The Amorous Nightingale (29 page)

    'Thank
you,' she said, melting slightly.

    'Everyone
tells me that you were superb.'

    'You'll
have to judge for yourself, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Will
there be a chance for me to do so?'

    'Possibly,'
she said, turning her head to let him see her in profile. 'The play is very
popular with audiences. Mr Killigrew is talking of staging it again next week.'

    'What
if Mrs Gow has returned by then?'

    'There's
no sign that she will. Harriet has vanished into thin air.'

    'Have
you any idea where she might be?'

    'None
at all.'

    She
turned back to look him full in the eye, almost challenging him to question her
more closely on the subject. Christopher held back. Like Henry, he sensed that
she knew more than she would ever divulge but, unlike his brother, he did not
want to antagonise her with a thoughtless remark. He studied her face then gave
a smile of approval.

    'Henry
was right,' he said gallantly. 'You're very beautiful, Miss Saunders.'

    She
blossomed. 'Thank you, Mr Redmayne,' she said happily. 'No disrespect to your
brother but I find your praise more acceptable than his. Henry is too glib and
well rehearsed. As an actress, I appreciate a capacity for rehearsal,' she
continued, starting to relax. 'As a woman, however, I prefer a spontaneous
compliment to a prepared one.' 'You must have plenty of both, Miss Saunders.'

    'A
woman can never have too many compliments.'

    There
was a teasing note in her voice. He did not respond to it.

    'I
believe that you're a friend of Martin Eldridge,' he said.

    'Martin?
Why, yes. We have a history.'

    'History?'

    'Not
of
that
kind,' she reprimanded with a mock frown. 'Martin Eldridge and I
could never be that close. But we did start out together in the theatre. We had
our first parts in a play for The Duke's Men.'

    'Is
he a good actor?'

    'I
think so. And he was a staunch supporter of me.'

    'Why
did he leave the company?'

    'Because
he fell out with Mr Killigrew.' She looked towards the door. 'That's not too
difficult to do, I'm afraid. He's a volatile character at the best of times.
Martin upset him and his contract was not renewed.'

    'Where
might I find him?'

    'Why should
you want to do so?'

    'A
personal reason. His name was passed on to me.'

    'I've
no idea where he lodges presently but he's stayed with friends in Shoreditch
before now. Somewhere in Old Street, I think.'

    'I
don't suppose you'd know the name of those friends?'

    'No,
Mr Redmayne. Martin has so many.'

    'So
I'm told. According to Mr Killigrew, he was close to Mrs Gow.'

    'Too
close, in my view!'

    'Why?'

    'Harriet
did tend to gather young men around her, I'm afraid. We all like to do that to
some extent, of course, but she took it to extremes. Martin was one of her
attendants, always running errands for her. It was demeaning,' she said
irritably. 'I told him so but he wouldn't listen.'

    'What
other young men did she have in her train?'

    'I'm
past caring.'

    'So
you did care at one point?'

    'Mr
Redmayne,' she retorted, 'I've a life of my own to lead and it gives me little
time to pry into the affairs of others. Especially when one of them is Harriet
Gow. I'd simply never be able to keep track of all her admirers. Harriet has
changed,' she said ruefully. 'She's changed so much. I remember her when she
first came into this cruel profession. Harriet was a nice, quiet, friendly girl
with a husband she adored. Bartholomew went everywhere with her in those days -
until she found him an inconvenience.'

    'You
sound as if you're sorry for him.'

    'No
husband should be treated like that. Somehow, he's managed to survive. Indeed,
parting from Harriet may turn out to be a blessed release. When I saw him
recently, he looked almost happy again.'

    His
ears pricked up. 'You saw Mr Gow?'

    'Less
than a week ago.'

    'Do
you remember where?'

    'Of
course. At Locket's ordinary in Charing Cross. I was dining there with a
friend. Bartholomew Gow was sitting at the next table with his lawyer - a Mr
Shann, as I recall. Bartholomew did introduce me. We only exchanged a brief
word,' she said, 'but one of his comments made me burn with curiosity.
Especially as his prediction turned out to be absolutely true.'

    'Prediction?'

    'Bartholomew
told me that opportunity was at hand, and urged me to be ready for it. Harriet
would soon be indisposed, he said, and I'd be asked to replace her if I'd
studied her roles.'

    'Were
those his exact words?'

    'More
or less.'

    'Did
he say
why
his wife would be unavailable?'

    'I
didn't care,' she said coldly. 'Chances come along so rarely in this profession
that you have to seize them with both hands. I'm very grateful to Bartholomew
Gow.' She gave a dazzling smile, and added: 'He told me that his wife might be
unable to appear on stage again
for quite some time.'

    Jonathan
Bale was a methodical man who liked to do things in correct sequence and at a steady
pace. Punctual by nature, he was disconcerted to arrive at Ludgate precisely at
noon and see no sign of Christopher Redmayne. Since he had abided by the exact
time and place of their agreed meeting, he simply could not understand why the
architect was not there as well. It was almost half an hour before the latter
appeared on horseback to shower him with profuse apologies. Jonathan waved them
away.

