The Amorous Nightingale

by Edward Marston

  'When the ransom money is in my hands and not before.'

  'She still has no idea who organised the kidnap?'

  'No - and she never will,' said Armadale with a complacent grin. 'That's the beauty of it. I get my revenge and make a small fortune into the bargain. Yet nobody will ever know about it.'

  The mood of self-congratulation was immediately dispelled. Flinging open the door, Oscott's wife ran into the room in a panic.

  'There's a coach coming, Sir Godfrey!' she warned.

  'There can't be.'

  'See for yourself.'

  The two men rushed to the window and looked out. Rolling up the drive and scrunching over the gravel was a coach. Armadale recognised it at once and glared up at the man who was holding the reins.

  'It's Trigg!' he yelled. 'What the devil is he doing here?'

  He and Oscott rushed out to welcome the coachman but there was a shock in store for them. When the newcomer raised his hat, they saw that it was not Roland Trigg at all but a complete stranger.

  Christopher Redmayne beamed down from his high eminence. After a glance at them both, he turned his smile upon the shorter.

  'Sir Godfrey Armadale, I presume?'

  'Who are you?' growled the other.

  'Christopher Redmayne.' Both men reacted with hostility to the name. 'I've come to collect Mrs Gow in her own coach.'

  'Where's Trigg?'

  'Tied up inside. He's coming back to London with us.'

  'You're here on your own?' said Armadale with disbelief, one hand on the hilt of his sword. 'You're very bold, Mr Redmayne.'

  'Trigg assured me that there were only the two of you here,' said Christopher easily, 'and that poses no problem to me.'

  'What about three men?' Drawing his sword, Armadale turned to Oscott. 'Open the coach and untie Trigg.'

  Oscott moved across to the coach and saw Roland Trigg inside, bound and gagged, threshing about wildly. When he opened the door, however, he discovered that the coachman was not the only passenger. Crouched out of sight on his hands and knees, Jonathan Bale now reared up and launched himself at Oscott, knocking the man to the ground before hitting him with a relay of punches. Before Armadale could go to the man's aid, Christopher tore off the coat he had borrowed from Trigg and hurled it into Armadale's face, drawing his own sword at the same time and leaping down to circle his adversary.

  'I forgot to mention that Constable Bale was with me as well,' he said, feinting with his rapier. 'He's the man who arrested Smeek and Froggatt. Now it's Arthur Oscott's turn.'

  Armadale came at him but Christopher parried his thrusts with skill, dancing back out of range before circling his opponent again. Jonathan pummelled away mercilessly until Oscott groaned in agony and lapsed into unconsciousness. His wife ran to tend him, swearing at the constable then turning her ire on Armadale.

  'Shut up!' he snarled. 'I'll deal with you in a minute.'

  'I claim pride of place, Sir Godfrey,' said Christopher.

  'Come on, then.'

  'Though I think that Mr Bale would like a word with you as well. He was a friend of Mary Hibbert. Your men killed her.'

  Armadale turned his head towards Jonathan who was moving cautiously towards him with a dagger in his hand. A split second was all it took for Christopher to strike. His blade flashed, its point cut into Armadale's wrist, and the latter dropped his sword with a yelp of pain. Holding his wounded wrist, he darted into the house and tried to close the door after him but Jonathan was too fast, getting a shoulder to the door and forcing it open. When Armadale ran to the stairs, Christopher caught him before he could ascend them, holding the point of his sword between the man's eyes and making it clear that he was ready to use the weapon again. Blood was now dripping freely from his adversary's wrist. There was nowhere he could go. He was trapped.

  'Where is Harriet Gow?' demanded Christopher.

  'She's not here.'

  'Don't lie to me, Sir Godfrey.'

  'We moved her this morning.'

  'Where is she?'

  Christopher was about to jab his swordpoint in order to encourage an answer when it came from above in the most affecting way. The song was as clear and poignant as on the first occasion he had heard it.

  'My love was false, but I was firm

  From my hour of birth.

  Upon my buried body lie

  Lightly, gentle earth.'

  Christopher looked upwards. The voice was inimitable. Though it was full of sadness, it was also celebrating its release. Harriet Gow was alive. Lowering his sword, Christopher gave a disarming smile.

