed them in a real crisis. Nicholas could imagine how outraged he would be if he knew that one of the people he had recruited to his Court faction was secretly providing the money to build the new playhouse. If her identity were ever revealed, then Nicholas himself would come in for severe criticism from a patron who would not be above demanding his removal from the company. He was shaken by the thought that a vow given to the Countess of Dartford might turn out to be an act of professional suicide.