'As a married woman,' said the other, 'I naturally spurn all their attempts.'
'The letter was given to me in confidence by a Mr Redmayne.'
Lady Holcroft recoiled as if from a blow. For a moment, she did not know quite how to react. A stab of pain showed in her eyes. Without warning, she turned abruptly on her heel and walked swiftly away. Susan bit her lip in dismay. She felt that she had let Christopher down badly.
Jonathan Bale studied the dagger with interest. He held it on the palm of his hand to feel its weight. When he called at the house in Fetter Lane that morning, he found Christopher Redmayne alone. His father had visited the prison again and Jacob was at the market to get some provisions for the larder. It enabled them to talk freely about what each had found out since their last meeting. Jonathan was disturbed to hear of the second attack.
'I've never seen a weapon quite like this before,' he said, turning the dagger over. 'And he hurled this at you?'
'Yes, Jonathan.
'Why did he not draw his sword? If you were dazed by the blows from the cudgel, he had you at a clear disadvantage. One quick thrust of a rapier and you were done for.'
'He seemed to lose his nerve and flee.'
'Then he was no practised assassin, Mr Redmayne. If he was the same man who pushed you in the river, you were lucky. He's had two chances to kill you and lacked the skill to take either.'
Christopher smiled. 'I don't propose to offer him a third opportunity.'
He no longer wore the bandaging around his head but the bruises had now come out on his arms and shoulders, showing him just how much punishment he had taken. He was grateful to be able to tell his friend about the attack. After handing the dagger back to him, Jonathan described his visit to the home of Sir Humphrey Godden and his night-time vigil outside the tenement where Hannah Liggett lodged. Christopher was interested to hear his opinion.
'You think that Sir Humphrey is hand-in-glove with our Captain Harvest?'
'That was the feeling I began to get, sir.'
'Then why did the captain not seek refuge at the house in Covent Garden? I'll wager that Sir Humphrey could offer him a softer bed than the one he'll find in a tenement near the river.'
'But he could hardly share it with Hannah Liggett there.'
'True,' said Christopher. 'And his friend might not want him under his roof. Captain Harvest - or whatever his name really is - belongs to a part of his life that Sir Humphrey chooses to keep hidden from his wife. Well, Jonathan,' he concluded, 'if the two of them are in league together, they must have an accomplice, for it was neither of them who ambushed me outside my stable.'
'The man who did was not in their employ,' decided Jonathan. 'They'd hire a more seasoned assassin than the one who attacked you. That does not mean you ignore this fellow. I think you need someone to guard you, sir,' he went on, worried for his friend. 'If he's struck twice, he's determined to kill you. Let me act as your protector.'
'My Lord High Protector?' teased the other.
'Your life is in danger, Mr Redmayne.'
'So is my brother's,' said Christopher, 'and he's in no position to defend himself. I am, Jonathan. Thank you for your offer but I can take care of myself. I want the fellow to try again. I'll be more than ready for him.'
'As you wish, sir.'
'You keep looking for the man you deprived of his disguise as a soldier. Most likely, he'll have taken on another by now but there are some things even he cannot hide.'
'I'd know him anywhere, Mr Redmayne,' said Jonathan, moving to the door. 'But I also intend to call at Newgate today. Your brother may be ready to speak to me now.'
'Do not count on it,' warned Christopher.
He saw his friend out of the house then returned to the parlour. After examining the dagger again, he slipped it into a drawer. He crossed to the mirror and used a delicate hand to flick hair over the scalp wound that had now dried up. When he heard a tap on the door, he thought that Jonathan had come back but a glance through the window showed that there was a carriage outside the door. Lady Whitcombe had called. Though she was the last person he wished to see at that moment, he conquered the urge to lie low and pretend that he was not at home. Her coachman banged on the door more loudly. As soon as Christopher opened it, Lady Whitcombe alighted from her carriage with the aid of the coachman and surged towards the house. Under her arm were the drawings that Christopher had delivered to her house in Sheen.
