The Murderer Inside the Mirror, page 24
In spite of the grimness of everything, Tansy smiled, because it was the instinctive player, taking on Ben Barley’s role, speaking with a tinge of Irish brogue. She relaxed, then suddenly wondered if he intended to kiss her again, or if it had simply been something he had done in the cellar in the remarkable emotion of the moment.
‘Of course I intend to kiss you again,’ said Timon, and smiled, and said, ‘You have a very expressive face,’ and bent over her once more.
But when he finally released her, he said, suddenly, ‘I’m not going to lose you, am I? Because I don’t know how I’d bear that.’
Tansy did not dare say – not yet – that she would not bear losing him, either. Instead, she said, carefully, ‘You don’t need to lose me. Unless you think I’m too young for you.’
‘I don’t think that at all.’ One hand came out to trace the outlines of her face, as if he wanted to absorb her through his fingertips. ‘I’m afraid of losing you because you’re a Fitzglen,’ he said.
They looked at one another for a long time. Then Tansy said, in a whisper, ‘How did you know?’ It did not occur to her to deny it. Not to Timon, who in any case appeared to have the ability to step into her mind and pick up her feelings. ‘Oh, wait, though – did you hear that woman in the cellar call me that? Although how she could have known—’
‘I didn’t hear her say anything,’ said Timon. ‘But I knew who you were almost from the first. Because, my dearest, absurd Mimi, around fifteen years ago a young, naïve, wide-eyed boy sat in the Amaranth theatre and saw on its stage a lady who lit up the entire auditorium with her acting. A lady who had your eyes and your colouring and your voice. And your delight in life. I never forgot her.’
Tansy stared at him, then in a half-whisper, said, ‘My mother. Did you know her?’ she said, eagerly. ‘Meet her?’
‘No. The famous enmity between the two families was already well established. But,’ he said, with an air of choosing his words with care, ‘I was genuinely sad when I heard of her death. In Canada, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes. She and my father were touring.’
‘A great loss,’ he said. ‘But it meant I recognized you. What I don’t know, is your real name.’
‘Um, it’s Tansy.’
‘Tansy.’ He appeared to savour the name, then said, ‘I would never have thought of that for you.’
‘As a matter of fact,’ said Tansy, realizing crossly that she had turned bright red, ‘it’s really Thomasina, only nobody ever uses it, and I don’t think many people know.’
She looked at him anxiously. It was not the moment to tell him she had been named for Highwayman Harry’s daughter, the infamous Thomasina Fitzglen, who had filched a pair of miniatures from the King of Prussia’s entourage when he was visiting George III.
But Timon only said, gravely, ‘I promise never to tell.’ The smile came again, and he said, ‘To me you will always be Mimi.’ He paused, then said, slowly, ‘How likely is it that your family will let you step into wedded bliss with someone who’s part of the enemy?’
Wedded bliss … Tansy stared at him.
‘We’ve only known one another a short time,’ he said, ‘but I knew at once …’
‘I knew at once, too,’ said Tansy, and he smiled.
‘Shall I try to persuade them, then?’ he said. ‘Your family? And if I can … Would you accept it if I can?’
Delight was running all over Tansy. She said, in as down-to-earth a voice as she could manage, ‘Oh, yes, I would accept. Please – Timon, please – let’s try to persuade them.’
TWENTY-SEVEN
Gus always experienced a jab of apprehension at the sight of a telegram – horrible orange things, which everyone associated with bad news. Opening the door of Mr Jack’s rooms this morning, he was alarmed to be handed two of the doomful items.
‘The boy asked if he should wait for an answer,’ he said, carrying both missives into the sitting room, where Mr Jack was studying a playscript. ‘But I said not.’
‘Tansy?’ said Mr Jack, taking the two envelopes. ‘But wouldn’t she have telephoned the theatre if something had happened? Don’t go, Gus, if there’s bad news, I’d rather have someone with me when I read it.’
He read the first telegram aloud, then read it a second time, because it was so astonishing, he was not sure he had entirely taken it in.
