The Frost Fair cr-4

by Edward Marston

  James duped us. He knew exactly how to win our confidence.' He moved across to Christopher. 'Have you told your brother about this?'

  'Not yet, Mr Crenlowe.'

  'It will gladden his heart.'

  'Henry is still trying to recover from our father's visit.'

  'Yes, he lives in dread of him. He's often spoken to us about the fearsome Dean.'

  'Father is only fearsome to those with a guilty conscience,' said Christopher, 'and Henry has had that for years. But there's something else on which I'd like your opinion,' he went on, measuring his words carefully. 'Captain Harvest claimed that the root of the dissension between Henry and Signor Maldini was their mutual interest in a certain lady.'

  'Did he say who the lady was?'

  'No,' replied Christopher, careful to divulge no further detail. 'Were you aware that my brother had conceived a passion for someone?'

  'It's happened too often for us to pay much attention to it.'

  'This was patently a more serious involvement.'

  'Then Henry was discreet for once,' said Crenlowe, 'for I was unaware of it. And since we know that James was a practised liar, he might well have invented the whole thing in order to give your brother a stronger motive to commit murder. What does Henry himself say?'

  'He denies such a lady even existed.'

  'There's your answer, then. Disregard the suggestion.'

  Christopher was glad that he had not mentioned the name of Patience Holcroft. The goldsmith clearly had no knowledge of her link with the murder victim and the man arrested for the crime. He was confident that Sir Humphrey Godden knew nothing of it either. Evidently, Henry Redmayne had shown uncharacteristic discretion in his dealings with the lady. That only confirmed the strength of his feeling for her.

  'Thank you for your help, Mr Crenlowe,' he said. 'I'm glad that I came.'

  'So am I, so am I. These tidings about James are very distressing.'

  'Have you any idea where we might find him?'

  'No, Mr Redmayne,' said the other. 'He had a habit of finding us.

  I've no idea where the man lodged even. James would just appear when he chose to.'

  'He boasted to me that he liked to cover his tracks.'

  'He'll have even more need to do that now.'

  'Exactly,' said Christopher. 'Since he can no longer swagger as Captain Harvest, he'll have to find another disguise. My fear is that he might flee London altogether but he'd need money to do that. Where would he go to find it?'

  Crenlowe was stern. 'Not here,' he said, 'I can promise you that. I made it crystal clear to James that I'd loaned him money for the last time.'

  'What about Sir Humphrey Godden?'

  'He'd be less likely to expect repayment.'

  'Why is that?'

  'Sir Humphrey has more money than he needs, Mr Redmayne. He inherited his wealth. I, as you see, have to accumulate mine with the skills I've acquired in my trade. It makes me less willing to advance a loan unless I know that it will be duly repaid. James would never turn to me again.'

  'Where would he turn?'

  'I could give you half-a-dozen names,' said Crenlowe, 'but the main one has already been mentioned. He'd almost certainly go first to Sir Humphrey Godden.'

  Jonathan Bale was even less welcome at the address in Covent Garden than he had been at the coffee house. He was kept standing in the draughty hall for fifteen minutes before Sir Humphrey Godden even deigned to acknowledge his presence. When he finally made an appearance, the man was an unfriendly host.

  'Will you stop hounding me, Mr Bale?' he demanded.

  'I needed to speak to you again, Sir Humphrey.'

  'Well, I've no wish to speak to you. And neither has Martin Crenlowe, for that matter. We are both certain of Henry Redmayne's innocence so we'll have no dealings with someone who is intent on securing his conviction.'

  'My only intention is to see that justice is done,' said Jonathan.

  'Your kind of justice, based on ignorance and prejudice.'

  'You are hardly free from prejudice yourself, Sir Humphrey.'

  'What do you mean?' 'I was thinking about your opinion of foreigners.'

  'It's shared by every right-thinking Englishman. Foreigners are inferior to us.'

  'I can see that you have a degree of ignorance as well.'

  'Beware, sir!' growled the other, squaring his shoulders aggressively. 'I'll not be insulted in my own home. Nor will I be cross- examined by a parish constable who does not understand the meaning of respect. I bid you farewell.'

  'Are you not interested in the news that I bring you?'

  'Not in the slightest.'

