The Amorous Nightingale

    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!'

    'Thank the Lord!'

    Henry's exclamation was not in response to his father. It was provoked by the arrival of his brother, who tapped on the door and let himself into the bedchamber. Greetings were exchanged. When he had enquired after the patient's condition, Christopher offered something to his father. The Dean of Gloucester looked suspiciously at the missive.

    'What is this?' he asked.

    'A letter,' said Christopher, handing it to him.

    'From whom?'

    'Look at the seal.'

    'By Heaven!' said his father, glancing down. 'It's from the King.'

    'I had an audience with him only this morning.'

    'You see, Henry?' said the old man, opening the letter. 'Your brother has been summoned to the Palace. Think of the honour that bestows on the family. Why can't you bring such lustre to the name of Redmayne?' He read the letter slowly then let out a cry of surprise. 'Oh, dear boy,' he apologised, reaching out to touch Henry's arm. 'I've wronged you. Now I see why you concealed so much from me. I have the details here,' he said, raising the letter. 'In the King's own hand.'

    Henry caught Christopher's eye and received a reassuring wink.

    'What does His Majesty say?' said Henry, tentatively.

    'The truth,' replied his father. 'When you were assaulted, you were engaged in secret affairs of state. Your bravery is commended. This is a signal honour, Henry. I take back all that I said about you. Well, most of it, anyway. I misjudged you horribly.'

    'His Majesty asked me to pass on his personal thanks, Henry,' said Christopher. 'Without you, we'd never have achieved the result that we did. You were superb. I'll strive to model myself on you.'

    'Did you hear that, Father?' said Henry, basking in the praise.

    'I heard and I saw,' answered the old man, clutching the letter as if it were the tablet containing the Ten Commandments. 'I must show this to the Archbishop. Royal favour displayed to both my sons! That will send me back to Gloucester a contented man.'

    'As long as it sends you back there,' murmured Henry.

    There was a flurry of farewells as the Dean took his leave.

    'I'd have been here earlier,' explained Christopher, 'but I went to Mary Hibbert's funeral.'

    'Had you come any later, it might have been Henry Redmayne's funeral. Father almost talked me to death. Thank you for rescuing me, Christopher. Now, what news?'

    'You know the bulk of it. The villains are all in Newgate and a woman in Greer Lane is answering awkward questions about the fact that the man who lodged in her upstairs room was the fourth rogue involved in the ambush. Harriet Gow has her stolen property back, I can at last concentrate on my house and Mr Bale can pound the streets of Baynard's Castle Ward again. He was so kind to Peter Hibbert at the church,' he remembered. 'You'd have thought the lad was his own son. Oh, and one big surprise. Mrs Gow turned up there as well.'

    'Quite rightly. Mary Hibbert was in service with her.'

    'The real surprise came from her choice of companion.'

    'It wasn't her husband, was it?'

    'No, Henry,' said his brother, 'but it was a Bartholomew Gow. He goes by the name of Martin Eldridge. I think that this experience has taught our nightingale the hazards of consorting with exalted company. She may be better off with a humble actor.' He gave a sympathetic smile. 'It's going to be a huge disappointment for Jasper Hartwell.'

    'Why?'

    'He's so infatuated with her that he conceived the absurd notion of somehow dissolving her marriage in order to make her his wife.'

    Henry was aghast. 'Jasper Hartwell married to Harriet Gow! That's obscene, Christopher. It's like the Dean of Gloucester marrying the Queen of Sheba. In fact, I'd say that Father probably has more chance of being accepted than the idiotic Jasper ever will.'

    'I'm sure that Mrs Gow will let him down lightly.'

    'What sane woman would marry a ginger periwig on legs?'

    'Don't mock my client. I need him.'

    'I know what I need,' said Henry lecherously, 'but how can I have it when I'm in this condition? It's so unfair. I've just survived three hours of Father in homiletic vein. I need someone to cheer me up.'