The Repentant Rake (22 page)

    'You
were ahead of me as usual.'

    'Will
the visitors require supper?'

    'In
time, perhaps. Sir Julius is still recovering from his ordeal.'

    Christopher
went back to the parlour to be given a smile of gratitude by Susan Cheever.
Tired and drawn, she was still more concerned about her father's condition than
her own fatigue. Sir Julius had drifted off into another reverie, grinding his
teeth. Susan waited until Christopher had resumed his seat before she spoke to
her father.

    'What
happened?' she asked quietly.

    'What
happened?' repeated Sir Julius. 'I saw the dead body of my son.'

    'You
should have let me come with you, Father.'

    'No,
Susan.'

    'I
could have helped you through it.'

    'Nobody
could have done that,' he said mournfully. 'Gabriel and I needed to be alone
together once more, if only for a brief while. I'm grieved that it took
something like this to mend the rift between us. What kind of a father have I
been to him?' he said in a rare moment of self-doubt. 'Can I only love a son
after he's been murdered?'

    'You must
not blame yourself, Sir Julius,' said Christopher.

    'Yes,
I must. I drove Gabriel away.'

    'He
would have gone, whatever you did' argued Susan. 'Gabriel was restless. He
wanted to strike out on his own.'

    'Do
not remind me.'

    'It no
longer matters now.'

    'Oh,
it does,' he said soulfully. 'It does.'

    'Did
you make all the arrangements?'

    'I
tried to, Susan. But there is a problem I never anticipated.'

    'A
problem?'

    'Yes,'
he said with a note of disbelief. 'It seems that I was not the first member of
the family to identify the body. Someone I did not even know existed went to
the morgue before me - a young lady claiming to be Gabriel's wife.'

    Susan's
face remained impassive but Christopher could guess at her anxiety.

    'Mrs
Lucy Cheever,' continued the old man. 'That was the name she gave. And she
showed the coroner legal proof of her marriage so he could not deny her access.
I want the body to be taken back home to be buried in the family vault, but
this mystery wife wishes to be at the funeral as well. That's what has shocked
me,' he confessed. 'I cared so little about my own son that he could not even
tell me he was married. Think what that poor woman must be going through. She
is not only denied any contact with his family, she has now lost Gabriel
himself. She must be in despair.'

    'I
hope that she'll be allowed to attend the funeral,' said Christopher.

    'It
would be cruel to keep her away.'

    'Did
the coroner give you her address? I'll gladly act as an intermediary.'

    Sir
Julius was brusque. 'Thank you, Mr Redmayne, but this is family business. I may
have spurned my son but I'll not turn my back on my daughter-in-law. The lady
lives in Knightrider Street. I'll call on her tomorrow.'

    'Let
me go with you, Father,' urged Susan.

    'Why?'

    'I'd
like to meet her.'

    Sir
Julius shot her a look compounded of curiosity, affection and distant anger.
'Did you know that Gabriel had a wife?' he asked.

    Susan
did not hesitate. 'Yes, Father,' she said. 'I did.'

    Alice
Runciman had preserved a resolute cheerfulness in the face of adversity. Death
had robbed her of her parents, her husband, three of her five children and
during the Great Plague, several members of her wider family but no despair
clouded her gaze. She was indomitable. Primed by his wife, Jonathan Bale knew
that Mrs Runciman had a sharp eye but he had not been told about the permanent
smile on her lips. Short and stout, she had a florid complexion that made her
cheeks look like shiny red apples. Jonathan warmed to her at once. The name of
Sarah Bale gained him a cordial welcome. They were soon ensconced in the
parlour, trading gossip about the ward. The constable had to remind himself
that he was there on important business.

    'Mrs
Runciman,' he said. 'I really came to ask about your neighbours.'

    'Oh?'
she replied. 'Which ones?'

    'They
go by the name of Henley.'

    'Ah,
yes. They only moved in recently.'

    'What
can you tell me about them?'

    'Why?'
she wondered, suspecting scandal. 'Have they done something wrong?'

    'No,
Mrs Runciman. Far from it.'

    'Then
why come to me? You are the second constable in one day to call here. Another
man knocked on my door this afternoon.'

    'That
was Tom Warburton.'

    'He
wanted to know if a Mrs Cheever lodged here. I knew nobody of that name.'

    'She
lives a few doors away,' explained Jonathan. 'When she got married, Lucy Henley
became Mrs Gabriel Cheever.'

    'Then
why call herself by her maiden name?'

    'I'm
not sure, Mrs Runciman.'

    'Good
Lord!' said the other with a chortle. 'I live that close to someone and I don't
even know their real name. A fine neighbour I am!' Her eyelids narrowed. 'Why
are you so interested in them, Mr Bale?'

    'Gabriel
Cheever was murdered earlier this week.'

    'Never!'

    'I
was there when the body was found on Paul's Wharf.'

    'Is
that who it was?' she said, oozing with sympathy. 'We wondered who it might be.
Mrs Gately was talking about it only this morning. She thought it might be a
sailor, killed in a brawl. And you say that it was Mr Henley?'

    'Cheever,'
he corrected.

    'He
was the murdered man?'