'I'm so glad that I caught you at home,' she said, sweeping past him to go into the house. 'Forgive my descending on you like this, Mr Redmayne, but I've had a change of mind with regard to your design.'
'You wish to rescind our contract, after all?' he said anxiously, closing the door and following her into the parlour. 'I understood that I was still your architect.'
'You were, are and ever will be,' she told him before glancing around. 'Is your father not here this morning?'
'No, Lady Whitcombe. Father left earlier. He's visiting my brother. May I offer you some refreshment?' he asked with brisk civility. 'Jacob has gone to market so I have to play the servant today.'
'Oh, we are alone in the house, are we?'
'We are.'
'How convenient!' Removing her hat and cloak, she handed them to Christopher who went into the hallway to hang them on a peg. When he returned, he saw that his visitor was seated in a chair, arranging her dress. 'Come and sit beside me, Mr Redmayne,' she said. 'There's something we need to discuss.'
Christopher took a seat. 'You talked about a change of mind.'
'Only with regard to my bedchamber. I think I'll go back to your original suggestion about the proportions of the room. I was wrong, you were right.'
'Every architect likes to hear that from a client.'
'Before we talk about the house,' she said, 'you must let me apologise for my son's behaviour yesterday It was very untypical of him. Egerton can be such a delightful young man, as you will in time discover.'
'I bear no grudges, Lady Whitcombe. I admired your son's forth- rightness.'
'His father always taught him to speak his mind.'
'He certainly did that,' said Christopher.
'He misses his father greatly,' she sighed. 'Almost as much as I do.' She regarded him through hooded eyes. 'What do you think of Letitia?' she asked.
'Your daughter is a charming young lady.'
'A little wanting in true beauty, perhaps.'
'Not at all,' he said gallantly. 'Good looks are obviously a family attribute. Your son is very handsome. He and his sister are a credit to you, Lady Whitcombe.'
'I hoped you'd think that. Letitia lacks maturity, that's her main fault.'
'It will vanish with the passage of time.'
'That's what I told her,' said Lady Whitcombe. 'Letitia will grow into herself. Believe it or not, I was a trifle gauche at her age.'
'I refuse to accept that.'
She gave a laugh. 'You flatter me, Mr Redmayne. Though, looking back, I have to tell you that I much prefer the blessings of maturity to the blundering of inexperience. Egerton became a man when his father died. Letitia has yet to blossom.' She beamed at him. 'It pleases me so much that you are fond of my daughter. In a sense, it signals your approval of me.'
'That was never in question, Lady Whitcombe.' She laughed again. 'Shall we look at the drawings again?' he suggested. 'I can soon make the necessary adjustments.'
'There are some other adjustments to be made first, Mr Redmayne.'
'Indeed?'
"This is a trying time for you, I know,' she said, reaching out to grasp his arm. 'When one has family anxieties, it's impossible to think of anything else. Patently, you are bearing a heavy burden at the moment.'
'I'd not disagree with that.'
'Well, you do not have to bear it alone, Mr Redmayne. You have friends. Loyal and supportive friends, who are there for you to turn to in moments of extremity. I'd feel privileged to be one of those friends.'
'Yes, Lady Whitcombe,' he said without
enthusiasm. 'You are, you are.'
'That means a great deal to me.' She squeezed his arm before releasing it. 'You must have noticed how fond Letitia has become of you. When we came to London to welcome Egerton back, she insisted that we called on you as well. Not, mark you, that any insistence was required. I'd already made the decision to do just that.' She gazed at him for a moment. 'What will happen if your brother is convicted?' she asked.
"That's a possibility I do not even contemplate.'
'Most of London seems to think it a probability, Mr Redmayne. While I hope that he'll be acquitted, I'm compelled to accept that our system of justice is far from perfect. Innocent men sometimes to do go to the gallows. If - God forbid! - that did occur, how would it affect your career?'
