The Amorous Nightingale (44 page)

    'I
forgot to mention that Constable Bale was with me as well,' he said, feinting
with his rapier. 'He's the man who arrested Smeek and Froggatt. Now it's Arthur
Oscott's turn.'

    Armadale
came at him but Christopher parried his thrusts with skill, dancing back out of
range before circling his opponent again. Jonathan pummelled away mercilessly
until Oscott groaned in agony and lapsed into unconsciousness. His wife ran to
tend him, swearing at the constable then turning her ire on Armadale.

    'Shut
up!' he snarled. 'I'll deal with you in a minute.'

    'I
claim pride of place, Sir Godfrey,' said Christopher.

    'Come
on, then.'

    'Though
I think that Mr Bale would like a word with you as well. He was a friend of
Mary Hibbert. Your men killed her.'

    Armadale
turned his head towards Jonathan who was moving cautiously towards him with a
dagger in his hand. A split second was all it took for Christopher to strike.
His blade flashed, its point cut into Armadale's wrist, and the latter dropped
his sword with a yelp of pain. Holding his wounded wrist, he darted into the
house and tried to close the door after him but Jonathan was too fast, getting
a shoulder to the door and forcing it open. When Armadale ran to the stairs,
Christopher caught him before he could ascend them, holding the point of his
sword between the man's eyes and making it clear that he was ready to use the
weapon again. Blood was now dripping freely from his adversary's wrist. There
was nowhere he could go. He was trapped.

    'Where
is Harriet Gow?' demanded Christopher.

    'She's
not here.'

    'Don't
lie to me, Sir Godfrey.'

    'We
moved her this morning.'

    'Where
is
she?'

    Christopher
was about to jab his swordpoint in order to encourage an answer when it came
from above in the most affecting way. The song was as clear and poignant as on
the first occasion he had heard it.

    Christopher
looked upwards. The voice was inimitable. Though it was full of sadness, it was
also celebrating its release. Harriet Gow was alive. Lowering his sword,
Christopher gave a disarming smile.

    'I
believe that you have a nightingale in the house, Sir Godfrey.'

    Devoid
of his beloved spaniels for once, Charles II was in a sombre frame of mind,
reclining in a chair and toying idly with the purses that lay in his lap. His
dark attire suggested that he might be in mourning. After tapping on the door,
William Chiffinch entered with the two visitors and brought them across to the
King. All three waited until he was ready to look up at them with soulful eyes.
Christopher Redmayne bowed from the waist and Jonathan Bale inclined a
reluctant head. Coming out of his reverie, the King rose to share a warm smile
between them.

    'Thank
you for coming, gentlemen,' he said, one hand playing with a rogue curl on his
periwig. 'I wanted to express my gratitude in person. You have done me a
profound service and rescued a dear, dear lady in the process. Such courage
deserves a reward.'

    'I've
already had mine, Your Majesty,' said Jonathan bluntly. 'Apprehending the men
who killed Mary Hibbert was my reward.'

    'Yes,'
said the King. 'A distressing result of this very distressing business. I
commend your bravery, Mr Bale.' He held out the purse. 'If you will not take
the money for yourself, at least receive it on behalf of the girl's family. It
might bring some small measure of relief to them.'

    'Indeed
it might,' admitted Jonathan, taking the purse from him. 'That's a kind
thought, Your Majesty. Thank you for the suggestion.'

    'How
else could I get you to accept a reward from me?' He turned to Christopher. 'I
hope that I meet no resistance from you, Mr Redmayne. Exceptional service deserves
payment.'

    'Then
I gladly accept it, Your Majesty.' Christopher took the purse and gave a small
bow of thanks.

    'Allow
me to add my own congratulations,' said Chiffinch smugly. 'You may have been
dilatory in sending reports of your progress but I cannot fault your
enterprise. You chose the right men, Your Majesty.'

    'I
always do, Will. It's my choice of ladies that sometimes lets me down. Not that
I have any regrets in this case,' he said quickly, 'even though this incident
has brought that phase of my life to a premature end. The lady in question has
been saved. That is enough for me.'

    'One
was saved, Your Majesty,' Jonathan reminded him, 'but another was needlessly
lost. Mary Hibbert might still be alive, had you simply paid the ransom in the
first place.'

    'Mr
Bale!' reprimanded Chiffinch.

    'His
insolence has some foundation,' said the King, taking no offence. 'The girl was
a friend - I appreciate his feelings. But there is a question of precedent
here, Mr Bale,' he said, meeting the constable's stare. 'A man in my unique
position must not give in to such demands. If I was seen to part with money in
exchange for the release of a beautiful woman, we would be getting ransom notes
by the day. Mrs Gow is, I have to admit, not the only remarkable lady who has
attracted my interest. Besides,' he added sternly, 'I wanted the villains
caught and punished. Sir Godfrey Armadale and his creatures will all swing from
the gallows for daring to issue a demand to me. Their crimes are heinous.'

    'Why
were they committed, Your Majesty?' asked Christopher.

    'Why?'

    'I
know that Sir Godfrey was embittered because he was rejected by Mrs Gow, but
was that motive enough to put her through this ordeal?'

    'No,
Mr Redmayne, it was not. He had another victim in mind: one with royal blood in
his veins. This whole affair has been an ordeal for me as well, as it was
intended to be.'