  'Then I'll leave you to the mercy of Captain Harvest,' said Jonathan, heading for the door. 'You obviously have no wish to learn the truth about him.'

  Sir Humphrey was jolted. 'Wait!' he said. 'What's this about James?'

  'I only came here as a favour to pass on the warning.'

  'Warning?'

  Jonathan opened the front door. 'Good day, Sir Humphrey.'

  'Hold on a moment!' ordered the other, crossing swiftly over to him. 'If there's something that I should know, let's hear it.' He closed the door again. 'Now, Mr Bale. What really brought you to my house today?'

  'My sense of duty, sir. I felt impelled to tell you what I discovered.'

  Jonathan's description of his encounter with Captain Harvest was slow and rather ponderous. Sir Humphrey Godden listened with growing unease. A chevron of anxiety appeared on his brow and he began to grind his teeth. The strange appearance at his house of his erstwhile friend was now explained. What he could not accept was the suggestion that the man might be responsible for the murder.

  'James was something of a scoundrel - we all accepted that - but he was not a malicious person. When you see a man in his cups,' he argued, 'you have a good idea of his true character, and he was the soul of joviality.'

  'He was not very jovial when he made his escape from me.'

  'I can see why. You tore away his mask.'

  'Who was the man behind it, Sir Humphrey? That's what I wish to know.' 'A knave and an imposter, perhaps - but not a killer.'

  'Mr Redmayne would dispute that,' said Jonathan. 'He feels that he was the victim of a murderous attack by your friend. When Mr Redmayne was standing on the riverbank, he was pushed into the water by someone who did not wish him to come out again. Fortunately, he survived.'

  Sir Humphrey was shocked by the news. 'I'm relieved to hear it.'

  'Not as much as me. He could easily have drowned.'

  'And he thinks that James was responsible?'

  'He considers it a strong possibility, Sir Humphrey.'

  'How does Mr Redmayne know that the attack is related to the murder?'

  'He was near the scene of the crime when it happened,' explained Jonathan.

  'What, in Fenchurch Street?'

  'No, some distance away. His brother was found in an alley near Thames Street. It was only a short walk to the river from there.'

  'I begin to see his reasoning,' said Sir Humphrey, rubbing his chin. 'It would be too great a coincidence for this to happen so close to the place where the murder must have been committed.'

  'Does it alter your opinion of Captain Harvest?'

  'No, I still do not take him for a callous murderer.'

  'Somebody stabbed the fencing master in the back.'

  'I thought that you were ready to hang Henry Redmayne for the crime.'

  'I felt that the evidence pointed that way,' admitted Jonathan, 'but I've been forced to think again. What I do know is that the man who called himself Captain Harvest is implicated in some way and that means we have to apprehend him. Have you any idea where he might be, Sir Humphrey'

  'None at all.'

  'When did you last see him?'

  'On the night when the murder took place.'

  'Has he not tried to get in touch with you since?'

  'Why should he do that?'

  'Because he needs money,' said Jona
than. 'He left his lodging because he could not pay his rent. Mr Redmayne found him playing cards in a tavern in search of funds. I've only met the fellow twice but I'd say that he was an expert at borrowing money from friends. I wondered if he had come to you, Sir Humphrey.'

  'No, Mr Bale!' said the other with more force in his denial than was necessary. 'I've not seen hide nor hair of the fellow. He's had nothing from me, I warrant you. I'd not give him a single penny.'

  Jonathan sensed that he was lying.

  Lady Whitcombe was not pleased with the outcome of their visit to Fetter Lane. Her hopes that Christopher Redmayne would be able to win over her son had foundered. Egerton Whitcombe had been surly and disobedient, aspects of his character that he took care to hide from his mother as a rule. While the architect had behaved like a gentleman, her son had been boorish and she was determined to wrest an apology out of him. Her daughter, Letitia, was thinking along the same lines.

  'Egerton was so disagreeable this morning,' she said. 'He was rude and peevish. What made him behave like that, Mother?'

  'I think he's still tired after the difficult crossing from France.'

  'You always make excuses for him.'

  'I make none in this instance, Letitia. I mean to reprimand him sharply.'

  Her daughter giggled. 'I long to hear you do that.'