TO MR JACK FITZGLEN
YOUR COUSIN TANSY WELL AND SAFE BUT INVOLVED IN DISTRESSING DEATH AT ROSCIUS LAST NIGHT STOP BELIEVE SHE WOULD WELCOME YOUR PRESENCE HERE IF POSSIBLE STOP CAN BOOK YOU INTO HOTEL PLEASE ADVISE STOP LETTER FOLLOWING KINDEST REGARDS TIMON GILFILLAN.
Jack stared at the thin sheet of paper, and finally said, ‘At least he starts by saying Tansy’s all right. But – distressing death. What on earth can have happened?’
‘Whatever it is, Mr Gilfillan knows who she is,’ offered Gus.
‘Yes, and probably why she’s there. He says there’s a letter to follow – that would arrive tomorrow, I expect. The second telegram’s probably from Tansy,’ said Jack, opening the envelope.
TO MR JACK FITZGLEN
I AM FINE DO NOT WORRY TIMON GILFILLAN WRITING YOU BEST LOVE TANSY.
‘Have we got a Bradshaw?’ said Mr Jack, going over to his bookshelves. ‘Something with the times of trains to Liverpool and ferries across to Dublin.’
‘We’re going to Ireland?’ said Gus, trying not to sound too dismayed.
‘Sorry, old boy, but it’s necessary. I always meant to get there before the festival’s first night, anyway. You’d better pack. Oh, and will you take a note over to Byron? I daresay he’ll want to come as well – oh, wait, though, he’s in this week’s piece. But he could follow on Sunday.’
Gus said, ‘Will it mean going on the ferry, Mr Jack?’
‘I’m afraid it will.’
‘Then,’ said Gus, resignedly, ‘I’d better take a pot of Miss Cecily’s gooseberry jelly.’
‘Gooseberry jelly?’ said Jack, who had been reaching for pen and paper to write the note to Byron.
‘Miss Cecily,’ said Gus, gloomily, ‘swears by gooseberry jelly as a cure for seasickness.’
Halfway between Liverpool and Dublin, Gus discovered that the gooseberry jelly had been a waste of time.
‘Bounced, did it?’ said Mr Jack, sympathetically. ‘I’ll order half a bottle of champagne. They say the fizziness helps.’
‘I’ll get hiccups.’
‘Better hiccups than being sick over the side of the boat.’
Remarkably, the champagne worked, and Gus was able to step off the ferry with reasonable dignity, and help with their luggage.
Mr Jack had sent a telegram to Mr Gilfillan, accepting the offer of a hotel room. It turned out to be the one in which Mr Gilfillan – also Miss Viola and Mr Florian Gilfillan – were staying.
‘And Tansy as well,’ said Jack, pointing to an entry in the register when they arrived and checked in at reception. ‘It sounds as if the Gilfillans are looking after her very well—’
‘I couldn’t be better looked after if I was royalty,’ said a delighted voice behind them, and there was Tansy, hugging Jack. ‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ she said. ‘Watching the street and dashing out to greet the most unlikely people. I’m so glad to see you.’
But when Jack asked what on earth had been happening, Tansy said she would leave it to Timon to explain.
‘It’s dreadfully sad in parts, but he’ll explain it much better than I could. He hopes you’ll dine with him in the restaurant here tonight, and he’ll tell you everything. He’s booked a table for eight o’clock.’
‘I didn’t think, at the start of all this, I’d find myself dining with the enemy,’ said Jack.
‘Oh, he’s not the enemy,’ said Tansy.
Jack was increasingly curious to meet Timon Gilfillan, who had figured so frequently in Tansy’s letters, and who was often said by critics to be one of the leading actor managers of the day. He was glad he had told Gus to pack his dinner jacket. It was not that he especially wanted to impress Timon, or any Gilfillan, and he was certainly not wondering whether Viola might be present. In fact, when he entered the restaurant he was quite glad not to see her, because it would be easier to talk to Timon with just the two of them and Tansy there.
Gilfillan was waiting for him, Tansy at his side. Jack, who had only seen him in newspaper photographs and never on a stage, thought he had an air of quiet authority. At first, he thought Timon was older than he had expected, but when he smiled Jack revised his opinion and thought he was much younger.
