The Repentant Rake (13 page)

    'He
is your brother, my dear,' he said weakly.

    'He
was,
Lancelot, but I refuse to acknowledge him now. So does Father.'

    'I
learned that to my cost.'

    'Then
why touch on a subject you know will offend me?'

    'No
offence was intended.'

    'As
far as I am concerned' she emphasised, 'Gabriel does not even exist any more.
My brother might just as well be dead.'

    Instead
of returning to Fetter Lane to collect his horse, Christopher decided to make the
journey on foot. The long walk to Addle Hill gave him time to reflect. He was
puzzled by the second letter sent to his brother, reasoning that it had to come
from someone who was party to Gabriel Cheever's murder because nobody else knew
about it. Henry had flown into a panic but the death threat did not entirely
convince Christopher. A man who was trying to squeeze money from a victim by
means of blackmail would not toss away all hope of profit by killing that
victim. Yet that was what was implied by the mention of Gabriel Cheever. Had he
foolishly resisted blackmail demands? According to Henry, Cheever had been a
single-minded young man with a forceful character. He had clearly inherited
some of his father's traits. Unlike Henry Redmayne, he did not sound like a
natural target for blackmail. Why choose someone who would surely never cave in
to demands for money? And how could anyone blackmail a man who, it transpired,
was so careless of his reputation that he gloried in his debauchery? The
rakehell described by Henry would have no qualms whatsoever if his
amours
became public knowledge. He was impervious to extortion.

    Something
else worried Christopher about the second letter. It was not written by the
same person as the first one. Accomplices were at work. One of them had the
most graceful handwriting. Jonathan Bale had explained that Gabriel Cheever's
assassin must have been a powerful man. Was a vicious killer capable of such
stylish calligraphy? The more Christopher thought about it, the more persuaded
he became that the blackmail emanated from someone within Henry's circle. The
problem was that the circle was rather large. His brother had now provided him
with a list of over thirty close friends. A supplementary list of acquaintances
included the name of Gabriel Cheever. To pick a way through the complex private
life of Henry Redmayne was a formidable task.

    As
Christopher entered the city through Ludgate, his thoughts turned to Susan
Cheever. The death of her brother would be a bitter blow to her and she would
be agonised when she learned the nature of that death. How her father and her
sister would react, Christopher did not know. His only concern was for the
young woman who had made such a deep impression on him during his visit to
Northamptonshire. It grieved him that they had parted on such an awkward note.
He did not relish passing on the grim tidings. A mere question about her
brother had been enough to upset her. News of his murder might destroy her
completely Christopher resolved to choose his words with utmost care. Eager to
see Susan Cheever again, he wished that he could meet her in any circumstances
but the present ones.

    She
remained at the forefront of his mind until he turned into Addle Hill.

    'Mr
Redmayne!'

    'Good
day to you, Mrs Bale.'

    'It
is so nice to see you again, sir.'

    'The
pleasure is mine, I assure you.'

    Though
she had only met him on a handful of occasions, Sarah Bale was very fond of
Christopher. He was always polite, charming and kind to her children. Having
heard that he was due to call, she made sure that she answered the door to him.
Once she had shown him into the parlour, however, she left him alone with her
husband. They had serious business to discuss and she did not wish to hold them
up. Christopher was touched that he had been invited to the house. It was a
sign of friendship. Whether out of resentment or from feelings of social
inferiority, Jonathan Bale had always been unhappy about his earlier visits,
but those objections seemed to have disappeared. Christopher was welcomed and
shown to a seat. Turning down the offer of refreshment, he plunged straight
into the matter in hand.

    'I
believe that I know who killed Gabriel Cheever,' he began.

    Jonathan
was delighted. 'You have a name?'

    'Not
yet, Mr Bale, but I have critical evidence. The person behind the murder is the
same man who has been trying to extort money from my brother.'

    After
swearing the constable to secrecy, Christopher gave him an abbreviated account
of the two blackmail letters, tactfully omitting any scurrilous details about
his brother's indiscretions. Jonathan listened with fascination. He was
especially attentive when given more details about the murder victim. One fact
was pounced upon.

    'Gabriel
Cheever lived in Knightrider Street?' he said.

    'Not
necessarily,' warned Christopher. 'Someone claims to have
seen
him
there, that is all. There's no guarantee that he had lodgings there.'

    'On
the other hand it does establish a possible link with this ward.'

    'Granted.'

    'Knightrider
Street is not far from Paul's Wharf.'

    'It
might be worth knocking on some more doors.'

    'Yes,'
said Jonathan. 'Tom Warburton can try his luck there.'

    'What
of your news?'

    'I got
to the morgue just in time to stop them arranging a burial. The body will be
held until a family member can identify and reclaim it. If Gabriel Cheever is a
resident of Knightrider Street, he should be buried in the cemetery of the
parish church.'

    'That
is something for his family to decide.'

    'I
thought that he had broken with them.'

    'Not
all of them, Mr Bale.'

    'Oh.'

    'Leave
the family to me,' said Christopher. 'Sir Julius has a married daughter who
lives in Richmond. He gave me her address. I plan to ride there first thing in
the morning to break the news to her and to find out when her father is
expected.'