  'It will be done in private,' emphasized Lady Whitcombe. 'But Egerton was not the only person who let me down in Mr Redmayne's house. You behaved badly as well. I want him to admire my daughter yet you make strange noises at him then start to argue with your brother. Truly, I was ashamed of both of you.'

  'Mother!' said the girl, tears forming in her eyes. 'Do not be angry with me.'

  "Then do not give me cause for anger.'

  Letitia lapsed into a bruised silence. They were alone in the parlour of the house where they were staying. Lady Whitcombe had been studying the drawings for her new house and reflecting on the quality of its architect. She was not in the mood for idle conversation with her daughter. Letitia waited several minutes before she dared to speak.

  'Do you think that Mr Redmayne's brother did commit a murder?' she asked.

  'No, Letitia.'

  'Yet he has been arrested.'

  'Yes,' said her mother, 'and you can see the unfortunate position in which that places Mr Redmayne. People have turned against him in the same unthinking way that Egerton did. It's so narrow-minded of them. Your father taught me the value of tolerance and decency,' she continued, folding up the drawings. 'He lived through turbulent days, Letitia. He saw more than one friend of his sent to the Tower but he never turned his back on them because of that. Nor did he shun their families.'

  'Father was a saint,' said Letitia wistfully.

  'No, he was a simply human being who understood human weakness.'

  'I do wish I'd seen more of him when I was growing up.'

  'Your father was a statesman, Letitia. That brings heavy responsibilities. He served his country and we still bask in the reputation that he left behind. It's only when a family is in danger of losing its good name - as in this present case - that you realise how important an asset it is.'

  'Yes, Mother.'

  'At a time like this, Mr Redmayne needs compassion.'

  'It's no use looking to Egerton for that.'

  'Letitia!'

  'When he went to that house this morning, he was in a foul mood.'

  'He'd been listening to too much loose talk in taverns,' said Lady Whitcombe. 'The general feeling is that Henry Redmayne is guilty. Well, I'll not believe it. I'm sure that his brother will soon clear his name.'

  'Oh, I hope so. I do want him to design our house.'

  Her mother held up the drawings. 'He's already done that. Nothing will stop me having this house built. Whatever happens, Mr Redmayne will be my architect. I'll tell him that when I see him tomorrow.'

  'We're going to see him again?' asked Letitia with a grin.

  'I am. You will stay here.'

  'That's cruel!'

  'I choose to go on my own this time.'

  'But I like him so. Do let me come with you.'

  'No,' said Lady Whitcombe firmly. 'There are a few tiny points I wish to raise with him over the design and I'd prefer to see him in private. Do not look so sad, Letitia. There'll be other occasions. In due course,' she assured her daughter, 'you will be seeing a great deal of Christopher Redmayne.'

  Susan Cheever was so grateful that her disappearance from the house had escaped attention that she made an effort to be especially attentive to the people who had taken her there. Friendly towards Jack Cardinal, she was even more courteous towards his mother, asking her about her plans for the stay in London and showing an interest in everything that was suggested. Mrs Cardinal warmed to her and could see that her son was also drawn to their new acquaintance. Lord Eames was an inveterate collector. When he took Cardinal off to see his display of weapons, the three ladies were left alone in the parlour before the roaring fire. Deafness prevented Lady Eames from doing little more than nodding and smiling though any conversation. When the old lady fell quietly asleep in her chair, Mrs Cardinal was able to talk more freely to Susan.

  'Have you recovered from the journey yet?' she asked.

  'I think so, Mrs Cardinal.'

  'I've never known the coach toss us around so much.'

  'For the pleasure of coming to London, I'd endure any discomfort. I'm so grateful to you and your son for bringing me. Apart from anything else, it takes away the feeling that I'm imposing on Brilliana.'

  'Your sister would never let anyone impose on her.'

  Susan laughed. 'I see that you've got to know her.'

  "The whole of Richmond knows her. Brilliana has such energy. I am never with your sister but there's a shower of sparks flying from her. Was she always so lively?'

  'Yes, Mrs Cardinal.'

  'You have a much quieter disposition.'

  'Do I?'

  'Jack noticed that,' said the other. 'Fond as he is of Brilliana, he could not tolerate her company for this long. He feels that she would wear him out and yet Lancelot seems to thrive on it.'

  'He's a very dutiful husband.'

  'I suspect that your sister chose with him with great care.'

