The Diamond of Drury Lane

  Pedro and Lord Francis smiled in understanding at each other, driving me further into a fury.

  ‘Stop treating me like an empty-headed fool! I can decide what’s best myself!’

  ‘Well, Cat, let us say that I have invited Pedro as my guest. If you still want to come, you will just have to put up with his company,’ said Lord Francis with a wink at Pedro.

  I was now sorely tempted to give up the whole idea of appealing to Lord Francis and Lady Elizabeth for help. Perhaps I should just go back to the theatre and tell Johnny to make a run for it. But what was he to do for money to fund his escape? On balance, I realised that I trusted Johnny less to look after himself than I mistrusted Pedro.

  ‘I still wish to come,’ I replied sullenly.

  ‘In that case, you won’t object if I ask you to accompany my friend back to the theatre then, Cat?’

  I shook my head. Having lost the more important battle of keeping Pedro out of the secret, I was not going to kick up a fuss about the journey home.

  ‘Shall we go?’ The chimney sweep lord offered me his arm and we headed west for Grosvenor Square.

  ACT IV

  SCENE 1 . . . FRIENDS

  The back entrance to the Duke of Avon’s London residence smelt heavily of horse. The stables in the mews were close and from the slushy trails in the snow, it appeared that the horses were frequently employed.

  ‘Wait a moment,’ said Lord Francis, disappearing into a stall. ‘I’ll just get changed.’

  Pedro and I shivered by the pump in the back yard, trying to look inconspicuous. Snow still fell. Pedro’s short black hair was frosted with flakes. He looked more than ever like an exotic bird out of place in cold, wintry London. He noticed me looking.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘Why are you staring at me like that?’

  ‘I was just thinking how strange it is that you’re here.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to let you come on your own.’

  ‘No, not here here, I mean here in London.’

  He shrugged. ‘Is it that strange? All sorts of queer folk wash up here. London sucks us in and spits us out to sink or swim as we can.’

  It was time to test him out, before Lord Francis came back.

  ‘You know what we said about the diamond?’

  Pedro looked suddenly shifty. His eyes left my face to gaze at the icy pump handle. ‘What about it?’

  ‘I understand you need money, Pedro, but you’d not do anything to get it, would you? There are some things you wouldn’t do?’

  ‘Many things. What do you take me for, Cat?’

  ‘You wouldn’t send a man to his death, would you?’ I asked.

  ‘Not unless he deserved it. What’s this to do with the diamond?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s just that there’s something other than a diamond hidden in Drury Lane at the moment.’

  Lord Francis reappeared from the stable dressed in his usual smart clothes, though his face and hands were still an unlordly sooty shade. He flipped a coin to the stable boy, who followed with his old garments.

  ‘Put them away for me, Jenkins,’ he said.

  ‘Right you are, sir,’ said Jenkins with a toothy grin.

  ‘And now, the final step in my transformation!’ Then, despite the freezing conditions, Lord Francis put his head under the spout, pumped the handle twice and gave himself a hurried wash. He emerged dripping but returned to his normal colour. ‘Let’s get in before I catch my death of cold,’ he panted.

  We slid our way over the cobbles to the rear entrance. Lord Francis held us back just as we reached the step. ‘Now understand, most of the servants can be trusted, but watch out for the French cook and my tutor. Both would see me beaten severely for being out without permission. I have to time my excursions for when they are otherwise engaged.’

  We nodded and crept in after him. To our right, in what I presumed was the kitchens, I could hear the sound of clattering pans and swearing.

  ‘Mon dieu! Zat sauce iz not fit for a cushion, a pig!’

  There was a loud slap and the cry from an unfortunate maid.

  ‘Good!’ said Lord Francis in a whisper. ‘Monsieur Lavoisière is too busy with dinner to notice us.’

  Barely had he said these fateful words than an apparition in a white floppy hat and apron burst from the door on our right. With well-honed reactions, Lord Francis hauled Pedro and me into a room off the corridor on the left. From the rows of copper pans gleaming on the walls, I guessed we were in the scullery. For the first time since I had met him, Lord Francis looked scared. Heavy footsteps approached. I shrank behind a large bathtub; Pedro and Lord Francis took refuge behind the door.

