'Thanks to Mademoiselle Oilier, I found it.'
Jonathan Bale had always believed that honesty was the best policy, especially where matrimonial exchanges were concerned. He was proved right once again. Unskilled in hiding anything from his wife, he told her exactly where he went when he returned from his first night's vigil in Lincoln's Inn Fields. Sarah was at once critical and curious, disapproving strongly of places such as Molly Mandrake's establishment yet wanting to know exactly what happened inside their walls and who patronised them. Her husband was reticent about activities within the house but he gave her several names from the memorised list of visitors. That list had been committed to paper and added to substantially as a result of two subsequent visits.
As Jonathan prepared to set out for Lincoln's Inn Fields for a fourth time, he sat in the kitchen of his home and consulted his list of names once again. It contained one earl and more than a scattering of baronets. In his view nothing more clearly mirrored a degenerate aristocracy. He stuffed the paper into his pocket and rose to leave. His wife got up from the table with him.
'At least you had time to put the boys to bed this evening,' she said gratefully. 'When shall I expect you back?'
'I have no idea, Sarah.'
'As long as you do not get lured inside that place.'
'It holds no attraction for me.'
'Even though it must be filled with gorgeous young ladies?'
'They are poor women, led astray,' said Jonathan sadly. 'Besides, I could never afford to keep company with them. They charge more for one night than most men earn in a month.'
'How do you know?' teased his wife.
He grinned. 'That is a secret.'
'What happened to that man with the mask?'
'I only saw him on that first visit.'
'Has he not been back to the house?'
'Not while I have been there, Sarah.'
'Why would a man wear a mask like that?' she said.
'To conceal his identity. I guess him to be a person of high rank who does not wish anyone to know that he frequents the place. Who knows? It might even have been the King himself.'
She was shocked. 'He would never sink so low!'
'Do not put it past him, my love. The rumour is that he tires of his mistresses on occasion and seeks entertainment elsewhere.'
'Well, it is a scurvy rumour and I will not believe it.'
He was worried. 'I hope you are not turning into a royalist, Sarah.'
'Of course not,' she said stoutly. 'I deplored the Restoration as much as you did. Life was better under the Lord Protector. But while we have a King on the throne, I prefer to give him the benefit of the doubt. Now, off with you and prove me wrong.'
'I may well do so.'
She gave him a kiss then walked with him to the front door.
'When is Mr Redmayne coming back?' she wondered.
'I do not know.'
'He has been gone for days now. Why did you not offer to go with him, Jonathan? It is dangerous for someone to travel all that way on his own. You could have been his bodyguard.'
'Mr Redmayne can look after himself, Sarah. He would never have considered taking me and I would certainly not have enjoyed spending so much time alone with him.'
'It would have given you chance to get to know him better.'
'That was my fear.'
He let himself out of the house, gave her a wave and strode off. The route was familiar now and he seemed to arrive in Lincoln's Inn Fields sooner than ever. Clouds drifted across the moon to keep the whole area largely in darkness. It enabled him to slip into his accustomed hiding-place with no danger of being seen. Revellers soon began to arrive. Some were regular visitors whose names had already been recorded but others were memorised for the first time. When another coach arrived, its lone passenger was given an especially warm welcome by Molly Mandrake as she opened the door to greet him. It was a French name and Jonathan doubted if he would be able to spell it correctly when he added it to his list.
The most interesting snatch of dialogue which he overheard came towards the end of his stay in the shadows. A man arrived on horseback, tethered his mount then pulled the doorbell. Caught between the two torches under the portico, he gave Jonathan a clear view of his profile and the constable was forced to ask once again why yet another elegant young gentleman had to pay for pleasures which he could more properly enjoy within a lawful marriage. When the door swung open, light blazed out and brought Molly Mandrake's rich voice with it.
'Why, Mr Strype!' she said happily. 'This is a pleasant surprise.'
'Have you missed me, Molly?'
'We all have, sir. Desperately.'
'I have not been able to visit London for some time.'
'More's the pity!' A deep sigh followed. 'We were so shocked to hear about what happened to Sir Ambrose.'
'A dreadful business, Molly. Quite devastating!'
'I hope that it has not dragged you down too much, sir.'
'I must confess that it has.'
'Are you sad and lonely?'
'Sad, lonely and in need of jollity.'
'Then step inside, Mr Strype,' she said with a ripe chuckle, taking him by the arm. 'We have the cure for your malady right here. Nobody is allowed to be sad or lonely in my house. Jollity reigns supreme.'
'Lead me to it, Molly.'
One door shut in Jonathan's face but another one had
just opened. It gave him something to think about on the walk back home.
**********************************
Christopher was a mile away from his destination when he realised that he was being followed. He slowed his horse and listened for the sound of hoofbeats behind him. Only one rider could be discerned. When he came to a stand of poplars, he reined in his mount and waited among the trees. The hoofbeats had stopped. After waiting a few minutes, he decided that the other horseman must have turned off the road and taken another route. Christopher continued on his way but instinct told him that he was still being trailed. He doubted if it was a highwayman. Such men usually operated in bands and lurked in ambush. There was no attempt to catch him up. Whoever rode behind him was content to keep an appreciable distance between them.
Knowing how treacherous the roads could be, Christopher was well armed, carrying a loaded pistol as well as a rapier and dagger. He hoped that he would not be called upon to use any of the weapons.
When the lights of the inn finally came into sight, he kicked a last burst of speed out of his horse. Clattering into the courtyard, he dropped from the saddle, handed the reins to the ostler who came running and noted to which stable his horse was taken. Then he shook off the night and went into a hostelry which blazed with dozens of candles.
Business was scarce so the landlord gave him a cheerful welcome. He was a scrawny old man with a ragged beard and a gap-toothed grin.
'Do you need a bed for the night, monsieur?'
'Yes, please.'
'We can offer you our best room.'
'I want somewhere which overlooks the stables.'
'As you wish.'
'And I will need something to eat before I retire.'
'My wife will see to your needs, sir.'
