The Diamond of Drury Lane

  ‘Is this the child, my lord?’ asked the runner respectfully, ushering me forward.

  ‘Indeed it is,’ said the earl. He was staring as if stunned to see me there, though apparently he had asked for me to be brought to him.

  ‘And you say you know for a fact that she gave forty pounds to your son on behalf of the duke’s daughter, which he returned to this child on the evening of the day before yesterday, after receiving money from you?’

  ‘That is exactly right. So, you see, constable, the girl would not have had time to return the money to its original owner as no doubt she intended to do.’

  ‘So how did it end up in the hands of Billy Shepherd?’ the runner asked, looking at me doubtfully.

  ‘I suggest you ask her. Has anyone thought to listen to what she has to say about the whole matter?’

  Constable Lennox coughed uncomfortably. ‘Well, sir, I can’t say that . . .’

  ‘Ask her then, man!’

  The runner turned to me. ‘You heard the gentleman,’ he said roughly. ‘What’s your story?’

  ‘Billy’s boys broke in to steal . . . to steal something they thought was in the theatre,’ I began quickly. ‘Two of them . . . I don’t know their real names . . . found the money under my pillow and took it. I told Billy and he took it off them later to count it.’

  ‘So he wasn’t one of the thieves who stole it from you?’

  I reluctantly shook my head but the truth was I couldn’t incriminate Billy without explaining more about Johnny and the beating.

  ‘There you are, constable,’ said the earl loudly, putting an arm around my shoulders. ‘You’ve got the wrong people. It’s those two boys you should be after, not this little girl. Tell the man what they were like, child, and I’m sure that’ll be the end of the whole business.’

  ‘Now wait a minute, my lord,’ stuttered the runner. ‘I can’t just let her go. I need proof. Where’s this son of yours? What’s he to do with it? I’ll need to speak to him.’

  ‘You can’t, sir. He sailed this morning on the tide.’

  ‘Where to? When will he be back?’

  The Earl of Ranworth drew himself up to his full patrician height and glared at the runner. He reminded me forcibly of Johnny in one of his more frightening moods, such as when he had confronted Billy’s gang with empty pistols.

  ‘I don’t know, man,’ he said irritably. ‘He’s gone and that’s that. You can’t keep an innocent child in prison just because my son’s not here. My word not do then?’

  ‘But the duke!’ said the runner feebly.

  ‘Heavens, man! I’ll deal with that. Look, here’s fifty pounds bail for the girl.’ The earl drew a large paper banker’s draft from his pocket book and let it flutter down on to the desk. ‘You let her go now and I’ll swear that the duke will have dropped all charges by mid morning or call me an ass!’

  As the unfortunate runner did not want to be accused of calling a lord an ass, he reluctantly picked up the banker’s order and nodded to Amos.

  ‘Start to make the necessary arrangements, Amos,’ he said. ‘I’ll clear this with the magistrate.’

  ‘Sir John Solmes, isn’t it?’ said the earl.

  Constable Lennox nodded.

  ‘In that case, I’ll come along and help you. We’re old friends . . . went to the same school. You sit there, child. I won’t be long.’

  The earl led me to a chair by the fireside and handed me into it as if I were a fine lady.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said hoarsely, bemused by this unexpected turn of events. How had he known I was here? And would he really be able to get me out?

  In the interval that followed all that could be heard in the office was the scratching of Amos’s quill and the crackle of the fire. For the first time since yesterday afternoon I did not feel cold.

  ‘Ready to go, my dear?’

  In my exhausted state I must have fallen into a doze, for the earl was at my elbow before I knew it.

  ‘Go?’

  ‘Yes, child. You are free to go.’

  ‘She’s on bail, sir,’ corrected Constable Lennox, looking at me with distrust. He clearly still suspected me of as yet unspecified crimes. After all, he had me down as the mastermind behind one of London’s most fearsome gangs.

  The earl ignored him.

  ‘My carriage waits outside. We have a call we must make before I can return you home, I’m afraid, Catherine.’ The earl helped me to my feet. ‘Good morning.’ He tipped his hat to Amos and the constable and led me out into the sunlight.