  'I believe that you have a nightingale in the house, Sir Godfrey.'

  Devoid of his beloved spaniels for once, Charles II was in a sombre frame of mind, reclining in a chair and toying idly with the purses that lay in his lap. His dark attire suggested that he might be in mourning. After tapping on the door, William Chiffinch entered with the two visitors and brought them across to the King. All three waited until he was ready to look up at them with soulful eyes. Christopher Redmayne bowed from the waist and Jonathan Bale inclined a reluctant head. Coming out of his reverie, the King rose to share a warm smile between them.

  'Thank you for coming, gentlemen,' he said, one hand playing with a rogue curl on his periwig. 'I wanted to express my gratitude in person. You have done me a profound service and rescued a dear, dear lady in the process. Such courage deserves a reward.'

  'I've already had mine, Your Majesty,' said Jonathan bluntly. 'Apprehending the men who killed Mary Hibbert was my reward.'

  'Yes,' said the King. 'A distressing result of this very distressing business. I commend your bravery, Mr Bale.' He held out the purse. 'If you will not take the money for yourself, at least receive it on behalf of the girl's family. It might bring some small measure of relief to them.'

  'Indeed it might,' admitted Jonathan, taking the purse from him. 'That's a kind thought, Your Majesty. Thank you for the suggestion.'

  'How else could I get you to accept a reward from me?' He turned to Christopher. 'I hope that I meet no resistance from you, Mr Redmayne. Exceptional service deserves payment.'

  'Then I gladly accept it, Your Majesty.' Christopher took the purse and gave a small bow of thanks.

  'Allow me to add my own congratulations,' said Chiffinch smugly. 'You may have been dilatory in sending reports of your progress but I cannot fault your enterprise. You chose the right men, Your Majesty.'

  'I always do, Will. It's my choice of ladies that sometimes lets me down. Not that I have any regrets in this case,' he said quickly, 'even though this incident has brought that phase of my life to a premature end. The lady in question has been saved. That is enough for me.'

  'One was saved, Your Majesty,' Jonathan reminded him, 'but another was needlessly lost. Mary Hibbert might still be alive, had you simply paid the ransom in the first place.'

  'Mr Bale!' reprimanded Chiffinch.

  'His insolence has some foundation,' said the King, taking no offence. 'The girl was a friend - I appreciate his feelings. But there is a question of precedent here, Mr Bale,' he said, meeting the constable's stare. 'A man in my unique position must not give in to such demands. If I was seen to part with money in exchange for the release of a beautiful woman, we would be getting ransom notes by the day. Mrs Gow is, I have to admit, not the only remarkable lady who has attracted my interest. Besides,' he added sternly, 'I wanted the villains caught and punished. Sir Godfrey Armadale and his creatures will all swing from the gallows for daring to issue a demand to me. Their crimes are heinous.'

  'Why were they committed, Your Majesty?' asked Christopher.

  'Why?'

  'I know that Sir Godfrey was embittered because he was rejected by Mrs Gow, but was that motive enough to put her through this ordeal?'

  'No, Mr Redmayne, it was not. He had another victim in mind: one with royal blood in his veins. This whole affair has been an ordeal for me as well, as it was intended to be.'

  'Did he act out of en
vy, then?'

  'Revenge,' said the King casually. 'Sir Godfrey Armadale has been badgering me for favours ever since I returned to the throne. He's a persistent man, not easily shaken off. When he continued to pester me outrageously, I was forced to ban him from the Court. That upset him, didn't it, Will'

  'Yes, Your Majesty,' said Chiffinch. 'Mightily.'

  'In abducting Harriet Gow, he was hitting two birds with one stone. A nightingale and an eagle. There was a time when I thought that we might have been two turtle doves,' he mused fondly, 'but that was a cruel illusion. Enough of this or the Palace will turn into an aviary!' He gave them another smile. 'Go with my heartfelt thanks, gentlemen. I will pay you the highest compliment that I can.'

  'What's that, Your Majesty?' said Christopher.

  'I shall willingly employ both of you again.'

  Jonathan blenched. 'Is that necessary, Your Majesty?' he said.

