The adulteress

"I see that you have put me into a niche—unromantic, dour, looking on the grim side of life ... Had you?"

I hesitated. "I thought there was a certain sadness about you. But beneath it ... well, I just think if you could throw that aside you might be very merry."

He put his head on one side, smiling at me.

"For today," he said, "this very special day, I am going to do that."

"Can you?" I asked.

"With your help," he replied. "You will see."

"Tell me your plans."

"We ride through the streets to an inn I know of where it is possible to get the very best steak pies in London. Do you like steak pies? Ah, I see you hesitate. Withhold your verdict until you have tried the Rainbow variety. The Rainbow is an inn in Fleet Street. They have excellent roast beef and pork, if you prefer that. It is the place to eat for those who like good food. Will you trust me?"

"I am in your hands," I said.

So we rode out. We rode slowly through those crowded streets. I was fascinated by all I saw. He showed me where the great fire had started and where it had been stopped; he pointed out the magnificent churches which Sir Christopher Wren had built to replace those which had been burned down.

"A moral," he said. "Out of the ashes rises the phoenix."

He talked of the streets as though they were old friends. Cheapside, the center of the mercers and the haberdashers. Paternoster Row, where the makers of rosaries and those who earned their livings by writing text had resided; Cowcross Street with its cook shops and tripe and pork: Billingsgate, which smelled obnoxiously of fish; Fleet Street, the home of the lawyers... .

He was amusing, even witty. I saw another person emerging and I thought: This is how he was meant to be; and I knew that it had something to do with me and that made me very happy.

We skirted one area—the Whitefriars quarter, which he called Alsatia. "It stretches from Salisbury Court to the Temple," he told me. "It's a sanctuary of debtors. They dare not emerge and debt collectors dare not enter. They'd risk their lives if they did."

"Could we not take a look?"

He shook his head. "I might not be able to protect you, and you wouldn't like what you saw. It's getting late. It's time we made tracks for the Rainbow."

At the Rainbow Inn we left our horses in the stable yard and went into the dining room.

The innkeeper's wife appeared; she was very obsequious and I realized that she knew Charles well.

"I've brought a friend to try some of your steak pie," he said.

"And you'll take William's home-brewed cider with it, I'll be bound."

He said we would and we sat down opposite each other.

He regarded me steadily. "I think," he said, "you are liking your jaunt in the big city."

"I never realized it was quite so exciting before, though I do remember long ago ... when we lived here. My father used to take me out with him sometimes."

"You look sad now," he said. "You were very fond of your father, weren't you?"

"He was wonderful ... or so he seemed to me. He was a gambler. My mother was the steady one. He was killed in a duel—senselessly."

"Don't think of sad things ... today," he begged.

"If I don't, you won't. Is that a promise?"

"It is."

The pie was brought and with it flagons of cider.

I agreed I had never tasted such food. But I knew in my heart that everything would be good today.

He talked more about London, about the contrasts one could see during a short walk through the city. Such luxury, such extravagance, and such poverty.

"Like that place we passed."

"Whitefriars, oh yes."

"Have you ever ventured there?"

"I did once ... for a patient." He shuddered.

"Were you alarmed?"

"I was going to see a sick person. I didn't think beyond that. It became like a nightmare. A young girl ran up to me when I was passing and cried out that her mother was dying. I said: 'I'm a doctor. Take me to her.' And she took me. As soon as I stepped into that maze of streets there was the sound of horns blowing. I couldn't understand what it meant. Then I learned that the whole community was being warned that a stranger was in their midst. The young girl screamed out that I was a doctor and she was taking me to her mother. I realized then what a fool I had been to come. I could have been murdered just for my watch. But I was going to a patient ... and at such times one doesn't think much beyond that."

I said: "I think you must be a very good doctor."

"A very ordinary one," he said.

"Tell me about Whitefriars."

"The woman I was being taken to was in labor. I delivered a child. That was my profession. ... It was fortunate that the girl had run into a doctor. I think she thought it was a sort of miracle. Afterwards I escaped in possession of my watch and coins in my pocket. Looking back I think that was the real miracle."

"So you really did have a glimpse inside."