The Amorous Nightingale

by Edward Marston

  'It is disgraceful! Wholly, utterly and inexcusably disgraceful!'

  'Don't take it so personally.'

  'How else am I to take it, Christopher? I've never suffered such embarrassment in my entire life. I, Henry Redmayne, a loyal servant to the Crown, a dedicated employee of the Navy Office. I've eaten with the King, drunk with him, gambled with him, walked with him, played tennis with him, watched plays with him, bowed and scraped before him at Court a hundred times and done just about everything else a man can do to curry his favour. Heavens!' he said, waving his arms like the sails of a windmill. 'We're practically on intimate terms. He calls me by name, knows me by reputation. And what does all this add up to in the end?'

  'Try to rise above it, Henry.'

  'Rejection! Total rejection!'

  'That's not how I see it,' argued Christopher.

  His brother was inconsolable. 'I know rejection when I feel it,' he howled. 'It's pure agony. You could hear it in His Majesty's voice, sense it in Will Chiffinch's manner. They give me no credit whatsoever. In their estimation, I am the lowest of the low, a messenger, a runner of errands, a base and unconsidered bearer of tidings.'

  'You found me,' reminded Christopher. 'That was crucial.'

  'Yes,' agreed Henry, 'but as soon as I did that, I was discarded. Cast aside. Abused. Insulted. Shamefully maltreated. Did I get any thanks? Did I earn any respect? No. It was akin to slow torture!'

  Christopher let him rail on for another five minutes. Henry was still smarting so much from what he saw as his own humiliation that he could think of nobody else. After their interview at the Palace, they had returned to the house in Bedford Street to examine the situation and work out a plan of action. Henry was in such a state that he had to be given a cordial by one of his servants. Left alone with his brother in the drawing room, Christopher thought it best to let Henry's ire spend itself in a series of impotent protests. Fatigue eventually set in. Henry's voice became a mere croak and his body lost all its animation. He barely had the strength to remove his wig. Rational discussion could at last begin.

  'Let us start with the key factor here,' suggested Christopher. 'Mrs Harriet Gow has been kidnapped. I think we should put aside personal concerns and address ourselves solely to that emergency.'

  'But that is what I wished to do, Christopher. I revere that woman as much as anybody. I drool over her. It hurts me to think that she is in any kind of danger. Yet am I allowed to come to her aid?'

  'Yes, Henry.'

  'No. You listened to what Will Chiffinch said. I'm a disregarded bystander here. My opinion counts for nothing. When that hulking coachman told his tale, I was not even allowed to ask him a question. They've gagged me.'

  'Remove the gag.'

  'I was treated like dirt.'

  'In that case, only one remedy will suffice,' said Christopher. 'You must prove them wrong, Henry. You must show that you're worthy of their respect and admiration. And the best way to do that is to help me in this daunting task of finding Harriet Gow.'

  'You already have a partner in that enterprise.'

  'Do I?'

  'Yes. That plodding constable of yours, Mr Jonathan Bale. A stone-faced Puritan, if ever I saw one. He'd arrest a man for simply thinking about pleasure, let alone actually indulging in it.'

  'You're being unfair to him. Mr Bale has fine qualities.'

  'I've no use for them.'

  'Well, I do, Henry. So does His Majesty. That's why he wants Mr Bale involved in this business. We two can achieve much together, but there are things that would be of enormous help to us. Things that only you could do.'

  Henry jumped up from his chair. 'So that's all I am, is it?' he complained with renewed bitterness. 'Not even a royal messenger any more - but a constable's lackey!'

  'Of course not.'

  'My brother leads the search, Mr Bale blunders along in his footsteps, and there am I, ignobly bringing up the rear.'

  'Nonsense!' said Christopher, adopting a firmer tone. 'This is a matter of life and death, Henry. Shake off your self-pity just for once and think about someone else. Keep the image of Harriet Gow before your eyes,' he urged, 'imprisoned by enemies. When I ask you to help us, I do so because I know how valuable your contribution will be, every bit as valuable as the one that I or Mr Bale could possibly make. We are equal partners here, all three of us.'