Tansy had clearly jettisoned Tilly Fendle; she was wearing a very stylish outfit, which was unlikely to have been part of the Fendle wardrobe, so it looked as if she had gone into one of the Dublin shops to purchase a ready-made outfit. The result was a pleasing combination of amber silk and what looked like topaz jewellery.
As Timon embarked on an account of the attack inside the Roscius, and the identification of the attacker as Phelan Rafferty’s daughter, Tansy listened absorbedly, but Jack noticed that when she did speak, Timon at once turned to listen to her. He liked this.
They had reached the dessert stage before the story was finished, and Jack said, thoughtfully, ‘Miss Rafferty was trying to prevent you staging the piece, wasn’t she?’
‘It’s what we think,’ said Timon. ‘The police – Garda I should say, shouldn’t I? – suggested the original plan was to injure someone enough to create an investigation. Which would have delayed – perhaps even prevented entirely – the performance.’
‘Did she want to do that because she knew it was her father’s play?’ said Jack. ‘Or because she knew it wasn’t?’
‘Whichever it was, she recognized me – right at the end,’ said Tansy. ‘It was dreadful, Jack – it was as if her mind had suddenly been wrenched off its hinges. I was bending over her, saying I would get help, and she stared up at me and said, Fitzglen, in a hate-filled, accusing kind of voice, and something about me knowing. But I don’t know what she meant I knew.’ She shivered slightly and Jack saw Timon take her hand briefly.
‘We don’t know why she went to such lengths,’ said Timon. ‘And it’s unlikely we ever will. Jack – you do realize that I don’t know where that script came from?’
Jack said, carefully, ‘Someone must know.’
‘It isn’t me. And neither Viola nor I thought there was anything detrimental or scandalous in it.’
‘There still could be something, though,’ said Jack. ‘Something you wouldn’t recognize. Something that might go back several years. Miss Rafferty might have known about it and wanted to stop it coming out.’
‘But detrimental to who?’ Timon made an impatient gesture. ‘You’ll have to read the thing, of course,’ he said, and Jack remembered how he had flinched from reading the play when he found it in Montague’s house.
But that was before I knew Thomas or Catherine, he thought, and he heard himself say, ‘I hoped you’d say that. Does it mean we’re calling a truce?’
‘Temporary cessation of hostilities, perhaps? And on that subject,’ said Timon, ‘I have to talk to you about something else.’
He glanced at Tansy, and Jack had the impression they both drew a deep breath, as if about to plunge into something extremely difficult. He looked at Tansy, whose face was glowing with more happiness than he had ever seen, and guessed what was coming. What he did not know was how he was going to react. But he was already remembering how distraught she had been when her parents were killed, and he remembered, too, that she was lovely and warm and kind and talented, and he knew he would never be able to put anything in the way of her happiness. Even with a Gilfillan? said his mind.
Timon had taken Tansy’s hand again. ‘You already know what I’m going to say, don’t you?’ he said, and Jack was aware, not for the first time in the evening, of the man’s perceptive mind. ‘We should like your blessing, Jack – and that of your whole family, of course. I think it might need your permission, as well.’ He considered Jack, then said, ‘I expect we can omit the obvious Montague and Capulet lines, can’t we? “Two houses, both alike in dignity”.’
Jack regarded him, then looked at Tansy again. ‘How about, “For this alliance may so happy prove, to turn your households’ rancour to pure love”?’ he said.
‘Wouldn’t it be more like a plague called down on both houses?’ said Timon, dryly.
‘They’ll certainly raise objections,’ said Jack. ‘Led, I suspect, by my Great Uncle Rudraige.’
‘And you?’
Jack smiled. ‘I can deal with Rudraige. And, “Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediment”.’
There was a brief pause, then Timon said, ‘I’m extremely glad to hear you say that,’ and the youthful smile showed again. ‘Even though I am possibly slightly mature for Romeo,’ he added.
‘It never shows from the front and with good make-up,’ said Jack, gravely. It’s all right, he thought, as Timon shook his hand warmly. I wouldn’t have wanted a Gilfillan for her, but I think with this particular Gilfillan, it will be very much all right.
Tansy had leapt out of her seat to hug Jack. ‘And we’ll deal with Uncle Rudraige perfectly easily, and Cousin Cecily will be in transports.’
