“Who is Henry Darcie?” Stackpole asked, as Smythe led the distraught Elizabeth back inside the room and shut the door.
“Only one of the principal investors,” Speed replied.
“What, in the company?” said Shakespeare.
“In the playhouse itself,” Speed replied. “Henry Darcie is one of the principal investors in the Burbage Theatre.”
Shakespeare groaned. “Oh, no.”
“Wait a moment,” said Kemp. “I remember now! That was the same girl who was here before. She was the one with Smythe in… oh, no!”
“Will,” said Speed, “Sweet Will, pray tell us he did not bed the daughter of one of the Theatre’s principal investors.”
“He did not bed the daughter of one of the Theatre’s principal investors,” Shakespeare replied.
“Oh, no,” said Speed, shutting his eyes. “And now he’s got her mixed up in some murder?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Speed!” Shakespeare replied. “She was here earlier this evening and left calmly, with her virtue intact, I am assured, without any talk of death or murder, and since then, Smythe has been in our presence all night long! Use your head, man! This is something that has happened only since she left!”
“But who is it that’s been murdered?” Kemp asked. “And where? And how? And what has she to do with it? More to the point, what have we to do with it?”
“I imagine Tuck is attempting to ascertain those very things even as we speak,” said Shakespeare. “In any event, we are not going to learn anything by congregating in the corridor. I suggest we all repair downstairs until Tuck can speak with her and then tell us what has transpired.”
They all trooped downstairs, where Stackpole opened up the bar and, behind shuttered windows, they sat anxiously, drinking ale by candlelight and discussing what to do. They decided that Dick Burbage should be informed as soon as possible, and John Fleming, too, since both were shareholders of the company and Dick’s father was in business with Henry Darcie. A couple of the hired men were at once dispatched to their homes. Otherwise, they did not yet know anything about the murder that Elizabeth had spoken of, such as who has been killed or how or where, but foremost in all their minds was the singular fact that one of their ostlers, and to all intents and purposes, one of their company, for Shakespeare had arranged a part for Smythe as a hired man, had become involved with the daughter of one of the principal investors in the Burbage Theatre.
Save for Smythe and Shakespeare, who were still new with the company, Hency Darcie was well known to them all. A wealthy merchant who, along with James Burbage’s in-laws, had invested heavily in the construction of the playhouse, he received as a shareholder of the Theatre, as opposed to of the company, a portion of the profits. Before any of them got paid, Hency Darcie got paid and as such, he was a very important person in all of their lives. James Burbage, Richard’s father and the owner of the playhouse, owed a great deal to Henry Darcie, and if-as it certainly appeared to all-Smythe had indeed ruined his daughter, who was, as Speed seemed to recall, betrothed to some nobleman, there would certainly be hell to pay.
“Oh, of all the bloody wenches he could have pronged, why in God’s name did he have to choose Henry Darcie’s daughter?” Kemp moaned, putting his head in his hands and overacting, as usual. “We are undone! We are all undone!”
“Well, for one thing, ‘tis not so certain that ‘twas Smythe who did the choosing,” Shakespeare said. “Remember, I was there when she arrived. ‘Twas she who came knocking on our door in search of him, and insisted upon waiting for him to return while I went to deliver my rewrite of the play.”
“And you let her stay?” Kemp said, in a tone of outrage. “Alone in an inn, in a room shared by two men, unchaperoned?”
“Well, if she were alone, then she would be unchaperoned, wouldn’t she?” Shakespeare replied.
“You can save your poet’s word games, you know damned well what I mean!” said Kemp, angrily. “ ‘Twas your fault, then, that this whole miserable event happened in the first place!”
“How exactly do you arrive at that ridiculous conclusion?” Shakespeare countered. “How was I supposed to know whose daughter she was? I had never even heard of Henry Darcie. On the other hand, when she first arrived here and went up to our room, every single one of you was right here, wassailing and gorging yourselves on bread and cheese and meat pasties, toasting the success of the last performance. Which, I might add, would have been a miserable failure had I not doctored up your play for you.”
“Oh, I see! So now ‘tis you who are the savior of the company, is that it?” replied Kemp. “Why, you insolent young puppy-”
“Be quiet, Kemp, for Heaven’s sake!” interrupted Speed. “This is getting us nowhere. For one thing, the play was not working, and he fixed it. And I, for one, did not hear anyone disputing that fact after the performance. For another, our friend, Shakespeare, is absolutely right. We were all here, Dick and John included, when the girl arrived and asked for Smythe and none of us paid her any mind. ‘Twas not as if Elizabeth Darcie had never attended the Theatre before. She had been to many of our performances together with her father and she had met us all. We simply were not paying attention. We all saw her, but we did not notice her, because we were all much too busy celebrating.”
Kemp snorted. “Well, I cannot go paying attention to every wench who happens to pass by!”
“You pay no attention to any of them,” Speed replied, wryly, “and we all know why.”
“The question is, what are you lot going to do now?” asked Stackpole. “The girl’s parents are going to be concerned that she is missing. The sheriff’s men may be called out.”
“Oh, that is all we need!” wailed Kemp. “We shall all wind up in the Marshalsea!”
“No one is going to prison,” Shakespeare said. “None of us has done anything wrong. Smythe, admittedly, looks to be somewhat at risk, but the rest of us have not broken any laws.”
“It makes no difference,” Kemp said. “Henry Darcie has influential friends. Powerful friends. He shall have the playhouse shut down and we shall all be out of work!”
“As a principal investor, if he has the Theatre shut down, then he only ends up taking money out of his own pocket,” Shakespeare said. “And I have never known a merchant willing to do that.”
Before long, Fleming and young Burbage both arrived. When they’d heard what happened and whose daughter was involved, they had wasted no time in getting there. They were quickly informed of what had transpired in their absence. By that time, Smythe rejoined them. He was alone. No sooner had he come into the tavern than they all surrounded him, peppering him with questions and accusations.