The King's Evil

'Even though you do not live here?'

'It will reach me.'

'Would it not be easier if I had your own address?'

'No, monsieur.'

'Is your own house nearby?'

'Send word here.'

Christopher detached her hand and got up to cross to the window. When he glanced out into the garden, he could see nobody but he still had the uncomfortable feeling that they had been overheard.

'Evening is drawing in,' he announced. 'I must away.'

'Will you not stay the night in Paris?'

'No, mademoiselle. It is a long ride. I would like to put a few miles between myself and the city tonight.'

'I understand. Wait here while I call my uncle.'

She moved to the door and let herself out, leaving the room still inhabited with her presence and charged with her fragrance. Christopher had a moment to compose himself. Though he had not been given the valuable clues he sought, he had discovered much that would be useful once he had sifted carefully through it. Yet he was still left with many imponderables. Before Christopher could rehearse them, Bastiat came into the room on his own. There was concern in his voice.

'My niece tells me that you are leaving, monsieur.'

'I fear that I must.'

'You are most welcome to spend the night here as my guest.'

'That is very tempting, Monsieur Bastiat, but I must begin the homeward journey tonight.'

'Are you sure?'

'I have no choice.'

'Where will you stay?' 'There is an inn which I passed on the way here,' said Christopher. 'It must be ten or twelve miles along the road to Beauvais. I will lodge there and make an early start in the morning.'

'Very well. I can see that there is no point in trying to persuade you against your will.'

'None at all.'

'You are a determined young man, Monsieur Redmayne.'

'Of necessity.'

'Why?'

'You niece will explain.'

'Then I bid you adieu.'

He conducted his visitor out into the hall and opened the front door for him. Christopher looked around in disappointment.

'I would like to take my leave of Mademoiselle Oilier.'

'That will not be possible, monsieur.'

'Why not?'

'She is deeply upset by the terrible news which you brought. In your presence, she held up bravely but it has taken its toll. She wishes to be alone with her grief now.' He hunched his shoulders. 'There is darkness in her heart. It would be a cruelty to intrude.'

'Say no more, monsieur. I understand.'

'It was good of you to come all this way.'

'I felt that it was an obligation.'

'An obligation?'

'Nobody else would have come here.'

'You deserve our thanks,' said the other. 'My niece did not need to tell me why you travelled to Paris. I saw it in her face. Poor creature! She is suffering badly.' He touched his guest's shoulder. 'I hope your journey will not be too onerous. Do you sail from Calais?'

'Yes, Monsieur Bastiat.'

'You will have much to reflect upon, I suspect.'

'Oh, yes,' said Christopher warmly. 'I did not simply come on an errand of mercy. I was in search of guidance.'

'Indeed?'

'Thanks to Mademoiselle Oilier, I found it.'

Jonathan Bale had always believed that honesty was the best policy, especially where matrimonial exchanges were concerned. He was proved right once again. Unskilled in hiding anything from his wife, he told her exactly where he went when he returned from his first night's vigil in Lincoln's Inn Fields. Sarah was at once critical and curious, disapproving strongly of places such as Molly Mandrake's establishment yet wanting to know exactly what happened inside their walls and who patronised them. Her husband was reticent about activities within the house but he gave her several names from the memorised list of visitors. That list had been committed to paper and added to substantially as a result of two subsequent visits.

As Jonathan prepared to set out for Lincoln's Inn Fields for a fourth time, he sat in the kitchen of his home and consulted his list of names once again. It contained one earl and more than a scattering of baronets. In his view nothing more clearly mirrored a degenerate aristocracy. He stuffed the paper into his pocket and rose to leave. His wife got up from the table with him.

'At least you had time to put the boys to bed this evening,' she said gratefully. 'When shall I expect you back?'

'I have no idea, Sarah.'

'As long as you do not get lured inside that place.'

'It holds no attraction for me.'

'Even though it must be filled with gorgeous young ladies?'

'They are poor women, led astray,' said Jonathan sadly. 'Besides, I could never afford to keep company with them. They charge more for one night than most men earn in a month.'

'How do you know?' teased his wife.

He grinned. 'That is a secret.'

'What happened to that man with the mask?'

'I only saw him on that first visit.'

'Has he not been back to the house?'

'Not while I have been there, Sarah.'

'Why would a man wear a mask like that?' she said.

'To conceal his identity. I guess him to be a person of high rank who does not wish anyone to know that he frequents the place. Who knows? It might even have been the King himself.'

She was shocked. 'He would never sink so low!'

'Do not put it past him, my love. The rumour is that he tires of his mistresses on occasion and seeks entertainment elsewhere.'

'Well, it is a scurvy rumour and I will not believe it.'

He was worried. 'I hope you are not turning into a royalist, Sarah.'

'Of course not,' she said stoutly. 'I deplored the Restoration as much as you did. Life was better under the Lord Protector. But while we have a King on the throne, I prefer to give him the benefit of the doubt. Now, off with you and prove me wrong.'

'I may well do so.'

She gave him a kiss then walked with him to the front door.

'When is Mr Redmayne coming back?' she wondered.

'I do not know.'

'He has been gone for days now. Why did you not offer to go with him, Jonathan? It is dangerous for someone to travel all that way on his own. You could have been his bodyguard.'

'Mr Redmayne can look after himself, Sarah. He would never have considered taking me and I would certainly not have enjoyed spending so much time alone with him.'

'It would have given you chance to get to know him better.'

'That was my fear.'

He let himself out of the house, gave her a wave and strode off. The route was familiar now and he seemed to arrive in Lincoln's Inn Fields sooner than ever. Clouds drifted across the moon to keep the whole area largely in darkness. It enabled him to slip into his accustomed hiding-place with no danger of being seen. Revellers soon began to arrive. Some were regular visitors whose names had already been recorded but others were memorised for the first time. When another coach arrived, its lone passenger was given an especially warm welcome by Molly Mandrake as she opened the door to greet him. It was a French name and Jonathan doubted if he would be able to spell it correctly when he added it to his list.

The most interesting snatch of dialogue which he overheard came towards the end of his stay in the shadows. A man arrived on horseback, tethered his mount then pulled the doorbell. Caught between the two torches under the portico, he gave Jonathan a clear view of his profile and the constable was forced to ask once again why yet another elegant young gentleman had to pay for pleasures which he could more properly enjoy within a lawful marriage. When the door swung open, light blazed out and brought Molly Mandrake's rich voice with it.

'Why, Mr Strype!' she said happily. 'This is a pleasant surprise.'

'Have you missed me, Molly?'

'We all have, sir. Desperately.'

'I have not been able to visit London for some time.'