The Amorous Nightingale

    'It is disgraceful! Wholly, utterly and inexcusably disgraceful!'

    'Don't take it so personally.'

    'How else am I to take it, Christopher? I've never suffered such embarrassment in my entire life. I, Henry Redmayne, a loyal servant to the Crown, a dedicated employee of the Navy Office. I've eaten with the King, drunk with him, gambled with him, walked with him, played tennis with him, watched plays with him, bowed and scraped before him at Court a hundred times and done just about everything else a man can do to curry his favour. Heavens!' he said, waving his arms like the sails of a windmill. 'We're practically on intimate terms. He calls me by name, knows me by reputation. And what does all this add up to in the end?'

    'Try to rise above it, Henry.'

    'Rejection! Total rejection!'

    'That's not how I see it,' argued Christopher.

    His brother was inconsolable. 'I know rejection when I feel it,' he howled. 'It's pure agony. You could hear it in His Majesty's voice, sense it in Will Chiffinch's manner. They give me no credit whatsoever. In their estimation, I am the lowest of the low, a messenger, a runner of errands, a base and unconsidered bearer of tidings.'

    'You found me,' reminded Christopher. 'That was crucial.'

    'Yes,' agreed Henry, 'but as soon as I did that, I was discarded. Cast aside. Abused. Insulted. Shamefully maltreated. Did I get any thanks? Did I earn any respect? No. It was akin to slow torture!'

    Christopher let him rail on for another five minutes. Henry was still smarting so much from what he saw as his own humiliation that he could think of nobody else. After their interview at the Palace, they had returned to the house in Bedford Street to examine the situation and work out a plan of action. Henry was in such a state that he had to be given a cordial by one of his servants. Left alone with his brother in the drawing room, Christopher thought it best to let Henry's ire spend itself in a series of impotent protests. Fatigue eventually set in. Henry's voice became a mere croak and his body lost all its animation. He barely had the strength to remove his wig. Rational discussion could at last begin.

    'Let us start with the key factor here,' suggested Christopher. 'Mrs Harriet Gow has been kidnapped. I think we should put aside personal concerns and address ourselves solely to that emergency.'

    'But that is what I wished to do, Christopher. I revere that woman as much as anybody. I drool over her. It hurts me to think that she is in any kind of danger. Yet am I allowed to come to her aid?'

    'Yes, Henry.'

    'No. You listened to what Will Chiffinch said. I'm a disregarded bystander here. My opinion counts for nothing. When that hulking coachman told his tale, I was not even allowed to ask him a question. They've gagged me.'

    'Remove the gag.'

    'I was treated like dirt.'

    'In that case, only one remedy will suffice,' said Christopher. 'You must prove them wrong, Henry. You must show that you're worthy of their respect and admiration. And the best way to do that is to help me in this daunting task of finding Harriet Gow.'

    'You already have a partner in that enterprise.'

    'Do I?'

    'Yes. That plodding constable of yours, Mr Jonathan Bale. A stone-faced Puritan, if ever I saw one. He'd arrest a man for simply thinking about pleasure, let alone actually indulging in it.'

    'You're being unfair to him. Mr Bale has fine qualities.'

    'I've no use for them.'

    'Well, I do, Henry. So does His Majesty. That's why he wants Mr Bale involved in this business. We two can achieve much together, but there are things that would be of enormous help to us. Things that only you could do.'

    Henry jumped up from his chair. 'So that's all I am, is it?' he complained with renewed bitterness. 'Not even a royal messenger any more - but a constable's lackey!'

    'Of course not.'

    'My brother leads the search, Mr Bale blunders along in his footsteps, and there am I, ignobly bringing up the rear.'

    'Nonsense!' said Christopher, adopting a firmer tone. 'This is a matter of life and death, Henry. Shake off your self-pity just for once and think about someone else. Keep the image of Harriet Gow before your eyes,' he urged, 'imprisoned by enemies. When I ask you to help us, I do so because I know how valuable your contribution will be, every bit as valuable as the one that I or Mr Bale could possibly make. We are equal partners here, all three of us.'

    'Oh well, that's different,' said Henry, partially mollified.

    'You are quite indispensable.'

    'Am I?'

    'Yes, Henry. Your assistance is critical. If we are successful, you will reap corresponding rewards. Think how impressed His Majesty will be with you. How much you'll astound Mr Chiffinch. And, most of all, what gratitude Harriet Gow will heap upon you.'

    Henry was convinced. 'I'm yours,' he volunteered readily. 'Just tell me what to do.'

    'First of all, give me your impression of what we've so far heard.'

    'But I could make neither head nor tail of it, Christopher.'

    'Go through it again now. Search for the logic.'

    'Is there any?' wondered his brother, scratching his head. 'Harriet Gow is abducted. A ransom note is sent to the Palace. Five thousand pounds is demanded for the safe return of the lady.'

    'That sounds logical enough.'

    'Does it? Then you are not acquainted with the royal finances. They are in a parlous condition. His Majesty does not possess five hundred pounds, let alone five thousand. Every time he wants the most paltry sum, he's forced to go cap in hand to Parliament. There's simply no money to be had, Christopher. The Dutch War has bankrupted us.'

    'But hostilities are now at an end.'

    'Only because we were forced to sue for peace. Don't remind me of it,' Henry groaned, putting a palm to his brow. 'It was excruciating. But a few short months ago, the Dutch not only broke through our defences in the Medway, they sailed on to Chatham, sank three ships, towed away the Royal Charles, the pride of our Navy, raided Sheppey and destroyed the fort at Sheerness. It was my blackest day at the Navy Office. Crude as his metaphors always are, Sir William Batten was right. The Devil shits Dutchmen. We were well and truly buried in the ordure.'

    'Come back to the ransom.'

    'There is no way that His Majesty can pay it.'

    'Not even when the life of a lady is at stake?'

    'Especially then. It's one thing to beg money from Parliament for essential expenditure, but they would turn a deaf ear to any requests concerning one of his mistresses. Besides,' Henry observed, 'the terms of the ransom note were explicit. The transaction is to be kept secret. How can that happen if the House of Commons is involved?'

    'I can see His Majesty's dilemma.'

    'It is rather more complicated than that.'

    'I know. There is the small matter of the Queen.'

    'Her Majesty is the least of his worries. Other ladies bulk larger in his life than she does. Lady Castlemaine is the worst of them, as grasping and greedy a woman as ever clambered into the royal bed. A real viper when she is roused. Were it not for the fact that she would be more likely to kill than ransom Harriet Gow, I would not put it past her to be the author of this whole conspiracy.'

    'Now we are getting somewhere!'

    'Are we?'

    'Cui bono: who stands to gain?'

    'Lady Castlemaine would certainly gain from the removal of her chief rival, but she is not the only one. His