  ‘Where iz zat blancmange?’ shrieked the cook. ‘If you ’ave not finished it, Pierre, I will ’ave your guts for my garters!’

  ‘Here it is, sir!’ said another voice outside, speaking with the military precision of a lieutenant reporting to his commanding officer. Pierre appeared to be rather more fortunate than the maid: his dessert passed muster and, with only a few grumbles, Monsieur Lavoisière retreated into his den.

  ‘Quick!’ said Lord Francis. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  As quietly as we could, we ran down the corridor, mounted a flight of stone steps and pushed through a green baize door into the hall. Once on the marble paving, Lord Francis heaved a sigh of relief.

  ‘Safe!’ he exclaimed. ‘Let’s find Lizzie.’ He charged up the stairs shouting for his sister. The footman who had opened the door to us on our first visit intercepted him on the landing.

  ‘I think you will find Lady Elizabeth in the library, sir,’ he said. ‘And Mr Herbert said to tell you that he wanted to see you on your return.’

  Lord Francis grimaced. ‘I’ve not come in yet, Joseph.’

  ‘Indeed you haven’t, sir. But when you do decide to come in, can I take it that my message will be delivered promptly?’

  ‘As soon as I set foot across the threshold,’ he confirmed with a conspiratorial wink.

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  The footman clearly had a healthy loyalty to his young master.

  ‘Mr Herbert is your tutor?’ I asked.

  Lord Francis nodded. ‘I’ve been trying to stave off going to boarding school. Mama’s on my side but I rather think my days at home are numbered. Shame, just when I was beginning really to enjoy myself !’ He looked at Pedro regretfully. His expeditions on to the streets had evidently made a deep impression. ‘But I’m determined not to go until I’ve got your friend Syd to teach me a few moves. Should put me in good stead at school. Scare off the bullies.’

  ‘There are bullies even in schools for your sort?’ I asked. I had thought that these were only to be found on the streets where my kind lived. Surely rich children were too refined for bullying? Didn’t they spend all day speaking to each other in Latin and dining off china plates?

  ‘You’d better believe it!’ said Lord Francis. ‘Schools are a breeding ground for bullies. I could tell you a few tales of my father’s old school that would make your hair curl. Not that either of you need it,’ he joked. ‘Here, Cat, what happened to you?’ He’d noticed that one of my locks was missing.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said quickly, feeling sick again at the reminder of my brush with Billy. I put my hand up to my forehead defensively, but that only revealed my cut arm.

  Pedro had also noticed. ‘There’s something you’re not telling us, isn’t there, Cat?’ he asked astutely. ‘You’ve not been yourself today. You seem . . . you seem frightened.’

  ‘Is that you, Frank?’ Lady Elizabeth stepped out on to the landing, a book held in one hand, her finger marking the page. ‘I thought I heard voices.’ Her face broke into a smile when she saw us all standing there. ‘Oh, I’m so pleased! You’ve brought me some visitors. Quick! In here. Mr Herbert’s on the warpath, but he’ll never think to look for you in the library.’

  ‘Course not! What would I be doing in there? It’s only bluestockings like you that find this a congenia
l place to sit before dinner,’ said Lord Francis.

  Lady Elizabeth ushered us into the most beautiful room I had ever seen. Two high windows on one wall looked out on the darkening square. Candles flickered on the many small tables set between comfortable armchairs and sofas. A large desk with silver inkpot, blotter, a fresh supply of paper and wax, waited invitingly on the far side of the hearth. How I would have loved to sit at it and write! But the most impressive things about the room were the shelves upon shelves of books, all neatly arranged and lavishly bound. One could have been set loose in here and not need to emerge for years, thanks to all the fascinating reading matter on hand. I envied Lord Francis and Lady Elizabeth this privilege above the many others they enjoyed.

  ‘Now, what is this about?’ asked Lady Elizabeth, inviting me to take a seat on the silk-covered sofa. I hesitated, worrying that my grubby skirt might stain it, and I sat down on a wooden stepladder instead.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Lord Francis, taking a final listen on the landing before closing the door. ‘Cat needs to talk to us. It’s about Lord Jonathan Fitzroy.’

  Lady Elizabeth’s face went red.

