The Repentant Rake (20 page)

    'Thank
you,' she said.

    'I
will return for her in due course,' announced her father, moving to the door.

    'Do
not hurry,' said Christopher. 'Your daughter will be safe here.'

    'I'm
most obliged.'

    Sir
Julius swept out and Jacob went after him to close the front door in his wake.
The coach was heard trundling away. Susan refused the offer of food but was
grateful to sit on a comfortable chair after her bumpy journey. Jacob withdrew
discreetly to leave them alone. Christopher was nervous. Sitting opposite his guest,
he saw how pale and strained she looked. He cleared his throat.

    'It
pains me to see you in such distress,' he said.

    'Father
was wrong to foist me on you like this, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Not at
all, Miss Cheever. I regard it as a stroke of good fortune.'

    Her
face clouded. 'I'd hardly call it that.'

    'The
words were ill-chosen,' he confessed quickly, 'and I withdraw them at once.
What I meant was that I'm glad of the opportunity to confide something that
would have been impossible to tell you in your father's presence.'

    'You've
seen Gabriel's wife?' she said, interest lighting up her features.

    'This
afternoon.'

    'How
did she receive the news?'

    'With
great stoicism,' he told her, remembering the way that Lucy had borne up. 'Your
sister-in-law is an unusual young lady, Miss Cheever. She looks delicate but
she is very brave.'

    'That
was how Gabriel described her in his letters to me,' she said.

    'They
were obviously happy together.'

    Christopher
gave her a full account of the visit that he and Jonathan Bale had made to the
house. Susan was grateful for each new detail. It irked her that she had been
unable to meet the young woman who had brought such joy and stability into her
brother's life. Everything that she heard about Lucy Cheever accorded with the
information that the fond husband had given in his letters to his sister. There
was, however, one thing that her brother had not explained.

    'Why
did they keep the marriage secret?' she asked.

    'I
think that your brother wished to make a fresh start, Miss Cheever. That meant
cutting himself off completely from his former friends. My brother, Henry, was
among them,' admitted

    Christopher,
'and he was astounded to hear that Gabriel had a young bride. Others would have
mocked him unmercifully.'

    'There
must be more to it than that.'

    'I
agree. The real answer may lie with your sister-in-law.'

    'In
what way, Mr Redmayne?'

    'I am
not sure,' said Christopher, 'but she clearly has good reasons of her own to
keep the marriage secret. She was not even using your brother's name.'

    'How
strange!'

    'She
is concealing the truth from her own family.'

    'Why
should she need to do that?'

    'Lucy
- Mrs Cheever, that is - did not tell us. She bore up well but the strain on
her was starting to tell. Jonathan Bale and I left her to mourn in private.' He
lowered his voice. 'The facts will have to come out now.'

    'I
understand that.'

    'She
will want to attend the funeral as his wife. Sir Julius will have to be told
that he has a daughter-in-law he did not know existed. However,' he added
tactfully, 'your own part in all this is perhaps better suppressed.'

    Susan
was defiant. 'I'm not ashamed of what I did.'

    'I
know,' he said, 'and I admire you for it. But it might be unwise to let your
father know that you deceived him all this while. You have to live with him,
Miss Cheever. It might cause unnecessary strife if he were to learn that you
exchanged letters with your brother. I'll not breathe a word on the subject.'

    'That's
very considerate of you.'

    'What
you have told me in confidence will remain sacrosanct.'

    Their
eyes locked for a second and he saw the first sign of her affection for him. An
answering glint in his own eyes seemed to unsettle her. She looked away
guiltily.

    'It
was wrong of us to impose on you, Mr Redmayne.'

    'There
is no imposition, I promise you.'

    'You
were simply engaged to design a house,' she said shifting her gaze back to him,
'not to become embroiled in our family affairs.'

    'That
was unavoidable, Miss Cheever. I make no complaint.'

    Christopher
did not want to discuss his brother's problems with her nor reveal that he was involved
in a parallel investigation to hunt a blackmailer. It was enough for her to
know that he was committed to helping in the search for her brother's killer.
It sparked off a sudden show of concern.

    'You
will be careful,' she warned.

    'Of
course.'

    'I
would hate you to put yourself at risk on our account.'

    Christopher
smiled. 'I am well able to look after myself.'

    'The
man you are after is a vicious killer:'

    'I
have an advantage that your brother lacked,' he pointed out. 'Jonathan Bale
will be watching my back. He has done that before and I trust him implicitly.'

    She
relaxed slightly. 'Good. That reassures me somewhat.'

    'I'm
touched that you are worried on my account,' he said. Another flicker of
affection appeared in her eyes. 'Thank you, Miss Cheever.'

    There
was a long silence. He left it to Susan to break it.

    'You
told me that Lucy knew all about Gabriel's past,' she resumed.

    'That
is what she claimed.'

    'Did
she mention what he had written?'