  ‘How did you know?’ I asked once we were settled in his carriage. The earl tucked a large blanket around me and handed me a flask of warm tea.

  ‘Sheridan. Last night he sent an urgent message explaining how you’d ended up in gaol thanks to my miscreant of a son. I came as soon as I could, but I had to check that Jonathan had gone.’

  ‘So it’s true . . . he has left.’

  ‘Yes, sailed this morning with a stiff breeze to fill his sails. You need not worry about him any more, Catherine.’

  ‘It’s Cat. Johnny calls me Cat.’

  ‘Does he indeed?’ The earl smiled and ruffled my hair in the exact same gesture used by his son. ‘Well, here is one father who is mighty pleased that his offspring had the sense to choose you for his friend. That African boy . . . Pedro, isn’t it? . . . told me all about your exploits this morning when he took me to the docks. We were just in time to see the Potomac heading out to sea.’

  I snuggled back into the blanket. ‘So where are we going now?’

  ‘To get that fool of a duke to drop his ridiculous charges, of course!’ said the Earl of Ranworth.

  We arrived at the front door of Grosvenor Square just as the big house began to wake up for the day. Footmen were opening the shutters. A maid was scrubbing the doorstep as we made our entrance. She bobbed a curtsey as we passed.

  Joseph, the footman, opened the door to us.

  ‘My lord,’ he said with a bow, recognising the caller. His eyes slid to the shabby urchin bundled up in a blanket and I saw a look of alarm flicker in his eyes, but when he spoke his voice remained calmly professional. ‘His grace is at breakfast. Shall I tell him you are here?’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ said the earl, striding past him. I hovered on the doorstep, uncertain as to my welcome across this threshold, until the earl turned back. ‘Come on, Catherine. You have to come too.’

  Joseph stepped forward. I thought for a moment that he was going to throw me out, but instead he said, perfectly politely:

  ‘Would miss like me to take her . . . her cloak?’

  ‘If it’s all the same to you,’ I said in an embarrassed whisper, ‘I think I’ll keep it on.’ Underneath I was hardly fit to be seen in these halls.

  Joseph bowed. ‘Of course, miss.’

  I stepped into the foyer and saw a chest waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘His lordship’s,’ said Joseph in a low voice. ‘Off to school after breakfast, I’m afraid, miss.’ The footman gave me a significant look as if to say he was fully aware of the circumstances that saw me arrive there smelling of the sewer and that had driven his master off the premises.

  ‘Avon!’ The Earl of Ranworth strode on while Joseph and I hung back to have our brief conversation. He was opening door after door, looking for the duke. ‘Dammit, man, where are you?’

  Joseph hurried to overtake him and opened a door on the far side of the foyer.

  ‘The duke is in the breakfast room, my lord,’ he said, ushering us through. ‘Good luck!’ he muttered as I passed.

  The Duke of Avon was indeed at his breakfast, sitting at the far end of a long table draped in a snowy linen cloth. He had a newspaper propped up on the salt cellar in front of him and was tucking into a hearty meal of eggs and bacon. On his right sat a disconsolate Lady Elizabeth, who was toying with a piece of dry toast. Standing by the sideboard with his back to his father was Lord Francis. He was in the act of slipping a muffin into his p
ocket and I guessed he was hoping to supply me with my own breakfast later that morning as his parting gesture.

  ‘What the devil!’ blurted the duke on seeing the Earl of Ranworth burst into the room with so little ceremony. He then spotted me and dropped his fork with a clatter. ‘What’s she doing here? Joseph! Joseph!’

  But Joseph did not come. I suspected that he had become conveniently deaf and was preventing any other servants answering the summons from his post outside the door.

  ‘Cut that out, Avon!’ barked the Earl of Ranworth. ‘You are not turning anyone . . . least of all this child . . . out of your house until you’ve heard me through. You’ve been a complete fool and thrown an innocent girl into prison. You would have murdered her too if I hadn’t come to hear of it.’

  ‘What the . . .!’ said the duke, unable to find the words to express his astonishment.

