The Repentant Rake (24 page)

    Like
everyone else, Christopher was dressed appropriately in mourning clothes,
helping to create a swathe of black across the front of the nave. He sat at the
rear of the little congregation, wanting to be present but anxious to keep in
the background an observer as much as a mourner. Seated in the front row were
the members of the Cheever family and he ran his eye along their heads. Sir
Julius was flanked by his two daughters. Brilliana Serle was weeping copiously
as if trying to atone for the hostility she had shown towards her brother. Her
husband tried to console her but she was too determined to draw attention to
herself to succumb to his soothing touch. Susan Cheever bore herself with more
dignity, subordinating her own grief to that of the diminutive figure who sat
beside her. Christopher was moved to see that Lucy Cheever had been given pride
of place alongside the others, her head bowed in prayer, her hand clutching
that of her younger sister-in-law. It was ironic that she had to wait until her
husband had been killed before she could be accepted by his family. No members
of her own family were there. Two rows back, Anna, her loyal maidservant, was on
hand to lend support to her mistress in the event of any collapse.

    A
minute before the service began, two latecomers slipped into the church.
Hearing the latch being lifted and the heavy oak door opened, Christopher
looked over his shoulder to see a man and a woman making their way slowly down
the nave before sitting in a pew a few rows behind the main party. Both were
dressed in black and kept their heads down, but Christopher thought that there
was something familiar about the woman. When she glanced across the aisle at
him, he caught a glimpse of the white face beneath the elaborate black hat and
recognised Celia Hemmings. He was touched that she had made such a long journey
in order to pay her last respects to her former lover but relieved that she sat
apart from the family and close friends as if acknowledging her position with
regard to Gabriel Cheever. Christopher wondered who her companion might be but
he had no time to speculate because the funeral service began.

    The
vicar was a white-haired old man who had ministered to his flock for over
thirty years and knew the Cheever family well. He conducted the service with
practised solemnity. Having baptised Gabriel and prepared him for confirmation,
he was able to talk with authority and affection about the dead man, sounding
positive notes in the prevailing sadness and omitting any mention of his
departure to London and its tragic consequences. Brilliana contributed some
loud sobbing at various points in the sermon and Susan Cheever was also tearful
but Lucy showed remarkable restraint, memorising every word said about her
husband as if learning entirely new facts about him. In saying farewell to the
man she had married, she was somehow discovering him.

    The
burial itself took place in the crypt, a dank, chill chamber lit by a number of
shivering candle flames. The last remains of Gabriel Cheever were laid to rest
in a family vault that already contained the bones of his mother and his
grandparents. Sir Julius was visibly shaken and Brilliana wept more
dramatically than ever until her husband, to his credit, put an arm round her
to bury her face in his bosom and stifle the noise. Christopher watched Susan
Cheever and mused on a paradox. The one member of the family who had not
rejected Gabriel was not allowed to mourn his loss properly because she was too
busy offering solace to her father and sister-in-law. Indeed, when Lucy's
control finally snapped, it was Susan who caught her before she could fall to
the stone-flagged floor. Anna moved in swiftly to help her mistress up the
stone steps and out of the crypt. Christopher lent a steadying hand. The full
force of her loss had finally hit Lucy Cheever and she was inconsolable. They
lowered her gently down in a pew so that she could bury her face in her hands.
Amid the sobbing, Christopher could hear prayers being said in Latin. The
maidservant took charge. When he saw that he was no longer needed, Christopher
drifted away.

    After
such a long time in the shadowed interior of the church, it was a shock to step
out into bright sunlight. The fine weather seemed faintly inappropriate for a
funeral but Christopher was grateful to be out in the fresh air again. As other
members of the congregation filed out, he took the opportunity to intercept
Celia Hemmings and her companion, realising, now that he could see the man
clearly, that he knew him. It was Arthur Lunn, one of his brother's friends, so
renowned for his ostentation that he was virtually unrecognisable in mourning
apparel. Celia was tearful und Lunn subdued. They exchanged muted greetings
with Christopher.

    'It
was very good of you to come,' he said.

    'I
would not have missed it,' murmured Celia.

    'How
did you know when the funeral would be held?'

    'We
made enquiries of the coroner,' explained Lunn, 'so we knew when the body was
being brought back to Northamptonshire. In fact, we got here ahead of it.'

    Christopher
nodded. 'The journey took three days. A coffin has to be transported at a
respectful pace. But how did you guess where to come?'

    'I
knew where Gabriel lived' said Celia quietly. 'Once we found his home, we came
here to the church. Word had already been sent on ahead to the vicar so he was
able to give us details of the funeral.'

    'We
might ask
what you
are doing here, young sir?' said Lunn.

    'I'm
a friend of the family,' said Christopher. 'I'm designing a house in London for
Sir Julius, though that project has had to be set aside for a while.' He saw
his client, weighed down with sorrow, coming out of the church porch. 'It may
be some time before Sir Julius is ready to take an interest in it again.'

    Lunn
stepped in closer. 'Is the rumour true?' he asked.

    'What
rumour?'

    'We
heard a whisper that Gabriel was married.'

    'His widow
is here today.'

    'Was
she the young lady you helped out of the crypt?' said Celia.

    'Yes,'
replied Christopher. 'This has been a dreadful ordeal for her.'

    'I
can imagine.'

