'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.'
'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 saddl
e 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.'
'Build the house around her.'
'I will, sir.'
'Find her, Mr Redmayne!'
'First, tell me how I can locate Sir Godfrey Armadale. Is it true that he has a house in Richmond?'
'He has properties all over the place. Including one in Devon.'
'I heard a rumour that he was going back to the West Country.'
'Not when he can carouse the nights away in London,' said Hartwell, trying to flick away a wasp. 'His main house is in Kew. A positively grotesque edifice, from what I hear. And not to be compared with my own wonderful new abode. That's where you'll find Sir Godfrey. At home in Armadale Manor.'
The wasp tried to take up residence in the wig, throwing Hartwell into a state of frenzied agitation. By the time he finally evicted the insect, he was too late to ask how Sir
Godfrey Armadale might assist the search for a missing actress. Christopher Redmayne had already galloped away.
Roland Trigg was given a poor welcome when he arrived at the house. Sir Godfrey Armadale came bursting out of the door to confront him. He was dressed to ride and an ostler was saddling his horse. Sir Godfrey hit the side of the coach with his whip.
'What the devil are you doing here, man?' he yelled.
'I had nowhere else to go, Sir Godfrey.'
'All you had to do was to remain where you were. That was the plan, you idiot. You were ordered to stay where you were until Harriet Gow was released. Then, because you felt you'd let her down badly by letting her get abducted, you would resign from her service. I devised it all so carefully,' he roared. 'By the time Mrs Gow worked out that you'd actually been an accomplice to the kidnappers, you'd have been well away, spending your share of the ransom. Instead of which, you make your escape and give the game away.'
'They were closing in on me, Sir Godfrey.'
'Who were?'
'Mr Redmayne and that constable.'
'They had no proof !'
'They had Ben Froggatt. He'd have pointed the finger at me out of spite. I'm lucky they didn't get me.'
'I'm beginning to wish they had,' said Armadale harshly.
'You don't really mean that.'
'Don't I?'
'Smeek and Froggatt may not know your name, Sir Godfrey,' warned Trigg. 'Neither does Arthur Oscott. But I do, don't I?'
'Are you threatening me?' howled Armadale, drawing his sword.
'No, no. I'm just pointing something out.'
'What is it?'
'We need each other, Sir Godfrey.'
Armadale made an effort to curb his anger. Putting his sword back into its sheath, he used the whip to beckon the coachman down from his seat. Trigg was unkempt and unshaven. Armadale could smell straw.
'When did you leave?'
'Just as it was getting dark.'
'Where did you spend the night?'
'At a tavern along the way,' explained Trigg. 'All the beds were taken so I slept in the stables. Don't worry, sir. Very few people saw me. I arrived and left in darkness.'
'The coach might have been noticed.'
Trigg grinned. 'I thought you'd like it back, Sir Godfrey.'
A reluctant smile flitted across Armadale's face.
'I do,' he conceded. 'I've waited too long to get it.'
'There's something inside for you as well,' said the coachman, opening the door. 'Go on, Sir Godfrey. Take that sack out.'
'Why?'
'Look inside it.'
Armadale prodded the sack with his whip then lifted it out of the coach to set it on the ground. When he opened it to peer inside, he was dumbstruck. Trigg enjoyed seeing the expression of amazement on his face. He smirked energetically.
'Well, Sir Godfrey?'
'Perhaps you're not as stupid as you look.'
'I felt that Mrs Gow owed it to us.'
The change of horses made all the difference. Christopher Redmayne rode the high-spirited bay mare from his brother's stable and gave his own horse to Jonathan Bale. The constable was far happier sitting astride a more obedient animal with a comfortable gait. Though the long ride tested his buttocks, he willingly endured the twinges of pain. Stopping at a tavern near Kew, they were given directions to Armadale Manor. It was less than a mile away. As soon as it came into view, Christopher saw what his client had meant about its grotesque aspect. Even from a distance, Armadale Manor was ugly.
Built out of sandstone almost a century earlier, it had none of the symmetry and beauty of a typical Elizabethan country mansion. A new wing had been added with hideous brickwork whose bright colour clashed with the gentle red hue of the facade. The upper part of the house had been restored by a slipshod builder who had made little effort to make his work blend in harmoniously. Other features of the house were even more unsightly. The architectural values that Christopher held most dear seemed to have been flouted.
'Who could live in such a repulsive house?' he asked.
'A repulsive man,' said Jonathan.
'At least we know that this is the right place.'
'How is that, Mr Redmayne?'
Christopher pointed. 'Look at the coach outside the stables. Isn't that the one belonging to Mrs Gow?' he asked. 'Trigg must be here.'
'Then I'll be happy to meet him again.'
Careful not to announce their arrival too soon, they tethered their horses among the trees and proceeded on foot. Jonathan worked his way round to the rear of the house. Christopher waited until his companion was in position before breaking his co
ver and strolling up the drive to the front door. The sound of the bell brought a servant into view.
'My name is Christopher Redmayne,' announced the visitor, 'and I've come to pay my compliments to Sir Godfrey Armadale.'
'The master is not here at the moment, sir.'
'Oh dear.'
'He rode off a while ago and may not be back for some time.'
'I see,' said Christopher, recognising the man's honesty. 'In that case, I'll not linger, though I may spend a few moments looking around this magnificent pile, if I may. I'm an architect by profession. Armadale Manor is quite unlike anything I've seen before.'
'Do as you wish, sir.'
The man closed the door behind him. Christopher went past the stables and turned down the side of the house. A yell of rage made him break into a trot. When he reached the back of the property, he saw Roland Trigg lying motionless at Jonathan Bale's feet. The constable glanced down at the prone figure.
'He tried to make a run for it. I got in his way.'
'What sort of a night did she have?' asked Sir Godfrey Armadale.
'Unsettled,' said Oscott. 'We could hear her, pacing up and down in the room. She never seemed to stop, Sir Godfrey.'
'She must be exhausted after all this time.'
'So are we.'
'You'll get your reward, Arthur.'
'When?'
'Today. I've told them where and how the ransom is to be paid. It's only a question of collecting it and all our troubles are over.'
'There weren't supposed to be any troubles.'
'I blame you for those.'
Oscott tensed. 'Me, Sir Godfrey?'
'Yes. You chose Smeek and Froggatt. They were the blundering fools who let us down. However,' he said, raising his whip to silence the protest he saw forming on the other's lips, 'we must put that behind us. I don't bear grudges. Smeek and Froggatt are out of this now. That means a larger share for you and your wife.'
'Oh,' said Oscott, relaxing slightly. 'Thank you, Sir Godfrey. My wife and I are very grateful. We've had to put in more work than we thought. It's been something of a trial.'
'That goes for all of us but we've come through it.'
'When will Mrs Gow be released?'
The Amorous Nightingale Page 26