The Parliament House (27 page)

    'Think of the perils he's come through recently,' added Henry. 'This is the latest of them and, perhaps, the most agonising. It will be a cruel blow to his pride.'

    'Lancelot - go!'

    With obvious misgivings, Serle left the room. After closing the door behind him, Henry turned to feast his eyes on Brilliana. She was even more gorgeous than he had remembered. Her fragrance was captivating. He took a few steps towards her.

    'Mrs Serle, I cannot pretend that concern for your father was the only thing that brought me here this evening. I had hoped - nay, I'd fervently prayed - that I might be rewarded with a glimpse of you as well.' 'Why, thank you,' she said, smiling at the compliment.

    'Since our chance meeting the other day, my mind has dwelt constantly upon you. Am I being presumptuous in thinking that you might have entertained pleasant memories of me?'

    'Not at all. We enjoyed our visit to your house.'

    'No guest was more welcome.'

    'You have such an original taste in decoration.'

    'I'm known for it.'

    'And you are so utterly unlike your brother, Christopher.'

    'We are equally talented - but in very different ways.'

    'That's what I sensed.'

    He took a step closer and beamed at her. Striking a pose, he turned what he believed to be his better profile towards her. Brilliana was struck by the arresting flamboyance of his attire and by his Cavalier elegance. What she found slightly unsettling was the intensity of his manner. When she had met him before, she had her husband beside her, a line of safety behind which she could retreat at any point. Because Serle had been there, she had felt able to be bold and forthcoming with a new acquaintance. Now, however, she had nobody to give her that invisible sense of security. As he stepped even nearer, Brilliana retreated involuntarily.

    'Why do you flee from me, Mrs Serle?'

    'I was merely adjusting my dress,' she said, playing with the folds of her skirt. 'Pray, do sit down while you are waiting.'

    'I'd sooner stand in your presence - stand or kneel.'

    'Mr Redmayne, I do believe that you are teasing me.'

    'Not at all,' he assured her, producing his most disarming smile. 'I'd never even dream of it. I seek only your happiness. To that end,' he said, 'I will not rest until I have furthered your husband's political ambitions and found a way to introduce him at Court.'

    'Lancelot is having second thoughts about that.'

    'But you deserve a husband with such achievements to his name.'

    'I still hope to have one,' said Brilliana, 'in the fullness of time. Thank you very much for your generous offer. It is much appreciated but Lancelot prefers to forge his own destiny.'

    'And so do I.'

    Henry took a deep breath. This was his moment. The speech that he had honed to perfection over the years was trembling on the tip of his tongue. It had never failed him, melting the heart of any woman who heard it and sweeping aside any lingering reservations that she might have. Brilliana was there for the taking. He had the familiar sensation of power as the blood coursed through his veins. He was ready to strike. Henry put a hand to his breast in a gesture of love. Before he could ensnare her in the seductive poetry of his declaration, however, the door opened and Susan Cheever entered. She took in the situation at a glance.

    'Good evening, Mr Redmayne,' she said, blithely.

    'Oh, good evening, Miss Cheever.'

    'How nice to see you again! I apologise for this interruption. You don't mind if I spirit my sister away for a moment, do you?' said Susan, crossing the room to take a grateful Brilliana by the arm so that she could lead her out. 'There's something that I
must
show her.'

    The pair of them swept out. Henry wilted.

    The Polegate family did not return to London until late afternoon, so it was evening by the time that Jonathan Bale called on the vintner. He was invited into the counting house.

    'How was your journey, sir?' said Bale.

    'Slow and uncomfortable. We left with heavy hearts.'

    'Mr Redmayne told me about the funeral. He was very moved by the ceremony. He said that it was conducted with great dignity.'

    'That's the least my brother-in-law deserved,' said Polegate. 'We stayed on for a few days to console his wife. I assume that you've come to tell me about the progress of the investigation into Bernard's death? Has anything happened in our absence?'

    'Yes, sir. We found the man who shot him.'

    'You did? That's cheering news. Has he been imprisoned?'

    'Alas, no.' 'Why not?'

    'Because he was no longer alive when we caught up with him.'

    Bale described their visit to Old Street and told him what conclusions had been drawn from the murder of Dan Crothers. The vintner was disturbed.

    'Are you telling me that my brother-in-law was killed by a meat porter?' he said with patent disgust. 'Bernard was a man of great intelligence. He was a politician, a philosopher and a scholar. It's horrifying to think that he was shot by some illiterate labourer from the lower orders.'

    'Dan Crothers was not illiterate,' said Bale, recalling the letters they had found upon him. 'And he was only the tool of someone else, sir. His services were bought.'

    'By whom, Mr Bale - and for what reason?'

    'We will find out in due course.'

    'I have every faith in you and Mr Redmayne. I understand that this is not the first time you've been involved together in solving such a heinous crime.'

    'No, Mr Polegate. We've joined forces in the past with some success. What we've learned is that nothing can be rushed. Patience is our watchword. Slow, steady steps will eventually get us to the truth.' He changed his tack. 'I spoke to those friends whose names you gave me. They were all full of sympathy.'

    'That's good to know.'

    'Mr Howlett was particularly upset to hear the sad tidings.'

    'He would be. Erasmus has a kind heart - except when it comes to business, that is. There's no room for sentiment in that.'

    'It surprised me that the two of you should be on such familiar terms when you must be keen rivals.'

    'Not really, Mr Bale.'

    'You both sell drink to the public.'

    'Yes,' said Polegate, loftily, 'but we reach different markets. Beer is the choice of the majority of the populace. It's cheap and relatively easy to make.'