  'She does everything with care, Mrs Cardinal.'

  'I gathered that. Your father is a Member of Parliament, I believe.'

  'A discontented one,' replied Susan fondly. 'Father thinks that everyone in the chamber but himself is a blockhead. The problem is that he insists on telling them that.'

  'Sir Julius is not a man who seeks easy popularity, then.'

  'No, Mrs Cardinal.'

  'It's perhaps as well that he's not here now.'

  'Why?'

  'We'll be dining tomorrow with some of the people he would consider blockheads. Three of them sit in the House of Commons so they may know the name of Sir Julius Cheever.'

  'It might be more tactful to keep it from them.'

  'I hoped at one time that Jack might enter politics but he has no stomach for it.'

  'Then he's wise to stay well clear of that world.'

  'We'll all be pitched into the middle of it tomorrow,' said Mrs Cardinal. 'They'll be talking politics all around us at dinner. Lady Eames is the only person who'll be spared. Deafness has its compensations. But I'll expect you to talk to Jack,' she said. 'I'll make sure that you sit next to him so that he does not have to listen to all that earnest discussion of the state of the nation. Will you do that for me?'

  'With pleasure,' replied Susan, guessing that there was another reason behind the request. 'You told me earlier that one of the guests was Sir Ralph Holcroft,' she went on, keen to know more about him after her visit to Fetter Lane. 'What manner of man is he?'

  'Shrewd and sagacious, by all accounts.'

  'Did you not say that he had a young wife?'

  'Patience is the envy of his friends,' said Mrs Cardinal. 'Sir Ralph is over thirty years older and not the handsomest of men, yet
he was her choice of a husband. He claims that she is a greater gift than his knighthood.'

  'Have you met his wife before?'

  'Only once but that was enough. Her reputation as a beauty is well-earned. She would dazzle in any assembly. Jack was rather overwhelmed by her but every other man in the room gazed at her in adoration. Patience Holcroft is a rare woman.'

  'I look forward to meeting her.'

  'You may have difficulty getting close enough,' warned Mrs

  Cardinal with a chuckle. 'The men will crowd around her and I daresay that Lord Eames will have her sitting at his elbow during dinner.'

  'Does her husband not mind the attention that she gets?'

  'He revels in it, Miss Cheever.'

  'What about his wife?'

  'Patience, by name and by nature. She endures it all without protest. But enough of our friends,' she decided, adjusting her skirt. 'You have your own. We long to meet people in your circle as well.'

  'It's very small, I fear.'

  'No matter. Your sister told us that you had made some good friends in London. Jack and I will insist on being introduced to them.' Her good humour suddenly vanished. 'With one glaring exception, that is.'

  'Exception?'

  'Brilliana mentioned a young architect named Christopher Redmayne.'

  'Yes,' said Susan proudly. 'Mr Redmayne is a friend of mine.'

  "Then I'd advise you to sever the relationship at once. His brother, as I hear, has been arrested on a charge of murder.'

  'Mistakenly, it seems.'

  'Not according to common report. I tell you this for your own sake, Miss Cheever. End your friendship with this architect at once. When his brother is convicted of murder,' she insisted, her eyes rolling, 'the name of Redmayne will be a form of leprosy.'

  It was dusk when Christopher left the goldsmith's shop to ride back home. He was glad that he had visited Martin Crenlowe again. There had been a subtle change in the man's manner that he did not understand but he was nevertheless pleased to spend time with someone who had such complete faith in his brother's innocence. As he picked his way along the crowded thoroughfare, he sifted through what the goldsmith had told him, feeling that there was something that he had missed. Christopher did not neglect his personal safety. He was alert, sword and dagger within easy reach.

  Inevitably, Susan Cheever soon displaced everyone else in his mind. He remembered the courage she had shown to make contact with him in Richmond and the risk she had taken to visit him that afternoon. Christopher hoped that the time would soon come when their friendship was not so beset with obstacles. When he had asked her for a favour, she had agreed to grant it before she even knew what it was. Everything now turned on the way that she did the favour. All that he had asked her to do was to give a letter, in strictest privacy, to Lady Patience Holcroft. Susan had not even pressed him for details and he had been spared the embarrassment of telling her about Henry's romantic interest or of compromising the lady's reputation.