Edward Marston - The Merry Devils

'You do not like plays, do you?’

'No, sir.'

'If it was left to you, Westfield's Men would not come here.'

'Most certainly not.'

'What do you have against us?'

'I do not care for strangers in my house.

Glanville went off up the staircase with dignity.

Nicholas returned to his own room by the recommended means and slept well. After breakfast early next morning, he completed his work in the Great Hall then got ready to leave. He managed to spare a few minutes to call on Jane Skinner. Lying in bed with splints on her leg, she was flattered by his interest and told him how the accident had occurred. He also pumped her about Glanville and heard how she had revised her former good opinion of the man.

The book holder wished her a speedy recovery and went off to begin the long ride home. Francis Jordan detained him at the stables.

'We look forward to your next visit, sir.'

'Thank you. Master Jordan.'

'The cream of the county will be your audience.'

'It is a pity that your brother will not be among them, sir.'

'My brother?' Jordan shot him a hostile glance.

'I hear that he was very fond of plays.'

"Who told you that?'

'Jane Skinner.'

Francis Jordan squirmed. The incident with the chambermaid was still a grave embarrassment to him. He had warned his staff not to speak about it to anyone. If the guest had actually talked with the girl herself, he might know the story and be in a position to carry it to Lord Westfield. Jordan's manner became openly antagonistic.

'Goodbye, sir!' he said dismissively.

'May I ask you one question?' said Nicholas casually. "Where is your brother now?'

'Don't be so damned impertinent, man!', 'Nobody seems to know, sir, and he must be somewhere.'

Jordan treated him to a glare of fierce hatred.

'He is in the best place he could be.'

*

Nell was pleased to see him again. Of all her regular clients, Ralph Willoughby was the most generous and the most likeable. His departures were sometimes abrupt but they usually enjoyed themselves together. When Nell came into the taproom of the Bull and Butcher that night, she saw Willoughby through the thick fog. Drink in hand and dressed with his customary extravagance, he was singing a bawdy ballad to his companions. Seeing her amble over to him, he put an arm around her and welcomed her with a warm kiss.

'Nell, my heart's delight!' he said effusively.

Away with that talk, you traitor,' she teased. I have been lying in a cold bed since you left me, sir. I have not seen hide nor hair of you for five or six nights.'

'That is all changed, Nell.'

'I think you have another sweetheart.'

"Oh, I do! She is called The Witch of Oxford and she has kept me groaning with pleasure at night. I have been bent over her until now but her hold on me is at an end. She went off to Banbury today so I am a free man again. That is why I came post haste to you, Nell.'

'Will you stay the night?' she coaxed.

'No.'

'You scurvy rogue! Am I not good enough for you any longer?'

'Shall I tell you why I will not stay the night?'

'Go back to your witch of Oxford!'

'But you may like my reason,' he said, ‘I will not stay the night because I intend to stay the whole week.'

Nell let out a roar of approval and flung herself at him.

*

Bedlam was vibrating with noise. The public came to see the lunatics at play and egged them on to wilder antics. There was trouble in a private cell from an old man who tried to hang himself. Another patient attempted to escape and had to be restrained. It was a day when Rooksley was under immense pressure and he did not welcome casual visitors.

I am sorry but I may not speak with you now,' he told them.

‘Stay awhile, sir,' said the younger of the two men.

'Bedlam has gone mad and I must doctor its madness.

'That is my interest," said the older man.

Nicholas Bracewell had brought Grace Napier and Doctor John Mordrake with him to the hospital. Her love for David Jordan had been proved beyond a doubt. No matter how sad or wretched his condition, she wished to dedicate herself to his care. While she was excited at the prospect of a reunion, therefore, she was also fearful. To be locked away in Bedlam would turn a sane man into a lunatic. She wondered what state her beloved would now be in.

'We have come to see Master David Jordan,' said Nicholas.

'Who, sir?' Rooksley was uncooperative.

'You heard the name.'

'I hear it but I do not recognise it,' said the keeper. 'We have nobody of that name here, sir, and I am acquainted with them all. I can tell you their date of birth, the colour of their hair and eyes, what food they eat each day and at what time of the morning they are like to pass water. I know everything in Bedlam, sir, but I do know a Master Jordan.'

Grace Napier looked crushed but Nicholas did not give up.

'He must be here,' he insisted. 'Lord Westfield would not let a nephew of his rot away in a county asylum. This is the only place to which he would commit the young man.' He indicated the others. 'You do not know what distinguished company you ate in, sir. This is Mistress Napier, who is affianced to Master Jordan, and beside her is Doctor John Mordrake, sometime astrologer to Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth.'

Rooksley was impressed. Mordrake's name was known to everyone.

'Come, sir,' said Nicholas briskly. 'You are busy, we can see. Do but have someone conduct us to Master Jordan and we will trouble you no longer. Do I have to go back to Lord Westfield himself to get a written permission from him?'

The head keeper pondered. The clamour of madness intensified. Nicholas helped him to reach a decision by slipping some coins into his hand. Rooksley pocketed them and nodded.

'That will buy you five minutes with him.'

He went off for a moment and Grace turned to thank Nicholas.

'You are wonderful, sir. I thought of Bedlam and sent my brother here to enquire but he did not get past the door. They told him the lies that we have just heard.'

'Nobody should be in this place,' said Mordrake, looking around with scholarly disgust. 'The insane need special care.'

Rooksley returned with Kirk and handed the keeper a bunch of keys. Kirk led the visitors down a long corridor then swung right. Grace Napier was increasingly tense and Nicholas understood how difficult this moment might be for her. The man whom she loved had parted from her in prime health. What she would now see would be a grotesque shell of that same person.

Kirk was interested that his friend had visitors.

'Have you come from Parkbrook House?' he asked.

'Indirectly, sir.'

'David is a good young man. We have no trouble from him.

'What state is he in, sir?' asked Mordrake.

'His brain is addled and he has the sleeping sickness.'

'Ah yes,' sighed the old man. 'That often follows if a violent blow damages the mind. Memory will go and the patient will lapse back into childhood.

'Who committed him, sir?' asked Nicholas. 'Do you know that?'

'His physician, master. I have seen the records. One Francis Jordan pays the charges to keep him here but he was delivered to Bedlam by another hand.'

'What was the name?'

‘Joseph Glanville.'

Nicholas reacted with interest but his companions did not even hear the keeper. They were peering eagerly through the grille of the door outside which Kirk stopped. Inside the chamber, sitting motionless with his back to them, was the young man in the now ragged white shirt and dark breeches. He was staring up at the window and humming quietly to himself.'

As the door was unlocked, Grace Napier could hardly contain her emotions. A long and painful journey had at last come to an end. She had found the man she loved.