The Amorous Nightingale

    'Where is the animal now?' asked Sarah Bale.

    'Scavenging somewhere else.'

    'There are too many stray dogs in the streets.'

    'Stray cats, too,' said her husband. 'Not to mention gulls, pigeons and other birds with an eye for a tasty piece of fish. They were unwise to leave it in the kitchen like that with the door wide open.'

    'As long as you solved the crime, Jonathan.'

    'I wish they were all as easy as that, my love.'

    A simple meal with his wife revived him. He listened to the rich crop of gossip she had harvested during her day and threw in amused comments along the way. Too late to read to his sons, he wanted to know how well they had behaved themselves.

    'Oliver was quiet for once,' said Sarah.

    'That's unusual.'

    'I was afraid that he might be sickening for something but he seems healthy enough. He ate all his food.'

    'So he should.'

    'Richard was noisy enough for the two of them.'

    'He's a growing boy full of noise and mischief.'

    'Is that how you were at his age?'

    'I don't know, Sarah,' he said, diverted by the thought. 'It was such a long time ago. I suppose I must've been. There were four of us children, always squabbling. My father beat me a lot, I remember that.'

    'You, a naughty child?' she teased. 'Never!'

    'It's true.'

    'Did you cause trouble, tell lies?'

    'Probably.'

    'What turned you into such a pillar of honesty?'

    'Marriage to a certain Miss Sarah Teague.'

    'You blame me, do you?'

    'No,' he said with a grin. 'I thank you, my love.'

    They talked on for half an hour or more before it was time to climb the stairs to bed. After the exigencies of the day, it was a relief to be able to chat about domestic concerns but Jonathan was never entirely freed from thoughts about the kidnap. His mind kept returning to it time and again but he did not confide in Sarah. He might entertain her with the tale of the purloined fish but the abduction of two women was another matter, especially as his wife knew one of the victims. Tired from her own exertions, Sarah was the first to get into bed. Her husband was not allowed to join her. The clatter of hooves took him to the window. What he saw there made him snatch up the candle and hurry out of the room.

    Jonathan opened the front door before Christopher Redmayne could knock on it. The constable had never had a coach at his doorstep before. It loomed menacingly out of the darkness.

    'A thousand apologies, Mr Bale,' said his visitor, 'but I'm afraid I have to disturb you. There have been developments.'

    'Of what nature, sir?'

    'It grieves me to report the first of them. My brother, Henry, was attacked and beaten outside The Theatre Royal today.'

    Jonathan stiffened. 'Not seriously hurt, I hope?'

    'He'll be in bed for a week or more.'

    'Does he know who the attackers were, Mr Redmayne?'

    'They cudgelled him to the ground before he so much as got a glimpse of them. But I fancy I've seen their handiwork before. So have you, Mr Bale.'

    'On the face of a coachman, perhaps?'

    'Yes.'

    'But why assault your brother?'

    'To send a warning to us.'

    'They know we are after them?'

    'Alas, yes.'

    'How, sir?'

    'I can't say.' He glanced over his shoulder at the coach. 'But the other development is this. When I got back to my house, a messenger was waiting. We're bidden to the Palace.'

    'Now?' said Jonathan in disbelief.

    'As a matter of urgency.'

    'But I was just about to retire to bed.'

    'I, too, hoped to be asleep by now.'

    'You go, Mr Redmayne. On your own.'

    'The letter insists that I take you.'

    'Me?'

    'You're mentioned by name.'

    'I've no call to go off to the Palace of Westminster at this hour.'

    'A royal summons can't be denied.'

    'No, no,' said Jonathan evasively. 'It's a mistake. They don't really need me. You can answer for both of us, Mr Redmayne. Find out what this is all about then report to me in the morning.'

    'I daren't go without you, Mr Bale.'

    'You must.'

    'The letter was unequivocal.'

    'Explain that you represent the two of us.' 'No excuse will be accepted.'

    'It's unfair to call on me like this, sir,' complained Jonathan. 'I can't just go off into the night. What will I tell my wife?'

    'What you always tell her at such times. You're a constable. Duty calls. Mrs Bale will understand.'

    'How do I explain this coach?'

    'Convincingly. I'm sure you can do that.'

    'No,' said Jonathan, making a last attempt to wriggle out of the commitment. 'You know my feelings about the Palace, Mr Redmayne, and those who live in it. I'd rather not set foot in the place, if you don't mind. I did so once before and it left me feeling corrupted.'

    'Prepare to be corrupted afresh,' warned Christopher with a grin. 'You'll not only enter those portals, you'll arrive there in a coach sent at the King's command. That'll be an experience for you.'

    'My blood curdles at the very thought.'

    'Are you so easily offended?'

    'To the marrow.'

    'Then there's an easy solution here, I suspect. If you balk at the notion of travelling inside with me, I'll ask the coachman to let you sit beside him instead. And if that still troubles your conscience, carry a link and run alongside the vehicle.'

    'You mock me, sir.'

    'My brother was beaten senseless, Mr Bale,' said Christopher seriously. 'Looking at his bruises left me in no mood for mockery. We've been summoned to the Palace because something very important has occurred and the sooner we find out what it is, the better. So please,' he ordered, 'let's have no more delay. Make your excuses to your wife and come with me.'

    Jonathan hesitated. He grasped at one last straw.

    'The city gates are closed. The coach will not be allowed through.'

    'Nobody will dare to obstruct this coach, Mr Bale.'

    The ride to Westminster was an uncomfortable one for him but it did give Jonathan Bale the opportunity to voice some of his concerns. As the vehicle rocked and scrunched its way along, he confided his thoughts to Christopher Redmayne in the half-dark of its interior.

    'I've been wondering about that house, sir,' he said.

    'What house?'

    'The one belonging to Mrs Gow. It must have been expensive.'

    'Very expensive,' said Christopher. 'Be certain of that. I've friends who live in the area and I know how much they paid for the privilege. There are no cheap properties around St James's Square. Everything is at a premium.'

    'Can Mrs Gow afford such a residence?'

    'Presumably.'

    'With a coach and coachman to go with it?'

    'She's a lady who enjoys living in style.'

    'But who supports that style?' said Jonathan thoughtfully. 'Mrs Gow could hardly do so on her income from the theatre. Actresses may be well paid but not to that degree, surely?'

    'Go on.'

    'That brings us to her husband. Since they appear to live quite separate lives, it's unlikely that he's footing the bill. So who is?'

    'You obviously have a view on the subject, Mr Bale.'