The Amorous Nightingale

    'I am known as a master of adaptation,' said D'Avenant proudly. 'For one thing, I have the right to adapt the plays of my godfather, the revered William Shakespeare, a name that will always live on our stages. But, in a sense, Mr Redmayne, my whole life has been one interminable act of adaptation. Circumstances forced me to change time and again. I had to adapt or perish. Take the Commonwealth,' he went on, resuming his seat. 'Theatres were closed down, actors thrown out of work. But I found a way around the rules. Plays might be forbidden but there was no decree against opera. Adaptation came to my aid once again. I took a play called The Siege of Rhodes and, by the addition of music and song, turned it into an opera. Since I had no theatre, I adapted this very house for performance.'

    'Your name is a by-word for ingenuity, Sir William.'

    'So it should be. It's what sets me apart from that grubbing little charlatan, Tom Killigrew. That and the fact that I write plays of true wit whereas he can only manage comedies so scurrilous that even the most degenerate minds are offended by them. Enough of him!' he said derisively. 'The point is this, Mr Redmayne. After all those years of adaptation, I wish to create something wholly original, a theatre that is neither a converted tennis court nor a riding school, but an auditorium conceived solely and exclusively for dramatic entertainment, embodying all that I have learned about that elusive art.'

    'Have you chosen a site?'

    'It will be in Dorset Garden.'

    'What about an architect?'

    'You see him before you.'

    'Someone will have to execute the designs on your behalf.'

    'He's already engaged.'

    'Does he require an assistant?' said Christopher hopefully, now fired with a desire to be somehow involved. 'I learn quickly.'

    'Restrict yourself to grand houses, Mr Redmayne. That's where profit lies for an architect. My new theatre may take years to build and I have to confront one hideous truth.'

    'What's that, Sir William?'

    'I may not even live to see it open.'

    He rose slowly to his feet and Christopher followed suit. Moving sluggishly, his host conducted him across the room. Christopher opened the door then turned to face him again.

    'Thank you so much for suffering my company, Sir William.'

    'You've a lively mind. That's always welcome.'

    'I enjoyed hearing about your new theatre.'

    'You had useful ideas of your own on the subject.'

    'It was a privilege to share your vision.'

    'Yet that's not why you came.'

    Christopher was caught unawares. His expression betrayed him.

    'I'll trespass on your time no longer,' he murmured.

    'Give the lady my warmest regards.'

    'Lady?'

    'Harriet Gow. That's who you really came to talk about, isn't it? I could see it in your eyes.' His face crinkled into a tired smile. 'Stick to architecture, my friend. You're too honest to be a spy.'

    Christopher was lost for words. A servant appeared in the hall.

    'Please show Mr Redmayne out,' ordered D'Avenant crisply.

    'Yes, Sir William,' said the man.

    'Oh, and Gregory…'

    The servant paused. 'Sir William?'

    'Make sure that you don't let him into the house again.'

    Jonathan Bale soon found the exact spot. The brickwork of the house had been deeply scored where the coach had scraped against it. The hasp that Trigg had been repairing was only one of the casualties on the vehicle. Jonathan ran a finger along the shallow grooves that had been gouged out of the brick. The impact must have been hard. He looked up and down the narrow lane, wondering yet again why such a route had been taken and seeing how perfect a place it had been for an ambush. Standing in the middle of the little thoroughfare, he tried to reconstruct in his mind exactly how it happened but his cogitations were interrupted by a sound from above. He glanced up quickly. The figure darted swiftly away from the upper window but not before the constable had caught sight of the man. Jonathan was being watched. He sensed that it was a hostile surveillance.

    'There must be something we can do, Mrs Gow,' said Mary Hibbert.

    'If only there were!' sighed her mistress.

    'Have you tried to reason with them?'

    'How can I when I'm not even allowed to speak?'

    'What have they said to you?'

    'Very little, Mary. When I asked a question, the man warned me to hold my tongue. I didn't argue with that raised fist of his. When the woman brings my food, she never says a single word.'

    Mary was alerted. 'There's a woman here as well?'

    'Yes, she's been keeping an eye on me.'

    'All I've seen is one man. He wears a mask.'

    'So does the woman. Her face is completely covered.'

    'How many other people are here?'

    'None, as far as I know.'

    'Then we may have a chance.'

    Mary crossed to the window. They were still alone together in the bedchamber. Reunited with Harriet Gow, Mary had recovered some of her willpower and all of her obligation to serve her mistress. She looked down at the garden below. It was empty. Open fields stretched beyond it to the horizon. The other woman joined her.

    'It's too long a drop, Mary,' she said.

    'There may be a way around that.'

    'No, it's far too dangerous.'

    'It's no more dangerous than staying here, Mrs Gow. They locked me in a dark cellar. It was horrifying. I'm not going to spend another night in there. I could hear a rat scampering about.'

    'At least I've been spared that.'

    'You're the person they need to look after,' argued Mary. 'That's why you have a proper bed and a woman to see to your needs. I'm glad of that. But I'm only a servant. They don't need to bother with me.' She stared through the window again. 'I've got nothing to lose.'

    'What if they catch you?' 'I'll take that chance.'

    'But what will you do, Mary?'

    'Run as fast as I can to fetch help.'

    'But we could be miles from anywhere.'

    'Anything is better than staying here, Mrs Gow. I'm not asking you to come with me. You're safe enough here. They're treating you quite well because they know they have to. My case is different.'

    'I'd much rather you stayed. You're such a comfort.'

    'How long will they let us be together?'

    Harriet Gow pondered. A woman of independent spirit, she found it galling to be deprived of her liberty. She was desperate to escape but she had grave doubts about the plan suggested by her maidservant. Getting down into the garden involved sufficient danger in itself. The chances of discovery seemed high. Even if Mary did get clear, she would be pursued as soon as her absence was noted. Harriet shuddered when she thought of the possible repercussions. She reached out to enfold her companion in protective arms, but Mary Hibbert was decisive.

    'I'm going to try, Mrs Gow. It's our only hope.'

    'But you could get hurt.'

    'I'm not afraid.'

    But Mary was trembling with fear and excitement. Feeling obscurely responsible for the predicament in which they found themselves, she wanted to do all that she could to get them out of it. She was young, fit and resolute. All she needed was a modicum of good fortune.