The Repentant Rake (33 page)

    'I'm
glad that you came, Christopher,' he said. 'I have news.'

    'Of
what?'

    'Another
demand.'

    'You've
had a third letter?' asked Christopher.

    'No.
Another victim has been singled out.'

    'Who
is it?'

    'Peter
Wickens.'

    Henry
told him about the unexpected visit from Wickens and described the calligraphy and
the wording of the letter. Christopher was relieved to hear that his brother
had urged his friend not to pay the demand.

    'I
knew that there would be more victims,' he said.

    'He
has dozens to choose from,' Henry remarked. 'Peter Wickens has had his wilder
moments but there are plenty whose antics are far more outrageous than his.
Will they be targets as well, do you think?'

    'Most
probably. If they appear in Gabriel Cheever's diary.'

    'Who
will be next?'

    'Nobody
- if we find the blackmailer.'

    'How
do we do that?' asked Henry gloomily.

    'We
are closer than you imagine,' said Christopher earnestly. 'I still believe that
he is one of your own circle. He may even be here this evening. That is what
brought me here tonight, Henry. I wish to speak to Arthur Lunn.'

    'Arthur?
You surely do not suspect him?'

    'Everyone
must be considered.'

    'But
he's a good friend to me and Sir Marcus.'

    'Let
me probe the strength of that friendship,' suggested Christopher. 'When time
serves, invite him over and leave us to talk alone. Do not tell him why I am
here. There is no point in putting him on the defensive at the start.'

    Henry
shook his head. 'Arthur Lunn? No, I'll not accept it.'

    It
was a long wait. Lunn was enjoying himself too much to be drawn away from the
table. When he eventually did rise from his seat, Henry moved in swiftly to
guide him across to Christopher. Lunn raised a cynical eyebrow.

    'This
is hardly your world, Mr Redmayne,' he observed drily. 'Have you come to gape
in disgust at us hardened libertines?'

    'No,
Mr Lunn. I merely craved a word with you.'

    'Speak
up, then.'

    'Gabriel
Cheever once lodged with you, I gather.'

    'All
the world knows that.'

    'Had
he started to write at that time?'

    'Why,
yes,' said Lunn, adjusting his periwig. 'He scribbled away whenever he could. I
thought that he was writing letters to his sister but he had literary
ambitions.'

    'Did
he show you any of his work?'

    'Bless
you, no! Why should he?'

    'You
were close friends.'

    'We
drank, played cards and whored together, perhaps.'

    'There
was more to it than that, Mr Lunn. He lived under your roof.'

    'Only
until he made enough money to afford lodgings of his own.' Lunn gave a sudden
chortle. 'As it happens, most of that money came from me at the card table.
Even when he moved out, I was still helping to pay for his accommodation.'

    'Did
you resent that?' asked Christopher.

    'A
little, perhaps.'

    'Was
there anything else you resented about Gabriel?'

    'Of
course not,' replied the other. 'Why should there be?'

    'He
did vanish without trace,' Christopher reminded him.

    Lunn
was rueful. 'That's true. And I admit I was a trifle irritated by that.'

    'I
suggest that it was rather more than irritation, Mr Lunn.'

    'What
do you mean?'

    'It
must have been galling to be abandoned like that,' said Christopher.

    'I
was not abandoned!' retorted Lunn.

    'Then
why did Gabriel give no warning of his departure?'

    'Who
knows?'

    'You
must have felt badly let down.'

    'That's
my business,' snapped Lunn, temper starting to show.

    'Why
did you go to the funeral?' prodded Christopher.

    'Celia
Hemmings told you that. I was there to act as her escort.'

    'I
think you may have had a more personal reason, Mr Lunn.'

    Lunn
flared up. 'It was not for the pleasure of meeting you, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Was
it remorse that took you to Northamptonshire?' said Christopher. 'Or were you
simply there to gloat over the dead body of a friend who deserted you?'

    'I
was gloating over nobody.'

    'Are
you pretending that you actually
cared
for Gabriel?'

    'What
is it to you?'

    'I am
curious, Mr Lunn. As you so rightly pointed out,' he said, waving a hand to include
the whole room, 'this is not my world. But it is yours. A man who likes
pleasure as much as you do would need a very strong motive to brave the
highways of England for two whole days in order to spend a mere half an hour at
a funeral.'

    'Why
are you pestering me like this?' demanded Lunn.

    Christopher
was calm. 'I am putting some simple questions to you, that is all.'

    'Do
not expect any answers from me, sir.'

    'Why
not? Do you have something to hide?'

    'No,'
snarled Lunn, jumping to his feet. 'Now leave me be.'

    'If
you tell me one last thing.'

    'I'm
rapidly losing my patience with you, Mr Redmayne.'

    Christopher
stood up. 'How much of Gabriel Cheever's diary did you read?'

    Arthur
Lunn turned purple and started to bluster. Mastering the urge to lash out at
Christopher, he instead turned on his heel and stalked away. Henry sidled over
to his brother with a look of alarm on his face.