    'Did
he act out of envy, then?'

    'Revenge,'
said the King casually. 'Sir Godfrey Armadale has been badgering me for favours
ever since I returned to the throne. He's a persistent man, not easily shaken
off. When he continued to pester me outrageously, I was forced to ban him from
the Court. That upset him, didn't it, Will'

    'Yes,
Your Majesty,' said Chiffinch. 'Mightily.'

    'In
abducting Harriet Gow, he was hitting two birds with one stone. A nightingale
and an eagle. There was a time when I thought that we might have been two
turtle doves,' he mused fondly, 'but that was a cruel illusion. Enough of this
or the Palace will turn into an aviary!' He gave them another smile. 'Go with
my heartfelt thanks, gentlemen. I will pay you the highest compliment that I
can.'

    'What's
that, Your Majesty?' said Christopher.

    'I
shall willingly employ both of you again.'

    Jonathan
blenched. 'Is that necessary, Your Majesty?' he said.

    'I
hope not, Mr Bale, but it is a comfort to know that I possess, among my
subjects, two men of such rare qualities.'

    'We're
happy to put them at your disposal, Your Majesty,' said Christopher. He looked
at Jonathan. 'Aren't we, Mr Bale?'

    The
nod of agreement was only achieved with great effort.

    With
a languid smile, the King turned away to signal that the audience was over.
Chiffinch waved the visitors towards the door but Christopher was not quite
ready to leave. He took a step towards the King.

    'I
have a favour to ask of you, Your Majesty.'

    Charles
turned to regard him. 'Ask it, Mr Redmayne.'

    'I do
so on my brother's behalf,' said Christopher. 'Henry was an enormous help to me
at the start of this investigation, but he suffered badly for his involvement.
He still lies on a bed of pain.'

    'I'm
well aware of that,' observed the King solemnly, 'and I was very impressed with
your brother's fortitude. I had no idea that Henry Redmayne possessed such a
strong backbone beneath that bright attire of his. The favour will be granted.
What does it concern?'

    Christopher
licked his lips nervously before declaring himself.

    'The
Dean of Gloucester,' he said.

    The
burial service took place at the parish church where Mary Hibbert had been
baptised. Only a small congregation gathered to see her take leave of her
earthly existence. Peter Hibbert sat between his uncle and aunt, each
supporting the other. Jonathan and Sarah Bale were behind them with a few
neighbours. Nothing could alleviate the grief of the family at that moment, but
at least they had been spared the full details of the girl's death. Jonathan
was glad of that and pleased that he had been able to hand over the purse of
money to Peter Hibbert. It was small compensation but, in a sense, it was a
ransom paid by the King even if it came too late to obtain the release of a
prisoner.

    When
the coffin was lowered into the ground, tears flowed as mourners bade their
last farewells. Jonathan had to put an arm around his wife's shoulders to
comfort her. Turning to leave the churchyard, he was moved to see that
Christopher Redmayne had also attended the service even though he had not known
the victim. But it was another mourner whose presence touched him even more.
Harriet Gow stood a little distance from the grave, sobbing quietly and trying
to contain her feelings of guilt. Martin Eldridge took her arm and led her
gently away.

    Henry
Redmayne had never known such continuous pain. Trapped in his bed and harangued
by his father, he came to believe that he had died and gone to Hell. The Dean of
Gloucester might not be dressed as a demon but his words stung like the prongs
of a white-hot fork. All that Henry could do was to squirm in agony.

    'I am
much displeased with you, Henry,' said his father.

    'That
fact has been burned into me.'

    'As
my elder son, you should be setting an example. Consider your younger brother.
What is Christopher to think when he sees your lewd behaviour? How could he
pattern himself on you?'

    'With
difficulty.'

    'Repentance
is called for, Henry.'

    'Oh, I
repent,' said the other with feeling. 'Believe me, Father, I'm awash with
repentance. I regret so many things in my past.'

    'You
misled me.'

    'Not
deliberately.'

    'You
did, Henry,' returned the Dean sharply. 'All that you told me about the assault
was that it took place in Drury Lane.'

    'That
was the truth.'

    'Yes,
but it was not the
whole
truth, was it? What you carefully omitted to
tell me was that Drury Lane is the site of a theatre and that you were leaving
the building when you were attacked.'

    'I'll
not deny it, Father.'

    'Why
did you enter such a sinful place?'

    'Of
necessity.'

    'Driven
by uncontrollable desires?'

    'Not
exactly,' said Henry, trying to keep him at bay. 'But I wouldn't have gone
there of my own volition. You're so right, Father. Corruption breeds inside a
theatre. I thank God that I take no pleasure in the sight of young women
disporting themselves on the stage or, what is worse, wearing masks so that
they may mingle unrecognised among the wilder gentlemen in the audience to
excite their passions.'

    Algernon
Redmayne clutched at the crucifix around his neck.

    'Immorality
on such a scale? Is that what happens?'

    'I
didn't stay long enough to find out, Father. My purpose in going was simply to speak
to the manager and not to watch the play.'

    'Then
you didn't lurch drunkenly out into the street from an orgy?'

    'If
only there'd been one at hand!' said Henry to himself.

    'Speak
up!'