The Frost Fair cr-4

by Edward Marston

  'My brother-in-law tells me that she's very grand.'

  'Very grand and very determined.'

  'In what way, Mr Cardinal?'

  'She has the highest ambitions for her family,' he said. 'She drives them on. Lady Whitcombe expects that her son - and her daughter - win at everything.'

  Egerton Whitcombe paced angrily up and down the room like a caged animal. He was not accustomed to having his demands rejected. Tall, slim and striking in appearance, he was immaculately dressed in a blue doublet and petticoat breeches. His gleaming leather jackboots clacked noisily on the oak floorboards. When he finally came to a halt, he turned to his mother with an accusatory stare.

  'Has work begun on the house yet?' he barked.

  'No, Egerton,' she replied. 'The ground is still too hard for them to dig the foundations and the stone they need will not be brought in by boat until the ice has vanished from the Thames.'

  'Then we still have time to cancel the contract.'

  'I've no intention of doing that.'

  'Do you know who the architect is, Mother?'

  'Of course. I've met Mr Redmayne a number of times.'

  'His brother is in prison on a charge of murder,' he said with disgust. 'I only heard about it today and I was shocked. We cannot let ourselves get involved with a family such as that.'

  'We are not getting involved with a family, only an individual.'

  'His brother is a killer. That means his name is tainted.'

  'His father is the Dean of Gloucester,' she retorted, 'and that says far more about him. It's unfortunate that this other business has cropped up, I agree, but it will not affect my judgement of Christopher Redmayne. He's not merely a brilliant architect, he's a delightful young man.'

  'With a criminal for a brother.'

  'Egerton!'

  'People talk, Mother. What will our friends say?'

  The quarrel took place in a room that he had rented at a tavern in Holborn. Lady Whitcombe and her daughter were staying with friends in London but they were spending the evening with the man in their family. Hoping for a joyful reunion with her son, Lady Whitcombe was disappointed to find him in a combative mood. Letitia was too distressed by his truculent behaviour even to speak. Instead of listening to an account of her brother's adventures abroad, she was witnessing a fierce argument. She made sure that she kept out of it.

  Lady Whitcombe was imperious. 'My decisions are not subject to the dictates of my friends,' she declared. 'I saw what I wanted and engaged the architect who could give it to me. There's an end to it.'

  'No,' retorted her son. 'I'm the person who'll spend most time in the house.'

  'So?'

  'I should have more of a say in who designs it and it will not be anyone who bears the sullied name of Redmayne. Dismiss the fellow at once.'

  'It's too late. His drawings have already been delivered.'

  'But no work has yet been done on the site. There's still time to think again.'

  'Why should I do that?'

  'Because I'm telling you, Mother,' he said, trying to assert himself by standing in front of her with his hands on his hips. 'Let me speak more bluntly. I simply refuse to occupy a building that's been designed by Christopher Redmayne.'

  "Then Letitia and I will have to stay there in your stead.' 'What about me?'

  'You'll continue to rent a room in a tavern.'

  His face was puce with rage. 'But you promised me a house.'

  'I've provided one, Egerton. It will be the envy of our circle when it's built.'

  'Not if it's been designed by the brother of a murderer.'

  'Stop saying that.'

  'It's what everyone else will harp on.'

  'I care not.'

  'Well, I do, Mother,' he announced, stamping his foot for emphasis. 'I'll not let you do this. London is full of architects. Engage another one.'

  'I already have the one that I prefer.'

  'I'll find someone better.'

  'There is nobody better,' said Letitia, forced to offer her opinion. 'Mr Redmayne is the most wonderful architect in the world. His design is exactly what we want.'

  'We?' he sneered, rounding on her. 'We, we, we? I was the one who began all this, Letitia. I was the person who explained why a house was needed in London. Given that, I should be the one with the power of decision.'

  'Not unless you intend to pay for it,' said his mother coolly.

  'What?'

  'If the money comes from my purse, Egerton, then I reserve the right to hire the man I want. And that's exactly what I've done.'

  "That's so unfair, Mother!' he protested.

  'It's the way of the world.'

