Edward Marston - The Wanton Angel

‘Who, then, was it?’ he wondered.

‘I do not know,’ said Nicholas.

‘If not Sylvester, it must be one of our other fellows. Unless we are in the presence of a virgin birth here. Did you see a star in the east, Nick? Are we to expect the imminent arrival of Three Kings, bearing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh?’ He gave a hollow laugh. ‘Forgive my blasphemy, dear heart, but this business has put me on the rack.’

‘Mistress Rose is the real victim here,’ said Nicholas.

‘Indeed, she is, and my wife said the same to me when she heard. I had great difficulty preventing Margery from walking all the way here from Shoreditch to comfort the girl. Women understand these things more than us. It is bad enough to have to face the pangs and perils of childbirth, she told me, but it must be agony to do so without the father at your side. Rose Marwood must be in torment.’

‘That was Anne’s first reaction as well.’

‘I, too, have sympathy for the girl — profound sympathy — but my prime duty is to ensure the safety of the company.’

‘That has been done. We have our playhouse back again.’

‘But for how long, Nick?’ said Firethorn. ‘We told the landlord that we would identify the mystery lover and pass the name on to him. I know full well how he will react if we go to him empty-handed. And his fury will be mild compared with that of the fiery she-dragon he is married to. What do we do?’

‘Remain patient.’

‘That is like telling me to remain dry in the middle of a tempest. How can I be patient when Marwood is yapping at my heels like a terrier? Call him off.’

‘I will do my best.’

‘He is upsetting the whole company,’ said Firethorn irritably. ‘He should be more friendly towards us in view of the fact that Westfield’s Men contains his future son-in-law.’

‘I cannot guarantee that.’

‘You think he will disown the girl?’

‘Let us find the man first,’ said Nicholas cautiously. ‘I am distressed at our failure to do so. It can only mean that we have someone among us who adds lies to lechery.’

‘There is one sure way to expose him, Nick.’

‘Is there?’

‘Yes,’ said Firethorn cheerily. ‘Wait until the child is born. If it speaks in Welsh, then Owen Elias is our man. If it has aristocratic poise, Sylvester Pryde is unmasked. And if it has a face like a full moon and sighs like a furnace, then it is Edmund Hoode who has been a-leaping.’

‘I think you will find it is none of them.’

‘Whoever he is, he cannot hide for ever. I rely on you, Nick.’ He punched Nicholas playfully on the arm. ‘You will root him out in the end.’

‘Someone may do that office for me.’

‘Who is that?’

‘Our landlord’s wife,’ said Nicholas. ‘She will hound her daughter until she gets the name out of her. Rose Marwood is in desperate straits. Prisoners at the Tower endure a milder interrogation than the one the girl must weather.’

‘God’s lid!’ exclaimed Firethorn putting both hands to his face and shivering with horror. ‘I have just had a gruesome thought.’

‘What is it?’

‘Suppose that the child bears a resemblance to either of the girl’s parents? Suppose it has the same unsightly features as Marwood and his wife? It was better to drown the monster at birth in the Thames. No child should be forced to go through life with such a cruel handicap. Have you ever seen two such hideous human beings in one marriage?’

‘They are not well-favoured,’ said Nicholas tactfully.

‘Yet they are very well-matched. Duplicate ghouls.’ He gave a shudder. ‘You are right, Nick. Rose’s predicament is dire. How can she hold out against them? Her parents only have to leer at the girl and they will fright the name of her lover out of her.’

Sybil Marwood hovered over her daughter like a giant eagle, pecking away at her with painful questions and constant reproach.

‘For the last time, Rose,’ she said, ‘who is he?’

‘I cannot tell you, mother.’

‘Stop protecting the knave!’

‘I gave him my word,’ bleated the girl piteously. ‘I have to honour my promise.’

‘Honour!’ shouted Sybil. ‘You dare to talk of honour! Have you so soon forgot your Ten Commandments? Honour thy father and mother. The Bible enjoins us so. Yet you have dishonoured us in the most dreadful way. And now you make our suffering all the worse by lying to us.’

‘I have not lied, mother.’

‘Then what else have you done?’

‘Told you the truth.’

‘Half of it,’ said her mother angrily, ‘and the worse half at that. The half we do not know concerns the father. Now cease this prevarication and surrender his name.’

‘It is a secret that must remain locked away.’

‘Rose!’

‘I am sorry, mother.’

‘Stop torturing me like this.’

‘It is you who is torturing me.’

‘I have been sainted,’ blustered the other.

‘You and father have done nothing but revile and condemn me,’ whined the girl. ‘This was not intended to happen. It was a terrible accident. I am frightened to death by it. I hoped for some comfort from my mother, at least, but you have been a greater scourge than father. I can take no more of it. Leave me be. Please . Leave me be!’

Rose Marwood flung herself on the bed in a flood of tears. She was utterly distraught. They were in her bedchamber, an attic room with only meagre light permitted through the small window. Rose was still in her night attire, forbidden even to stir outside the door, lest her shame be seen and voiced abroad and lest her example somehow corrupted the maidservants. A girl who had been a dutiful and obedient daughter until now had brought scandal and disgrace to the Queen’s Head.

The initial shock had sent her mother into a frenzy of recrimination but that shock was slowly wearing off. As she saw the pathetic figure before her, sobbing convulsively, on the edge of despair, even Sybil’s flinty heart began to crack a little. Maternal instinct, which had hitherto produced nothing more than a long list of rules to govern her daughter’s conduct and safeguard her chastity, now prompted a softer and more caring approach. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Sybil put a clumsy arm around Rose’s shoulder.

‘There, there!’ she soothed. ‘Do not cry so.’

‘I am terrified, mother.’

‘We are here to help you.’

‘But you have treated me so harshly.’

‘That was wrong of us,’ admitted Sybil, stifling the urge to remind Rose of the gravity of her offence. ‘These are grim tidings, to be sure, but you are still our daughter and you should be able to turn to us for some kindness.’

Rose lifted her head to look up with tentative gratitude, only half-believing what she had just heard. Her mother so rarely touched her that she felt like a stranger. Sybil took one more step towards true maternalism by enfolding her in a warm embrace and rocking her gently. Because it was such a novel situation for both of them, neither knew quite what to say but some of the damage in their relationship was gradually repaired during the long silence.

When she sensed it, Sybil tried to take advantage of it.

‘You were such a beautiful baby,’ she recalled fondly.

‘Was I?’

‘Yes, Rose. You were adorable. Your father and I did our best for you and brought you up to lead a Christian life. You were a credit to us.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘Until now.’

‘I’m sorry, mother. I’m so sorry. I would not hurt you or father for the world.’

‘I know, I know.’

‘It has been an ordeal,’ she continued. ‘A horrid nightmare that has kept me awake night after night. I had no idea what was happening to me. I thought I was sick or even dying. I feared that it was a punishment for my sins. It was only when I went to see the physician that he told me the truth. Do you know what I did, mother?’