The Repentant Rake (26 page)

    'We
agreed to keep that secret.'

    'Why?'

    Lucy
was wary. 'I'm not able to tell you that, Susan. It's rather complicated.
Gabriel had reasons of his own for secrecy. Nobody was to know where we were.'

    'Somebody
knew,' noted Susan.

    'I
was not counting you.'

    'Nor
was I, Lucy. The man who killed Gabriel must have known where he lived as well.
From what you told me, Gabriel hardly ever left the house.'

    'He
was wedded to his work, Susan. He wrote all the time.'

    'That
sounds like my brother. Gabriel did nothing by half- measures.'

    'I
miss him so much.'

    Lucy's
control snapped again and she burst into tears. Leaping off the bed, Susan
knelt down to embrace her, fighting off her own urge to cry. They were entwined
for several minutes. When Lucy felt well enough to push Susan gently away, she
looked into her eyes.

    'You've
been so kind to me.'

    'I
loved Gabriel as well.'

    'He
doted on you,' said Lucy. 'Gabriel could be harsh at times. He told me that he
would not mind if he never saw his father or Brilliana again. They had been hateful
to him. But he would never spurn you, Susan. You were his one friend in the
family.'

    'We
grew up together. I could never disown him.'

    'Your
sister did.' 'That's all behind us. Brilliana will mourn his death in her own
way.' Susan stood up and regarded her sister-in-law for a few seconds. 'Did you
mind being at the funeral on your own?'

    'But
I was not on my own. I brought Anna with me.'

    'I
was thinking about your family.'

    Lucy's
face darkened. 'There was nobody else I wanted there.'

    'Not
even your mother?'

    'No.
In any case, she would be too ill to travel.'

    'Will
you tell her what's happened?' Lucy shook her head. 'Why not?'

    Lucy
reached out to hold her hand. 'I don't know you well enough to tell you that yet,
Susan. Perhaps I will one day. Until then, please bear with me.' She got up and
crossed to look through the window. 'It's beautiful here. I'm sorry I have to
leave.'

    'Must
you?' said Susan, moving to stand behind her. 'Father would like you to stay as
long as you wish. He wants to talk to you.'

    'I'm
not sure how much we have to say to each other.'

    'When
were you thinking of going?'

    'Tomorrow,'
said Lucy, turning to face her. 'I need to go back to London.'

    'Why?'

    'Because
that's where Gabriel's killer is and I want to be there when he's caught.'

    'If
anyone can track him down,' said Susan fondly, 'it is Christopher Redmayne.
He's a fine man. Father and I have so much to thank him for, Lucy.'

    'So
do I.'

    'Do
you have his address?'

    'Yes,
he left it when he called on me in Knightrider Street.'

    'Good.'

    'Why
do you ask?'

    'Because
I think that you might consider telling him what you are unable to tell me. Let
me finish,' she went on, silencing the imminent protest. 'Mr Redmayne is
putting his own life at risk on our behalf. We must do everything we can to
help him. You must have information about Gabriel that nobody else could have.
The most trivial details might be valuable clues to Mr Redmayne. Talk to him, Lucy.
You can trust him not to break a confidence.' She held her by the shoulders.
'Tell him the truth.'

    'No,
Susan. I could never do that.'

    'Not
even if it might lead to the arrest of Gabriel's killer?'

    Lucy
fell silent and lowered her head. Letting go of her, Susan stepped back to
watch her. She had surprised herself with the degree of affection that came
into her voice when she mentioned Christopher Redmayne, but she was not ashamed
of her feelings for him. Her admiration for him had steadily grown. When he
left her in the churchyard after the funeral, she had been bitterly
disappointed. She wished that Lucy had the same faith in him that she did.
There was a long wait before Lucy looked up at her. When her question came, it
took Susan completely by surprise.

    'Will
you come back to London with me?' she asked.

    Jonathan
was putting a man in the stocks when Christopher rode up on his horse. Having
secured his prisoner, a ragged individual with a straggly beard, the constable gave
his friend a nod of welcome.

    'I
did not expect you back so soon, Mr Redmayne,' he said.

    Christopher
dismounted. 'There was nothing to keep me in Northamptonshire.' He thought of
Susan Cheever and smiled to himself. 'Well, on reflection, there was, but it
was imperative that I got back here. That's why I rode so hard.' He patted his
horse's flank. 'You deserve a rest, old friend.'

    'It's
good to see you.'

    'Thank
you, Mr Bale. And I'm pleased to see you again.' He indicated the man in the stocks.
'More pleased than this fellow was to see a constable, I know that.'

    'Leave
him where he is, sir. Those stocks are his second home.'

    He
collected a jeer from the prisoner then set off down the street. Leading his
horse, Christopher walked beside him. He gave Jonathan a terse account of the
funeral but included a reference to the two unheralded visitors.

    'Mr
Lunn was there?' he said. 'I met him. He did not strike me as a caring soul.'

    'He
was there to accompany Miss Hemmings,' explained Christopher. 'It would have
been difficult for her to attend the funeral on her own. With a man beside her,
she was almost invisible. Had she been there alone, people would have asked
what her relationship had been with Gabriel Cheever.'

