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Authors: Edward Marston

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BOOK: The Amorous Nightingale
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    'There's
no need. He won't even come.'

    'Mr
Redmayne, let me tell you about actors. When there is the faintest chance of
employment, they'll take it. Be they on the run from you, from the law, from
their wives, their families or creditors, they will attend their auditions.' He
turned back to the stage. 'He'll be here.'

    Christopher
was unsure what to do. Direction soon came.

    'Mr
Redmayne,' snapped the old man over his shoulder.

    'Yes,
Sir William?'

    'Stay
out of sight.'

    

      

    Hovering
between deference and resentment, Arthur Oscott led him into the drawing room.
Oscott's wife stayed listening outside the door. The newcomer slapped his whip
down on a table.

    'Is
she secure?' he asked.

    'Completely,
sir,' said Oscott.

    'No more
escape attempts?'

    'None.'

    'Good.'

    'Mrs
Gow doesn't have the heart for it, not since we caught her maidservant. She's
very low.'

    'I
hope you've treated her well, Arthur. I'll not have her abused by anyone. Do
you understand that?'

    'Yes,
sir.'

    'Does
your wife understand it? Harriet Gow is a very precious commodity to us. We
have to guard her with care. It's not long now. We'll soon be able to divide
the takings and celebrate.'

    'Will
we?' asked Oscott sceptically. 'There's no sign of the ransom money yet. I'm
beginning to wonder if it'll ever come.'

    'Of
course it will, man!' returned the other vehemently. 'They'll have to pay now.
My second ransom note left them with no option. We'll have the money by dusk
tomorrow.'

    'I'll
believe it when I see it.'

    'What
do you mean?'

    'Well,
I don't wish to question your judgement, sir, but you said that the money would
be paid immediately. All we had to do was to kidnap Mrs Gow and hold her for a
short time.' He looked straight into his employer's eyes. 'What went wrong?'

    'Nothing.'

    'You
boasted they'd never dare try to find her.'

    'I
know, but they've paid for their impudence. Henry Redmayne was soundly beaten
and Mary Hibbert's body was sent to them. Not that I authorised her murder,' he
said rancorously, 'but it was an effective way of getting a message through to
the Palace.'

    'It
wasn't that effective,' said Oscott sourly. 'It hasn't stopped them from trying
to hunt us down. They're still on our tail.'

    'They
won't be after today. Smeek will see to that.'

    'Smeek
is under lock and key in Newgate, sir.'

    The
other man was stunned. 'Who put him there?'

    'Jonathan
Bale - that constable you sent him to attack. He wasn't such an easy target as
Henry Redmayne, sir. In other words,' he said meaningfully, 'Mr Bale is still
trying to pick up our scent. I don't like it. Neither does my wife. She wonders
if we should cut and run.'

    'Cut
and run!' roared his companion. 'We'll do nothing of the kind. All we have to
do is to sit tight until the money is paid. If they want to see Mrs Gow alive
again, they must and will pay the ransom.'

    'Unless
we're tracked down first.'

    'How
can we be?'

    'Smeek
may talk. And if they've got him, they'll soon take Ben Froggatt into custody
as well. Tongues can be loosened in Newgate.'

    'So
what? Smeek and Froggatt know nothing.'

    'They
know that I hired them.'

    'Forget
them.'

    'They
know where we took Mrs Gow the first time.'

    'But they
have no idea where she is now, do they? You're getting soft, Arthur,' he
warned, snatching up his whip. 'That's dangerous. I need people around me I can
trust - not cowards who start to shiver at the first setback.'

    'I'm
no coward!' asserted Oscott, hurt by the charge.

    'Then
stop sweating, man. We hold all the cards.'

    'Do
we?'

    'Yes,
Godammit!' snarled the other, striking the table with his whip. 'And we'll play
this game through to the bitter end so that we can collect our winnings. Hear
that, Arthur? Our winnings. Nothing can stop us. They'll pay up, mark my words.
They
have
to.'

 

       

    Martin
Eldridge failed before he even started. Desperate to give of his best, he did
quite the opposite. His mind was distracted. Instead of concentrating on Iago's
lines, he was thinking about a missing friend. His timing was off, his gestures
uncertain, his grasp of the role poor. He stumbled over every speech that he attempted.
Standing in the pit, Sir William D'Avenant kept inviting him to try again.
Eldridge took it as a sign of kindness at first then realised that the manager
was deliberately prolonging his ordeal, enjoying the humiliation of an actor he
never seriously meant to employ in the first place. When he forgot the opening
lines of Iago's most famous speech, Eldridge did not wait for a comment. He ran
off the stage and stalked out of the theatre.

    Coming
out into Portugal Street, he walked quickly past Lincoln's Inn Fields in the
direction of Holborn. He was soon overtaken by a horseman who reined in his
mount to block his path. Before Eldridge could complain, he had Christopher
Redmayne's rapier at his throat.

    'Don't
run away from me this time, Mr Eldridge.'

    'I
can explain that.'

    'That's
what I'm hoping. And by the way,' he said, nodding towards the theatre. 'I'm
sorry if my presence hampered your performance just now. I did my best to stay
out of sight.'

    Eldridge
was horrified. 'You
saw
that travesty of acting?'

    'Lysippus
was a far more suitable role for you.' Christopher dismounted and sheathed his
sword. 'Where shall we talk?'

