'Then
it comes at an inappropriate time, Your Majesty.'
'Inappropriate?'
'I am
heavily preoccupied with my work.'
'Royal
business takes precedence over your career, however illustrious that may be. I
should warn you that I am not accustomed to being thwarted. This is a matter of
the utmost importance so I'll brook no obstruction.'
'Christopher
was not being obstructive, Your Majesty,' said Henry.
'But
you are, sir.'
'Without
intention.'
'Hold
your tongue or leave the room!'
'Of
course, Your Majesty.'
'I
only wish to hear from your brother.'
Henry
recoiled from the rebuke and squirmed in silence.
'Is there
nobody else who could take on this assignment?' asked Christopher. 'Work begins
tomorrow on a house that I have designed. My presence on site is vital.'
'Not
if the building is delayed.'
'There's
no reason for that to happen, Your Majesty.'
'There's
every reason. And before you ask again,' he said, lifting an imperious hand,
'there is nobody else who is so well fitted for the task before us. Great
courage and discretion are required. You possess both qualities in abundance.
That
is why I turn to you in this emergency.' He detached the spaniel from his
shoulder and dropped it to the floor. 'No other names were even considered. I
must have the two of you.'
Christopher
was taken aback. 'Henry and I?'
'No,
not Henry. That is a laughable suggestion. This is way beyond your brother's
meagre capacities.' Henry bit back a protest and writhed afresh. 'The man I
have in mind is that constable.'
'Jonathan
Bale?'
'The
very fellow. Surly but solid.'
'You
have summed him up to perfection, Your Majesty.'
'The
two of you worked well together.'
'Give
or take a few disagreements.'
'Disagreements?'
'Nothing
of consequence,' said Christopher dismissively, gliding over any mention of
Jonathan Bale's republican sympathies. 'Constable Bale is a dedicated man. A
brave one, too. He saved me from a beating.'
'You
and he must pick up the trail at once.'
'The
trail, Your Majesty?'
'Yes,'
said the King, rising to his feet and scattering the dogs. 'The search must
begin immediately. Thus it stands, Mr Redmayne. Someone very dear to me has
been abducted. Circumstances compel me to pine for her in private. I need
hardly tell you what those circumstances are. On one thing, however, I am
decided. She must be found - alive and well - at the earliest possible
opportunity.'
'May
I know the lady's name?'
'All
of London is familiar with it by now.'
'Indeed?
Then she must be famous.'
'Deservedly
so.'
'Who
is the lady?'
'Mrs
Harriet Gow.'
Christopher
was stunned. The idea that Harriet Gow was in any kind of peril was a severe
blow. He reeled. Unable to contain himself, Henry let out an exclamation of
horror before clapping a hand over his truant mouth. The King began to pace the
room.
'This
is a bad business,' he moaned, 'and it must be resolved quickly. A precious
life is at stake - a very precious life. Rescue must be effected.' He stopped
in front of Christopher. 'All mention of me must, of necessity, be absent from
this affair but I wish to be kept informed of any progress that you and
Constable Bale make. Is that understood?'
'Yes,
Your Majesty,' mumbled Christopher, still trying to absorb the shock of what he
had heard. 'But can this be so? Mrs Gow kidnapped? Who could wish to lay rough
hands on such a beautiful lady?'
'That
is what you must find out, Mr Redmayne. Harsh punishment will await the
malefactors, I can promise you that. I can also promise you and the constable a
sizeable reward.'
'Saving
the lady would be reward enough in itself.'
'Nobly
said, sir!'
'I
had the good fortune to see Mrs Gow in
The Maid's Tragedy,'
said
Christopher, recalling the effect she had had on him at the theatre. 'A truly
remarkable talent. That song of hers could charm a bird from a tree.'
'Then
you will understand why I want her prised from the grip of her abductors,' said
Charles, eyes flashing. 'The longer she is at their mercy, the more danger to
her life. Act fast, Mr Redmayne.'
'Where
will I start, Your Majesty?'
'That
is up to you, sir.'
'But
you've given me no firm information.'
'We
do not have any, beyond the fact that Mrs Gow was travelling in her coach this
morning when it was ambushed in a narrow lane. The coachman was overpowered,
the lady seized and spirited away. A ransom note arrived soon after at the
Palace.' He turned away to hide his consternation. 'What few details we have,
you can learn from Will Chiffinch. Will?'
'Your
Majesty?' said the other, emerging from a corner.
'Do
what is needful.' He studied the ruby ring, distressed to think that the person
to whom he gave its twin was in such peril. 'Mrs Gow occupies a special place
in my heart. I'll not sleep a wink until she is safely returned to it. Please
find her
- soon!'
The
King went back to the window and the audience was over. At a signal from
Chiffinch, the Redmayne brothers tripped out of the Drawing Room. Christopher's
mind was ablaze. All his reservations about taking on the assignment now faded
away. Harriet Gow was missing. It was incredible and yet, when he thought about
it, not entirely unexpected. Beauty as rare as hers, allied with talent as
unique, was bound to attract envy and spite. Her enjoyment of royal favours
would create another set of enemies. Which of them had kidnapped her? And how
much were they demanding for her release?
