The Repentant Rake (50 page)

    Sir
Julius closed his eyes and heard the other's soft laughter. He could not
believe that he was being called to account for an unremembered incident in the
heat of a battle that took place many years before. Evidently, it was
remembered only too well by Peter Wickens.

    'You
chose an appropriate place, Sir Julius.'

    Sir
Julius opened his eyes. 'What do you mean?'

    'The
King's Head. Where better for a traitor who helped to remove a king's head to
lose his own life? Farewell, Sir Julius. Go off to join the Lord Protector in
Hell.'

    He
levelled the pistol and took careful aim. Before he could pull the trigger,
however, the door burst open and Christopher

    Redmayne
came hurtling into the room. Wickens was momentarily distracted. Seeing his
chance, Sir Julius swung an arm to knock the barrel of the pistol away from him
and the weapon went off, firing its ball harmlessly into the ceiling. Wickens
was enraged. He used the pistol to club Sir Julius, opening a deep gash in his
head. Christopher was on him at once, diving recklessly at Wickens and knocking
him to the ground. The ride from Knightrider Street had given him time to work
out that he would be dealing with the very accomplice whose name Celia Hemmings
had refused to divulge. Wickens was ruthless. He would not scruple to kill
again. Christopher grabbed the wrist holding the weapon and twisted it sharply
until his opponent was forced to leave go. Sir Julius had staggered back to the
chair, holding the wound on his head as he tried to stem the blood, unable to
do anything but look on.

    Wickens
was a determined adversary. Deprived of his weapon, he used his hands to punch,
push and claw at Christopher. They grappled rolled knocked over a low table
then struggled fiercely to get the upper hand. Wickens was spurred on by a
combination of revenge and sheer fury but Christopher's will was even stronger.
Certain members of the Cheever family helped to fuel his resolve. He was
fighting on behalf of a young husband who was murdered in a dark alley. He was
representing a helpless widow who saw her happiness cruelly snatched away from
her. In Sir Julius himself, he was striving to save a man whom he admired and a
client whom he needed. But, most of all, he was there to rescue Susan Cheever
from further distress. As Wickens sat astride him and got both hands to his
neck, Christopher summoned up extra reserves of energy. He pulled the hands
away, threw his man off then hurled himself on top of him. Urged on by Sir Julius,
he punched until resistance slowly began to fade.

    Covered
in blood and close to exhaustion, Wickens gave up. Christopher pinned him to
the floor. The landlord had been roused by the shot and the commotion. He came
bustling into the room to see what was happening, and blinked in amazement at
the scene.

    'What
is going on, sirs?' he asked querulously.

    'Summon
a constable,' said Christopher.

    Henry
Redmayne was mortified. It was bad enough to be hauled out of his bed by a
visitor at that time of morning. After a night of merriment, he had intended to
sleep until dinner. When he heard what Jonathan Bale had to say, his misery was
compounded. His cheeks were crimson with embarrassment.

    'It
was
my
fault?' he said, swallowing hard.

    'So
it appears, sir,' said Jonathan sternly. 'You were the person who told Mr
Wickens what had happened. He went charging off in search of Sir Julius
Cheever.'

    'How
was I to know that Peter Wickens was party to this whole plot?'

    'You acted
too thoughtlessly.'

    'I
believed that he was a victim like me. Hell's teeth, man!' he exclaimed. 'Peter
came here and showed me the letter he had received.'

    'That
was to throw us off the scent, Mr Redmayne. Did you never ask yourself why he
came to you and not to one of his other friends?'

    'No,
Mr Bale.'

    'It
was because he wanted us to
know.
Realising that your brother was
hunting for the blackmailers, he showed that letter to you because you were
sure to mention it to your brother. Mr Wickens was never a true victim,' he
went on. 'Miss Hemmings wrote that letter for him so that he could hide behind
it.'

    'Very
effectively,' conceded Henry 'I'm shocked to learn that Peter was behind the
whole thing. We've shared such jolly times together.'

    'There
was nothing jolly about the way that Gabriel Cheever was murdered,' said
Jonathan. 'Thanks to you, his father was almost killed as well.'

    'Dear
God!' said Henry, contrite for once. 'What did I do?'

    'Your
brother will call later, sir. He asked me to explain what occurred yesterday.
Mr Redmayne did call here last night but he was told that you were celebrating
with friends.' He drew himself up. 'I think that those celebrations were
premature.'

    Henry
nodded in agreement. 'I was too impulsive.'

    'Think
more clearly next time, sir.'

    'I
will.'

    They
were standing in the hall and Henry was feeling profoundly guilty. While he and
his friends were carousing the previous night, Christopher was engaged in a desperate
fight with Peter Wickens, having saved Sir Julius from certain death. The fact
that he had unwittingly alerted Wickens made Henry squirm inwardly. He looked
at his visitor.

    'Did
you find out the name of the assassin?' he asked.

    'Reresby,
sir,' said Jonathan. 'Caleb Reresby. A discharged soldier.'

    'Who
hired him? Peter or Celia Hemmings?'

    'Mr
Wickens. All three will stand trial together.'

    'They
deserve no less. They put me through an ordeal.' Sensing Jonathan's
disapproval, he reined in his self-concern. 'Not that my woes compare with
those of Gabriel's widow, of course,' he said, sounding a compassionate note.
'I am free to carry on as before while the Cheever family remains in mourning.'

    'Yes,
sir.'

