Edward Marston - The Amorous Nightingale

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.'

'How will you get those directions?'

Christopher pondered until a face popped into his mind.

'From a friend,' he said.

'Will he help us, sir?'

'Nobody has a better reason to do so.'

Lodowick Corrigan shifted easily from obsequiousness to resentment in a matter of minutes. He was standing near the site of the new house as he unloaded his complaints into the ear of his employer, buried, as it was, beneath the surging ginger wig. There was an aggressive subservience in the builder's manner.

'It's not right, Mr Hartwell,' he said with a scowl. 'I've never known an architect who was so lax before. I don't expect him to be here every second of the day, of course, but it's in these very early stages that I need to turn to him for advice. Mr Redmayne should be here.'

'I've taxed him on the subject, Mr Corrigan.'

'Perhaps it's time to do more than that.'

'More?'

'There are plenty of other architects in London, sir.'

'Replace him altogether?' said Hartwell, shocked. 'That would be going too far. His designs are exemplary and he's the pleasantest fellow you could wish to meet. You find him so, I'm sure.'

'Why, yes,' muttered the other. 'He's a personable young man, but is he fit for a project as large and testing as this? Mr Redmayne should be here, sir. I ask again – where is he?'

Still inside his coach, Jasper Hartwell looked over Corrigan's shoulder. A horseman was riding towards the site at a canter.

'Bless my soul!' cried Hartwell. 'I believe that he's coming.'

Corrigan turned round in disbelief and gritted his teeth when he saw Christopher Redmayne approaching. The newcomer gave both of them a cheery wave. Reining in his horse, he stayed in the saddle so that he could look down at the argumentative builder.

'Do you have any problems, Mr Corrigan?' he said.

'Not exactly, sir.'

'Can't you manage without me?'

'Of course,' retorted the other.

Christopher was curt. 'Then why don't you do so?' he said. 'I need to have a private word with Mr Hartwell. If you require any advice after that, I'll be happy to give it to you.'

'None will be needed.'

Lodowick Corrigan moved away to bellow at some of his workmen. Christopher turned to Hartwell and touched his hat in apology.

'I'm sorry I've not been here as much as I would have liked,' he said seriously, 'but that situation will change today.'

'It must change, Mr Redmayne. I've had complaints.'

'I could read them in Mr Corrigan's face.'

'He needs you on site.'

'He certainly does,' said Christopher, recalling an earlier exchange with the builder. 'He needs me to watch over him. Very closely. I have every confidence that I'll be able to do so when I get back.'

'From where? You're not deserting us again?'

'Not exactly, Mr Hartwell. I'll be acting on your behalf in a matter that's not unconnected with your new house.'

'My nightingale?' said the other, quivering with excitement.

'Yes, sir.'

'Where is she?'

'Not far away, Mr Hartwell.'

'Take me to her at once! I'll propose on the spot.'

'That would be far too precipitous,' said Christopher. 'Wait until the lady is back in London. As for her whereabouts, the truth is that I'm not entirely sure of them but I know someone who does. What I require from you is a little help to find the gentleman.'

'Gentleman?' Hartwell bridled. 'Not a rival for her hand?'

'I think not.'

'Who is the fellow?'

'Sir Godfrey Armadale.'

'Sir Godfrey?' said the other, scornfully. 'The filthy-fingered Mr Corrigan is more of a gentleman than Sir Godfrey Armadale. He's the most frightful character I've ever come across in my life and I wouldn't let him within a mile of my nightingale.'

'Do you know where he lives?' asked Christopher.

'Why should it matter?'

'Because I understand that he has information that could lead me to Mrs Gow. An architect should attend to every aspect of the house, Mr Hartwell,' he reasoned. 'That's why I'm so keen to assist you in your goal. I cannot imagine that anyone could better decorate the interior of your new abode than Mrs Gow.'