  ‘Lord Jonathan Fitzroy?’ asked Pedro.

  ‘Johnny,’ I explained reluctantly. ‘He’s not what he seems.’

  ‘So I see,’ said Pedro slowly, digesting this latest news. ‘A lord? He’s the most unlordly lord . . . with the possible exception of Frank here . . . that I’ve ever met.’

  ‘You don’t know the half of it,’ I said. ‘But first you must promise me, all of you, that even if you decide you cannot help Johnny and me . . . Lord Jonathan, I mean . . . what I tell you will go no further than us four. You must promise not to betray him, even if this means passing up the opportunity to earn a lot of money.’ I looked directly at Pedro who was slowly beginning to understand what I had been hinting at earlier.

  ‘Of course I won’t,’ he said indignantly.

  Still far from certain that I could take him at his word, I knew I had to proceed if I were to get the help we so urgently needed.

  ‘Johnny has another name . . . a name that you all have heard before. He’s also Captain Sparkler.’ I was watching Pedro closely as I spoke and thought I saw a strange gleam light up in his eye. This worried me: what was Pedro thinking? He now knew that Johnny belong to the privileged classes . . . he might even be from one of the many families grown rich on sugar and tobacco at the expense of thousands of slaves’ lives in the West Indies. Did this weaken any personal loyalty Pedro might feel towards him? Would the temptation to sell him out prove too strong? After all, no one had cared about the feelings of Pedro and his family when they were sold. Why should he care now?

  The duke’s children were easier to read. From the steady expression of Lady Elizabeth I could tell Johnny’s identity did not come as a shock to her; to Lord Francis the news was almost welcome.

  ‘Fancy that! Lord Jonathan Fitzroy turning out to be the captain! I never knew he was so clever . . . not just a stuffed shirt then like most of Lizzie’s suitors.’

  ‘Hush!’ said Lady Elizabeth as Pedro now looked at her with renewed interest. I wondered with a sinking heart what scheme he was concocting with these pieces of private information.

  ‘But I think your friend Marchmont suspects something,’ I continued, trying not to let Pedro distract me from my purpose. ‘Not about Lord Jonathan, of course, but he suspects that the captain is hidden in Drury Lane. The net is closing in. Johnny’ll have to find somewhere else to stay.’

  ‘And you need our help to find him somewhere? What does Lord Jonathan think?’ asked Lady Elizabeth.

  I dropped my head and examined my grubby fingers. ‘I have to admit he doesn’t know I’m asking you. I have only just found out about Marchmont.’

  ‘He’ll be cross with you,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘He’s very proud, you know.’

  ‘But it’s too much for him to handle on his own,’ I replied. ‘He’s taking too many risks. He doesn’t see the danger . . . or doesn’t care. And it’s not just him, it’s the diamond as well.’

  ‘Diamond? You mean there really is a diamond?’ asked Lord Francis excitedly. ‘It’s not just something you made up for your story?’

  I nodded, my eyes again on Pedro, who was keeping suspiciously quiet. ‘It’s quite possible that the Shepherd gang’ll try to get it and that puts Johnny in double danger.’

  ‘What’s Johnny got to do with Billy Boil?’ asked Pedro shrewdly. He seemed very interested to hear that Billy had got wind of the diamond.

  I was trying to think up an explanation that avoided divulging the events of last night but Lady Elizabeth was too quick.

  ‘Lord Jonathan saved Cat from those ruffians,’ she replied, remembering the praise I had given her sweetheart.

  ‘He did what?’ exclaimed Lord Francis. ‘This gets better and better!’

  I was now compelled to tell the whole story, but only after I had again sworn them to secrecy. A stunned silence followed my brief but brutal narrative.

  ‘So it’s not only Johnny in danger. You are too,’ said Lord Francis looking at me with concern.

  ‘Maybe,’ I said dismissively. ‘But Billy’s not interested in me, he’s interested in the diamond and Johnny’s protecting it for Mr Sheridan . . . perhaps in exchange for having a place to hide. I’m not sure.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘There’s something not quite right about this. Where would Mr Sheridan get a diamond from and why hide it?’