    'I
fear so.'

    'Heavens!
Think of his wife! She's far too young and frail to bear such a tragedy.'

    'Mrs
Cheever is stronger than she looks.'

    'There's
hardly anything of her. She's such a pretty little thing. Well, who would have
guessed it?' she said with a long sigh. 'Her husband was a proper gentleman. He
was always so polite. Yet he was killed? Who could do such a terrible thing?'

    'We
are still trying to find that out, Mrs Runciman. That's why I came.'

    'What
can I do?'

    'Tell
me all you know about your neighbours.'

    'That's
soon done, Mr Bale,' she said, folding her arms. 'I barely knew them. They were
very private people. They hardly stirred out of the house.'

    'Did
they have many visitors?'

    'I
never saw any.'

    'What
of their maidservant?'

    'I
met her in the market once or twice but she had no tongue in her head either. It
was an effort to get a word out of her so I gave up trying. Neighbours should
be friends, Mr Bale,' she insisted. 'Life is much easier that way. They thought
otherwise.'

    'They
must have had good reason to keep out of sight.'

    'I've
no idea what it might be.'

    'Did
you see anything of them at all, Mrs Runciman?'

    'Only
on Sundays.'

    'Sundays?'

    'Yes,
Mr Bale. They were regular churchgoers, no question of that.'

    'What
do you mean?'

    'They
were out of the house before the bells had even started ringing. I'd see them
walking down the street arm in arm. They may have had some strange habits,' she
went on, 'but I'll say this for them. They were true Christians.'

    Jonathan
thought about a crucifix nailed to a wall.

    Alone
in his dining room, Christopher Redmayne looked back on the day with a sadness
that was tinged with pleasure. Breaking the news of her husband's death to Lucy
Cheever had been even more harrowing for him than carrying the same tidings to
Richmond. While the dead man's father and sister could support each other in
their bereavement, his wife was completely on her own. That she somehow visited
the morgue to identify the body was a tribute to her courage as well as to her
love. Christopher had been moved to hear about it from Sir Julius. Yet it was
what Susan Cheever had told him that really occupied his thoughts. Her
unexpected arrival had been a source of joy to him and her comments about her
brother's work had been a revelation. Christopher wondered if he had finally
stumbled on the motive behind the murder.

    Eager
to stay with her as long as possible, he had sensed that he should withdraw in
order to let her talk in private with her father. They had been grateful for
his considerate behaviour. There was much for them to discuss and it was over
an hour before they called him back into the room. Even though Sir Julius still
looked hurt and betrayed, a measure of understanding had clearly been achieved
between father and daughter. Christopher prevailed upon them to eat a light
supper then they departed for the night to their separate rooms. When Jacob had
cleared everything away, his master sent him off to bed as well, wanting to
stay up for a while himself to reflect on events. The very fact that Susan
Cheever was sleeping beneath his roof gave him a recurring thrill. Even in such
unfortunate circumstances, she was a most welcome guest. Her bedchamber
adjoined his own. When he laid his head on his pillow, he realised, he would be
less than six feet away from her. Christopher picked up the one remaining
candle and headed for the stairs.

    A
knock on his front door made him pause. He wondered who could be calling at
such an hour. When he opened the door, he found himself looking at the last
person he expected to find there.

    'Mr
Bale!'

    'I am
sorry to disturb you, Mr Redmayne,' said Jonathan, hands gesturing an apology,
'but I have learned something that may be of interest.'

    'Come
in, come in.'

    'No,
sir. It's far too late and I've a home of my own to get to.'

    'What
is it that you have discovered?'

    'I
spoke to a Mrs Runciman,' explained Jonathan. 'She lives close to the Cheever
house in Knightrider Street. Gabriel Cheever and his wife kept themselves to
themselves, it seems, though she always saw them going to church on Sundays. It
was as I was leaving Mrs Runciman that I was given the news.'

    'What
news, Mr Bale?'

    'The
maidservant must have seen me as I went past the house earlier.'

    'Anna?
The Cheevers' maidservant?'

    'Yes.
She was waiting for me in the street. After we left her this afternoon, Mrs
Cheever asked the maid to search the house more thoroughly to see if anything
was taken. It was, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Go
on.'

    'Some
of Mr Cheever's papers were missing.'

    'I
knew it!' said Christopher.

    Jonathan
was puzzled. 'You did? How?'

    'This
is not the time to explain. Suffice it to say that Gabriel Cheever had written
something that could be a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. Thank you, Mr
Bale,' he said effusively 'I'm so grateful that you brought this information.'

    'I
felt that it might be important.'

    'It
is crucial.'

    'Good,'
said Jonathan. 'My visit to Mrs Runciman was worthwhile.'

    He bade
farewell and set off down the street with his long stride. Christopher watched
him until he was swallowed up by the darkness, then closed the front door and
withdrew into the house. Before he could retire to bed, however, he was
detained yet again.

    The
clatter of hooves made him prick up his ears. Someone was riding along Fetter
Lane at speed. When he heard the horse being reined in outside his door, he
knew that he had another visitor. Christopher opened the door to see his
brother dismounting from the saddle. Henry was almost out of breath.