Timon was refilling the wine glasses. He said, ‘Jack, I think we need to get something else out of the way.’ He paused, then said, ‘I know about your family’s other profession.’
They looked at one another, and at last Jack said, ‘I’m not sure how to answer that.’
‘Perhaps a dignified and discreet silence on both sides might better.’
‘You do know there are lines over which none of us will ever step?’ said Jack.
‘I think I do. That makes it almost acceptable.’
‘This must be one of the strangest conversations I’ve ever had,’ said Jack. ‘Does anyone else in your family know?’
‘Viola probably does,’ said Timon. ‘It’s never been mentioned, though. Nor will it be, I suspect.’
He seemed about to say something else, when Tansy said, ‘Oh – here is Viola now,’ and Jack turned to see Viola Gilfillan regarding him.
She sat down in the chair that Timon pulled forward, and said, ‘I’ve brought the script of The Murderer in the Mirror. We both thought you’d better finally read it, Jack.’ She glanced at Timon and at Tansy, then said, ‘Can I bring congratulations to the star-crossed lovers, as well?’
‘You can,’ said Timon. ‘And in fact … God in heaven, look who’s just arrived. What the devil do those two want?’
Jack turned, startled, to see two figures walking towards their table.
‘“Spirits of health or goblins damn’d”?’ murmured Viola.
‘“And in such questionable shapes”,’ put in Tansy. ‘Jack, it’s Florian and Chloris.’
‘So I see. But are their intents “wicked or charitable”?’
Timon glanced at Jack. ‘It’s so good,’ he said, ‘to be in company with someone who picks up the—’
‘Unconsidered trifles of Bardic-ness?’
‘Something like that.’ He grinned, and Jack tried not think it was shockingly disloyal to his own family to like the man so much. Then he looked at Tansy’s shining eyes, and did not care.
Timon introduced Jack and Chloris. ‘And Florian I believe you already know.’
‘Our paths have occasionally crossed,’ said Florian, graciously.
‘Most recently at the wake of my great uncle, Montague Fitzglen,’ said Jack, cordially.
‘But I am afraid this is by way of being a business meeting,’ said Florian.
He clearly expected Jack to take this as his cue to leave, but when Jack stood up, Timon waved him down. ‘Florian, you’d better know that Jack is about to become linked to this family—’
‘I’m very sorry to hear that,’ said Florian, coldly.
‘Are you? The rest of us are extremely pleased. But it means anything you want to say can be said openly. I expect you’ll have a drink, will you? Yes, I thought you would.’
‘I will take a small potation,’ said Florian. ‘Have you any Calvados, waiter? No, I didn’t expect so. Armagnac will do, then. Chloris, my dear, you’ll have the same, I daresay?’
‘Purely restorative,’ said Chloris in a die-away voice, and Tansy grinned at Jack.
Florian sipped his brandy, then said, heavily, ‘I have been very much distressed by what happened in the Roscius. Chloris was distressed as well. You see, I had known the – ah – lady. Miss Ethne Rafferty.’
Timon said, ‘The lady you mentioned as having been the “love of your youth”?’
‘That is a very unfeeling thing to say, Timon.’
‘Not when you remember she tried to brutally murder Tansy,’ said Viola, at once. Jack thought she brought out the name very deliberately.
But Florian said, ‘Possibly there was some confusion. A gentle soul she was, Ethne Rafferty. But now, I am not sure how I can continue with the piece after such a blow to my senses. The memories …’ He reached for Chloris’s hand, and Chloris said,
‘There is also the fact that blame must lie with – with this lady,’ she said, glaring at Tansy. ‘Whatever her real name is.’
‘Tansy Fitzglen,’ said Timon, at once. ‘And Chloris, you and Florian are both talking utter rot.’
Jack was unexpectedly and rather endearingly reminded of Great Uncle Rudraige.
‘No, we are not,’ said Florian. ‘She – damme, Timon, she’s practised trickery of the highest order.’
‘False pretences,’ nodded Chloris. ‘She even read in as Mimi. The impudence of it.’
‘When you were unable to attend a rehearsal,’ said Timon.
‘I was unwell,’ said Chloris, placing one hand to her brow. ‘But I was told afterwards that you admired her reading of the part very much.’
