The Amorous Nightingale

    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 I retired. And what do I find, Henry? You are sitting up in bed with a smile on your face, consuming a goblet of wine.'

    'A cordial, Father,' lied Henry, swallowing the dregs before his visitor could examine them more closely. 'A cordial prescribed by the physician to ease the pain.'

    'What about the sleeping draught? That was supposed to have been prescribed by your physician as well.'

    'Its effect somehow wore off.'

    'You've been deceiving me, sir!' snapped his father.

    'Why would I do that?'

    'For some dark purpose that I intend to root out.'

    'There is no dark purpose,' argued Henry. 'I've never had a dark purpose in my entire life. Ask Christopher. I'm the most opaque of men.'

    'You pretended to be weaker than you really are in order to evade my enquiries about what actually happened to you. That is an act of gross deception. I feel betrayed, Henry.'

    'You've no need, Father.'

    'Thank goodness I had the impulse to call back here!'

    'How was it that my servant didn't warn me of your arrival?'

    'Because I ordered him not to,' explained the other. 'I wanted to steal upon you unannounced. In the event, it was a revelation.'

    'That's not what I'd call it,' said Henry to himself, vowing to dismiss the servant who had allowed the parental assault on him. 'The truth is that I do feel slightly better, though my ribs still hurt whenever I breathe in. But my brain is still clouded.'

    'With too much drink, probably.'

    'Father!' he protested.

    But he could not head off another sermon from the county of Gloucestershire. Delivered with blistering force, it left Henry stunned. He was not simply castigated for trying to deceive his father. All his other perceived or alleged faults were used to beat him into total submission. Henry was too cowed to defend himself. When the punishment had been delivered, Algernon Redmayne remembered his other son.

    'Where is Christopher?' he said.

    'Busy with his own affairs.'

    'His place is here, beside you.'

    'Oh, he's been very attentive,' said Henry, glad to shift the parental gaze away from himself. 'As it happens, Christopher was here earlier this evening with Constable Bale.'

    'A constable? Why was he here? To arrest you?'

    'No, Father. To bring me the glad tidings that the two men who attacked me were now in custody.'

    'That is the first piece of good news I have heard since I entered this house. Was this constable instrumental in the arrests?'

    'He overpowered both men.'

    'Then I would like to speak to him. Having questioned the two villains, he will be able to give me more details of the assault than the victim is prepared to divulge.'

    'My memory is still uncertain.'

    'Then let me jog it for you, Henry.'

    'It is not in the mood to be jogged,' said the patient, recoiling as his father bent over him with an interrogatory glare. 'I feel drowsy again. Wait until morning, please. I may then be more coherent.'

    Algernon Redmayne's face was a mask of determination.

    'I would appreciate some coherence now,' he said.

    They arrived at Harriet Gow's house in Rider Street as night was starting to wrap a blanket of darkness around it. No candles burned within. Christopher Redmayne dismounted to knock at the door but there was no reply. Getting down from his own horse, Jonathan Bale led it down the side of the building to the stable. Both doors had been left wide open as if by a sudden departure. There was no sign of coach or horses.

    'Trigg's got away!' said Jonathan in disgust.

    'Only because he realised that the net was closing in on him. By the look of it, he cleared off while he still could.'

    'He should be in Newgate with Smeek and Froggatt.'

    'Oh, I agree,' said Christopher. 'He's the key figure. Our helpful coachman was helping someone else all the time. No wonder the villains knew who was on their tail. And no wonder Trigg could be so certain that Mary Hibbert was abducted. He was party to the kidnap. We were well and truly hoodwinked, Mr Bale. That beating he took made me think that Roland Trigg was a hapless victim.'

    'That was the intention, sir,' said Jonathan. 'But I suspect that the kidnap didn't quite go to plan. Trigg was supposed to have been overpowered without being seriously hurt, but someone was too zealous with his cudgel.'

    'Ben Froggatt, most likely.'

    'That's why Trigg attacked him - to get his own back for a beating he shouldn't have taken. He didn't chance upon Froggatt in the Hope and Anchor at all. It was their regular meeting place: he knew they'd be there.' He gave a grim chuckle. 'Do you know what I'd like to do when I catch up with him?'

    'What?'

    'Throw him into a cell with Froggatt.'

    'What a friendly conversation that might provoke!' Christopher reviewed the evidence. 'At least we now know why he wouldn't tell us where the coach was headed when it was ambushed. It was in Greer Lane by design - at a time when Mrs Gow would normally expect to visit Martin Eldridge.'

    'Posing as her husband.'

    'But he wasn't there. Mrs Gow didn't know that, of course. She didn't send Trigg to call off the arrangement with Mr Eldridge. She believed that she was on her way to meet him. Whereas, in fact,' he said with a grudging admiration, 'an ambush had been cunningly arranged. Trigg made sure that Mr Eldridge was out of the way then pretended to defend Mrs Gow when the coach was attacked. I blame myself for not suspecting Trigg earlier,' he confessed. 'I should've listened to Jacob.'

    'Jacob?'

    'My servant. In all the years I've known him, he's never uttered a crude word, yet Roland Trigg had him bawling obscenities like a drunken mariner. Jacob knew,' said Christopher. 'It's like a dog whose fur stands up instinctively when a plausible stranger walks into a house. I should have listened to Jacob's bark.'

    'We were both taken in.'

    'But we're on the right track now. That's obvious.'

    'What do we do next, Mr Redmayne?'

    'Nothing until first light, I'm afraid. My initial thought was that we should leave for Richmond at dawn.'

    'I'll be ready, sir. Even though I dread the ride.'

    'What I dread is following a false trail,' said Christopher. 'Trigg has laid quite a few for us in the past few days. I thought the name of Sir Godfrey Armadale might be significant until he assured me that the man had moved away to Devon. That was all a ruse.'

    'I think we'll find Sir Godfrey in Richmond.'

    'Along with Mrs Gow, if we're lucky.'

    'If your brother will loan me the horse, I'll be ready at dawn.'

    'Not so fast, Mr Bale,' warned Christopher. 'We don't want to go galloping around Richmond until we have more precise directions as to where Sir Godfrey lives.'