  'I hope not, Mr Bale, but it is a comfort to know that I possess, among my subjects, two men of such rare qualities.'

  'We're happy to put them at your disposal, Your Majesty,' said Christopher. He looked at Jonathan. 'Aren't we, Mr Bale?'

  The nod of agreement was only achieved with great effort.

  With a languid smile, the King turned away to signal that the audience was over. Chiffinch waved the visitors towards the door but Christopher was not quite ready to leave. He took a step towards the King.

  'I have a favour to ask of you, Your Majesty.'

  Charles turned to regard him. 'Ask it, Mr Redmayne.'

  'I do so on my brother's behalf,' said Christopher. 'Henry was an enormous help to me at the start of this investigation, but he suffered badly for his involvement. He still lies on a bed of pain.'

  'I'm well aware of that,' observed the King solemnly, 'and I was very impressed with your brother's fortitude. I had no idea that Henry Redmayne possessed such a strong backbone beneath that bright attire of his. The favour will be granted. What does it concern?'

  Christopher licked his lips nervously before declaring himself.

  'The Dean of Gloucester,' he said.

  The burial service took place at the parish church where Mary Hibbert had been baptised. Only a small congregation gathered to see her take leave of her earthly existence. Peter Hibbert sat between his uncle and aunt, each supporting the other. Jonathan and Sarah Bale were behind them with a few neighbours. Nothing could alleviate the grief of the family at that moment, but at least they had been spared the full details of the girl's death. Jonathan was glad of that and pleased that he had been able to hand over the purse of money to Peter Hibbert. It was small compensation but, in a sense, it was a ransom paid by the King even if it came too late to obtain the release of a prisoner.

  When the coffin was lowered into the ground, tears flowed as mourners bade their last farewells. Jonathan had to put an arm around his wife's shoulders to comfort her. Turning to leave the churchyard, he was moved to see that Christopher Redmayne had also attended the service even though he had not known the victim. But it was another mourner whose presence touched him even more. Harriet Gow stood a little distance from the grave, sobbing quietly and trying to contain her feelings of guilt. Martin Eldridge took her arm and led her gently away.

  Henry Redmayne had never known such continuous pain. Trapped in his bed and harangued by his father, he came to believe that he had died and gone to Hell. The Dean of Gloucester might not be dressed as a demon but his words stung like the prongs of a white-hot fork. All that Henry could do was to squirm in agony.

  'I am much displeased with you, Henry,' said his father.

  'That fact has been burned into me.'

  'As my elder son, you should be setting an example. Consider your younger brother. What is Christopher to think when he sees your lewd behaviour? How could he pattern himself on you?'

  'With difficulty.'

  'Repentance is called for, Henry.'

  'Oh, I repent,' said the other with feeling. 'Believe me, Father, I'm awash with repentance. I regret so many things in my past.'

  'You misled me.'

  'Not deliberately.'

  'You did, Henry,' returned the Dean sharply. 'All that you told me about the assault was that it took place in Drury Lane.'

  'That was the truth.'

  'Yes, but it was not the whole truth, was it? What you carefully omitted to tell me was that Drury Lane is the site of a theatre and that you were leaving the building when you were attacked.'

  'I'll not deny it, Father.'

  'Why did you enter such a sinful place?'

  'Of necessity.'

  'Driven by uncontrollable desires?'

  'Not exactly,' said Henry, trying to keep him at bay. 'But I wouldn't have gone there of my own volition. You're so right, Father. Corruption breeds inside a theatre. I thank God that I take no pleasure in the sight of young women disporting themselves on the stage or, what is worse, wearing masks so that they may mingle unrecognised among the wilder gentlemen in the audience to excite their passions.'

  Algernon Redmayne clutched at the crucifix around his neck.

  'Immorality on such a scale? Is that what happens?'

  'I didn't stay long enough to find out, Father. My purpose in going was simply to speak to the manager and not to watch the play.'

  'Then you didn't lurch drunkenly out into the street from an orgy?'

  'If only there'd been one at hand!' said Henry to himself.

  'Speak up!'

  'Thank the Lord!'

  Henry's exclamation was not in response to his father. It was provoked by the arrival of his brother, who tapped on the door and let himself into the bedchamber. Greetings were exchanged. When he had enquired after the patient's condition, Christopher offered something to his father. The Dean of Gloucester looked suspiciously at the missive.