  'Oh well, that's different,' said Henry, partially mollified.

  'You are quite indispensable.'

  'Am I?'

  'Yes, Henry. Your assistance is critical. If we are successful, you will reap corresponding rewards. Think how impressed His Majesty will be with you. How much you'll astound Mr Chiffinch. And, most of all, what gratitude Harriet Gow will heap upon you.'

  Henry was convinced. 'I'm yours,' he volunteered readily. 'Just tell me what to do.'

  'First of all, give me your impression of what we've so far heard.'

  'But I could make neither head nor tail of it, Christopher.'

  'Go through it again now. Search for the logic.'

  'Is there any?' wondered his brother, scratching his head. 'Harriet Gow is abducted. A ransom note is sent to the Palace. Five thousand pounds is demanded for the safe return of the lady.'

  'That sounds logical enough.'

  'Does it? Then you are not acquainted with the royal finances. They are in a parlous condition. His Majesty does not possess five hundred pounds, let alone five thousand. Every time he wants the most paltry sum, he's forced to go cap in hand to Parliament. There's simply no money to be had, Christopher. The Dutch War has bankrupted us.'

  'But hostilities are now at an end.'

  'Only because we were forced to sue for peace. Don't remind me of it,' Henry groaned, putting a palm to his brow. 'It was excruciating. But a few short months ago, the Dutch not only broke through our defences in the Medway, they sailed on to Chatham, sank three ships, towed away the Royal Charles, the pride of our Navy, raided Sheppey and destroyed the fort at Sheerness. It was my blackest day at the Navy Office. Crude as his metaphors always are, Sir William Batten was right. The Devil shits Dutchmen. We were well and truly buried in the ordure.'

  'Come back to the ransom.'

  'There is no way that His Majesty can pay it.'

  'Not even when the life of a lady is at stake?'

  'Especially then. It's one thing to beg money from Parliament for essential expenditure, but they would turn a deaf ear to any requests concerning one of his mistresses. Besides,' Henry observed, 'the terms of the ransom note were explicit. The transaction is to be kept secret. How can that happen if the House of Commons is involved?'

  'I can see His Majesty's dilemma.'

  'It is rather more complicated than that.'

  'I know. There is the small matter of the Queen.'

  'Her Majesty is the least of his worries. Other ladies bulk larger in his life than she does. Lady Castlemaine is the worst of them, as grasping and greedy a woman as ever clambered into the royal bed. A real viper when she is roused. Were it not for the fact that she would be more likely to kill than ransom Harriet Gow, I would not put it past her to be the author of this whole conspiracy.'

  'Now we are getting somewhere!'

  'Are we?'

  'Cui bono: who stands to gain?'

  'Lady Castlemaine would certainly gain from the removal of her chief rival, but she is not the only one. His Majesty spreads his favours far and wide. There are a number of ladies who would be heartily glad to have Harriet Gow removed from her pinnacle.'

  'Make a list of them, Henry.'

  'It may be quite a long one.'

  'Every name is important. We'll work our way through them. But there's another area we must explore,' said Christopher, thinking it through as he circled the room. 'Her work at the theatre. Find out who her closest friends were. Ask when and where they last saw Mrs Gow. Sound them out about any potential enemies she may have. Oh, and above all else, speak to the manager.'

  'Tom Killigrew?'

  '
He may give us valuable clues.'

  'He'll be too busy tearing out his hair when he hears the news. Harriet Gow fills the theatre for him. Without her, his business will go slack. I don't relish passing on the bad tidings.'

  'Then don't do so. Discretion is imperative here. Simply tell Mr Killigrew that Mrs Gow is indisposed. That's all he needs to hear.'

  'When hundreds of playgoers are banging on his door, demanding to know why she does not appear on stage? What is the poor man to say? I must tell him something, Christopher.'

  'Explain that she has been called away unexpectedly.'

  'By the men who kidnapped her?'

  'No!' exclaimed Christopher. 'Don't breathe a word on the subject. You read that ransom note. Break silence and you imperil Mrs Gow.'

