Edward Marston - The Devil's Apprentice

‘Why did I not give you the key to lock the door from the inside?’ he said. ‘The answer is simple. I feared that you might fall deeply asleep and be unaware of someone stealing the key from you.’ He glanced at Davy who reddened slightly. ‘I apologise for this and take the blame without complaint.’

‘Well, I’ve a complaint or two to make,’ growled Elias.

‘Another time, Owen,’ decided Nicholas, cutting him off with a glance. ‘Nothing will be served by hot words and wild accusations at this time in the morning. We’ve heard an explanation and it must suffice — though I still can’t understand why we weren’t told what you planned to do.’

Taylard was bland. ‘On reflection, that would have been best.’

‘Don’t you dare play a trick like this on us again,’ said Elias with vehemence.

‘It was no trick, sir. It had a purpose. Nobody could leave the room.’

‘Did you expect that one of us would?’ pressed Nicholas.

‘Master Stratton felt that it was a possibility.’

‘And where did he think his son would go?’

‘That’s not for me to speculate,’ said the steward. ‘The salient point is that three of you went into that room last night and all three of you came out again together.’

‘How many other occupants of the house were jailed?’ said Elias.

‘None, sir. This was a special case.’

‘Dictated by Master Stratton,’ observed Nicholas. ‘Did Sir Michael know about this? Is he aware that his steward is taking orders from someone outside his house? I venture to suggest that the master of Holly Lodge wouldn’t let Sir Michael have a say in the running of his home.’ Taylard was faintly discomfited for the first time. ‘Do you intend to acquaint Sir Michael with what took place?’

‘Sir Michael can’t be bothered with every minor detail, sir.’

Elias was enraged. ‘Minor detail! Turning three guests into convicted felons?’

‘All that I can do,’ said Taylard, trying to mollify him with an apologetic smile, ‘is to give you my word that nothing like this will ever happen again. When you return next week with the rest of your company, you’ll be given the freedom of the cottages, the outbuildings and the grounds. There’ll be no hint of incarceration.’

‘We’ll hold you to that,’ said Nicholas sternly.

Continued argument with the steward was pointless. He had instigated something that had fulfilled its function. It prevented Davy’s escape. In doing that, Nicholas now saw, Jerome Stratton had given himself away. The merchant’s glib explanation of his son’s disappearance in the forest was now exposed as a lie. Davy Stratton had fled from his two companions. In making sure that the lad did not escape a second time, the father was admitting that there had been a precedent.

Owen Elias rid himself of some ripe expletives into the steward’s ear but Taylard was unruffled. Having weathered the storm of protest, he opened the front door for them to hurry them on their way.

‘The office of steward is more lowly than I imagined,’ said Nicholas.

Taylard stiffened. ‘Lowly?’

‘I would have thought you’d risen above such mundane duties as opening doors.’

‘Not to mention locking them in the night!’ added Elias with asperity.

‘I happen to be here as you depart,’ said the steward.

‘Then be so good as to summon Sir Michael,’ ordered Nicholas, adopting a tone he might use to an awkward servant. ‘Before we take our leave, we’d like to thank him for his kind hospitality.’

‘That’s impossible, alas,’ said Taylard.

‘Why?’ asked Elias. ‘Is he shooting at wildfowl with cannon ball?’

‘No, sir. He’s talking to a visitor. The vicar arrived only a moment ago on urgent business. He and Sir Michael must not be disturbed.’

‘In that case,’ continued Nicholas, determined not to be sent on his way by the supercilious Taylard, ‘we’ll speak to Lady Eleanor or can you devise a reason why she, too, is unable to bid farewell to her guests?’

The steward hesitated. ‘I suppose that I could see if Lady Eleanor is available.’

‘I think that you should do that or there may be repercussions. Sir Michael and his wife will be justifiably annoyed if they learn that we left without speaking to either of them. It’s common courtesy on our part.’ Nicholas gave a gentle smile. ‘Why not fetch Lady Eleanor yourself?’

Romball Taylard was saved the trouble of making a reply. Footsteps echoed on the oak floor and two figures came into the hall. Deep in conversation, they did not at first see the group by the front door. Sir Michael Greenleaf had regained more of his dignity now that he had cleaned himself up. His attire was also more appropriate to his position as owner of the estate. One arm around Anthony Dyment, he was clearly fretful. When Sir Michael looked up to see his guests, he brightened at once.

‘Ah!’ he declared. ‘I’m glad that I caught you before you left. Oh, this is my chaplain, Anthony Dyment, by the way,’ he said, touching his companion. Nicholas and Elias gave the vicar a nod of acknowledgement. ‘I was just telling Anthony what splendid fellows you both were and how much my wife and I are looking forward to the visit of Westfield’s Men. Unhappily, our enthusiasm is not shared by everyone, it seems.’

‘No, Sir Michael,’ said Elias with a meaningful glance at the steward.

‘As well as being my chaplain, Anthony is also the vicar of St Christopher’s …’ He broke off as Dyment whispered something to him. ‘Of course, of course, Anthony. Leave at once if you have a christening to perform. It was kind of you to postpone it briefly while you rode over here.’

‘I felt that I had to speak to you at once, Sir Michael,’ said Dyment.

‘A wise decision, dear fellow. But away with you.’

Gesturing both farewell and apology, the vicar went swiftly out through the door. Sir Michael turned to the others with his brow furrowed. He shook his head sadly.

‘We’ve encountered a problem,’ he told them. ‘It’s not insurmountable but it’s definitely a problem. Anthony is the first to catch wind of it.’

‘Of what, Sir Michael?’ asked Nicholas.

‘Opposition to your arrival.’

‘Opposition?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ said the old man. ‘We have a small but active Puritan community nearby and they hold trenchant opinions. One of their number — Reginald Orr — has been a thorn in my flesh for years. Orr can be a confounded nuisance.’

‘We fight against Puritan disapproval every day in London,’ said Nicholas.

‘Then I don’t need to explain what an unflattering view they take of actors.’

Elias grinned. ‘The kindest thing they call us is “fiends from hell.”’

‘Reginald Orr will not stop at calling names,’ said Sir Michael solemnly. ‘And it isn’t only Westfield’s Men who have aroused his ire. He and I have a long history. As a Justice of the Peace, it’s fallen to me to fine him on several occasions for breaches of the peace and to have him twice set in the stocks. He bears grudges.’

‘This narrow-minded ninny will not upset us,’ said the Welshman airily. ‘We’re used to such madmen trying to drive us off from the stage.’

‘I doubt if you’ve met someone quite as single-minded as this man,’ continued Sir Michael, sucking on his teeth. ‘Anthony Dyment was accosted in his church by the rogue this very morning. Reginald Orr issued a direct threat against you.’

‘He can surely not object to our visit to a private house,’ said Nicholas.

‘Oh yes, he can.’

‘Will he try to disrupt our performances?’

‘Worse than that,’ said Sir Michael.

‘Worse?’

‘I’m afraid so. He’s vowed to stop you even reaching Silvermere.’