The Amorous Nightingale (19 page)

    'But
I've already been through it twice.'

    'So
Mr Redmayne said, but he also remarked on the differences between the two
versions. When you spoke to him at the Palace, it seems you were still
suffering from the effects of the beating.'

    Trigg
glowered. 'My pride was hurt the most.'

    'Understandably.'

    'Mrs
Gow counted on me.'

    'Did
she?'

    'I
was her bodyguard.'

    'Let's
go back to the ambush,' said Jonathan.

    'Again?'

    'I
appreciate how painful it must be for you to recount the facts once more. It
can't be avoided, however. Mr Redmayne is a clever young man but he's not as
used to gathering evidence from people as I am. I listen to witnesses all day
long. I know what to ask, when to press for details, how to spot when someone
is holding information back.'

    'I
held nothing back!' said the other belligerently.

    'Nobody's
accusing you of doing so.'

    'They'd
better not.'

    'Mr
Redmayne made a point of saying how helpful you've been.'

    Trigg
was appeased. 'I want them caught, Mr Bale,' he said. 'More to the point, I
want to be there when it happens. I've got a stake in this, remember.' He
pointed to his face. 'I didn't get these bruises by walking into some cobwebs.'

    'How
did
you get them, Mr Trigg?'

    'Now
you're asking!'

    'Tell
me in your own words.'

    The
coachman perched on the anvil and spat into the sawdust. After looking his
visitor up and down, he launched into a long account of the ambush,
interspersing it with speculation about who his attackers might be and adding a
description of his later return to the house.

    'I
knew it,' he emphasised. 'I knew they took Mary Hibbert as well.'

    'That's
not what you said to her brother.'

    Trigg
was checked. 'Who?'

    'Peter
Hibbert. He called here twice yesterday. Seeing the door wide open the first
time, he became alarmed and ran to relatives in Carter Lane, hoping that he
might find his sister there. But Mary was nowhere to be found. Peter hurried
all the way back here and bumped into you. Or so he says.'

    'It's
true.'

    'The
boy had no reason to lie.'

    'How
did you find out about it?'

    'The
Hibbert family once lived in my ward, sir. I knew them well. That's why Peter
turned to me when he felt his sister was in trouble.'

    'He
was very upset when he came back here.'

    'Yet
you did nothing to reassure him.'

    'What
could I do? Tell him that Mary had been took along with Mrs Gow? How would that
have helped?' Trigg hunched his shoulders. 'I thought the best thing was to say
as little as possible. So I pretended they'd both gone out of London for a few
days.'

    'Peter
wasn't sure if he should believe you.'

    'I
wanted to get the lad off my back!'

    'You
might have done it more gently.'

    'He
was pestering me.'

    'Returning
to the ambush,' said Jonathan patiently, 'you've told me the exact point in the
lane where you were set upon but you haven't explained what you were doing
there in the first place.'

    'Making
my way to the Strand.'

    'Down
such a narrow thoroughfare? Surely there are easier ways to travel. And why go
to the Strand? Mr Redmayne is firmly under the impression that you were heading
for the Palace of Westminster.'

    'Then
he's quite wrong.'

    'You
had another destination?'

    'We
weren't going to the Palace that day.'

    'Yet
you ended up there.'

    'Only
because I was sent for, Mr Bale. The ransom note had arrived by then. They knew
there'd been an ambush. I was hauled down there to explain what had happened.'

    'So
Mrs Gow was actually visiting someone in the Strand?'

    'I
didn't say that.'

    'Do
you dispute the fact?'

    'I've
no need.'

    'What
do you mean?'

    'My
job is to take Mrs Gow wherever she wishes me to take her. She has a lot of
friends so I drive all over London. Well beyond it at times. I never know who
she's going to see and I don't care. I simply do what I'm paid for, Mr Bale.
That's all I'm saying.'

    'Even
though you could be hiding evidence?'

    'Of
what?'

    'The
motive behind the kidnap.'

    'I've
told you everything.'

    'Except
your destination yesterday. Don't you see how important it is for us to know
it, Mr Trigg? The person she was on her way to see might be able to help us.
Perhaps someone had a grudge against him and used Mrs Gow as a means of
revenge. One thing is certain, sir.'

    'What's
that?'

    'You
were expected. That ambush was laid in the ideal place.'

    'So?'

    'You
mightn't have known exactly where you were going but someone else did. They
knew the time of day you'd be driving down that lane and they knew just how
many men it would take to overpower a strapping coachman and abduct a lady.
Now,' he said, squaring up to Trigg, 'where were you taking Mrs Gow?'

    'To
see a friend.'

    'Does
he have a name?'

    'She
didn't say.'

    'What
about an address?'

    'I've
forgotten it.'

    'So
you were told?'

    'I
can't remember.'

    Jonathan
could not make out if he was dealing with sheer bloody-mindedness or with
fierce loyalty to an employer. Either way, the result was the same. Willing to
furnish any other information, the coachman was strangely reluctant to disclose
the destination of his coach. It was time to try another tack with him.