  'I'd hate to do that.'

  'Then be ruled by me.'

  'As you wish.'

  'Start with Mr Killigrew. See what you can learn from him. Then talk to anyone at the theatre who was close to Mrs Gow. Do it carefully, Henry. Go armed and watch your back.'

  'Why?'

  'Brutal men are involved. You saw what they did to Roland the coachman. He was hired for his strength yet they got the better of him.' He recalled the sight of the battered servant. 'By the way, what did you make of the fellow?'

  'I wouldn't care to bump into him on a dark night.'

  'Nor I,' admitted Christopher. 'Trigg was a most unprepossessing character. Yet he seemed to be devoted to Mrs Gow and she must have found him satisfactory to put up with that ugly face of his. All that I'll venture is this: I'm grateful that Roland Trigg is on our side in this affair. I sense that he'd make a formidable enemy.'

  'We may have enough of those, as it is.'

  'Try to think who they might be, Henry. Rack your brains to tease out the names of anyone with a grudge against Harriet

  Gow, or a reason to wound His Majesty by abducting her. You know the murky world of London far better than I do. Explore it to the full.'

  'I'll do my best. Harriet Gow deserves nothing less.'

  'My sentiments entirely.'

  'What of you?'

  'I'm off to look up an old acquaintance,' said Christopher, moving towards the door. 'Though I fear that he may not be overjoyed to see me again. Mr Jonathan Bale looks upon the Restoration as a form of moral plague. What is a dour Puritan like him going to make of the news that one of the King's mistresses has gone astray?'

  'He'll probably raise three cheers.'

  'It could be a difficult conversation.'

  Christopher heaved a sigh then let himself out of the room.

  Crime was no respecter of a constable's leisure time. No sooner had Jonathan started to read to his children from the family Bible that evening than he was summoned by one of the watchmen to deal with a new crisis. A warehouse had been set alight by a disgruntled apprentice. Although the blaze had been speedily controlled and the miscreant detained, a secondary crime was in the offing. Jonathan arrived on the scene in time to stop the owner of the warehouse from inflicting grievous bodily harm on the apprentice, who now cowered in a corner and pleaded for mercy. A combination of good-humoured firmness and diplomacy was needed to rescue the arsonist from the clutches of his former employer. Having hauled the young man in front of a magistrate, Jonathan took him off to be placed in custody. He was free to return home again.

  Shadows were lengthening when he finally reached Addle Hill. Wanting to rest after a long day, he felt misgivings when he saw a horse tethered outside his front door. Sarah's greeting only intensified his concern. As he stepped into the house, her face was shining.

  'We have a visitor, Jonathan,' she said with excitement.

  'Do we?'

  'Mr Redmayne.'

  'What does he want?' grunted her husband.

  'You'll have to ask him when he comes down.'

  'Comes down?'

  'Yes,' she said cheerily. 'Mr Redmayne very kindly offered to read to the boys. He has such a lovely voice. I could listen to it all day.'

  'That's more than I can do!'

  Jonathan was about to start up the stairs to interrupt the reading when he saw Christopher descending. The latter's polite wave gained only a brief acknowledgement. Jonathan was suspicious.

  'What have you been doing up there, sir?' he asked.

  'Reading to them from the Book of Judges,' said Christopher, 'the story of Samson. They seemed to like it at first.'

  'At first?'

  'It sent them both asleep.' He resorted to a whisper. 'I suggest that we keep our voices down and continue this conversation elsewhere.'

  Jonathan gave a signal to his wife then led his guest into the parlour. Sarah went upstairs to check on her children. The constable was embarrassed and' annoyed, uneasy at the thought of entertaining a gentleman in his humble dwelling and irritated at the liberties his visitor had taken while he was there.

  'I'll thank you to leave any reading to me,' he said huffily. 'They're my sons and I give them a Bible story every night.'

