The King's Evil

'Jean-Paul Charentin!'

'Do you know the man?'

'Yes,' sneered Henry. 'A contemptible Frenchman. A sly, thin-faced, leering fellow with no breeding. Had not Sir Ambrose brought him to the house, I doubt that Molly would have admitted him. She maintains the highest standards, as you will see. Monsieur Charentin is some kind of merchant from Paris. Whatever he trades in, it is not grace and fashion.'

'How often have you met him there?'

'Once or twice. Three times at most.' Henry stared at him. 'What's your interest in the rogue?'

'His name has come to my attention.'

'Wait until Molly's paps come to your attention. Mountains of pure joy. You will have no interest in a scurvy foreigner when they are bobbing away before your eyes. I could watch them for hours.'

'Chacun à son gout, mon frère.'

'I'll wager that you are equally entranced by her.'

'We shall see,' said Christopher, heading for the door.

'Wait. You have not yet told me about your visit to Paris.'

'No, Henry. I have not and do not intend to.'

'Did you meet that dog, Charentin, while you were there?'

'Not in person,' said Christopher, 'but I am wondering if I encountered an acquaintance of his.'

Molly Mandrake was more than just a notorious whore. She was an excellent businesswoman who ran her establishment efficiently and profitably. Attention to detail was her guiding principle. Before any of her guests arrived that evening, she made a tour of the house to inspect every room and to issue instructions. None of the whores was allowed to meet any clients until Molly had scrutinised each woman and made slight adjustments to her hair or her attire. Cosmetics and perfume had to be used with great subtlety before she would approve.

When the first coach arrived, Molly Mandrake stood at the door to welcome the two gentlemen who sauntered in and to collect their fulsome compliments about her own appearance. She was a shapely woman of medium height with a vitality which shone out of her like sunlight. Her silk gown was emerald green in colour, its close-fitting boned bodice dipping to a deep point in front to suggest a slimmer waist than she actually possessed. The neckline was low cut in a rounded shape which encircled the decolletage and bared her shoulders. Huge breasts all but escaped their moorings, the left one bearing a beauty spot which matched another high on her left cheek. The handsome face consisted of one big smile, the teeth white, the lips sensuous, the nose attractively upturned and the brown eyes awash with roguish delight. She favoured a coiffure a la ninon with hair pushed back from the face and bunched curls on each side of her head, falling in ringlets to her shoulders.

'Why, Mr Redmayne!' she said with a warm grin. 'How agreeable to see you once again, sir! And who have you brought along with you?'

'This is my brother, Molly.'

'Two Redmaynes in one night. We are honoured. Your name, sir?'

'Christopher,' he said with a polite smile. 'I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs Mandrake. Henry has told me much about you.'

'I wish that he had mentioned you before now,' she said, running a practised eye over him. 'You are a proper man, young sir. Do come in.'

She took Christopher's arm as he passed and gave it a meaningful squeeze. Dressed in his most fashionable apparel, he did his best to appear relaxed and sophisticated but there was an immediacy about Molly Mandrake's charms which was almost overwhelming. She took the two of them through into a large room with a round table at its centre. Set out on the table were decanters of wine and goblets made of Venetian glass. A selection of salted meats was carefully displayed on a series of oval dishes. A black manservant was in attendance, wearing dark blue livery with gold buttons. He bowed to the newcomers and handed them goblets of wine. Their hostess ushered them across to some upholstered chairs in a corner and chatted for a few minutes until the sound of the doorbell drew her away.

Christopher sipped his wine and looked around the room. A few other guests were present, seated against the far wall and vying for the attention of a tall, stately young woman with fair hair which brushed her alabaster shoulders. Henry identified her with an obscene comment which his brother chose to ignore. The room was elegant and well-appointed but what Christopher admired was the clever positioning of the candelabra. Subdued light created a feeling of intimacy. He watched the fair-haired woman opposite. Like trained actresses, both she and Molly Mandrake knew exactly where to stand in relation to the flames in order to show themselves off to best advantage.

The wine was rich and Henry's glass was soon empty. Without waiting for it to be refilled, he went off to intercept a buxom woman who had just sailed into the room wearing Egyptian costume. Christopher was not left alone for long. Having guided the newcomers to the table, Mrs Mandrake beckoned someone from the shadows then led her by the hand towards Christopher. He rose politely from his chair.

'I would like you to meet Sweet Ellen,' she said with a knowing smile. 'She is worth five guineas of any man's money.'

The doorbell rang again and she wafted out of the room. Sweet Ellen eased Christopher back into his seat and nestled beside him. Her manner was at once familiar and reserved. Christopher could see why she had been chosen for him. Sweet Ellen was younger and more slender than any of the women he had so far seen. There was nothing gross or threatening about her. Framed in auburn hair, her face had a kind of demure beauty. Christopher was fleetingly reminded of Marie Louise Oilier. While his companion interrogated him gently, Christopher saw the manservant pour more wine liberally into his goblet. Sweet Ellen probed on. When she learned Christopher's name, she giggled and cast an affectionate glance across at his brother.

'Why have we not seen you here before?' she asked.

'It was a terrible oversight on my part.'

'I hope that you will visit us again often.'

'I have every intention of doing so,' he lied.

'Are you enjoying our company?'

'Very much.'

'Do you work at the Navy Office with your brother?'

'No, Ellen.'

'What is your profession?'

'I am an architect.'

'Ah!' She was impressed. 'You design houses and churches?'

'Whatever I am commissioned to do.'

'Then you have an eye for fine buildings,' she said, putting a hand on his wrist. 'What do you think of this house, Mr Redmayne?'

'Most elegant. I would love to see more of it.'

'Then you shall, sir.'

With a little laugh, she got to her feet and led him across the room, collecting an approving nod from Molly Mandrake, who was arm in arm with the latest arrival. Sweet Ellen flitted along on her toes and showed Christopher all the rooms on the ground floor with the exception of the kitchen. She paused at the bottom of the staircase and simpered.

'Would you like to see where I sleep?'

'Very much.'

'Then I will show you.'

As she took him upstairs, she squeezed his hand and rubbed her naked shoulder softly against him. He took a long sip of his wine.

'How long have you been in the house, Ellen?'

'Long enough, sir.'

She simpered again and guided him along the landing. Some of the bedchambers were clearly occupied and telltale noises came through the doors. Raucous laughter from inside one was followed by urgent grunts from inside the next. Sweet Ellen turned down a corridor then opened the door at the end of it. Christopher was swept into a small, neat room which was dominated by a four-poster and lit by a candelabrum. A heady perfume invaded his nostrils. When the door was shut behind them, he heard the key turned in the lock.