  ‘She had that money to pay for my wretched boy’s ticket to America. Your daughter . . . as kind and lovely a girl as a father could wish for . . . was ready to help Jonathan, for she cared more for him than those bits of glitter and gold that she had in her jewellery box . . . and you should be proud of her. As for your son, his only crime was to help a friend in trouble and find a safe passage for him. He is completely blameless.’

  ‘But, but . . .’ The duke was looking from son to daughter, who both were staring at the Earl of Ranworth, open-mouthed. They had been as unprepared for his entrance as their father. ‘But what has Lord Jonathan got to do with all this?’

  The Earl of Ranworth gave a great groan as if it cost him much to admit his family’s shame.

  ‘The foolish boy only got himself charged with treason.’

  ‘Treason!’ exclaimed the duke in astonishment.

  ‘Yes, man. He is Captain Sparkler, of course. Stupid boy! Well, he is paying the price for it now. Some years in exile should knock that nonsense out of him.’

  ‘Captain Sparkler?’ The duke was having difficulty keep pace with developments. He turned to Lady Elizabeth. ‘You knew this?’

  ‘Yes, Papa,’ she said meekly.

  ‘And is all this true?’

  She nodded.

  ‘My God!’ exclaimed the duke, throwing his napkin on to the table and striding to the window. He looked out on the Square, trying to find counsel in the trees and grass.

  ‘So you see, Avon, you’ve been a fool,’ continued the Earl of Ranworth. ‘You should go on bended knee to ask this child’s pardon. Think what you would have felt if someone had put one of your own children into that hell pit, eh? But you did that, paying no heed to the pleas of your family. An innocent child, Avon! Look at her! And thanks to you she’s passed the night in a cell with one of London’s most hard-bitten criminals.’

  The duke turned his eyes to me. I must have made a sorry sight in my blanket. Was he finally convinced or not?

  ‘Well, Miss Royal . . .’ the duke began. He stopped and cleared his throat. ‘It does appear that I owe you an apology.’

  Despite myself, I let out a sob and crumpled into the nearest chair, tears of relief now streaming down my face. The Earl of Ranworth patted my shoulder comfortingly.

  Lady Elizabeth leapt to her feet and clapped her hands. ‘Oh, Papa! You believe us now?’

  He nodded. ‘I believe you. But why on earth didn’t you tell me the truth . . . the whole truth, mind? All this rubbish about boxing matches and betting . . . what was I to think?’

  ‘Well, sir . . . you see, sir . . .,’ said Lord Francis pulling on his collar as if it were choking him.

  Lady Elizabeth saved the day. ‘But, Papa, look at poor Miss Royal! She’s in a frightful state. The least we can do is make sure she is bathed and rested. Then you must take her back to the theatre yourself and make sure everyone understands that she is blameless in this whole affair.’

  ‘You are right, as usual, Lizzie,’ said the duke, patting his daughter on the arm. ‘Miss Royal, I hope you will accept my apology and my daughter’s offer to assist you now.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, struggling to control my tears. ‘I would be most grateful.’ I took a calming breath and smiled at Lady Elizabeth and Lord Francis, feeling the trails of salty tears on my cheeks.

  I was free at last!

  DIAMOND

  I shall never forget my return home. The duke refused to let me skulk in by the side entrance but escorted me into the auditorium, followed by Lady Elizabeth on her brother’s arm. There, to my astonishment, were gathered the entire theatre company . . . and more besides! As my foot crossed the threshold, Peter Dodsley led the orchestra in a fanfare and everyone broke into applause.

  Before I knew it, I was back among them all. Syd pulled me firmly away from the duke and into the middle of a scrum of his boys. I had my hand shook, my hair ruffled and my back slapped by so many that I lost count. Pedro elbowed his way to the front and we gave each other a hug, needing no words to express our relief that we were together again.

  ‘Order! order, gentlemen!’ laughed Mr Sheridan as he extricated me from the Butcher’s boys. ‘I need this young lady for a moment. You’ll get her back, I promise.’

  He led me up on to the stage, where the Avons were waiting by the grounded balloon.

  ‘In you go, Cat,’ said Lord Francis mischievously.

  ‘What?’ I protested as he hoisted me over the side of the basket. Mr Sheridan hopped in after me and gave a wave to Mr Bishop. The ropes began to creak and I grabbed on to the rim.

