Much Ado About Murder

“Indeed, he had,” Darcie replied, nodding emphatically. “And he was most anxious to proceed. Unlike most people, he did not hesitate to make decisions. I saw that quality in him and was encouraged by it. He would weigh an opportunity, assess the potential advantages and risks, and then proceed without wasting any time. As I have said, ‘tis a great pity that things turned out the way they did. We had discussed the possibility of partnership in several ventures.” He shook his head again, in resignation. “He was excited to be making a new start in London, anxious to take advantage of the opportunity to be a partner in the Theatre, and to explore other avenues, as well. Now, all his hopes and dreams have been snuffed out, just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

“Do you know if Master Leonardo had planned any other business ventures, that is to say, other than those he had discussed as possibilities of partnership with you?” Smythe asked.

“I suppose ‘tis entirely possible he may have had such plans, but if so, he did not mention them to me,” said Darcie. “He did not strike me as the sort of man to limit himself. His interests seemed varied and diverse.” He frowned. “Why, what the devil are you getting at, Smythe?”

“Well, sir, I was merely wondering if he might have been involved with anyone in some venture that might have gone amiss in some way,” Smythe replied. “Something of that sort could possibly have been a motive in his murder.”

“Whatever do you mean? I was under the impression that the murderer had already been placed under arrest,” said Darcie, frowning. “ ‘Twas that young goldsmith who had desired to marry Hera, was it not?”

“Corwin was, indeed, arrested this morning, as you have already heard,” Shakespeare said, “but he did protest his innocence most strenuously. And he has friends who believe firmly in his innocence, as well, among them Master Peters, whom you know.”

Darcie grunted. “Aye, well, the lad was his apprentice, after all, and a valued journeyman in his shop. A skilled artisan, by all accounts, whose work was in considerable demand.”

“Are you suggesting that Master Peters may have a selfish motive for his stated belief in Corwin’s innocence?” asked Shakespeare.

“Why, does that not seem possible to you?” asked Darcie.

“Well, I suppose ‘tis possible,” Shakespeare replied. “Master Peters does seem quite fond of Corwin.”

“Well, there you have it, then,” Darcie said, with a shrug. “The young man wanted the daughter; the father disapproved; tempers ran hot-these Italians often get that way, I understand-and the next thing you know, blades are drawn and blood is spilt.”

“You say the father disapproved of him?” asked Smythe, with some surprise.

“Fathers do not always approve of the young men their daughters choose,” said Darcie, wryly, with a glance at Smythe.

Smythe ignored both the well-placed barb and the pointed look. “How very curious,” he said. “I was under the impression that Master Leonardo had not only approved of Corwin, but had already given his consent to the match,” he said.

Darcie raised his eyebrows. “Indeed? Where did you hear that?”

Smythe turned to Shakespeare. “Where did we hear that?”

“We have it on the word of Master Peters,” Shakespeare said.

“Is that so?” said Darcie. “Hmm. I had not known that.”

“Betimes, fathers do approve their daughters’ choices,” Smythe said with a straight face, unable to resist.

“Well, then I cannot imagine why the young fool would have killed him.”

“ ‘Twould seem that there was some sort of accusation concerning the young lady’s virtue,” Shakespeare said. “When he came to the theatre, looking for Ben Dickens, Corwin had informed me that he was going to Master Leonardo’s house to break off the engagement.”

“Odd’s blood!” said Darcie. “I had heard none of this at all! I had not even known that there was a formal engagement, much less any question concerning Hera’s virtue!”

“Had she said nothing to you about the matter?” Smythe asked, frowning.

“I should say not!” Darcie said. “S’trewth, the girl scarcely speaks at all. She speaks only to Elizabeth and keeps her eyes so downcast, ‘tis a wonder she can see where she is going. Not that I can fault her for her modesty. ‘Tis a manner most demure and most becoming in a woman. I would not find it amiss if some of it should rub off on Elizabeth. Why, the very thought of such a girl having her virtue brought into question…” He snorted with derision. “ ‘Tis an absurdity! I simply cannot credit it.”

“Yet ‘twould seem that Corwin could,” said Shakespeare.

“If so, then his love for her was fickle,” Darcie said.

“Perhaps. Or else so overwhelming that it overcame his reason,” Smythe said.

“Aye, friendship is constant in all other things save in the office and affairs of love,” mused Shakespeare.