The Amorous Nightingale

host. Sensing his reluctance to help, he tried to impress upon him the gravity of the situation.

    'Mrs Gow is in serious danger, sir.'

    'It's not my doing.'

    'Don't you care?' he chided. 'Does your wife's safety merit no more than an afterthought? Mr Bale may have told you about the abduction but there are other crimes involved here.'

    'There are,' agreed Jonathan, signalled into the conversation. 'Mr Redmayne's own brother was viciously assaulted and an even worse fate was visited on Mary Hibbert.'

    'Mary?' said Gow. 'Harriet's maid?'

    'She'll not be able to serve your wife any more, sir.'

    'Why not?'

    'She was beaten to death.'

    Gow paled. 'She was murdered?'

    'Now you see what we're up against, sir.'

    'But why? Who could want to kill a girl like Mary Hibbert?'

    'Their names are Smeek and Froggatt,' said Christopher, taking over again. 'Thanks to Mr Bale, both of them are in Newgate, awaiting trial. But they're only hired villains. We still don't know the name of the man who paid them to kidnap your wife.'

    He gave Bartholomew Gow a few moments to absorb the new information. It made him thoughtful and uneasy. He looked at his two visitors with a degree of welcome.

    'How can I help?' he offered.

    'By giving us some names,' said Christopher.

    'Names?'

    'Yes, Mr Gow. We've been compiling lists of your wife's friends and enemies. To be honest, we weren't quite sure which category you fell into yourself. Perhaps neither.'

    'I want Harriet to be saved,' affirmed Gow.

    'Then we're working to the same end. The names we have were all suggested by people at the theatre. We wondered if you might add one or two more to the list. I know this must be embarrassing for you,' said Christopher delicately, 'and I apologise for that. What I can promise you is that Constable Bale and I will be very discreet.'

    'It's too late in the day for discretion,' said the other wearily. 'Why try to hide it? Everyone knows that I'm the cuckolded husband of a famous actress. You want me to identify my wife's lovers, is that it?'

    Jonathan shifted his feet, fearing what he was about to hear.

    'I understand,' said Christopher, 'that some of her admirers gave her gifts and that she built up quite a collection.'

    'That's right. I was part of it once.'

    'I've told Mr Redmayne about your situation,' said Jonathan.

    'I was squeezed dry and cast aside,' returned Gow. 'I couldn't afford to keep Harriet in the style she came to prefer so I was pushed out. Things went from bad to worse after that. I made some unwise investments, lost most of what little money I had, and am now reduced to living in this pig sty. It's demoralising.'

    'What's your legal situation?' asked Christopher.

    'I'm still trying to find out. My lawyer, Obadiah Shann, assures me that I can make a claim against Harriet but he's yet to explain how. I thought a wife was supposed to be part of a husband's chattels. Not mine. I was the chattel in that marriage. When she started to develop her collection, she tossed me out altogether.'

    'Tell us about this collection,' encouraged Christopher.

    'It began with small gifts. Baskets of flowers and so on. Then we were invited out together to dine but that didn't last,' he said ruefully. 'Harriet preferred to dine alone with her admirers. After that, the gifts became much more expensive. Sir Roger Mulberry gave her a necklace that must have cost all of two hundred pounds. Lord Clayborne gave her jewellery worth even more. And so her collection built until she had one of the most lavish gifts of all.'

    'What was that, Mr Gow?'

    'Somewhere in which to display it.'

    'The house near St James's Square?'

    'That came with royal compliments,' said Gow. 'How could a man of my means compete with all that? Harriet had already worked her way through most of my money. I couldn't buy her costly rings or fine clothes or a palatial house. And I certainly couldn't afford to buy her a coach.'

    'A coach, sir?' said Jonathan, ears alerted.

    'It was something she'd always wanted. Harriet pined for her own coach so that she could travel wherever she wanted. It was a gift that she cherished. He must have been besotted with her to spend that kind of money on her.'

    'Who?' asked Christopher.

    'Sir Godfrey Armadale.'

    'He was one of your wife's admirers?'

    'Among the most ardent,' explained the other. 'But Harriet only teased him. Sir Godfrey never got the rewards he was after from her. That's why his name probably won't appear on any of your lists. When she had what she wanted, Harriet discarded him.'

    'Yet she kept the coach?'

    'Oh, yes. And the coachman he'd provided.'

    'Roland Trigg?'

    'That's the fellow.'

    Christopher did not need to exchange a glance with Jonathan.

    'Surly beggar,' continued Gow. 'I had a few scuffles with him. When I tried to call at the house, Harriet told him to move me on. Trigg enjoyed doing that. He was her coachman and her bodyguard.'

    'I suspect that he was something else besides,' said Christopher, standing to leave. 'Come, Mr Bale. I think we should pay a visit to Rider Street. Trigg has some explaining to do.' He paused at the door. 'One final thing, Mr Gow.'

    'Yes?'

    'Abigail Saunders met you in Locket's recently.'

    'I remember, Mr Redmayne. I was dining with my lawyer. He was paying or I'd have been eating in a more modest establishment.'

    'Miss Saunders was much taken with a remark you made.'

    'What was that?'

    'You told her that she might have an opportunity to replace your wife because Mrs Gow was going to be indisposed for a while. Do you recall saying that?'

    'Yes. But I was only passing on what I'd just heard.'

    'From whom?'

    'Trigg,' said the other. 'I called at the house that morning but he sent me packing in no uncertain terms. And he warned me not to come back because Harriet would be going away for a while.' 'Going away?'

    'That's all he said, Mr Redmayne.'

    Christopher and Jonathan left at speed. The visit to Clerkenwell had delivered far more than they had dared to hope. As they headed off to their next destination, Jonathan was even starting to enjoy the ride.

    Henry Redmayne was caught offguard for the second time. Wielded by his father, the cudgels were only verbal but they hurt just as much. The Dean of Gloucester strode without warning into the room to find his elder son, wide awake, sitting up in bed with a goblet of wine in his hand.

    'Saints preserve us!' exclaimed the old man.

    'Father!' said Henry, choking on his wine.

    'I expected to find you fast asleep.'

    'I expected that you'd be closeted with the Archbishop.'

    'Indeed, I was,' explained the other, 'but I was worried about you and decided to make one last call before