Deliver us from Evil (41 page)

Robert did not meet his stare. 'You are shrewd, my Lord.'

'A deed to be performed, no doubt, at the request of the Marquise?'

'We must, if we are to show a true Christian spirit, be obedient to the desires of the feeble and the sick.'

'Yet
I
gave her the
mummia.
She is risen from her bed.'

'Yes, but still withered and lined, too weak to leave her house, still less to hunt her prey. She believes that Miss Malet may serve as a . . . restorative.'

Lord Rochester paused in his walk, and studied Robert with a quizzical frown,
I
do not understand,' he murmured,
I
had thought your principles too generous and just to contemplate such a deed.'

'My principles are fast becoming subject to necessity.'

'A fashionable avowal.'

'Yet it was not fashion which has taught me, but rather dread of walking into the same ambush twice. For before, my Lord, when
I
travelled to Woodton,
I
was like those Cavaliers my father had fought against, who would charge without heed or care and be defeated easily. So
I
must grow a wiser and more subtle general, one who studies an enemy as deeply as he can.' Robert paused. 'The Marquise has held back a great deal from me, concerning the Spirit whom it is now my one ambition to destroy.'

'And she will tell you what she knows, if you will only kill Miss Malet?'

it is not
I
who will kill her.'

'Spoken like a true and honest hypocrite!'

Robert smiled grimly,
I
had not realised your own morals were so scrupulous either, my Lord. But since you seem resolved to play the preacher with me, let me tell you that my conscience is easily salved by the thought that, if
I
kidnap Miss Malet, it may well be that all London shall be saved.'

'A high and soaring claim, Lovelace.'

‘I
t affords me no joy that
I
can justify it. For did you not understand, my Lord, that when
I
brought Miss Vaughan to London
I
also brought the plague? If it is to be fought against, then
I
must first know what the taint was in Emily's blood. Such a task is made all the more difficult, by the fact that
I
...
that her body
...
that her corpse has not been found .
..'

He fell into a sudden silence; and Lord Rochester, inspecting him, shook his head, is it not possible, Lovelace, that your judgement on this matter has been influenced by your grief?'

'Grief?' Lovelace's face grew strangely twisted; then he started to laugh. 'But
I
feel no grief at all. Indeed,
I
feel nothing whatever.
My
heart is as dead as stone. No, my Lord - let us talk no more of this.' He broke free, and continued hurriedly on his way; and Lord Rochester, shrugging faintly, followed him along the path.

They had arrived at Deptford Creek by now; and London could be seen clearly ahead of them, vivid against a relentless, blinding blue sky. There seemed no clue at such a distance of its agony; save that on the Thames, the traffic was becalmed and still, as though unwilling to approach the death-infected city.

'How can you be certain,' asked Lord Rochester slowly, 'that the Marquise is indeed the best qualified to help you?'

I
cannot be certain. But what choice do
I
have?'

'What choice indeed?' Lord Rochester smiled distantly, then glanced at the wherries gathered at the head of the Creek,
I
should hire a boatman here,' he said, as he crossed over the footbridge which led to Deptford Strand. He glanced up at the wharves, then again across at London. 'Anywhere else,' he murmured, 'the boatmen will be hard to persuade.'

'So you will not come to meet with Milady?'

I
would not like to intrude,' Lord Rochester answered, walking on towards the wharves. Then he paused suddenly, and glanced back. 'Yet
I
find it strange,' he murmured, 'that Milady should help you at all.'

'Why?'

'Surely she would like to keep Miss Malet for herself?'

'Keep her?' Robert frowned,
I
do not understand.'

'Do you not remember what
I
told you, when we rode upon the Thames, that blood-drinkers may love the descendants of their own kind, and yet not drive them mad? Surely Milady would welcome such a prize?'

'But she has no need of it,' answered Robert. He smiled, and turned to stare across at Deptford Strand. As he did so, he felt the faintest tingling of gold within his blood, and his smile grew broader with the lightness in his veins. 'Why do you think that she has fostered me?'

Lord Rochester studied him for a long while; then answered his smile. 'Do you sense her now?' he whispered. 'Her pleasure in blood?'

Robert breathed in deeply. 'Very distantly,' he answered. He smiled again, and closed his eyes.

'And it is as lovely as ever? As rich as before?'

Robert opened his eyes again, but he could not stop smiling. Lord Rochester, who had been studying him intently, bowed with just the faintest inclination of his head; then he climbed down the steps and boarded a boat. 'So you are determined,' he cried up suddenly, 'that it will be tonight?'

'Tonight,' Robert answered. He paused. 'By Charing Cross. For she dines with Miss Stewart, and will be abroad very late.' Then, not wanting to say any more, Robert turned and hurried away along the wharves. The pleasure in his veins was growing stronger with each step. Ahead of him, before the Navy yards, a line of mean streets ran up from the Thames, and he knew that Milady was on one of them. He found the street; it was lined with storehouses and ugly-looking taverns, of the kind in which sailors might grow so drunk that they would then collapse and lie snoring in the mud - easy pickings indeed. As Robert walked along, the pleasure grew almost unendurable. Then he saw her at the very top of the street, staring up at a large, substantial house - very old, Robert guessed, and facing out on to the Green beyond Deptford Strand. He wondered what Milady's interest in it could be. Perhaps it was to one of its rooms, he guessed, that she had taken the sailor whose blood was now flowing like gold in her veins.

