The Amorous Nightingale

    'Bring me food at once!' he urged. 'And some wine!'

    William D'Avenant stood in the middle of the pit at The Duke's Playhouse and surveyed the stage like a triumphant general looking proudly out across conquered land. He was a striking figure in dark attire, a wrinkled wizard of the theatre, a living link between the world of Shakespeare, his godfather, if not his actual parent, and the witty, vibrant, stylish and often shocking fare of the Restoration. Seeing the manager in his natural milieu, Christopher Redmayne could not fail to be impressed. D'Avenant was less impressed with his unannounced visitor. He spun round to confront the newcomer with a frown of disapproval.

    'What are you doing here, Mr Redmayne?' he demanded.

    'I came to see you, Sir William. Since you've barred me from your home, your playhouse was the only place I could try.'

    'A pointless journey. Our debate on theatre architecture is at an end. I've nothing to add on that or on any other subject.'

    'I wanted to talk about a play.'

    'The performance was over hours ago.'

    'There's only one actor I'm interested in,' said Christopher, 'and I'm sure he's known to you. Mr Martin Eldridge.'

    'Eldridge?' repeated the other, covering his surprise well. 'What dealings do you hope to have with him?'

    'That's a matter between the two of us. I understand that he was once a member of your company.'

    'Not any more.'

    'I suspect he has ambitions of rejoining the fold.'

    'Does he?'

    'Yes, Sir William. When I was at his lodging earlier, I happened to notice a copy of Shakespeare's Othello on his table. That's the play I'm here to talk about. Why would an actor read it unless to work up some speeches from the drama? And why do that if not to win his way back into your favour?'

    'You're a perceptive man, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Mr Eldridge's hopes must centre on this playhouse because you have a monopoly on the work of Shakespeare.'

    'I adapt it with distinction to suit the tastes of the day.'

    'Will you take on a new actor for the performance of Othello?'

    'Possibly. Possibly not.'

    'You doubt his ability?'

    'No,' said D'Avenant. 'Martin is an able actor. At least, he was when I was shaping his career. Who knows what damage that blundering fool, Tom Killigrew, has done to his talent? Martin's art may be beyond repair.' He studied Christopher shrewdly for a full minute before offering an unexpected concession. 'Linger a while and you may judge for yourself.'

    'Why?'

    'Because, as luck will have it, he is on his way here this evening. It's the only time when the playhouse is empty enough for me to hear him, and I no longer care to turn my home into a theatre. That's why you see all these candles lit, Mr Redmayne,' he said with an expansive gesture. 'They are here to shed light on the talent of Martin Eldridge.'

    'You may be disappointed, Sir William.'

    'More than likely.'

    'No,' explained Christopher, 'not in the quality of his performance, because you're unlikely to see it. Mr Eldridge will not even turn up.'

    'We made an appointment. It must be honoured.'

    'He's on the run and has most likely gone to ground.'

    'On the run? From whom?'

    'Me, Sir William.'

    'What's his offence?'

    'I'm not sure until I can question him.'

    D'Avenant was peremptory. 'Well, you'll not do that until

    I've heard him give his account of Iago,' he insisted, tossing his white hair with a flick of his head. 'Interrupt that and I'll have you thrown out.'

    'There's no need. He won't even come.'

    'Mr Redmayne, let me tell you about actors. When there is the faintest chance of employment, they'll take it. Be they on the run from you, from the law, from their wives, their families or creditors, they will attend their auditions.' He turned back to the stage. 'He'll be here.'

    Christopher was unsure what to do. Direction soon came.

    'Mr Redmayne,' snapped the old man over his shoulder.

    'Yes, Sir William?'

    'Stay out of sight.'

    Hovering between deference and resentment, Arthur Oscott led him into the drawing room. Oscott's wife stayed listening outside the door. The newcomer slapped his whip down on a table.

    'Is she secure?' he asked.

    'Completely, sir,' said Oscott.

    'No more escape attempts?'

    'None.'

    'Good.'

    'Mrs Gow doesn't have the heart for it, not since we caught her maidservant. She's very low.'

    'I hope you've treated her well, Arthur. I'll not have her abused by anyone. Do you understand that?'

    'Yes, sir.'

    'Does your wife understand it? Harriet Gow is a very precious commodity to us. We have to guard her with care. It's not long now. We'll soon be able to divide the takings and celebrate.'

    'Will we?' asked Oscott sceptically. 'There's no sign of the ransom money yet. I'm beginning to wonder if it'll ever come.'

    'Of course it will, man!' returned the other vehemently. 'They'll have to pay now. My second ransom note left them with no option. We'll have the money by dusk tomorrow.'

    'I'll believe it when I see it.'

    'What do you mean?'

    'Well, I don't wish to question your judgement, sir, but you said that the money would be paid immediately. All we had to do was to kidnap Mrs Gow and hold her for a short time.' He looked straight into his employer's eyes. 'What went wrong?'

    'Nothing.'

    'You boasted they'd never dare try to find her.'

    'I know, but they've paid for their impudence. Henry Redmayne was soundly beaten and Mary Hibbert's body was sent to them. Not that I authorised her murder,' he said rancorously, 'but it was an effective way of getting a message through to the Palace.'

    'It wasn't that effective,' said Oscott sourly. 'It hasn't stopped them from trying to hunt us down. They're still on our tail.'

    'They won't be after today. Smeek will see to that.'

    'Smeek is under lock and key in Newgate, sir.'

    The other man was stunned. 'Who put him there?'

    'Jonathan Bale - that constable you sent him to attack. He wasn't such an easy target as Henry Redmayne, sir. In other words,' he said meaningfully, 'Mr Bale is still trying to pick up our scent. I don't like it. Neither does my wife. She wonders if we should cut and run.'

    'Cut and run!' roared his companion. 'We'll do nothing of the kind. All we have to do is to sit tight until the money is paid. If they want to see Mrs Gow alive again, they must and will pay the ransom.'

    'Unless we're tracked down first.'

    'How can we be?'

    'Smeek may talk. And if they've got him, they'll soon take Ben Froggatt into custody as well. Tongues can be loosened in Newgate.'

    'So what? Smeek and Froggatt know nothing.'

    'They know that I hired them.'

    'Forget them.'

    'They know where we took Mrs Gow the first time.'

    'But they have no idea where she is now, do they? You're getting soft, Arthur,' he warned, snatching up his whip. 'That's dangerous. I need people around me I can trust - not cowards who start to shiver at the first setback.'