The Amorous Nightingale

    'Indeed?'

    'She does it to vex me, I swear, or to remind me just how important she is to my company. Sick, indeed! I do not believe a word of that letter she sent. Harriet is the healthiest woman I know. She simply wanted a few days away from the theatre.'

    'Why?'

    'Why else? The pursuit of pleasure. A man of your proclivities must surely have guessed that. Sickness is the cloak behind which she hides but I know the truth of it. Harriet Gow is either lolling somewhere in a rich man's bed or sailing down the Thames in the royal barge.'

    A deep sigh. 'I wish that you were right, Tom.'

    'You've evidence to contradict me?'

    'No, no,' said Henry, quick to extricate himself. 'I accept your word for it. Nobody knows the lady as well as you. I've only worshipped her from afar. Along with all the others.'

    'Like that arrant fool, Jasper Hartwell.'

    'Jasper? How is he involved here?'

    'He was hammering on my door first thing this morning, begging me to tell him where Harriet was. When I was unable to do so, he first thrust money at me then threatened me with his sword. I tell you, Henry, it was all I could do to get rid of the dolt.' Killigrew threw both hands in the air. 'How did he know that Harriet was unable to play today? Has someone been issuing handbills to that effect?'

    'I'm more worried about the passion that he showed.'

    'Oh, that was real enough.'

    'Jasper Hartwell? Aroused?'

    'To full pitch. Harriet has certainly lit a fire in his breeches.'

    'They're never doused, Tom,' said the other with a grimace. 'But they usually smoulder for some fair, fat wench in red taffeta. Jasper is a man who has to pay outrageously for his pleasures for no woman would oblige him out of love or curiosity.'

    'Keep him away from me, that's all I ask.'

    'I'll look into it.'

    'And tell me why you're lurking in my theatre.'

    'To pay my respects, of course.'

    'To me, you lying dog?'

    'No, Tom. To the new star in your little firmament. Miss Abigail Saunders. Excuse me while I have a word with the lady.'

    Killigrew was about to protest but two of the actors suddenly pounced on him to demand their wages and an artist needed instruction about the scenery he was hired to paint. Henry dodged the manager and made his way to the dressing rooms at the rear of the building. He soon found the one occupied by Abigail Saunders. A tap on the door brought a short, dumpy, dark-haired woman into view.

    'My name is Henry Redmayne,' he said in his grandest manner. 'A close friend of Tom Killigrew and a connoisseur of the theatre. I was privileged to watch the rehearsal just now and I just wished to add my congratulations to Miss Saunders.'

    'Thank you, sir,' said the woman gruffly. 'I'll pass them on.'

    'No, Barbara,' called a voice. 'Invite Mr Redmayne in.'

    The maid stood reluctantly aside so that Henry could stride into the dressing room. Sweeping off his hat, he executed a low bow. Abigail Saunders watched him in her mirror.

    'Your performance was a delight, Miss Saunders,' he said.

    'Thank you, kind sir.'

    'It will carry all before it.'

    'That is what I intend.'

    She rose from her chair and turned to appraise him. His voice had led her to expect a younger and more handsome man but her smile shielded her disappointment from him. Her life had been an endless series of Henry Redmaynes. She talked their language.

    'Will you be at the performance this afternoon, sir?'

    'Nothing would prevent me from missing it.'

    'Pray, visit me in my dressing room afterwards.'

    'I'll do so with a basket of flowers,' he said gallantly.

    'Have you seen the play before?'

    'Only once. It is a powerful drama and no mistake.'

    'You watched Mrs Gow in the role, then.'

    'Possibly, Miss Saunders. I've quite forgotten. You have made the part so completely your own, I can't imagine any other actress even daring to take it on.'

    'You flatter me, sir.'

    'I welcome a rising talent.'

    He gave another bow and was rewarded with an outstretched hand. Taking it by the fingertips, he bestowed a light kiss before releasing it again. Abigail flirted mischievously with her eyes.

    'All you've needed is your place in the sun,' he remarked.

    'It's come at last, Mr Redmayne.'

    'I hope that this is only the start.'

    'Oh, it will be,' she said with quiet determination.

    'You sound very certain of that.'

    'I am, sir. Nobody likes to profit from the misfortune of others but that is the guiding principle of theatrical life. As one person falls by the wayside, another must take her place. I'm deeply upset, of course, that dear Harriet is indisposed but I know how much she would hate a play to be cancelled because of her.' She spread her arms and spun around on her toes. 'So here I am. Keeping the theatre open this afternoon when it might otherwise have been closed.'

    'Tom Killigrew was overjoyed with you.'

    'So he will be when he sees my full range.'

    'Full range?'

    'Yes, Mr Redmayne. Aspatia is only one of the roles in which I'll dazzle the patrons. There'll be many others.' She turned back to the mirror to examine her hair. 'After all, Harriet Gow may be indisposed for quite some time.'

    Mary Hibbert slept fitfully until the sound of a key in the lock brought her rudely awake. The cellar was cold, damp and hostile. Since the candle had burned itself out, the room was plunged into darkness, robbing her of any idea of time. When the door opened, therefore, she was surprised how much natural light flooded in. It made her eyes blink. Mary was taken out to use the privy, an embarrassing business when a man in a mask is guarding the door but a necessary one all the same. Hauled back down to the cellar, she was given more food and water. Breakfast over, she was guided back up the steps, across the hall and up the wide staircase. Mary began to shiver uncontrollably. Was she going to be ravished by her mute companion?

    When they paused outside a room, she tried to break free but he was far too strong, subduing her with ease and taking liberties with his hands that confirmed her worst fears. Mary felt as if she were being suffocated. She began to swoon. A door was opened and she was thrust roughly through it alone. Tumbling to the floor, she heard the door being locked behind her and quailed. Then she heard something else.

    'Mary!'

    Harriet Gow came running across the room to help her up.

    'Have they brought you here as well?'

    'Yes, Mrs Gow.'

    Mary burst into tears, not knowing whether to be relieved at the sight of her mistress or frightened by the dire straits in which they found themselves. Rising from her feet, she flung herself into her employer's arms, each clinging tight and drawing comfort from the other. Harriet eventually took her maidservant by the shoulders.

    'This is all my fault,' she admitted.

    'No, no, Mrs Gow. Don't say that.'

    'They've dragged you down with me, Mary.'

    'I don't blame you, honestly. I'm just so glad to see you again.'

    There was no gladness in her eyes. As she looked at Harriet Gow, she did not see the poised and graceful woman with whom she spent her days so happily. Her mistress was flushed and unkempt, her dress torn and her shoes discarded. Hair that was so lovingly brushed as a rule now hung in long, uneven strands. All of her jewellery had been removed. Her composure had also vanished. There was a hunted look about her.