Will
Chiffinch took a deep breath then indicated some chairs.
'It
might be better if you both sit down,' he said, marshalling his thoughts. 'What
I am about to tell you is, of course, in the strictest confidence. Never forget
that. You must be discreet. The ransom note, as you will see, warns of dire
consequences if any attempt is made to rescue Mrs Gow. One wrong move could
prove fatal to her.'
'You
can trust me, Mr Chiffinch,' affirmed Henry with a hand on his breast. 'I am
Discretion itself.'
'That
is not His Majesty's estimation of you, Mr Redmayne.'
'Oh?'
'Hence
the fact that you are relegated to the outer fringes of this inquiry. Remain
there in silence, please. Otherwise, you delay us.'
'Tell
us about the abduction,' urged Christopher. 'Where exactly did it take place?
How violent were the kidnappers? Was Mrs Gow hurt?'
'We
hope not.'
'Yet
the King said the coachman was overpowered.'
'No question
of that,' said Chiffinch with a sigh.
'What
do you mean?'
'Let
the fellow speak for himself.'
He
crossed to a door in the corner and opened it to admit a big, brawny man of
middle years in a torn coat that was spattered with blood. The coachman's
craggy features were disfigured by bruises, and heavy bandaging encircled his
forehead. A split lip throbbed visibly with pain.
'This
is Roland Trigg,' introduced Chiffinch. 'He has been Mrs Gow's coachman for
over a year now. His duties include more than simply conveying her from place
to place. Mr Trigg is familiar with her movements and with those in her
intimate circle. But let us return to the abduction itself. Hear it from one
who was actually there. Mr Trigg?'
Roland
Trigg ran a purple tongue over his swollen lip.
'She
was took, sirs,' he said with a mixture of sadness and anger. 'Stolen from me
in broad daylight. I fought hard to save her but I was outnumbered. Four of
them in all. One with a pistol and three with cudgels. They left their
trademark all over me, but no matter for that. Help me to find them, sirs, for
I have a score to settle with that quartet.'
'A
score?' echoed Christopher.
'Yes,'
vowed the other, bunching his fists. 'I mean to kill each one of them with my
bare hands. Slowly. Just for the pleasure of it.'
It
was an afternoon of mixed fortunes for Jonathan Bale. Though he cleverly
apprehended the thief who broke into unoccupied premises in Knightrider Street,
he failed to catch the man's accomplice, a nimble youth who got away with
appreciable takings. The constable went on to stop a fight between two irate
neighbours, adjudicate in a marital dispute over a dead cat and give evidence
before the magistrate in three separate cases. When a breathless Abraham
Datchett accosted him with the news that a corpse was bobbing about in the
river, Jonathan rushed down to the wharf, only to discover that the watchman's
failing eyesight had confused a piece of driftwood caught up in some tarpaulin
with human remains. There were further examples of success and failure during
his patrol of Baynard's Castle Ward. It was a typical day.
When
his feet took him close to Addle Hill once more, he slipped home to see his
wife and to take some refreshment. Sarah Bale was in the kitchen as he let
himself into the house. Bare arms deep in water, she was washing some clothes
for regular clients. Among the jobs she took on in order to supplement their
finances was that of tubwoman, receiving filthy sheets and returning them with
an almost pristine whiteness. It was hard work but Sarah revelled in it,
singing to herself as she laboured and building up a steady rhythm in the tub.
Jonathan
came up behind her to plant a kiss on her cheek.
'Are
you still doing that, my love?' he said.
'It
will keep me busy for a couple of hours yet.'
'You
take on too much, Sarah.'
'I
never refuse good, honest work.'
'You
should.'
'We
need the money, Jonathan.'
'We'll
manage somehow.'
'You
always say that.'
'Only
because it's the truth.'
She
broke off to dry her hands and to appraise her husband.
'You
look tired,' she noted.
'It's
been a tiring afternoon.'
'Have
you called in here to moan about it?'
'I
never do that, Sarah, and you know it,' he said solemnly. 'My work is left
behind the moment I step through that door. This is my refuge. My place of
sanctuary.'
'I
wish I could say the same.'
She
glanced at the washing with a wry smile. Sarah Bale was a plump woman with a
round face that was full of kindness and character. His wife was almost twice
the weight she had been when she married him but Jonathan was quite unaware of
the transformation that had taken place. The happiness of their union imposed a
benign form of blindness on him. Looking at her now, he marvelled yet again at
her comely features and her youthful vitality.
Though
he resented the amount of work she accepted, Jonathan saw the practical
advantages. Apart from bringing a steady trickle of additional money into the
home, taking in washing, sewing or doing other chores gave Sarah an insight
into the lives of many families in the locality. Most of what she picked up was
idle gossip but some of the information was extremely useful to her husband.
Jonathan prided himself on the fact that he knew everyone in his parish by name
but it was his wife who often provided significant detail about some of the
people he nominally protected.
Jonathan
poured himself a mug of beer to slake his thirst.