The Frost Fair cr-4

by Edward Marston

  'What was that, Father?'

  'Your reason for hating this Italian fencing master so much.'

  'I told you,' said Henry. 'I heard that he cheated at cards.'

  'Heard? Or did you sit opposite him at the card table and witness the act?'

  'Drink, I admit to, Father, but gambling has never had much appeal for me.'

  'So why were you so outraged that this fellow should cheat?'

  'Because it's a dishonourable act.'

  'It was not your place to correct him for it.'

  'There was more to it than that,' conceded Henry. 'Jeronimo Maldini was not merely a cheat and a villain. He exposed me to ridicule at the fencing school by demonstrating his superiority with a sword.'

  'That might anger you,' said his father, 'but it was surely not enough to implant murderous thoughts in your mind. And you did say that, in the middle of an argument, you threatened to kill the man.'

  'I did, I did - to my eternal shame!'

  'So what really made you despise this man?'

  Henry blenched beneath his father's gaze. The cell suddenly seemed much smaller. In spite of the cold, sweat broke out on Henry's brow and his collar felt impossibly tight. There was no way that he could tell his father about the woman who had been stolen from him by his rival. The Dean of Gloucester would neither understand nor countenance the idea of sexual passion. It was something that he appeared never to have experienced and Henry had come to believe that he and Christopher had been conceived in random moments of religious ecstasy that had long been buried under years of monkish chastity. To explain to his father that he had loved and courted a married woman would be to show contempt for the bonds of holy matrimony. The name of Lady Patience Holcroft had to be kept out of the conversation altogether.

  'Well,' pressed his father. 'I'm waiting for an answer.'

  'I've already given it,' replied Henry. 'I was goaded by Jeronimo Maldini.'

  'But why did he pick on you? There must have been a reason.'

  'He took it with him to the grave, Father.'

  The old man stepped back and nodded sagely. Henry had been let off the hook.

  'I hope that you realise how much you have to thank your brother for,' said the Dean with solemnity. 'Christopher has dedicated himself to your cause.'

  'I do not know what I would have done without him.'

  'You came perilously close to finding out.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'An attempt was made on Christopher's life yesterday.'

  'Where?'

  'On the riverbank. He was pushed into the water.'

  'Did he survive?' asked Henry, becoming agitated. 'What happened? Was he hurt? This is terrible news, Father. Who was responsible?'

  'Christopher believes the attack was linked to the crime for which you were arrested. He was drenched by the incident but is otherwise unharmed. I'm telling you this so that you'll not give way to feelings of self-pity. You at least are safe in here, Henry,' he pointed out. 'But in trying to help you, your brother has put his life in danger.'

  The man watched the house in Fetter Lane from the safety of a doorway farther down the street. He had been reassured when he saw an old man in clerical garb come out of the property with a servant who then hailed a carriage for him. It suggested that a priest had come to offer condolences. Shortly afterwards, three people went into the house. The young man was the first to leave and the two ladies followed some time afterwards. Too far away to see the expressions on their faces, he hoped that the visitors were also there out of sympathy for a bereavement. After an hour in the chill wind, he decided that he would leave but the front door of the house opened again and a sprightly figure stepped out. The man cursed under his breath. Christopher Redmayne was still alive.

  Captain Harvest arrived on horseback at the tavern in Whitefriars. Before he could dismount, however, he saw that Jonathan Bale was approaching him. He gave a cheery wave with a gloved hand.

  'Good day to you, my friend!'

  'Good morning, Captain Harvest.'

  'You are getting to know my habits. That worries me.'

  'There are a few things that worry me as well, sir,' said Jonathan. 'I wonder if I might take up a little of your time?'

  'By all means, my friend.'

  The soldier dismounted and held the bridle of his horse. Jonathan noticed the beautiful leather saddle. Harvest looked even more shabby and disreputable than before. There was mud on his boots, a tear in his waistcoat and the vestiges of his breakfast were lodged in his red beard. He gave the constable a mock bow.