    'You
mentioned the name of a suspect, I hear.'

    'I
mentioned several.'

    'This
one came as an afterthought. Mr Redmayne paid particular attention to it. He
said I was to ask you about Mr Bartholomew Gow.'

    Trigg
nodded. 'He's tied up in this somewhere.'

    'Why
do you say that?'

    'Because
of the way things are between him and his wife.'

    'But
they don't even live together.'

    'Exactly,
Mr Bale,' said the other with a faint flicker of lechery. 'How would you feel
if a lady like that turned you out of her bed?'

    'I'd
never have got into it in the first place, I promise you!'

    'Then
you've never seen Mrs Gow. She's more than beautiful, I can tell you. It's a
pleasure to be anywhere near a woman of her type. Mr Gow can't do that any
more. He's been deprived. The last time he came to the house, she refused even
to see him.'

    'Oh?'

    'He
was very persistent. I had to move him on his way.'

    'Is
that one of the things you're paid to do, Mr Trigg?'

    'Sometimes.'

    'Moving
her husband on his way?'

    'Getting
rid of undesirables,' said the coachman with a smirk. 'They buzz around her
like flies. Swatting them is my job. But Mr Gow is the main problem. He's sworn
to get even with her.'

    'Was
it a serious threat?'

    'Mary
Hibbert thought so.'

    'What
about his wife?'

    'I
think she'd gone past listening to him.'

    'Why
did Mr Gow bother her?'

    'Ask
him.'

    'What
was he after?'

    'His
wife.'

    'But
she turned him away and that made him angry.'

    'Vicious,
more like.'

    'Wasn't
she worried by his threats?'

    'Not
really, Mr Bale.'

    'Why
not?'

    'I
told you,' said the other complacently. 'She's got me.'

    'Yes,'
agreed Jonathan, annoyed by his manner. 'I'm sure that you protected her well -
until you drove down that lane towards the Strand. Even your strong arm was not
enough then, was it? They were waiting.' He leaned forward. 'Now who could
possibly have known that you'd be taking that exact route?'

    'I'm
a very busy man, Mr Redmayne. I can only give you a little time.'

    'Yes,
Sir William.'

    'I
leave for the theatre within the hour.'

    'Then
I'll not beat about the bush,' said Christopher. 'I just wondered what you
could tell me about Miss Abigail Saunders.'

    'Abigail?'

    'I
understand that she was once a member of your company.'

    'Briefly.'

    'Why
did she leave?'

    'By
common consent.'

    'Miss
Saunders is with The King's Men now.'

    'That's
of no concern to me,' said the other smoothly.

    After
studying the list provided by his brother, Christopher Redmayne elected to
begin with the name at the bottom. Sir William D'Avenant was an eminent man
with a lifetime of literary achievement behind him. Yet his career had been
even more chequered than that of his rival, Thomas Killigrew. The godson of
William Shakespeare, he was rumoured to be the playwright's illegitimate
offspring and there were those who had hailed him as Shakespeare's natural
heir. Civil war interrupted his promising work as a dramatist. A committed
Royalist, he was captured twice but escaped both times. When the Queen sent him
to Virginia, his ship was intercepted and D'Avenant was arrested once more.
Held in the Tower, he was at least allowed to write and publish poetry. It
enabled him to keep his talent in good repair.

    Christopher
called on him at Rutland House, his sumptuous home in Aldersgate, a place where
he could not only enjoy the fruits of his success but where, on occasion, he
had staged some of his theatrical events. D'Avenant was in his early sixties
but looked at least a decade older. The vestigial nose, unfit to support
spectacles, bore testimony to the goatish instincts of younger days and there
were other indications in the gaunt face with its ugly blotches on leathery
skin of an acquaintance with syphilis. Christopher found it hard to believe
that such an elderly lecher could enjoy the favours of an attractive young
woman.

    'What
is your estimate of Miss Saunders?' he asked.

    'As
an actress or as a person?'

    'Both.'

    'Abigail
can decorate a stage nicely,' said the other, flicking a speck of dust from his
sleeve, 'but she will never be more than a diverting piece of scenery.'

    'Mr
Killigrew disagrees with you, Sir William.'

    'That
goes without saying.'

    'He's
chosen Miss Saunders to take over a role vacated by Mrs Harriet Gow.' D'Avenant
sat up with interest. 'She'll be seen this afternoon as Aspatia in
The
Maid's Tragedy.'

    'Indeed?'

    'Mr
Killigrew has the highest hopes of her.'

    'More
fool him!'

    'His
judgement is usually sound.'

    'Abigail
has been promoted beyond her mean abilities.'

    'That's
not what my brother says,' said Christopher. 'He was at the theatre this
morning and saw Miss Saunders in rehearsal. She left a profound impression on
Henry. He could talk of nothing else when we met at a coffee-house a little
while ago.'