    'Would
you like me to come with you, Mr Redmayne?'

    Christopher
smiled. 'No, thank you. But it's a kind offer, particularly when it comes from
a man who hates riding as much as you do.'

    'Nature
did not intend me to sit astride a horse.'

    'You
prefer to keep your feet on the ground, Mr Bale. In every sense.'

    'What
can I do in the meantime?'

    'Speak
to some of the people on this list that Henry gave me,' said Christopher,
taking it from his pocket. 'Start with Arthur Lunn. He was closer to Gabriel
Cheever than anyone. See what he can tell you about the dead man.'

    'How
will I find the gentleman?'

    'At
his favourite coffee house. Sir Marcus Kemp may be there as well. He was the
man who claimed to have seen Cheever in Knightrider Street. Between the two of
them, they should be able to give you much more information about him.'

    'And
this… other matter?' asked Jonathan discreetly.

    Christopher
was decisive. 'Make no mention of it, Mr Bale. Keep my brother's name out of it
at this stage. It will be enough for them to know that a friend of theirs has
been murdered. That will secure their interest.'

    'Arthur
Lunn and Sir Marcus Kemp.'

    'Both
amiable fellows but neither destined for sainthood.'

    'I
had already decided that,' said Jonathan seriously. 'Well, I'll speak to them
at their coffee house and see what I can learn. What of you, Mr Redmayne?'

    'The
person I intend to meet does not appear on this list.'

    'Why
not?'

    'Because
she is not one of my brother's inner circle,' explained Christopher. 'But she
may be able to tell me things about Gabriel Cheever that nobody else knows.'

    'Who
is the lady?'

    'Miss
Celia Hemmings.'

    Sir Julius
Cheever set out for London earlier than planned. Having made the decision to
go, he saw no reason for delay and he took his younger daughter with him for
company Susan could read his moods with great accuracy. She knew when to talk,
when to listen and most important of all, when to do neither. If he drifted off
into a reverie, Sir Julius did not like to be interrupted and she had thoughts
of her own in which to lose herself for long periods. Their coach rocked its
way noisily over a track hardened by the hot sunshine. Sleep was out of the
question but they learned to adjust their bodies to the jolting rhythm and that
brought some comfort. They made good speed. Susan judged the moment to break
the silence.

    'We
should have ridden there,' she said.

    'Why
sit on two horses when we can be pulled by four?'

    'Because
we would have travelled more quickly, Father.'

    'Only
if we had found enough companions to ensure safety on the journey. Besides,'
argued Sir Julius with rough-hewn gallantry, 'I could not ask a delicate young
lady like yourself to spend two whole days in the saddle.'

    Susan
was firm. 'I am not delicate and I love riding. Nothing would have pleased me
more than to make the entire journey on horseback.'

    'And
arrive at Serle Court covered in dirt and perspiration?'

    'Travel
always imposes penalties.'

    'Then
the sensible thing is to lessen their number, Susan. Take your ease,' he
advised. 'As much as this coach allows you to, that is. We've kept up a steady
pace so far. When we arrive in Richmond tomorrow, we'll be fresh and
unsullied.'

    'Apart
from the occasional bruise,' she added with a smile.

    'You
would insist on coming with me.'

    'I
wanted to see Brilliana.'

    Sir Julius
snorted. 'You'd hardly be subjecting yourself to this in order to see your
brother-in-law. Why, in God's name, did she have to wed that drooling
imbecile?'

    'Lancelot
is an intelligent man,' she said loyally.

    'Then
he has a wonderful gift for disguising that intelligence.'

    'Don't
mock him, Father.'

    'The
fellow is so irredeemably fatuous.'

    'Brilliana
chose him and for her sake, we must learn to love him.'

    'Love
him?' exploded Sir Julius. 'What is there to love?'

    Susan
was tactful. 'You'll have to ask my sister that.'

    'Brilliana
long ago abandoned the pretence that she actually loved that booby. She married
him for his house and his wealth. Not that I quibble with that,' he said,
lifting a palm. 'Those are perfectly sound reasons for a young lady to wed but
not if it means enslaving yourself to a fool like Lancelot Serle.'

    'I
don't think that anyone would enslave Brilliana,' observed Susan tartly.

    'No,
she takes after me.'

    'We
all do, Father.' He shot her a warning glance and she regretted having included
her brother in the reference. 'Well, perhaps not all.'

    One
of the wheels suddenly explored a deep pothole and the whole coach lurched over
to the right. The occupants reached out to steady themselves, and Sir Julius
thrust his head through the window to berate the driver.

    'Watch
where you're going, man!'

    'I'm
sorry, Sir Julius,' replied the other. 'I didn't see it until it was too late.'

    'Are
you blind?'

    'I'll
be more careful from now on.'

    Sir
Julius lapsed back into his seat with a thud. Susan watched him for a moment.

    'Father,'
she said at length, 'what do you hope to achieve in Parliament?'

    'I
mean to introduce a measure of sanity.'

    'Can
one man exert any real influence there?'