  ‘Are you sure this can take two?’ I asked anxiously.

  Mr Sheridan laughed, showing no sign of concern as we were heaved over the heads of the crowd. ‘I thought you liked living dangerously, Cat.’

  ‘Now what gave you that idea?’

  He grinned and turned to address his audience.

  ‘My lords, ladies and gentlemen, now we have our returning heroine centre stage, the Duke of Avon would like to make an announcement!’

  A hush fell in the theatre. The duke stepped on to the forestage.

  ‘I am sure you are all relieved to have your friend back among you after the distress of the last few days.’ He paused and coughed. ‘I would like every one of you to know that not a single cloud shades this young lady’s reputation. It was all a stupid mistake on my part for which I am most heartily ashamed and sorry.

  ‘You should be proud of her. She will always have a welcome at my house and, I hope, here at yours.’

  ‘Hear! Hear!’ shouted Peter Dodsley. Applause erupted again from all sides. Syd and his boys whistled. My cheeks were burning and I didn’t know where to look. The upturned faces suddenly became very blurry.

  Mr Sheridan handed me a handkerchief.

  ‘So, Cat, you did look after my diamond after all,’ he said softly as he gave me a moment to compose myself.

  ‘Look after the diamond?’ I blew my nose. ‘No, I did a hopeless job. I didn’t even know what I was looking after until it was too late. Shepherd’s gang were convinced there was a real diamond by then and came looking for it. I had no time to let them know that there was nothing here.’

  ‘Oh, but there was.’

  ‘You mean the reward for Johnny? I suppose they would have accepted that gladly enough.’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean that. They didn’t realise that under my nose I had a real treasure which I had ignored all these years. You see, Cat, even with Captain Sparkler gone, I still have one treasure left in Drury Lane. I have my Cat . . . useful in a tight spot. I’ll certainly bear you in mind next time I or any of my friends land themselves in trouble.’

  His words warmed me, thawing the last remnants of fear that lingered from my night among the disreputable and disgraced. I blushed at his kind words. No one at the theatre had ever said before that I was of any value.

  ‘So, are you ready to return to the party?’ he asked.

  ‘Party?’

  ‘Yes, to welcome home Cat: the diamond of Drury Lane.’

  Balloon descends. Curtain falls.

  ALL
ABROAD . . . wide of the mark

  ALL MY EYE . . . a load of rubbish

  ALL UP WITH . . . doomed, finished

  ANNE’S FAN . . . a rude gesture with thumb to nose and hand spread (don’t do this at a Bow Street runner unless you want your ears boxed)

  ARSY-VARSY . . . preposterous; it can also mean ‘head-over-heels’, bum upwards

  BARTHOLOMEW FAIR . . . fair held in August at Smithfield; the entertainments are spectacular . . . rope-dancers, acrobats, wrestling . . . what more could you want!

  BEAK . . . magistrate

  BEAU . . . sweetheart (and whatever what Billy says, I don’t have one)

  BOW STREET MAGISTRATE’S COURT . . . a place you definitely don’t want to end up

  BOW STREET RUNNERS . . . the magistrate’s men who police the streets around Westminster (not my favourite people)

  CARRIER . . . horse and cart that carries people and parcels, usually very slowly

  COVENT GARDEN . . . fruit and vegetable market, there’s also a theatre of that name but we don’t talk about it

  CREEPER . . . louse, toady

  DAGGLE-TAIL . . . slatternly woman

  FLASH . . . showy

  FLAT . . . someone easily fooled

  FOGRUM . . . senile old man

  FUNK . . . to back out, to fight shy

  GERRARD STREET . . . a favourite street of writers, artists and print sellers

  GIMCRACK . . . showy but worthless

  GOB-FULL OF CLARET . . . a bloody mouth

  GREEN ROOM . . . place where actors wait to go on stage, so called because of the colour of its walls

  GROSVENOR SQUARE . . . high-class part of the West End of London

  HEMPEN FEVER . . . death by hanging (the rope is made of hemp)

  HOG-GRUBBER . . . mean, nasty, sneaking person