  'I'm always ready to assist an officer of the law,' he said.

  'Your landlord seemed to think you would run from the sight of me.'

  'Which landlord?'

  'The one you fled because you owed him rent.'

  Harvest laughed. 'More than one landlord could make that claim,' he admitted. 'But I do not only pay in money, you see. I reward them with something far more valuable. They have the pleasure of my company and no man could set a price on that.' His eyelids narrowed. 'I hope that you've not come to arrest me for debt. If that's the case, I've money in my purse to pay the fellow.'

  'He'd rather have it from your hand than mine,' said Jonathan. 'No, Captain Harvest, I'm not here to arrest you on the landlord's behalf. I came to ask you a few more questions about the murder.'

  'You know my view. Henry Redmayne is guilty.'

  'I talked to Mr Crenlowe and Sir Humphrey Godden on the subject.'

  'Then they doubtless swore that he was innocent.'

  'Mr Crenlowe did rather more than that, sir.'

  'Oh?'

  'He wondered who the real killer might be.'

  'You already have him in custody.' 'Not according to Mr Crenlowe and he struck me as an intelligent man. He said that you are a more likely assassin than Mr Redmayne.'

  'Me?' He gave a laugh of disbelief. 'Why ever should Martin think that?'

  'He was making a judgement of your character.'

  'Did Sir Humphrey agree with him?'

  'No,' said Jonathan. 'He could not see that you'd have a motive.'

  'Nobody had a stronger motive than me to keep Jeronimo Maldini alive,' asserted Harvest, tapping his own chest. 'His fencing school was a godsend to me in many ways. I not only earned some money there, I made the acquaintance of the kind of people I like.'

  'People who will lend you money?'

  'Those who are too wealthy to ask for it back, Mr Bale.' The horse moved sharply sideways and Jonathan leaped out of its way. 'I see you are not a riding man,' said Harvest, patting the flank of the animal to ease it back. 'The two best friends any soldier can have are a good sword and a fine horse.'

  'I always fought on foot, sir.'

  'That explains a lot about you.'

  'Let's return to Mr Crenlowe. How do you answer his accusation?'

  'With contempt and outrage,' rejoined the other, eyes ablaze. 'What proof did Martin offer? None, I'll wager, because none exists. When I left the Elephant that night, I went straight to friends. They'll vouch for Captain Harvest.'

  'That brings me to another point.'

  'What else does that cringing goldsmith allege against me?'

  'Nothing at all.'

  'I'll crack his head open if he dares to blacken my name.'

  'What exactly is that name, sir?'

  'You know full well. I'm Captain James Harvest.'

  'And you've always been a soldier?'

  'Yes,' declared the other with pride. 'I fought three times under the Royalist flag then went abroad until the country came to its senses. When King Charles took his rightful place on the throne, I served the army on the Continent. I'm a soldier through and through, Mr Bale.'

  'Then it's strange that there's so little record of you.'

  'Record?' 'I have a close friend who works as a clerk for the army,' said Jonathan, 'and I asked him a favour. He went back through all the muster rolls that he could find but there was no mention anywhere of a James Ha
rvest, either as a captain or holding any other rank. Which regiment did you serve, sir?'

  'Do you doubt my word?' blustered the other.

  'Frankly, I do.'

  'I don't have to explain myself to you, Mr Bale.'

  'It's Henry Redmayne who deserves the explanation, sir. He took you for what you appear to be and was grossly deceived. Do you remember what you first said to me?'

  Harvest scowled. 'I regret that I ever saw you.'

  'You assured me that Mr Redmayne was guilty of the murder and that you'd stake your reputation on it.' Jonathan grasped him by the arm. 'How can you do that when you have no reputation?'

  'Take your hand off me!'

  'How can you be Captain James Harvest when no such person exists?'

  'Leave go!'

  'It's my duty to place you under arrest, sir.'

  'Damn you!'

  'I think that you have some explaining to do.'

  'Get off, man!'

