The Repentant Rake (49 page)

    'How?'

    'By
giving you the glad tidings that the plot against us has foundered' said Henry.
'My brother called on me not an hour ago.

    One
of the villains is already in prison and Christopher was on his way with a
constable to arrest his accomplice.'

    Wickens
was taken aback. 'His accomplice?'

    'Yes,
Peter. Prepare yourself for a shock.'

    'Why?'

    'It
was Celia Hemmings. Actually,' said Henry airily, 'I suspected her all the
time. Celia was the only woman who stayed with Gabriel long enough to have
access to that diary of this. She knew exactly how profitable it might be.'

    'On
what evidence was she arrested?' pressed Wickens.

    'My
brother used a simple ruse. He asked Gabriel's sister to write to Celia and
suggest that they met. Celia refused but those few lines that she dashed off in
reply sealed her doom. The handwriting matches exactly that on the second
letter sent to me.'

    'That
was clever of your brother.'

    'He
takes after me.'

    'What
about this man who was taken?'

    'Christopher
set a trap for him outside a printer's shop in Fleet Lane,' said Henry. 'When
the man turned up to get some more extracts from the diary printed he was
ambushed by two constables.'

    'I
see,' said Wickens thoughtfully. 'Did the man name his accomplices?'

    'No,
he was a surly beggar. Christopher could get nothing out of him.'

    'Then
how did he track down Celia Hemmings?'

    'Ask
him yourself, Peter. The point is that you, Arthur, Sir Marcus and I have been
set free at last. Look more cheerful, man,' he urged. 'Are you not pleased?'

    'Delighted,'
said Wickens, forcing a smile.

    'You
see now how wise I was to argue against paying any money to them.'

    'I
thought that was your brother's counsel.'

    'Mine,
too,' boasted Henry. 'I held firm against the blackguards. Like you, I did not
give them a single penny.' He emitted a high laugh. 'But poor Sir Marcus parted
with a thousand guineas. I left him wondering if he would ever get it back.'

    Stroking
his chin, Wickens moved aside for a moment, deep in meditation. When he turned
back to Henry, he manufactured a broad grin and patted his friend on the arm.

    'Thank
you for telling me, Henry. It was kind of you to come.'

    'We
must all celebrate tonight with Mrs Curtis and her girls.'

    'Yes,
yes,' said Wickens without enthusiasm. 'A capital notion.'

    'By that
time,' said Henry, 'everyone involved in the plot will be locked up behind
bars. Christopher will soon get the truth out of Celia Hemmings. I doubt if
she'll enjoy the stink of a prison cell. They are not too fastidious in
Newgate.'

    'Quite
so.'

    'Sir
Julius Cheever was overjoyed when they caught the man who killed Gabriel. Wait
until he and his accomplices are hanged' said Henry. 'I'll wager that Sir
Julius will be at the front of the crowd.'

    Wickens
was interested. 'Is he in London at the moment?'

    'Apparently.
My brother met him at the house in Knightrider Street where Gabriel used to
live with his wife. She'll be relieved by the turn of events as well.'

    'Yes,
Henry.'

    'It's
a golden day for all of us.'

    'So
it seems.'

    Henry
rubbed his hands. 'Shall we join Arthur and Sir Marcus?'

    'You
go on ahead,' said Wickens, easing him towards the door. 'I'll join the three
of you later. I have some business to attend to first then I'll carouse with
you until dawn.'

    'We
can raise a glass in memory of Gabriel.'

    'We
will indeed.'

    'The
repentant rake.'

    Celia
Hemmings proved to be an unhelpful prisoner. Confronted with irrefutable
evidence of her guilt, she responded with angry denials and refused to name any
accomplices. Christopher was disappointed. Someone involved in the plot was
still at large and he was no nearer identifying that person or, in point of
fact, the man who was already in custody. There was one compensation from the
visit to Covent Garden. He now had his brother's
billet-doux
in his
pocket. Jonathan Bale's presence had deterred the servant from any further
heroics on behalf of his mistress and the visitors had been able to enter the
house to retrieve Henry's letter. What worried Christopher was that there was
no sign of Gabriel's diary. He decided that it must still be in the hands of an
unknown accomplice and might yet be a source of danger to those whose misdeeds
the nascent author had chronicled in such detail.

    While
Jonathan took charge of the prisoner, Christopher went back to Knightrider
Street to report the latest success. He was in luck. Susan Cheever not only
answered the door, she explained that her sister-in-law had retired early to
bed. She and Christopher were alone again. Her affection for him was more
obvious than ever and his fondness for her kept a permanent smile on his face.
Christopher explained how Celia Hemmings had been caught and thanked her for
her part in the ruse.

    'I
did very little,' she said.

    'You
did a great deal,' he told her. 'You were the one person who could have coaxed
a letter out of Miss Hemmings. Had I written to her, she would have suspected a
trick. You appeared to hold no threat for her. Your innocence exposed her
guilt.'

    'What
will happen to her, Mr Redmayne?'

    'She
will stand trial with the others and suffer the same fate.'

    Susan
gulped. 'A horrible way for a woman to die.'

    'Miss
Hemmings brought it on herself,' said Christopher with a sigh. 'There was no
hint of remorse from her. She despised your brother for the way he cast her
aside and vowed to get her revenge. At least, we now have her where she
belongs. I must pass on the good news to Sir Julius. Did he go back to
Holborn?'