    'It
was something of an ordeal for me,' said Lunn with a sly grin. 'I found it
difficult to keep my face straight throughout that peculiar sermon. Did you
hear the way the vicar described Gabriel? He made him sound like a minor
saint.' He gave a chuckle. 'That's not the Gabriel Cheever that I remember. Nor
you, I'll warrant, Celia.'

    'Those
days are long gone, Arthur,' she said reprovingly

    'But
old memories must have been stirred.'

    'All
that I feel is sadness that he's gone and deep sympathy for his family.'

    'Well,
yes,' blustered Lunn, 'I feel the same. That goes without saying. But I'll not
deny that I had some merry times with Gabriel - and with your brother Henry for
that matter,' he added, turning to Christopher. 'Henry and I spent many a night
at the card table with Gabriel Cheever.' He chuckled again. 'Much to our cost!'

    'Such
thoughts have no place at a funeral,' said Celia with soft reproach. 'Keep them
to yourself, Arthur.'

    He
gave a bow of mock humility. 'I stand rebuked.'

    'Besides,
I think it's time for us to steal quietly away.'

    'Must
you?' said Christopher, eager to talk further with them.

    'Yes,
Mr Redmayne. You have a place here. We do not.'

    'We
do,' insisted Lunn. 'We were Gabriel's best friends.'

    'But
not the kind of whom Sir Julius would entirely approve, Arthur. For his sake -
and for the sake of Gabriel's widow - we ought to leave now.'

    'Why,
Celia?'

    'Before
there is any embarrassment.'

    'Nobody
can embarrass me,' said Lunn, eyes popping even further out of their sockets.
'I've consorted with His Majesty. Do you think I'll be discomfited by these
country cousins with their rural simplicity?'

    Christopher
was annoyed. 'That's a gross insult to the Cheever family!' he said sharply.
'Miss Hemmings shows the tact and discretion that you so signally lack, Mr
Lunn. It is
you
who might embarrass the family, sir. You belong to a
part of Gabriel's life that his family would rather forget.'

    'Well,
I'll not forget it and neither will your brother Henry.'

    'Forgive
him, Mr Redmayne,' said Celia. 'Arthur is speaking out of turn.'

    'I'm
entitled to my opinion,' asserted Lunn.

    'I
only brought him with me to ensure my safety.'

    'How
disappointing!' he said with a leer.

    She
pulled her companion away. 'It was a big mistake,' she admitted.

    Christopher
watched them make their way along the path that wound between the gravestones.
Celia Hemmings improved on acquaintance but Arthur Lunn did not. While he had
been impressed by the gracious way in which she had conducted herself,
Christopher had been irritated by Lunn's remarks and stung by the reminder that
Henry Redmayne spent most of his time in the company of such men. If his
brother had been more careful in his choice of friends, he reflected, he would
not be in such dire straits now. Theirs was a world that had neither charm nor
appeal for Christopher, especially now that Gabriel Cheever was such a blatant
victim of it.

    'Good
day, Mr Redmayne,' said a voice at his elbow.

    He
turned to see Susan beside him. 'Miss Cheever,' he said.

    'Thank
you for coming.'

    'It
was the least I could do.'

    'And
thank you for helping Lucy when you did. I could support her no longer.'

    'She
did well to hold up as long as she did, Miss Cheever. Where is she now?'

    'The
vicar is with her.'

    'Do
you know what her plans are?'

    'Father
has invited her to stay with us until she's recovered enough to travel.'

    'That's
very kind of Sir Julius.'

    'It
will give us a chance to get to know her better,' she said with a pale smile.
'There is so much to catch up on. But you are also welcome to stay with us, Mr
Redmayne. It will give us an opportunity to repay your hospitality in London.
Father asked me to pass on the invitation.'

    'I
appreciate his kindness but I must get back to London.'

    'Oh,'
she said with evident disappointment.

    'Much
as I hate to leave,' he explained reluctance showing in his eyes, 'there is
important work that calls me back. Now that your brother has been laid to rest,
we must renew our efforts to find his killer.'

    She
reached out to grasp his arm. 'Do you have hopes on that score?'

    'Strong
hopes, Miss Cheever.'

    'Really?'

    'Yes,
but do not worry about that,' he advised. 'Your place is here, mourning with the
rest of the family and getting acquainted with your sister-in-law.'

    'I
know,' she said releasing his arm.

    'Please
thank Sir Julius for his invitation and explain why I'm unable to accept it.'

    'Father
will understand.'

    'I'm
more concerned that
you
do, Miss Cheever.'

    The
affection in his voice drew another half-smile from her. Both wanted to speak
further but they were at the mercy of their circumstances. It was neither the
time nor place for conversation. Christopher felt guilty about the pleasure he
was deriving from their brief encounter. It seemed wrong. Susan, too, was
patently uneasy. Giving her a polite bow of farewell, Christopher took a final
look at the bereaved family then made his way out of the churchyard.

    When
he came into the room, Sir Marcus Kemp looked even more like a giant spaniel
whose paws had been inconsiderately trodden upon. Without being invited, he
dropped on to the chair opposite Henry Redmayne and rolled his eyes in despair.

    'I can
take no more of it, Henry,' he said dolefully.

    'Then
we are two of a kind.'

    'I
think not. My plight is far worse than yours.'

    'I
doubt that, Marcus.'