    'In
the nearest tavern. I need some wine.'

    'Lead
the way.'

    Christopher
had no fear that he would bolt again. The disastrous visit to The Duke's
Playhouse had taken all the spirit out of him. Eldridge said nothing until they
were sitting at a table in the White Rose. Two glasses of wine were bought at
Christopher's expense. The actor sipped his gratefully.

    'Thank
you, Mr Redmayne,' he said.

    'Supposing
that you tell me the truth?' suggested Christopher.

    'I
might say the same about you.'

    'Me?'

    'When
you called at my lodging, you made no mention of the fact that Mary Hibbert has
been murdered. I was shocked when I heard.'

    'And
how did you do that?'

    'By
talking to Roland Trigg.'

    'So
that's where you went when you raced off.' Christopher tasted his own wine
before he continued. 'Yes, I did conceal certain details from you because I
thought it best to do so. But if you know about the girl, you'll realise the
predicament that Mrs Gow is in. Unless we can find her very quickly, she may
end up on a slab next to Mary Hibbert.'

    'Don't
say that!' exclaimed the actor.

    'I
simply want you to understand that time is not on our side. Don't waste any
more of it, Mr Eldridge. I think I know what you have to say. Watching you on
that stage this evening, it slowly dawned on me.'

    'Go
on.'

    'You
were the man in Greer Lane, weren't you?'

    'Was
I?'

    'He
went by the name of Bartholomew Gow but he was far too handsome to be Mrs Gow's
real husband. When the lady went for an assignation in Greer Lane, she was
coming to meet Martin Eldridge.' He put his face close. 'Am I right, sir?'

    'You
might be,' conceded the actor.

    'In
other words, on the day that she was abducted outside that house you used, Mrs
Gow was on her way to meet you.'

    'But
she wasn't, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Then
what was her coach doing there?'

    'I've
no idea. She called off the rendezvous with me.'

    'Called
it off?'

    'Her
coachman brought word early that same morning. It wasn't the first time we'd
had to change the arrangements,' he said, staring into his wine. 'Harriet was
often in demand elsewhere. I accepted that. What I didn't know was that a
kidnap was being set up in Greer Lane.'

    'You
mentioned arrangements, Mr Eldridge.'

    The
actor looked up at him before spilling out the truth in a continuous stream.
Christopher had no qualms about his sincerity.

    'Harriet
and I have been close for some time,' he admitted. 'I loved her dearly, that's
why she trusted me. I couldn't give her the things that her rich admirers
could: Harriet knew that. What I could offer her was tenderness and understanding.
She told me that it was in short supply elsewhere. Naturally,' he emphasised,
'we had to be extremely discreet. She could not be seen having assignations
with a lowly actor. To cover my tracks, I used a false name.'

    'Bartholomew
Gow.'

    'It
seemed appropriate in the circumstances.'

    'While
you were playing the part of her husband, you mean?'

    'I've
told you, Mr Redmayne. I loved her. And I believe that she loved me. Why else
would she take the risk on such a regular basis? We met twice a month in Greer
Lane at specific times. It may not sound much to you but it meant everything to
me. And to Harriet. She insisted on paying for the room in that house.'

    'Who
else knew about this arrangement?'

    'Nobody
apart from her coachman. And he was discreet.'

    Christopher
was less certain about that but he said nothing.

    'Why
did you run out on me at your lodging?' he asked.

    'Because
of the situation,' said the actor. 'I didn't want to admit that we had assignations
- and I'm relying on you to say nothing of them to anyone else. Please, Mr
Redmayne. I beg of you.' Christopher gave an affirmative nod. 'Thank you. I
shouldn't have bolted like that but I was in a panic, afraid that I was somehow
responsible for the kidnap because I wasn't in Greer Lane when I should have
been.'

    'You
were told not to go there.'

    'I
begin to see why now.' He took a longer sip of his wine. 'I was different from
the others, you see. That's what Harriet liked about me. I wasn't just another
part of her collection.'

    'Collection?'

    'All
those wealthy admirers. Harriet enjoyed collecting them like pieces of
porcelain. She's a wonderful lady, Mr Redmayne,' he said fondly, 'but she has
her weaknesses as well. Harriet was so proud when she added the most
illustrious admirer of all to her collection. Even then, she would still meet
me for an hour in Greer Lane.'

    'Didn't
you mind sharing her with someone else?'

    'Why
should I? A tiny piece of Harriet Gow is worth far more than the whole of
another woman. I never aspired to own her like the others,' he explained. 'That
was something she could never be. The exclusive property of one man.'

    'Tell
me more about this collection of hers.'

    'It
was rather extensive.'

    'We've
already found that out.'

    'Besides,
I'm not the person to ask, Mr Redmayne. There's someone who knows far more
about it because he had to stand by and watch his wife putting her collection
carefully together. That's the Bartholomew Gow you ought to speak to. The real
one,' he said with a twinkle in his eye. 'Not the impostor.'

    

    

    Jonathan
Bale was simmering with quiet excitement when he left Newgate Gaol. He was so
eager to pass on what he had discovered that he all but broke into a run. When
he reached Fetter Lane, however, he found that Christopher Redmayne was not
there. Jacob suggested an alternative address.

BOOK: The Amorous Nightingale
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