    'The
answer would not have been fit to be heard on hallowed ground.'

    'Perhaps
not, Mr Bale, but I admire the woman. She loved Gabriel once.'

    'From
what I hear, that young man seems to have had many similar ladies.'

    'Yet
he gave them all up to marry Lucy.'

    'It
may have been the one sensible thing he ever did.'

    'Yet
it may have cost him his life. Still,' said Christopher, 'tell me your news.'

    Jonathan
shrugged. 'There's precious little of it, Mr Redmayne.'

    Christopher
had been away for the best part of a week. During his absence Jonathan had been
far from idle, but he had made scant progress. He had been pursuing lines of
enquiry for which he did not feel best suited.

    'Some
of your brother's friends look with disdain on constables,' he recalled. 'They
have no respect for the law. Or maybe something about me irritates them. Mr
Peter Wickens refused to speak to me, Mr Gilbert Sparkish was rude to my face
and Sir Thomas Sheasby threatened to set the dogs on me. I had to speak sternly
to him.'

    'It
sounds to me as if all three of them deserved to have their ears boxed,' said
Christopher. 'At what time of day did you seek them out?'

    'Late
afternoon.'

    'That
was your mistake, Mr Bale. Catch them after dinner and they'll have drunk too
much to give anyone a civil answer. No matter,' he continued. 'I'm back to take
over the examination of Henry's cronies. I'm on my way to visit one now but I
wanted to talk to you first.'

    'Who
are you going to see, Mr Redmayne?'

    'Sir
Marcus Kemp.'

    'Is
he the other gentleman who received a blackmail demand?'

    'He
is. Apparently, that demand has been doubled.'

    'Why?'

    'Because
he has been too tardy in paying it, Mr Bale. Before I came in search of you, I
called on my brother. It seems that Henry had a visit from Sir Marcus earlier
today. He brought something with him that had frightened the daylights out of
him.'

    'A
death threat?'

    'An
extract from Gabriel Cheever's diary,' said Christopher. 'One that did not
exactly show Sir Marcus in a flattering light. In the hands of his wife, it
could become a dangerous weapon.'

    Jonathan
was appalled. 'Sir Marcus is married?'

    'Several
of Henry's friends are.'

    'Yet
they still lead such shameful lives? What of their marriage vows?'

    'They
keep them less well than you, Mr Bale.'

    'Such
wickedness should not go unpunished.'

    'Oh,
Sir Marcus Kemp has been punished' said Christopher wryly. 'According to Henry,
his friend has been roasting in the fires of Hell. I hope there's something
left of him by the time I get there.'

    Sir
Marcus Kemp was in a quandary. He did not know whether to pay the money
demanded from him or not. It would cost him a thousand guineas to prevent some
highly damaging material about him from being published. Rich enough to afford
such an amount, he did not, however, have unlimited wealth. If he had to pay
indefinite blackmail demands, he would be driven to financial ruin. The
alternative course of action was not appealing. He could defy the blackmailer
and try to limit the damage by making a full confession to his wife about his
indiscretions after a visit to the playhouse. The notion was immediately
dismissed. There was no way that he could bring himself to tell a God-fearing
woman who had borne him three children that two naked actresses had entertained
Henry Redmayne and him in the most beguiling manner one evening, or that his
supposed late nights with parliamentary colleagues were invariably spent in the
arms of an expensive whore. The two worlds of Sir Marcus Kemp were set to
collide. By keeping them apart, he could inhabit each with unrestrained
pleasure. Once they met in opposition, a huge explosion would ensue.

    Lost
in thought, he prowled around the room. A tap on the door startled him.

    'Yes?'
he snarled.

    'You
have a visitor, Sir Marcus,' said the servant from the hall.

    'Send
him on his way. I refuse to see anyone.'

    'Mr
Redmayne says that it's a matter of urgency.'

    'Redmayne?'
said his master, unlocking the door. 'Why didn't you tell me that it was Henry
who had called? He's the one man in London I will see.' He flung open the door
to see Christopher standing before him. 'You are not Henry!' he protested.

    'There
is
a family likeness, Sir Marcus. Good day to you.'

    'What
are you doing here?'

    'Representing
my brother,' said Christopher. 'I may be able to help you with this unfortunate
business in which you have become entangled.'

    'Keep
your voice down, man!' said Kemp, pulling him into the room and closing the
door before locking it again. 'What has Henry been telling you?'

    'Something
of your problems.'

    'He
swore to keep those secret.'

    'Not
from me, Sir Marcus. I am on your side.'

    Before
his host could object, Christopher explained how he had become involved in the
murder investigation and how he had learned about the theft of Gabriel
Cheever's diary. Sir Marcus listened with horrified curiosity. He had met
Christopher before and been struck by how much he differed from his brother in
appearance and inclinations. His visitor was far too wholesome for his taste.
It was unnerving.

    'That
is why Henry confided in me,' said Christopher. 'So that I could have all the
facts at my disposal. If I can find the killer, Sir Marcus, I can put a stop to
these blackmail demands.'

    'I
wish that somebody would.'

    'May
I see the latest communication?'

    'No!'
howled Kemp. 'I could not show you that, Mr Redmayne.