  'What is this?' he asked.

  'A letter,' said Christopher, handing it to him.

  'From whom?'

  'Look at the seal.'

  'By Heaven!' said his father, glancing down. 'It's from the King.'

  'I had an audience with him only this morning.'

  'You see, Henry?' said the old man, opening the letter. 'Your brother has been summoned to the Palace. Think of the honour that bestows on the family. Why can't you bring such lustre to the name of Redmayne?' He read the letter slowly then let out a cry of surprise. 'Oh, dear boy,' he apologised, reaching out to touch Henry's arm. 'I've wronged you. Now I see why you concealed so much from me. I have the details here,' he said, raising the letter. 'In the King's own hand.'

  Henry caught Christopher's eye and received a reassuring wink.

  'What does His Majesty say?' said Henry, tentatively.

  'The truth,' replied his father. 'When you were assaulted, you were engaged in secret affairs of state. Your bravery is commended. This is a signal honour, Henry. I take back all that I said about you. Well, most of it, anyway. I misjudged you horribly.'

  'His Majesty asked me to pass on his personal thanks, Henry,' said Christopher. 'Without you, we'd never have achieved the result that we did. You were superb. I'll strive to model myself on you.'

  'Did you hear that, Father?' said Henry, basking in the praise.

  'I heard and I saw,' answered the old man, clutching the letter as if it were the tablet containing the Ten Commandments. 'I must show this to the Archbishop. Royal favour displayed to both my sons! That will send me back to Gloucester a contented man.'

  'As long as it sends you back there,' murmured Henry.

  There was a flurry of farewells as the Dean took his leave.

  'I'd have been here earlier,' explained Christopher, 'but I went to Mary Hibbert's funeral.'

  'Had you come any later, it might have been Henry Redmayne's funeral. Father almost talked me to death. Thank you for rescuing me, Christopher. Now, what news?'

  'You know the bulk of it. The villains are all in Newgate and a woman in Greer Lane is answering awkward questions about the fact that the man who lod
ged in her upstairs room was the fourth rogue involved in the ambush. Harriet Gow has her stolen property back, I can at last concentrate on my house and Mr Bale can pound the streets of Baynard's Castle Ward again. He was so kind to Peter Hibbert at the church,' he remembered. 'You'd have thought the lad was his own son. Oh, and one big surprise. Mrs Gow turned up there as well.'

  'Quite rightly. Mary Hibbert was in service with her.'

  'The real surprise came from her choice of companion.'

  'It wasn't her husband, was it?'

  'No, Henry,' said his brother, 'but it was a Bartholomew Gow. He goes by the name of Martin Eldridge. I think that this experience has taught our nightingale the hazards of consorting with exalted company. She may be better off with a humble actor.' He gave a sympathetic smile. 'It's going to be a huge disappointment for Jasper Hartwell.'

  'Why?'

  'He's so infatuated with her that he conceived the absurd notion of somehow dissolving her marriage in order to make her his wife.'

  Henry was aghast. 'Jasper Hartwell married to Harriet Gow! That's obscene, Christopher. It's like the Dean of Gloucester marrying the Queen of Sheba. In fact, I'd say that Father probably has more chance of being accepted than the idiotic Jasper ever will.'

  'I'm sure that Mrs Gow will let him down lightly.'

  'What sane woman would marry a ginger periwig on legs?'

  'Don't mock my client. I need him.'

  'I know what I need,' said Henry lecherously, 'but how can I have it when I'm in this condition? It's so unfair. I've just survived three hours of Father in homiletic vein. I need someone to cheer me up.'

  'The lady will be here in due course, Henry.'

  'Lady?'

  'Well, you don't think I forgot to mention you, did you?' said Christopher. 'Harriet Gow showered Mr Bale and me with thanks. I didn't want you to miss out on the praise so I told her how you took a dreadful beating on her behalf.'

  'And?'

  'She insisted on coming to see you this very evening.'

  'Harriet Gow?' Henry was glowing. 'Alone in my bedchamber?'

  'Just the two of you.'

  'Wonder of wonders!'