  'So I understand, Mr Bale, and I applaud you for it. But you were called away this evening and both Oliver and Richard were desperate for someone to read to them. I offered my services, Mrs Bale was only too happy to give me her permission. The boys seemed happy, too - until they dozed off towards the end.'

  'I don't want it to happen again, Mr Redmayne.'

  'Then I'll respect that wish.'

  'Thank you, sir.'

  Jonathan was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He waved Christopher to a chair then sat opposite him on a low stool. In spite of himself, he was not entirely displeased to see his guest again. He had developed a deep and lasting respect for him as well as a grudging affection. They could never be kindred spirits but an adventure had drawn them together in a way that was bound to forge a bond between them. It was one which put a friendly smile on Christopher's face. The constable's manner was more wary.

  'What brings you to my house, Mr Redmayne?' he asked.

  'I'll not pretend that it was the pleasure of reading about Samson, though that does have its charms. No, Mr Bale. I come on the most urgent business - at the express request of His Majesty.'

  Jonathan quailed. 'His Majesty?'

  'Do you recall what he once said to us?'

  'How could I ever forget?'

  'He said that he might need us again one day.'

  'The words were like a hot brand.'

  'Then steel yourself for more pain, Mr Bale. The call has come.'

  'To you or to me?'

  'To both of us. His Majesty was most specific about that.'

  Great surprise. 'He remembered who I was?'

  'By deed, if not by name.'

  'But I'm only a humble constable.'

  'I know, Mr Bale. I'm a struggling architect but that doesn't stop His Majesty from selecting the two of us for this assignment. It's a bizarre choice, I grant you, but not without its reason.'

  'Reason?'

  Christopher leaned forward. 'Before I say anything else, I must impress upon you the importance of secrecy. We are dealing with a very delicate matter here. Nothing must be heard outside these four walls.'

  'You can rely on me,' came the brisk reply, 'and nobody will eavesdrop. When my wife comes downstairs, she'll go straight to the kitchen. You can trust Sarah. She understands.' His eyes narrowed. 'Now, sir, what exactly is this very delicate matter?'

  'It concerns a lady, Mr Bale. A rather special lady.'

  Christopher was succinct. He gave a clear account of the facts without embellishment. The effect on Jonathan was startling. He was, by turns, shocked, alarmed, scornful, interested, almost sympathetic then patently disgusted. One question burst out of him.

  'Was the lady alone when she was abducted?' he asked.

  'Apart from her coachman, Mr Trigg.'

  'There was no one else in the vehicle with her, then?'

  'Such as?'

  'A maid, a companion.'

  'No, Mr Bale. The coachman left us in no doubt
about that. Mrs Gow was completely alone. That's what made her such an easy target.'

  'I see.' Jonathan relaxed visibly before coming to a quick decision. 'Find someone else, Mr Redmayne. I'm not your man.'

  'What are you saying?'

  'That I've no wish to be involved. Why should I be? This crime has no relevance to me. It didn't take place in my ward and I can bring no particular skills to the solution of it. Someone else might. Seek him out and press him into service.'

  Christopher was aghast. 'You are daring to refuse?'

  'On a point of principle.'

  'But this assignment comes with a royal command.'

  'That's what appals me,' said Jonathan levelly. 'I'm sorry to hear that the lady in question has been kidnapped and I hope that she can be rescued before any harm comes to her, but I've no wish to be part of a scheme which has one obvious purpose.'

  'And what's that?'

  'Retrieving someone for His Majesty's bed.'

  'You put it very bluntly, Mr Bale.'

  'Bluntly but honestly.'

  Christopher was stung. 'I make no comment whatsoever on the King's motives,' he said quickly, 'but this I can tell you. Harriet Gow's importance does not rest solely on her relationship with His Majesty. She is an actress of supreme talents, adored by all who have seen her perform or heard her sing.' He rose to his feet. 'I had the good fortune to witness her on stage myself and I've never been so moved by the sheer histrionic power. The lady is a genius. Let me nail my colours to the mast,' he said proudly. 'To save Harriet Gow, I'd go to the ends of the earth and endure any hazards. But I'll not succeed on my own. That's why I need your help.'