    'Yes,
Mr Redmayne.'

    'Then
I had better call on him now,' he said reluctant to go.

    'Will
you come back here afterwards?' she asked hopefully.

    'Oh,
yes. If you wish.'

    'I
will count the minutes while you are gone.'

    It was
the closest she had ever come to a declaration and it gave him the confidence
to reach out to take her hands. Susan did not resist. Words were abandoned.
They stood there for several minutes without moving. Her hands were warm. Her
smile of contentment matched his own. It was Susan who broke the spell.

    'You
may get to Holborn in time to meet Father's other visitor,' she said.

    'Other
visitor?'

    'Yes,
Mr Redmayne. He left here not long before you arrived. He said that he was an
old friend of Father's and was anxious to meet him again.'

    'Did
he give his name?'

    'Mr
Peter Wickens.'

    Christopher
was startled. 'Peter Wickens came
here?
'

    'Do
you know the gentleman?'

    'Only
through my brother,' said Christopher, his mind grappling with the news. 'How
on earth did Mr Wickens realise that your father was back in London? And what
brought him to this address?' he added. 'Nobody knew that Gabriel lived here.'
He took her by the shoulders. 'Did you tell him where Sir Julius was staying?'

    'Yes.
I saw no harm in it. Mr Wickens was very polite.'

    'I
know. He has great charm when he wishes to use it.'

    'He
went straight off to the King's Head.'

    'Was
he on foot?'

    'No,
Mr Redmayne. He came on his horse.'

    'Then
I had better get after him at once,' decided Christopher, moving swiftly to the
front door. 'Whatever else he is, Peter Wickens is no old friend of your
father's, Miss Cheever. I believe that Sir Julius may be in danger.'

    Alone
in his room, Sir Julius sat on the edge of the bed drumming his fingers
impatiently on his knee. He was not used to waiting on the actions of others.
Throughout his life, he had always taken the initiative and forced himself to
the centre of events. His capacity for leadership and for making prompt
decisions had helped his military career to take wing. Promotion had come early
and he had gone on to distinguish himself repeatedly in the field. Yet he was
now forced to sit in a room at the King's Head, isolated from the action,
wondering what was going on and obliged to leave everything to others. His son
had come back into his life in the most distressing way. As he reflected on
their estrangement, he had to admit that Gabriel was not entirely to blame. It
was not simply a case of youthful rebellion that took him to London. Had he
shown his son more understanding, Sir Julius could have retained the friendship
that had been so important to him in earlier days. He could see that he had
been too intractable.

    A
sharp knock on the door got him to his feet. He was cautious.

    'Who
is it?' he called.

    'My
name is Peter Wickens,' came the reply 'Mr Redmayne sent me.'

    'You
have a message for me?'

    'Yes,
Sir Julius.'

    Unbolting
the door, Sir Julius flung it open in the hope of hearing good news. Instead of
that, he had a pistol held against his forehead. Wickens pushed him back into
the room and closed the door behind him. He guided his captive to a chair. When
Sir Julius sat down, Wickens took a step back to appraise him, keeping the
pistol aimed at his head. Sir Julius was more curious than afraid.

    'Who
are you?' he demanded.

    'I
was a friend of your son, Gabriel,' said Wickens. 'In my view, he was the only good
thing to come out of the Cheever family, but we had to kill him none the less.'

    Sir
Julius was horrified. 'You killed my son?'

    'Not
exactly but I was there when it happened. Just to make sure that he was dead, I
ran him through with my sword.' He gave a mocking smile. 'He died quite
peacefully.'

    'You
devil!' said Sir Julius, trying to get up. When the pistol was placed against
his skull again, he lowered himself back into his seat. 'What do you want, Mr
Wickens?'

    'It's
called revenge.'

    'Against
me?'

    'Against
you and your family, Sir Julius,' said Wickens, stepping back again. 'I came to
like Gabriel or I would have killed him much sooner. He bore a name that I've
been taught to hate. Then he told me how much he loathed the famous Colonel
Cheever and

    I
gave him the benefit of the doubt. I spared him until I heard that his father
had ambitions to enter Parliament.'

    'It's
a foregone conclusion.'

    'Not
any more. I could not have you moving to London and living under my nose. The
stench would offend my nostrils.'

    'Do
you always talk with a pistol in your hand, Mr Wickens?' said Julius, icily
calm. 'Put it aside and we can have a proper conversation.'

    Wickens
gave a sneer. 'You once had a proper conversation with my brother.'

    'Did
I?'

    'His
name was Michael Wickens,' said the other. 'Not a name that you would recall, I
dare say, because he was only one of many people you killed on the battlefield.
Witnesses told me that Michael was shot from close range by a Colonel Cheever.
Do you remember the carnage at the Battle of Worcester?'

    'That
war is over and done with, sir.'

    'Not
as far as I'm concerned.'

    'I
fought hard for my side just as your brother must have fought nobly for his.'

    'But
you are still alive,' said Wickens darkly. 'Michael is not.' He held the pistol
within a foot of his captive's head. 'I felt it only right that you should know
why I arranged to have your son murdered and why you must follow him to the
grave. Say your prayers, Sir Julius. You are going to join your Maker.'