Edward Marston - The Amorous Nightingale

'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 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.'