'Several months ago. Just after the fire.'
'Did you take against him then?'
'Very strongly, Sarah,' he admitted. 'It is not so much
the man himself as what he represents. He is one of them. When Lord Protector Cromwell ruled, I hoped that such creatures would be driven out of London altogether but they are back in greater numbers than before.'
'Who are?'
'Elegant young gentlemen with their easy manners and easy ways, looking down on the likes of us. Royalists, Sarah. Trailing behind King Charles like his beloved spaniels and soiling the whole city with their droppings. No,' he said as he poured more ale from the jug, 'that was another reason to decline the money. I knew that the architect, too, would doubtless be rewarded for his share in the enterprise. We would have been joint beneficiaries.'
'Is that so terrible, Jonathan?'
'Yes,' he emphasised. 'I would not wish my name to be linked in any way to that of Mr Christopher Redmayne.'
'Christopher!' he yelled. 'Where are you? For Heaven's sake, let me in!'
Henry Redmayne pounded on the door of the house in Fetter Lane until he heard sounds from within. It was very late and the place was in darkness but he felt certain that his brother would be at home. In the event, it was Jacob who opened the door, taper in hand, and who peered out at him. Henry pushed past him to enter the house at the very moment that Christopher was descending the stairs in his nightshirt.
'What on earth is the matter, Henry?' he asked.
'I need to see you,' said his brother in tones of urgency.
'At this hour? Could it not wait until morning?'
'No, Christopher.'
'Very well,' said the other with a yawn. 'Light some candles, Jacob. Then you may go back to bed. I will see to my brother.'
'Thank you, sir,' murmured the old man.
He led the way into the parlour and lit four candles before shuffling out again. Christopher sat down and waved Henry to a chair but the latter remained on his
feet. There was a touch of fear in his eyes.
'Sir Ambrose has disappeared!' he announced.
'Disappeared?'
'So it seems.'
'Why come to me?' said Christopher. 'He is not here.'
'But you did dine with him today, did you not?'
'Yes.'
'And he seemed well enough then?'
'In rude health.'
'Then it cannot be illness which kept him away.'
'From what?'
'He and I arranged to meet this evening.'
'Yes,' remembered Christopher. 'He mentioned that.'
'He did not turn up at the agreed time. I went to his house but there was no sign of him there. Feeling alarmed, I called on Solomon Creech, certain that he would know where Sir Ambrose was. But he did not. All that he could confirm was that Sir Ambrose had every intention of keeping his appointment with me. After that—'
'Hold there,' interrupted Christopher, still drowsy. 'Did you say that you went to Sir Ambrose's house?'
'Yes. It lies in Westminster.'
'I did not realise he already had a residence here.'
'He bought it several years ago.'
'That is strange,' said Christopher thoughtfully. 'He gave me the impression that he was building the new house in Baynard's Castle Ward in order to have a base in the capital.'
'What of it?' returned Henry evasively. 'Does it matter if he has one, two or three houses in London? Sir Ambrose can have as many houses as he likes. All I am concerned with is his safety.'
'What makes you think that it is under threat?'
'His disappearance.'
'There may be a simple explanation for it.'
'I cannot think of one, Christopher. Nor could Creech. The lawyer was more disturbed by the news than me. Sir Ambrose has his faults but he is very punctual about appointments.' He paced the room. 'It is very worrying. Where can the man be?'
'When was he last seen?'
'By you, apparently. At what time did you part?'
'Well past two o'clock this afternoon.'
'Creech told me that you dined in Holborn.'
'That is so. He ate with us but left early.'
'In which direction did Sir Ambrose go?'
'Towards Newgate.'
'On his horse?'
'No, Henry. He was walking.'
'Did he say where he was going?'
'Not to me.'
Henry came to a halt and stroked his moustache as he pondered. In the pool of light thrown by the candles, Christopher could see that his brother was as immaculately dressed as ever but the fact that his periwig was slightly askew showed how distracted he was. Henry Redmayne was a rare visitor to the house even though he was no stranger to Fetter Lane itself. Until it was destroyed by fire, there was an establishment at the Fleet Street end of the lane which Henry had visited regularly in his endless pursuit of carnal delights and one of the gaming houses he also frequented was still standing. That he should appear on the threshold at all was a surprise. To come at that hour and in such a state of agitation revealed just how anxious he was.
'Might he not have been led astray?' suggested Christopher.
'That is my fear.'
'I imply no danger.'
'Then what is your meaning?'
'Sir Ambrose strikes me as a man after your own heart, Henry. A dedicated sybarite. Given to pleasure, acquainted with excess. I always assumed that that is how the two of you first met. Across a gaming table or in some house of resort.'
'How we met is a private matter,' said Henry testily.
'But you take my point?'
'Of course. And I have visited every one of his known haunts. It has taken me hours. Sir Ambrose has not been near any of them. That is why I came to you to see what light you can shed.'
'None, I fear. You know him far better than I, Henry. Until today, for instance, I had no idea that he owned a residence in Westminster.'
'Forget that. It is not important.'
'I just wonder why it was hidden from me.'
'It was not hidden from anybody,' chided Henry. The only thing that we must address at the moment is Sir Ambrose's disappearance. When he is in London, he is a man of regular habits. Such people do not just vanish into thin air.' He bit his lip in meditation. 'Did he give you no clue where he was going when he left you this afternoon?'
'None whatsoever.'
'But he told you that he would be seeing me?'