  Tugging hard on the reins, he brought his horse around in a semicircle so that its flank buffeted Jonathan and sent him reeling. The other man had his foot in the stirrup in an instant. Before the constable could recover, the counterfeit soldier mounted the horse then jabbed his heels into the animal. It cantered off down the street. Annoyed that he had let his man escape, Jonathan was nevertheless philosophical. He felt that he had made definite progress.

  Susan Cheever was given an opportunity much sooner than she dared to hope. The coach ride from Richmond had been such a trial for Mrs Cardinal that she took to a day-bed as soon as they reached their destination. Her son stood by to see if his mother required anything, leaving Susan to get acquainted with her hosts. Lord Eames was a distinguished old man with silver hair, kind, cordial and endlessly obliging, but his wife, the frail Lady Eames, though delighted to welcome the guests, was troubled by deafness. Their palatial house was in the Strand and its relative proximity to Fetter Lane was too great a temptation for Susan to resist. Excusing herself to rest after the rigours of the journey, Susan retired to her room then waited a decent interval before slipping down the backstairs and leaving through the rear door of the house. Spurning the danger of being unaccompanied, she walked briskly until she reached Christopher Redmayne's house. Jacob shepherded her into the parlour. He was very surprised to see her.

  'I thought you had gone to your sister in Richmond,' he said.

  'Chance brought me back to London again.'

  'I'm pleased to hear it. Mr Redmayne will be delighted.'

  'How long is he likely to be?' asked Susan. 'I cannot tarry.'

  'I expect him home very soon, Miss Cheever. He went off to visit his brother in Newgate and then dine with his father. The Dean arrived here yesterday. I believe that the two of them were going to visit the lawyer this afternoon.'

  Susan was dismayed. Anxious to see Christopher again to hear his news, she was less enthralled at the prospect of doing so in the presence of his father. She had never met the old man but had heard enough about him to suspect that he would add a sombre note to the occasion. Susan could hardly express her affection for his son in the shadow of the Dean of Gloucester. In the event, her fears were unfounded. Christopher returned alone on horseback and was met by Jacob at the door. When he realised that she was there, the architect positively bounded into the parlour and embraced his visitor.

  'What are you doing here?' he asked.

  'Take off your hat and cloak, and I might tell you.'

  'At once, Susan.'

  When he removed his cloak, she saw that he wore a dagger as well as a sword.

  'You are well-armed today,' she said.

  'Of necessity,' he explained, removing his rapier. 'I also took the precaution of travelling by horse. He'll not catch me unawares again.'

  'Who?'

  'The man who tried to kill me.'

  Susan reached out for him in alarm and he held her hands. Leading her to a chair, he sat her down and told her about the incident on the bank of the river. She was even more upset. Susan could not understand why he was so calm about it.

  'The man is still stalking you, Christopher?'

  'He will do, when he discovers that I'm still alive.'

  'But you must have some protection against him.'

  'I have it here,' he said, indicating his weapons. 'Next time, I'll be prepared for him. I'll take care to watch my back.'

  'You sound as if you want him to attack you again.'

  'I do, Susan. It's the only way that I can catch the rogue.'

  'And you believe that he's the man who killed that fencing master?'

  'Why else would he turn on me?' he replied. 'He knows that I'm on his tail and must be closer than I imagined. I've given him a scare. That's why he struck out.'

  'You've given me a scare as well,' she said, touching his hand again. 'Please take the utmost care. I'd be so distressed if anything were to happen to you.'

  'It will not, you have my word on that.'

  Christopher gave her a warm smile and she relaxed a little. Moved by her obvious concern, he was sorry when Susan gently withdrew her hand. She looked around.

  'I was told that your father was with you.'

  'He was. We dined together then called on the lawyer to discuss Henry's case. Father is something of a lawyer himself so his support was welcome. Having seen my brother in prison, he knows what a dreadful state Henry is in and wants to secure his release as soon as possible.'

  'Where is your father now?'

  'Visiting the Bishop of London,' returned Christopher. 'He feels duty bound to defend the family name at the highest level of the Church. I admire him for that.' Still lifted by the joy of seeing her so unexpectedly, he looked at her with an affectionate smile. 'However do you come to be here'

  'Purely by accident.'