  'But the man is unsuitable.'

  'You've never even met Mr Redmayne.'

  'I've heard about his brother, Henry. He's the talk of every tavern in the city. It's only a matter of time before he's hanged for his crime. And rightly so,' he added. 'I knew the murder victim briefly. Signor Maldini once gave me fencing lessons.'

  "Then he was a poor tutor.'

  'Mother!'

  'Jack Cardinal made you look like a novice.'

  'I'll make him pay for that.'

  'Oh, Egerton,' she said, using a softer tone. 'Let's not bicker like this. You've been away for so long. Must the first time we see you again be an occasion for sourness and recrimination? Be ruled by me.'

  'It seems that I must be,' he said resentfully.

  'And take that grim expression from your face. It ill becomes you. We should be celebrating your return, not falling out with each other.' She embraced him and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. 'There, the matter is settled.'

  'Do not count on it,' he said under his breath.

  'You'll soon see that your fears were in vain, Egerton. Wait until you meet him,' she said with a beatific smile. 'He'll win you over in no time. Forget about this brother of his. Christopher Redmayne is a perfect gentleman.'

  'Good Lord!' exclaimed Jonathan Bale, staring at him in amazement at the bedraggled figure on his doorstep. 'Is that really you, Mr Redmayne?'

  'Unhappily, it is.'

  'But you are soaked to the skin.'

  'I've been in the river,' explained Christopher, trying to stop his teeth chattering. 'Your house was so much nearer than mine that I came to throw myself on your mercy.'

  'Of course, sir. Come in, come in.'

  Jonathan stood aside so that this visitor could get into the house. Hearing Christopher's voice, Sarah came bustling out of the kitchen to look at his sodden apparel. Water was still dripping from him. He had lost his hat and his hair was plastered to his head. His cloak was a wet rag over his arm. When he moved, his boots squelched.

  'What on earth happened?' asked Sarah.

  'I fell in by accident.'

  'Fell in?'

  'Yes, Mrs Bale. I lost my footing.'

  Sarah took control. 'Stand by the fire or you'll catch your death of cold. I'll fetch a blanket for you. Mr Redmayne will need a change of clothes, Jonathan,' she said, pushing her husband away. 'See what you can find.'

  Christopher was grateful that the children had been put to bed and were not there to witness his humiliation. Stepping into the parlour, he huddled over the fire. Jonathan soon returned with some clothing and his wife brought a rough blanket on which their visitor could dry himself. They left him alone in the parlour so that he could peel off his coat, shirt and breeches before wrapping the blanket around him. Still shivering, he rubbed himself dry then put on the sober attire that his friend had loaned him. It was much too large and the material was far more coarse than anything he had worn before but Christopher did not complain. He crouched beside the fire and began to thaw slowly out. Jonathan tapped the door and came in. He was carrying a small cup.

  'Drink this, Mr Redmayne,' he counselled. 'It might help.'

  'What is it?'

  'A remedy that Sarah often prepares for me. It's warm and searching.'

  Christopher did not even ask what the ingredients were. Wh
en he saw the steam rising from the cup, he accepted the drink gratefully and gulped it down. It had a sweet taste and coursed through him with speed. He felt much better. Jonathan took the cup back from him and set it aside.

  'Now, Mr Redmayne,' he said, 'perhaps you'll tell me the truth.'

  'The truth?'

  'I know that you did not wish to alarm my wife but I'm different. This was no accident, sir. A man like you would never lose his footing on the bank.'

  'I was pushed in,' admitted Christopher. 'Someone shoved me from behind.'

  'Who would do such a thing?'

  'I wish I knew, Jonathan. Whoever it was did not expect me to get out of the water again. I was lucky to do so. The river was still icy cold. My clothing was so waterlogged that I could barely move. I flailed around and yelled until someone threw me a rope from the wharf. I was pulled out like a drowned rat.'

  'What were you doing by the river in the first place?'

  Christopher told him about his visit to the lawyer's office and his subsequent walk to Fenchurch Street. He had gone over ground that Jonathan himself had visited and reached the same conclusion.