    'I know, sir. My wife, Sarah, brews it at home.'

    'Wine is more expensive because it has to be imported and is heavily taxed. In the main, I sell French and Rhenish wines, though

    I expect to import from Spain and Portugal as well in future. Customers who drink beer at a tavern like the Saracen's Head would not even consider purchasing my stock.' He gave a dry laugh. 'Here's a paradox for you, Mr Bale. One of the city's leading brewers will not touch a drop of his beer. He prefers my wine.'

    'Mr Howlett?'

    'He has an educated palate.'

    'And he can afford the higher prices.'

    'Yes, Erasmus is a wealthy man. A very amiable one, too.'

    'So I discovered,' said Bale. 'Though I felt sorry for the way that his hands were constantly trembling. That must be a problem.'

    'It does not prevent him from counting the week's takings,' said Polegate, wryly, 'I know that. It's a problem he's had for years and it seems to be beyond cure.'

    'Does it prevent him from writing?'

    'I don't think so - not that I've had any correspondence from him myself.'

    'Is he interested in political affairs?'

    'Everyone in business takes a keen interest in that, Mr Bale. Our livelihoods are closely linked to the laws that are passed, and the taxes that are voted in. Why do you ask about Erasmus?'

    'He had the air of a politician about him.'

    'I've never noticed that. Sir Julius Cheever is my idea of a Member of Parliament - strong, outspoken and committed to his principles. My brother-in-law would have been the same,' he continued with a shrug, 'but it was not to be. Erasmus Howlett is hardly in their mould.'

    'He would hardly share their ideals,' said Bale. 'What I meant was that Mr Howlett had unmistakable character. He spoke well and with great confidence. Such men often drift into the political arena.'

    'In one sense, you are right about him.'

    'Am I?'

    'Yes,' said the other, 'Erasmus may have no ambitions to enter the House of Commons but he does have one dream with a political flavour to it - he wishes to be Lord Mayor one day.'

    'Really?' said Bale. 'Is there any likelihood of that?'

    'A definite likelihood and I would certainly profit from it. What better advertisement could I have than to be known as the vintner who fills the cellars of the Mayor of London?'

    'And does Mr Howlett provide you with beer in return?'

    'Oh, no, Mr Bale,' replied Polegate. 'Once you have acquired a taste for wine, beer is anathema. At least, it was in my case. As for dear Erasmus,' he went on, 'his desire to become Lord Mayor is no idle dream. It's a project on which he has worked very carefully. He's taken advice on how to achieve his aim from a true politician.'

    'And who is that, sir?'

    'His cousin - the Earl of Stoneleigh.'

        'Stoneleigh!' exclaimed Sir Julius Cheever, cheeks puce with rage. 'I should have known that that wily devil was behind it.'

    'I felt it my duty to report to you,' said Henry.

    'I'm grateful to you, Mr Redmayne. It solves the mystery.'

    'Word of it would have spread quickly. You must have been the subject of considerable mockery in parliament.'

    'I was,' admitted the other, shuddering at the memory. 'They laughed at me like so many hyenas. Had I walked stark naked into the chamber, I could not have provoked more ridicule.'

    Lancelot Serle had not needed to go to the Parliament House. He had met Sir Julius as his father-in-law was on his way home and told him of his visitor. Throbbing with fury, Sir Julius had refused to confide the cause of his anger to Serle. As soon as he got back to the house, he took Henry into the upstairs room he used as a study and demanded to know why he had come.

    'Explain it in full,' he now invited. 'I want to know all the details of this outrage.'

    'Earlier today,' Henry explained, 'I was taken by friends to visit the theatre. It's not something that I would ordinarily do, Sir Julius,' he lied, 'for I do not like to have my sensibilities offended by some of the base and slanderous matter that seems to inhabit our stages. I only agreed to go on this occasion because I was acquainted with the author of the play.'

    'The Earl of Stoneleigh.'

    'I know him as Cuthbert Woodruffe.'

    'And I, as an arrant knave,' growled Sir Julius.

    'The play was called
The Royal Favourite
and I had, by sheer chance, seen it when it was first performed at the King's Theatre. It's an amusing comedy and free from the kind of salaciousness that seems to infect the work of most dramatists.'

    'Yet you say a new scene had been added to the play.'

    'A long and very significant new scene, Sir Julius.'

    'Portraying me in a very unflattering light.'

    'Alas, yes,' said Henry, pretending to a sympathy he did not feel. 'I was so shocked on your behalf that I almost fled the theatre. What kept me there was the fact that you deserved a full account of what took place, so I forced myself to sit through the scene.'

    'You deserve my gratitude for that, Mr Redmayne.'

    'There could be no doubt that you were being lampooned. The name of the character was Sir Julius Seize-Her, a rapacious country gentleman from Northamptonshire.'

    'Now I see why they cried "Hail, Caesar!" at me in parliament.'

    'The actor had a clear resemblance to you and dressed in the sort of apparel that you wear. Everyone recognised you instantly.'

    'I did not know that I was so famous,' said Sir Julius, grimly. 'Was I shown as a Member of Parliament?'

    'Oh, yes,' replied Henry. 'In fact, the whole scene took place in the Parliament House. Sir Julius Seize-Her had inveigled an attractive young woman into the chamber so that he could prey upon her virtue. When she resisted, he pursued her around the stage with gusto.' He gave an admiring smile. 'As a matter of fact, you showed a wonderful turn of foot, Sir Julius.'

    'It was not
me,
man - only some crude version of me.'

    'Crude and insulting.'

    'How did the scene end?'