  ‘The second part’s easy: he’s probably hiding it from his creditors,’ said Lord Francis. ‘It’s well known that it’s only because he’s a member of parliament that he’s not arrested for debt. If they got wind that he had some money for once, they’d be down on him like a pack of crows.’

  ‘And he’s best mates with the Prince of Wales, isn’t he?’ asked Pedro. ‘If anyone is dripping diamonds in this country, it’ll be royalty. Maybe it was a gift.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Lady Elizabeth sceptically. ‘I just don’t see it though.’

  ‘But the long and the short of it is that Johnny’s in danger,’ I continued. ‘He’s got to get out and the sooner the better. He’ll need help to do so. He’ll need you and . . .’ I felt embarrassed to say it ‘. . . and your resources.’

  He would have to leave London . . . go abroad even . . . and I had no gold to buy him a ticket out of England. If his father had disowned him, he needed rich friends to help him . . . friends like the children of a duke, not a pauper like me.

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Lord Francis, ‘but it won’t be easy, even for us, Cat. My pocket money hardly stretches to a passage to a safe country.’

  ‘I suppose I could pawn some of my jewels,’ suggested Lady Elizabeth. ‘That is, if someone would take them to the broker for me. Papa would be furious if he found out I’d gone.’

  ‘You are an angel, sis,’ said Lord Francis. ‘I’ll take them for you.’

  Pedro wrinkled his nose in disdain. ‘Not a good idea: any self-respecting pawnbroker would fleece you and send you packing with half their value. Let me do it.’

  ‘No, I’ll take them. I’ve an idea where to go,’ I said quickly. Who knew where Pedro would be this time tomorrow if entrusted with a small fortune in jewels?

  Pedro frowned but did not object.

  ‘If Cat raises the money for us, I’ll find out how to get safe passage out of the country,’ said Lord Francis.

  ‘Good idea. Johnny must get away as soon as possible,’ I said. ‘They might come looking for him at any moment. And when he does leave, he may be recognised, so we should prepare a disguise for him.’

  ‘Leave that to me,’ volunteered Lady Elizabeth. ‘I’ll think of something so that even his own mother won’t recognise him.’

  The clock on the mantelpiece began to strike a melodious six. Two mechanical dancers emerged from a door set in the face, approached each other and began to twirl around. I was just thinking how pretty it was when another thought came to
me.

  ‘Pedro, aren’t you supposed to be doing the hornpipe tonight?’

  He looked thunderstruck. It was not like him to let a professional commitment escape his attention. ‘You’re right! We’ve got to run!’

  ‘Wait. I’ll get the jewels,’ said Lady Elizabeth. She disappeared upstairs and returned a few minutes later with a small package wrapped in a silk handkerchief which she thrust into my hand. ‘Look after them, Cat, won’t you? I would like to redeem them in time. Some of them are special to me.’

  We arrived back at Drury Lane at half past the hour. The play had already started but Pedro was just in time for his musical interlude. He had barely ripped off his livery and donned his costume before he was summoned on stage. I could see Johnny looking mightily relieved as Pedro bounded on to the boards.

  ‘Safely delivered?’ Johnny asked me under his breath.

  I nodded, but my eye was caught by Pedro dancing in the footlights. The cartoon might now be in safe hands but I realised that Pedro had been delivered on stage far from complete.

  ‘Violin!’ I hissed under my breath to Johnny. ‘Pedro’s forgotten his violin!’ After the first dance, he was supposed to do the same steps again while playing.

  ‘Fetch it then!’ whispered Johnny urgently. ‘I’ll think of something.’

  I ran to the Green Room and found the violin. Grabbing it, I darted back towards the wings, dodging through the press of performers, accidentally treading on Miss Stageldoir’s toes and receiving a cuff to the back of my head in retaliation.

  I arrived at Johnny’s side to find he had thought of something, but it was a ‘something’ that made my heart leap into my throat.

  ‘Here!’ he said. ‘Put these on.’ He thrust an old Harlequin spangled costume at me.

  ‘No, you!’ I hissed.

  ‘Don’t be funny! I’m supposed to be in hiding, remember? But you, you can run on, do a twirl or something, and give him the violin. The crowd will think it’s all part of the act. They love a clown.’

  ‘You’re joking,’ I said hollowly as he pulled the baggy costume over my head.