    Henry
could see why his brother had sent Jonathan Bale to break the news to him. The
constable was like a figure of doom. His presence was unnerving in a house that
was an indictment of all the principles for which he stood. Christopher knew
that his friend would make Henry feel at least partially remorseful. In asking
Jonathan to visit his brother, Christopher had been playing a joke on him for
as serious purpose. Henry was cowed and ashamed. It was only when his visitor
was about to take his leave that he remembered something.

    'Did
Christopher say anything about a letter of mine?' he said anxiously.

    'No,
Mr Redmayne.'

    'Ah.'

    'Though
he did take one away from the house in Covent Garden,' recalled Jonathan. 'I
believe that it had something to do with you, sir.'

    'It
had
everything
to do with me!' said Henry under his breath. 'Where is
it?'

    'Your
brother talked about returning it to the person to whom it belonged.'

    'That
would be cruel!' howled Henry.

    'Discuss
it with him when he comes, sir.' He opened the front door and bells were heard
chiming nearby. 'You may not know this, Mr Redmayne,' he said, noting Henry's
dazed expression, 'but it happens to be Sunday.'

    Henry
blinked in surprise. 'Is it really?'

    'Church
is the best place for repentance, sir. Goodbye.'

    Work
began on the new house a few days later. Christopher Redmayne's face was no
longer quite so battle-scarred and the wound on Sir Julius Cheever's head was
starting to heal. Wearing hats to conceal their injuries, both men were in
Westminster to watch the foundations being dug under the vigilant gaze of
Sidney Popejoy.

    'At
last!' declared Sir Julius with a smile of satisfaction.

    'I'm
sorry for the unfortunate delay,' said Christopher.

    'It
was not your fault, Mr Redmayne. But for you, there'd be no house at all. If
Wickens had had his way, you'd now be attending my funeral.'

    'I
try to hang on to my clients.'

    'This
one is deeply grateful to you.' The old man's face clouded. 'I still don't
understand why Wickens had to kill Gabriel. His hatred of me is easy to
comprehend. In the heat of battle, I did shoot his brother, I can't deny that.
But why did Wickens have to go after my son as well?'

    'The
answer is simple,' explained Christopher. 'He bore your name. It's ironic, Sir
Julius. The one thing that Gabriel did not leave behind when he left home was
the family name. He carried it with pride and it proved to be his downfall.'

    'Yet
he and Peter Wickens were friends for a time.'

    'That
was until you appeared on the scene yourself,' said Christopher. 'His
friendship with Gabriel had already turned sour and the news of your imminent
return to London only intensified the situation. When Sir Marcus Kemp mentioned
that he'd seen Gabriel in Knightrider Street, Wickens was determined to kill
him. And as we discovered' he sighed, 'h? had an accomplice to strengthen his
resolve.'

    'Miss
Celia Hemmings.'

    'Yes,
Sir Julius. She had her own reasons to hate Gabriel,' he said tactfully
omitting any details of their earlier relationship. 'When she stumbled upon
something of his that could be used for the purposes of blackmail, she and
Peter Wickens joined forces against your son. They were a formidable team.'

    'So
were you and Mr Bale.' A spasm of pain shot through him. He gritted his teeth.
'In a sense, I'm to blame,' he said guiltily. 'My return to London prompted
Gabriel's death. If I had not conceived the ambition to enter Parliament, my
son might still be alive.'

    Christopher
shook his head. 'I think that unlikely. With enemies like Peter Wickens and
Celia Hemmings, your son's life was always under threat. They went to great
pains to track him down when he turned his back on them,' he pointed out. 'They
were ruthless. They wanted revenge. Don't blame yourself, Sir Julius.'

    'I'm
bound to, Mr Redmayne.' He saw the builder approaching and brightened. 'Here
comes Popejoy. You might have found me someone with a different name,' he said
with a chuckle. 'Popejoy, indeed! Why saddle a confirmed Protestant like me
with a builder called that? I take no joy from any Pope.'

    'You'll
find him an excellent man.'

    'I'm
sure.' He glanced across at the nearby coach. 'I need to speak to him alone, Mr
Redmayne,' he said with a twinkle in his eye. 'This might be the moment for you
to bid farewell to my daughter.'

    Christopher
needed no more encouragement. He hurried across to the coach. Susan had been
watching them through the window but she now leaned back in her seat.
Christopher removed his hat to speak to her.

    'I
hope that you're not going to stand out there, Mr Redmayne,' she said.

    'Well,
no, I suppose not.'

    'Step
inside, sir. We're entitled to a little privacy.'

    'Of
course,' he said getting into the coach. 'I was about to suggest that.' He sat
opposite her and felt a surge of pleasure. 'I'll miss you,' he confessed.

    'Will
you?'

    'Northamptonshire
is such a long way away.'

    'But
that's not where I'm going, Mr Redmayne.' 'Oh?'

    'Father
is taking me to Richmond so that I can stay with my sister and her husband,'
she announced. 'He'll then go back home on his own.' His delighted reaction
made her giggle slightly. 'You seem pleased by the news.'

    'I'm
overwhelmed with joy,' said Christopher.

    'I could
hardly stay in the city,' she went on. 'Not now that Lucy has decided to go
back to her mother. London holds too many bitter memories for her.'

    'I
know,' he said sadly. 'It was sensible of her to agree to the destruction of
that diary. I had immense satisfaction from burning it. In the wrong hands,
your brother's memoirs did untold damage.' He moved to the edge of his seat and
searched her eyes. 'Why did you choose to go to Richmond'