He touched her shoulder. When she turned round, startled, her face wore none of the lazy passion he had been expecting to see; instead, it seemed desolate, almost wild with strange grief. 'Lovelace. Dearest Lovelace. Let me hold you.' But she said nothing more; and when she broke away at last, her expression had faded and seemed icy once again. Robert wanted to ask her what it was that she had seen or experienced that night, to affect her so; but her stare was forbidding, and his questions were frozen stillborn upon his tongue. Then she smiled suddenly and gave him a kiss, almost skittishly, as though stealing it like a lovesick girl. 'Why should
I
be dread,' she whispered, 'for so long as
I
have you?' She took his arm. 'Come.' She began to lead him back down the street towards the wharves. 'We have an abduction to prepare.'

'About
18,
he stole his Lady, Elizabeth Malet, a daughter and heir, a great fortune; for which
I
remember
I
saw him a Prisoner in the Tower
..."

John Aubrey,
Brief Lives

I

t was as the carriage was rumbling out from Whitehall Palace that Robert felt the pistol being placed against his head. He turned round very slowly. 'You are changing the plot, my Lord,' he murmured,
it
is not
I
, but Miss Malet, who is to be abducted tonight.'

'And so she shall be, for
I
have need of her myself.' Lord Rochester grinned. 'Request Milady to do nothing foolish, if you please. None of her tricks.'

Robert paused. He heard the pistol being cocked; he looked across at Milady. She was watching him and Lord Rochester together, her golden eyes calm and utterly opaque. Robert nodded to her; she continued to stare a moment more, then slowly turned in her saddle. At the same moment, a group of horsemen rode out from the shadows to take their places in a half-ring by the entrance to the Strand. They all wore masks; and as the carriage turned into Charing Cross, so they drew out their swords.

'No time to waste,' Lord Rochester whispered. 'Request Miss Malet to step out from her coach.'

Robert glanced round. The pistol was still cocked, and aimed at his head. Lord Rochester gestured with it; Robert pulled up his mask, and cantered forward. The carriage had already been stopped. He dismounted, and approached the door; as he swung it open, he was greeted by cries of mingled outrage and fear.

He ignored them; and politely requested Miss Malet to step outside.

'Damn you to Hell!' bellowed an old man, whom Robert guessed to be her guardian. 'What do you mean to do with her, you villain?'

I
?' answered Robert. 'Be thankful that
I
can do nothing at all.'

Miss Malet stared up at him wide-eyed. 'Then for whom are you working?' she whispered.

Robert paused. 'One who,
I
believe, will do you no harm.'

'What is his purpose?'

'His purpose?' Robert took Miss Malet's hand; he helped her from the coach, then across the street to where a second carriage stood. 'Why,' he whispered suddenly in her ear,
I
believe that he intends to make you his wife.' Then he stepped back, as a footman slammed the door and the carriage began to rumble down the street. The horsemen rode with it; but Lord Rochester himself still remained by Charing Cross, until the carriage had vanished and could be heard no more. Then he waved cheerily in turn to Robert and Milady. 'Present my regrets to the Marquise,' he cried. He wheeled his horse round, and galloped hard in the opposite direction to the coach. Onlookers had been gathering all the time; as Lord Rochester left Charing Cross, so the cry went up that he had been the abductor, and horsemen from the Palace were soon pursuing him hard. As Robert watched them go, Milady shook her head,
it
will be the most notorious scandal for many a year,' she whispered. 'There will be no chance now that Miss Malet can be seized again and made to disappear.'

'And that,' Robert answered, 'was surely his Lordship's aim.'

'He is a most fearless villain. Would you have me kill him?'

Robert paused; then shook his head.

Milady leaned back in her saddle, and arched an eyebrow. 'You seem passing cool, Lovelace, considering the man has just lost you the Marquise's good will, and doubtless much more.'

'Doubtless,' nodded Robert slowly. 'Yet
I
wonder, all the same, whether he might not have something to offer in return.'

'Why?' Milady stared at him, intrigued. 'What might he know, that the Marquise does not?'

Robert shrugged; then smiled, as more horsemen galloped past them in pursuit. 'Well - it seems
I
shall soon have the chance to ask him. For whatever other plans his Lordship may have had, he was clearly determined to be easily captured.'

And so it proved. Robert had no problems in keeping abreast of the news for, as Milady had anticipated, the attempted abduction was indeed the scandal of the hour, and in the midst of war and gathering plague, the Court found it hard to talk of any other matter. Lord Rochester had been taken; he was being brought back to London; he was being sent to the Tower. The King, it was whispered delightedly, was in the most furious rage. Who knew what the errant Earl's fate might not be? Robert too wondered about this; but he doubted it was the King whom Lord Rochester had to dread. A visit to the Marquise confirmed this supposition; for the theft of Miss Malet had flung her into a rage more deadly by far than that of any king. She answered Robert's pleas with an icy contempt, and spoke only to damn Lord Rochester to Hell.
‘
I
shall teach him the meaning of suffering,' she hissed, 'for believe me
..."
- she reached up to touch her lined and withered face -
I
have a far deeper knowledge now of what it can be.'

Robert sent this warning in a note to Lord Rochester; and waited for a reply. For a while, he thought that it might never come; but then at last he was delivered a pass, signed 'R.', to the Tower. Robert left at once. Journeying through London, he could see everywhere the encroaching marks of the plague. By now, the red crosses had spread far beyond
St
Giles, and beneath the burning blue sky the whole city reeked, as though of mortality and fear. Once Robert caught a glimpse of a plague cart; and he paused, and bowed his head to offer a prayer for Emily's soul. Then he swore with sudden fury - for he knew that the time for prayer was long since passed. He hurried on to the Tower, where he was shown to Lord Rochester's quarters. He barely dealt with courtesies; for he was growing desperate and impatient, and he had a pressing demand to make.