    'You
upset him,' he said.

    'I
know, Henry. That was the intention.'

    Lucy
Cheever sat motionless in the chair. Her eyes were open but she was quite
unaware of the fact that her sister-in-law sat directly opposite her. Susan
waited patiently. It was not the first time that Lucy had been in the grip of
her memories. A smile occasionally brushed her lips but sadness prevailed. When
she finally shook herself awake, she was overcome with guilt at ignoring her
guest.

    'I am
so sorry,' she said, reaching out to touch Susan. 'Do forgive me.'

    'There
is nothing to forgive.'

    'I
was daydreaming.'

    'It's
too late for daydreams, Lucy,' said Susan. 'Night is starting to fall.'

    'Heavens!
Have I been that long? You should have given me a nudge.'

    'Why?
You were exactly where you wanted to be.'

    'I
invited you here so that we could get to know each other better,' said Lucy
apologetically. 'And all I do is forget all about you.'

    'You
need some time alone with your memories.'

    'I
had that while you went to visit Mr Redmayne.' Interest brought a proper smile
to her face. 'Was he pleased to see you, Susan?'

    'Very
pleased.'

    'I
thought he would be.'

    'Mr
Bale is the person to thank. He took me all the way.'

    'And
who brought you back?'

    'Mr
Redmayne himself. He insisted that I sit on his horse while he led it along.'

    'I
told you that he was a gentleman.'

    'Every
inch,' agreed Susan.

    'What
did you want to ask him?'

    'Oh,
there were a number of things, Lucy.'

    'Did
you find out if he knew a Henry Redmayne?'

    'It's
his brother, it seems. He leads a somewhat dissolute life, which is how he got
into Gabriel's diary. Christopher and Henry Redmayne may be related,' she said,
'but they are different in every way. Like me and Brilliana.'

    'Nobody
would take you for sisters.'

    'There
are times when Brilliana denies the connection.'

    Lucy
gave a little laugh. 'I'm glad I did not invite
her
to stay.'

    'She
would have made quite an impact on this house, believe me.'

    'Brilliana
likes to be in charge.'

    'Yes,
Lucy. Given that urge, I believe that she married the right man.'

    'And
what about you?'

    'Me?'

    'When
will you find the right man?'

    'Oh,'
said Susan, tossing her head. 'I doubt if I shall ever marry. Father has pushed
many suitors in my direction but none of them has been remotely appealing.'

    'Perhaps
you should look further afield.'

    'Young
ladies are not supposed to look, Lucy. We take what is offered.'

    'Or
remain single.'

    'Quite,'
replied Susan. 'It is an attractive option in many ways.' She sat back and
regarded Lucy with curiosity. 'You still have not told me how you met Gabriel.
All that you would say was that it was a chance encounter.'

    'It
was, Susan. In a churchyard.'

    'A
churchyard? Why there?'

    Lucy
became nostalgic. 'I happened to be taking a short cut through it when I saw
this handsome young man bending down in front of one of the gravestones. At
first, I thought he was paying respects to a family member, then I realised
what he was doing.'

    'And
what was that?'

    'Copying
the inscription,' said Lucy. 'Reading the words that had been carved into the
stone. I was so surprised that I stopped to watch him. We began to talk.
Gabriel was searching for interesting epitaphs,' she went on, the memory
bringing some light into her eyes. 'That was his first commission as a poet,
you see. To write epitaphs.' She gave another little laugh. 'Imagine that,
Susan. You know the kind of wicked life he was leading yet they paid him to
write epitaphs. Gabriel told me that he had not been near a church for months
until he got the commission. We talked for ages.'

    'What
happened?'

    'I
made sure that I took that short cut whenever I could.' Tears threatened and
she bit her lip. 'I met him in one churchyard and bade him farewell in
another.' Susan moved over to put an arm round her. 'He always wanted to write
his own epitaph, you know.'

    'In a
sense, he did,' said Susan. 'With that diary of his.'

    Lucy
turned to her. 'Do they know who killed him, Susan?'

    'No,
but they are getting closer to him all the time.'

    'What
did Mr Redmayne say?'

    'That
he is making steady progress. However,' Susan continued, 'he is still
collecting evidence. What he really needs to know is where Gabriel was likely
to have been on the night he was killed. Do you have any idea, Lucy?'

    'He
should have been here.'

    'He
was somewhere else. Mr Redmayne is certain of it. Where was it?' Lucy shook her
head. 'You must do all you can to help. Where did Gabriel go?'

    'How
would I know?' said Lucy, breaking away to get up. 'He might have gone out for
a walk. He worked all day but he was not chained to the house.'

    'If
you do remember-'

    'How
can I?'

    'If
you do,' repeated Susan, 'please tell Mr Redmayne. It could be important.'

    Lucy
gazed ahead of her. 'Nothing is important any more,' she murmured. 'Not since
Gabriel died.' She seemed on the point of drifting off again but she checked
herself and turned to Susan. 'What will happen if this case is solved?'