  'I think that the body of Signor Maldini was thrown in the water not far from the spot where my brother was found by the watchmen. In fact,' said Christopher, 'I may have dived headfirst into the Thames at almost the same point.'

  'Why would anyone wish to attack you?' asked the other.

  'I may have the answer to that, Jonathan. But, first, tell me your own news. Did you manage to speak to Martin Crenlowe or Sir Humphrey Godden?'

  'To both of them.'

  Jonathan talked about his visit to the goldsmith and his second encounter with the man at the coffee house that morning. Neither man had struck him as the ideal friends on whom someone like Henry Redmayne could rely. He also had the feeling that both of them were holding back certain details about the evening they spent at the Elephant.

  'I was puzzled,' he said. 'They spoke harshly of Captain Harvest yet they had been ready to share a meal with him.'

  'One of them actually paid for it, Jonathan.'

  'How do you know?'

  'Because Henry did not have the money to do so,' said Christopher, 'and I'm certain that the captain did not settle his own bill. He boasted to me about it.'

  'You've met him, then?'

  Christopher took up the narrative again and explained how difficult it had been to find the elusive soldier. His estimate of the man tallied with Jonathan's own but he had learned things that the constable had not. A more rounded picture of the captain emerged.

  'Did you think him capable of murder?' said Jonathan.

  'Yes,' replied Christopher. 'More than capable.'

  'That was Mr Crenlowe's view as well. Sir Humphrey Godden disagreed.'

  'I'd back the goldsmith's judgement.'

  'I'd trust neither.'

  'Captain Harvest did not have a kind word to say about them.'

  'Coming back to this evening,' said Jonathan, pleased that his visitor had now stopped shivering. 'Did you not realise that you were being followed?'

  'My mind was on other things.'

  'Were there no witnesses to the attack?'

  'It was dark, Jonathan. People were hurrying home. Nobody stopped to see a hand helping me into the water. It was a long drop,' he explained. 'Had the river still been frozen, I might have broken my neck on the ice. As it was, I all but drowned.'

  'I still do not see why you were set on, Mr Redmayne.' 'I do,' said Christopher, 'and I found it oddly reassuring.'

  Jonathan gaped. 'Reassuring? When someone tries to kill you?'

  'It means that I'm on the right track, after all. This was no random assault. Had it been a thief, he'd have snatched my purse before pitching me into the water. I was followed for a reason, Jonathan. Someone knows that I'm on his trail.'

  'Who?'

  'In all probability, it was the man who did kill the fencing master.'

  Jonathan was sceptical. "That's not the conclusion I'd reach.'

  'You still think that my brother is guilty,' said Christopher, almost exultant. 'But my dip in the Thames taught me one thing, if nothing else. Someone is trying to prevent me from finding out the truth about the murder. Henry is clearly innocent.'

  'I hope, for both your sakes, that he is.'

  'But you remain unconvinced.'

  'I need more persuasion,' said Jonathan. 'Do you think that your brother would consent to see me in Newgate? It would help if I could talk to him myself.'

  'Henry is not in the most receptive mood.'

  'Then he'd turn me away?'

  'He's hardly in a position to do that,' said Christopher, 'and any visit breaks up the boredom of being locked away. On the other hand, alas, Henry does not share the high opinion that I have of you. He inhabits a different world and knows that you are hostile to it. However,' he decided, 'there's no harm in trying. Leave it to me.'

  'You'll ask him?'

  'When I visit the prison tomorrow.'

  'Did you see him today?' Christopher nodded. 'How did you find him?'

  'Close to desperation,' replied the other, recalling Henry's confession about the appeal of suicide. 'But I think that I managed to restore his spirits. When he hears about my swim in the river, he'll be even more heartened. The real killer has shown his hand. We know that he's still in London.'