    'I've
no time to waste, standing around for you to come, sir. I could have been off
elsewhere, doing something useful.'

    'I
know, I know, Mr Bale,' said Christopher, dismounting. 'But I got so engrossed
in what Abigail Saunders was telling me - she's the actress who has replaced
Mrs Gow - that I lost all purchase on time. I've so much to tell you about my
visit to the theatre but I want to hear your news first. Where have you been?'

    'My
day began in Cornhill Ward, talking to Peter Hibbert.'

    'Poor
lad! How did he take it?'

    'Not
well, sir.'

    Jonathan
explained in detail how he had spent the morning. His attempt at tracing
Bartholomew Gow had failed, but it had led him to an interesting discovery. It
was one which the constable felt a little awkward about passing on. He lowered
his voice.

    'I
knew that there was something odd about that house, sir,' he said darkly. 'The
woman who answered the door to me was very evasive. She claimed that there was
nobody in the house when that coach was ambushed right on her doorstep, but
there's been somebody there the twice I've been to the lane. He's watched me
from the upper room.'

    'Bartholomew
Gow, by any chance?'

    'I
don't think so. The landlady said that he didn't lodge there any longer but I'm
wondering if he ever did live under her roof.'

    'That
innkeeper told you he did.'

    'Only
because Mr Gow called into the Red Lion from time to time. But that doesn't
prove he was lodging in the lane.'

    'I
don't understand.'

    'Neither
did I until I watched the place, sir,' said Jonathan heavily. 'I kept out of
sight in a doorway farther up the lane and just waited. A couple of hours, all
told.'

    'That
is
devotion to duty.'

    'I
wanted to be sure.'

    'Of
what?'

    'My
suspicions. It was the way that woman behaved. I could see that the last person
she wanted outside her door was a constable. She hurried me quickly on my way.'

    'But
you lingered.'

    'It
was worth the wait, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Why?'

    'I
saw a number of coaches stop there in all. A woman got out of the first and
slipped into the house. A man soon followed her in the second vehicle. He left
almost an hour later on his own. Soon after that, a third coach arrived with a
man and a woman in it. They were let into the house as well.' He pursed his
lips in disapproval. 'And so it went on.'

    'What
did?' said Christopher innocently. 'The landlady had a series of visitors,
that's all. What's so unusual about that?'

    'The
way they took care not to be seen, sir. Those coaches stopped right outside the
house so that the occupants could step straight in through the front door. I
was only twenty yards away but I didn't get a proper look at any of them. They
made sure of that.'

    Christopher
understood. 'I begin to see your reasoning, Mr Bale.'

    'Mr
Gow may never have lodged there.'

    'Except
for short intervals, that is.' 'Exactly, sir,' said Jonathan, ridding himself
of a discovery that obviously disgusted him. 'The house is a place for covert
assignations. Tucked away in that lane, it's very private, allowing people to
come and go without being seen. It's an address of convenience. In my view,
that's why Mr Gow used the premises occasionally. I think he had a rendezvous
with a lady.'

    'Not
his own wife, surely?'

    'That's
not for me to say.'

    'It
would explain what her coach was doing in that lane.'

    'Mr
Trigg refused to comment on that.'

    'He
was only trying to save Mrs Gow's blushes, I fancy. On the other hand,' he
remembered, 'he was very hostile towards her husband. Trigg more or less
accused him of being behind this whole business. It seems unlikely that he'd
deliver her into his arms like that.'

    'Perhaps
he didn't know who was waiting for her inside the house. Mrs Gow never told
him. I shouldn't imagine a woman like that confides in her coachman, especially
one such as Mr Trigg.'

    'Well
done, Mr Bale!' congratulated Christopher. 'I think you've stumbled on some
valuable evidence. If that coach really was taking her to a tryst with her
husband - bizarre as that seems - Mr Gow has to be implicated in the ambush.'

    'All
we have to do is to find him.'

    'I
managed to take a big step in that direction. That was why my talk with Abigail
Saunders was so useful. She saw Bartholomew Gow less than a week ago.'

    'Where?'

    'At
Locket's ordinary. Do you know the place?'

    'Only
from the outside, Mr Redmayne. I can't afford to eat there.'

    'Mr
Gow can. He was dining with his lawyer, apparently. That may be our best way to
find him - through his lawyer.'

    'Did
you get the man's name, sir?'

    'Shann.
That's what Miss Saunders said and you may be sure she got the name right.
Actresses have excellent memories - it's part of their stock-in-trade. The
lawyer was called Mr Shann.'

    'Let
me chase him down,' volunteered Jonathan. 'I visit the courts all the time and
I've many friends there. One of them is bound to have heard of a lawyer called
Shann. It's not a common name.'

    'I
embrace your offer,' said Christopher gratefully. 'While you're doing that,
I'll get on the trail of Martin Eldridge.'

    'Who,
sir?'

    'A close
friend of Mrs Gow's. And an intimate one, according to Mr Killigrew. Nobody in
the company knew her as well as Martin Eldridge. He could prove a most helpful
witness.'

    'Do
you have an address for him, sir?'