    'Of
course,' said Christopher. 'She thought his poetry was wonderful. I suspect
that some of it was dedicated to her. It's a small consolation, I know, but she
will still have those poems to remember him by. Lucy also talked about the play
he was working on.'

    'Did
she refer to anything else?'

    'Not
that I recall.'

    'No
memoirs that he was writing?'

    'Memoirs?'

    'Yes,
Mr Redmayne,' she explained, 'Gabriel had a conscience. Though he enjoyed the life
that he led in London, he did so at a price. His conscience tormented him. He
was never really comfortable in that world and he found a way to deal with it.'

    'What
was that?' asked Christopher.

    'He
kept a diary. A detailed memoir of everything that happened during those long
nights at the card tables and… her voice faltered… and in the other places he
visited. Gabriel did not spare himself,' she went on. 'He listed all his vices
and named all of his friends. That diary was a form of confession. He was
trying to purge himself.' She leaned forward. 'Do you think that Lucy is aware
of that diary?'

    'Yes,'
said Christopher, mind racing. 'I suspect that she is.'

    'If
she is not, it would be painful for her to stumble on it unawares.'

    'There
is no possibility of that, Miss Cheever,' he said, thinking of the blackmail
threats. 'The diary is no longer at the house.'

    When
he had read a passage from the Bible to his two sons, Jonathan Bale said
prayers with them, gave them a kiss then came downstairs to join his wife in the
kitchen. Sarah was neatly folding one of the sheets that she had washed earlier
in the day.

    'Are
you still working?' he complained.

    'I'm
almost done, Jonathan,' she said, putting one sheet aside and taking up another.
'The washing dries so quickly in this weather. I could take in much more.'

    'You
do enough as it is, Sarah.'

    'I
like to keep busy.'

    'Too
busy.'

    'Would
you rather that I sat around and did nothing all day long?'

    'No,
my love,' he said, brushing her forehead with a kiss. 'You would die of boredom
in a week. Whatever else people say about Sarah Bale, they will never be able
to accuse you of laziness.'

    'While
I have health and strength to work, I will.' She noticed a small tear in the
sheet she was folding. 'Ah, that will need a stitch or two.'

    'Let
the person who brought it here do that, Sarah. They only pay you to wash their
bed linen, not to repair it.'

    She
smiled tolerantly. 'This load is from old Mrs Lilley in Thames Street,' she
said. 'The poor woman has rheumatism. She can barely move her fingers, let
alone sew with them. It will not take me long, Jonathan.'

    'I
did not realise that it was an act of Christian kindness.'

    'Mrs
Lilley needs all the help that she can get.'

    'Of
course. Well,' he said, moving away, 'you carry on. I have to go out again.'

    'So
late in the evening?'

    'I'll
not be long, Sarah.'

    'But
you are not supposed to be on duty tonight.'

    'No,'
he agreed, 'but I want to knock on a few more doors.'

    'I
would have thought you'd had enough of that for one day.'

    He
grinned. 'Yes, my knuckles are a bit raw. Tom Warburton and I spent hours on
the doorsteps in Knightrider Street and all to no avail. I'm going back there
now.'

    'Why?'

    'To
make amends, my love.'

    'For
what?'

    'I
let myself down,' he explained. 'I like to keep an eye on everyone who comes
and goes in my ward. After all this time, I know most people by sight and many
by name, especially in Knightrider Street. But a man and his wife slipped past
me.'

    'Have
you found them now?'

    'Only
because of Mr Redmayne. It irks me, Sarah. I have to rely on someone who does
not even live here to tell me what's going on under my nose.'

    'You
should be grateful to Mr Redmyane.'

    'Oh,
I am,' he said. 'I just wish that I could have ferreted out the truth myself.
When we called at the house earlier, the maidservant fobbed us off with a lie.
I should have known she was hiding something.'

    'Are
you going back there?'

    'No,
it's a house of mourning. It would be cruel to intrude. What I want to do is to
speak to the neighbours about the two young people who lived there. They may
have seen something of value.'

    'Is
this to do with the murder?' she asked.

    'Yes,
Sarah.'

    'Did
the dead man live in Knightrider Street?'

    'Briefly.'

    'Where?'

    'Close
to Sermon Lane.'

    'Then
you ought to speak to Mrs Runciman,' she suggested.

    'Who?'

    'She
lives on the corner of Sermon Lane, near the house you're talking about. I take
in washing from Mrs Runciman quite often. Please remember me to her.'

    'I
will.'

    'The
Buswell family live opposite and Mrs Gately is somewhere close.'

    Jonathan
laughed. 'Do you take in washing from the whole street?'

    'No.
The only person I work for is Mrs Runciman but she always invites me into the
house. I've met Mrs Buswell and Mrs Gately there. You'll get little help from
them, I'm afraid. Mrs Buswell is almost blind and Mrs Gately is a little slow-witted.
Go to Mrs Runciman first,' she advised. 'She has a sharp eye. If anyone can
help you, it will probably be her.'

    'Thank
you!' he said, kissing her again.