  She told him about the providential invitation from Mrs Cardinal and her son but did not explain that her sister had deliberately brought Jack Cardinal to Serle Court as a potential suitor for her. It did not seem a relevant detail to her. Unable to believe his good fortune, Christopher grinned throughout.

  'So that's why you seized your moment today?' he concluded.

  'Yes,' she said. 'I may not have another opportunity.' 'Then I'll have to come to you next time.'

  'It may be difficult. Mrs Cardinal and her son know people all over London. This visit is in the nature of a complete tour of their acquaintances. On the ride here, Mrs Cardinal never stopped boasting about the friends she has in high places.'

  'Where are you staying?'

  'With Lord and Lady Eames. They have a house in the Strand.'

  'A mansion, more like. Only the very wealthy can afford to live there.'

  'It's a fine place,' she said, 'but I much prefer a certain house in Fetter Lane.'

  'You'd have been welcome to stay here.'

  'Mrs Cardinal would never countenance that. She watches me like a hawk. I'd better return there now before she wakes up again or it could be very awkward.'

  He reached for his cloak. 'I'll make sure you get there safely.'

  'Lord and Lady Eames are generous hosts,' she said. 'They could not have been nicer to me. In honour of Mrs Cardinal and her son, they are giving a dinner party tomorrow that sounds like a veritable banquet. Everybody will be there.'

  'Except me, alas.'

  'Mrs Cardinal was delighted at the fuss they are making of her. The Lord Mayor has been invited, so has the Attorney General, so have many other important people, including Sir Ralph Holcroft and Judge McNeil.'

  Christopher was taken aback. 'Sir Ralph Holcroft?'

  'Yes. I've heard Father speak disparagingly of him but the man cannot be as bad as that. Apparently, he has a young and beautiful wife. Is that true?'

  'Very true,' he said, his mind racing. 'Susan.'

  'Yes?'

  'I have a big favour to ask of you.'

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jack Cardinal occupied the bedchamber next to his mother so that he could be summoned instantly, i
f the need arose. Their hosts had assigned a maidservant to look after Mrs Cardinal but the latter preferred to rely on her son. To that end, she always carried a little bell with her and had the satisfaction of knowing that he was only a tinkle away. While he waited for the sound of the bell, Cardinal mused on the way in which he had made the acquaintance of Susan Cheever. He had liked her at once and found it possible to talk to her about subjects that most of the young ladies he knew would have found irrelevant or boring. Susan had an inquiring mind.

  What struck him most about her was a sense of self-possession. She had such poise and assurance. During the visit of her neighbours, Brilliana Serle made certain that she was the centre of attention but it was her sister who had provided the main interest for Cardinal. He was too modest to assume that he had made such a favourable impression on Susan but he was reassured by the fact that she was so willing to travel with them to London. It was a hopeful sign. His mother obviously approved of her. That was an even more hopeful sign. As he recalled the events of the past twenty-four hours, Cardinal's affection for his new friend slowly increased.

  He was so lost in fond meditation that he did not at first hear the tinkle of the bell. It was shaken with more urgency. Rising from his chair, he went into the adjoining room.

  'How are you now, Mother?' he asked.

  'I feel faint,' she said. 'Where is my medicine?'

  'I'll get it for you.'

  He opened the leather valise that stood on the little table and ran his eye over the selection of bottles. Choosing one of them, he poured the medicine into a tiny silver cup that nestled amid the potions. Mrs Cardinal propped herself up on the day-bed so that she could drink the liquid in some comfort. She closed her eyes tight until it began to have some effect. Her son relieved her of the silver cup.

  "That's better,' she announced, opening her eyes. 'How long was I asleep?'

  'Well over an hour.' 'The coach would jostle us.'

  'The roads are still hard, Mother, and you wanted to make good time. Besides,' he said, 'the journey seemed much quicker than usual - thanks to our companion.'