  It was curious. The more the evening progressed, the more drawn she became to him. Determined to dislike the man, Susan Cheever had found him unremarkable on first acquaintance and patently uninterested in her. Jack Cardinal's attention was fixed firmly on his mother and he deferred to her wishes at every point. Susan thought that the old woman was exploiting him but he did not seem to mind, and she doted on him. Mrs Cardinal never stopped telling the others around the table how devoted her son was. His management of the estate was also praised. Brilliana Serle had been responsible for the seating arrangements so she made sure that her sister was next to Cardinal. Her own seat was directly opposite them, so that she could keep them under observation and feed each of them pleasing titbits of information about the other. Susan was relieved to see that Cardinal found it as unsettling as she did.

  Brilliana was not the only person who was watching the couple. When she was not listing her various ailments in order to reap communal sympathy, Mrs Cardinal kept a watchful eye on Susan and on her son's response to her proximity. Eventually, she leaned in Susan's direction.

  'Do you prefer the town or the country, Miss Cheever?'

  'I like both, Mrs Cardinal,' replied Susan.

  'You live close to Northampton, I hear.'

  'It's the nearest town but it is tiny by comparison with London.'

  'Is there much society there?'

  'No,' said Brilliana before he sister could answer. 'Neither the county nor the town can provide fitting company for people of quality. That's why I came south in search of a husband,' she added, tossing an affectionate glance at Serle. 'Since I've been here, I've come to see Northamptonshire as nothing short of barbarous.'

  Susan was roused. 'That's unjust, Brilliana.'

  'I was only too glad to escape.'

  'Well, I have fonder memories. It's a beautiful county and we had many good friends there. I still regard it as my home.'

  'Quite rightly so, Miss Cheever,' said Cardinal. 'None of us can choose our place of birth but we owe it a loyalty nevertheless. As it happens, I once rode through your county on my way to Leicestershire, and I agree with you. It has great charm.'

  "That's what I feel,' decided Serle.

  'Nobody asked for your opinion, Lancelot,' scolded his wife.

  'But I had the same impression as Jack.'

  "That's neither here nor there.'

  'I think it is, Brilliana,' said Susan, enjoying the chance to put her sister on the defensive. 'You may pour scorn on the county of your birth but three of us at least can sing its praises.'

  'Will you be returning home soon, Miss Cheever?' asked Mrs Cardinal. />
  'No, not for a while.'

  'Did you not wish to be with your father?'

  'I preferred to stay here, Mrs Cardinal.'

  Serle beamed. 'And we are delighted to have you, sister-in-law.'

  'Thank you, Lancelot.'

  'I understand that you have a house in London,' said Cardinal.

  'Yes,' replied Susan. 'Father and I live there when he has business in the city. If Parliament is not sitting, he retreats to his estate.'

  'Do you like London?'

  'Very much, Mr Cardinal.'

  'What appeals to you most about it?'

  'Its size and its sense of activity,' she explained. 'There is so much going on, especially now that rebuilding is so advanced. It's fascinating to watch old streets being renovated and new ones being created alongside them. Then, of course, there was the frost fair. That was a miraculous event.'

  'So I understand.'

  'Jack offered to take me there,' said Mrs Cardinal, 'but the roads were bad and my poor chest would never have withstood the cold. I have to be so careful, you know. I tire so easily in the winter.'

  'You've rallied magnificently this past week, Mother,' he said.

  'Only because the weather has improved.'

  'I've never seen you looking better,' remarked Brilliana.

  'Thank you, Mrs Serle.'

  'Mother is well enough to face the travel now,' said Cardinal. 'I've business interests to attend to in London and Mother has agreed to accompany me there for a couple of days. We leave early tomorrow.'

  Brilliana was disappointed. 'We hoped that you might linger to dine with us.'

  'It will not be possible, I fear.'

  'Can we not persuade you, Jack?' asked Serle, responding to a nudge under the table from his wife. 'Stay another day, if you wish.'

  'We'd be delighted to have you,' said Brilliana. 'So would Susan. It's rather dull for her to have nobody but us to entertain her.' 'Then why did she not stay in London?' wondered Mrs Cardinal, turning towards Susan. 'I would have thought that you'd built up a circle of friends there by now.'

  'Yes, Mrs Cardinal,' said Susan. 'I do have friends in the city.'

  'Why desert them for Richmond?'

  'Because she wanted to be with her sister,' said Brilliana.