'Adversely, Lady Whitcombe.'
'My commission would therefore be a valuable one.'
'It would be the saving of me.'
'Once built, of course, my new house would be a fine advertisement for you.'
'To show your faith in me, in such circumstances, would be an even better advertisement for me. Even if Henry is released, it will take time for me to win back some lost credibility. An architect is only as good as his name and mine is rather sullied at the moment. I'm deeply grateful for the way that you've helped me, Lady Whitcombe.'
'You've helped us as well.'
'Havel?'
'Yes, Mr Redmayne,' she said quietly. 'When you came on the scene, Letitia and I were very lonely. My husband had died and my son was in France for a lengthy period. There was no man in the house until you began to visit.' She touched his arm again. 'I'd like you to visit us more often in future. Will you do that for me?'
Christopher felt distinctly uneasy. Having feared that she was pushing her daughter at him in the hope that a romance might develop between them, he saw that the situation was far more threatening than that. It was Lady Whitcombe herself who had the real interest in him. In trying to involve him in her family she simply wanted him closer to her. Christopher saw the precariousness of his position. She was his only client at a time when the name of Redmayne was a serious handicap. To lose her commission would be to plunge him into a period of unemployment from which it would not be easy to escape. Lady Whitcombe was trying to exploit his vulnerability.
'Will you do that for me, Mr Redmayne?' she repeated, beaming at him.
'When the house is being built,' he said, 'we are bound to see a lot of each other.'
'Only as architect and client. I wish to see you as a friend - a close friend.'
Her fingers tightened on his arm. Christopher decided to play for time.
"Then you shall, Lady Whitcombe.'
'Good!' she said with a laugh of satisfaction. 'Now that we have sorted that out, perhaps we could take a look at the drawings again. I really do need your expert advice with regard to my bedchamber.'
Dinner at the house in the Strand was a sumptuous affair. Served in a room that was almost as large as a baronial hall, it was a veritable banquet. In addition to Lord and Lady Eames, there were sixteen people at a table that was laden with culinary delights. Those with appetites big enough could enjoy soups of various kind, a fricassee of rabbit and chicken, boiled mutton, carp, roast lamb, roasted pigeons, a lamprey pie, a platter of anchovies and a dish of four lobsters. Sweetmeats galore followed, the whole meal washed down with quality wines. Politics remained the chosen subject of debate.
Susan Cheever was at the opposite end of the table from Sir Ralph Holcroft and his wife. Seated next to Jack Cardinal, she engaged in polite conversation while trying to catch the eye of Lady Holcroft. Susan was studiously ignored. It intensified her sense of failure and she did not look forward to reporting it to Christopher. Her neighbour saw how little food she touched.
'Is that all you want, Miss Cheever?' he asked.
'I'm not hungry.'
'A magnificent feast like this makes one feel hungry. It's irresistible.'
"Then you can eat my share as well, Mr Cardinal,' she offered.
'Thank you. How long will you be staying in Richmond?'
'Until my father returns.'
'In the meantime, you must visit us,' he said, coupling the invitation with a cordial smile. 'Your sister tells me that you are a fine horsewoman. Perhaps we could ride out together.'
'When the weather improves,' she said, one eye still on Lady Holcroft. 'I do enjoy riding, Mr Cardinal. I much prefer it to travelling by coach.'
'That's something else on which we agree. Unfortunately, Mother can only get around on four wheels so, naturally, I have to make allowances for her. But there's nothing nicer than a ride to whet one's appetite before breakfast.'
'Your appetite seems to have be whetted today.'
'No,' he said with a guilty chuckle, looking at the food piled on his plate. 'This is not appetite, Miss Cheever. It's sheer greed.'
'I did not take you for a greedy man.'
'Why else do you think I sat next to you?'
The compliment was blurted out so quickly that he felt slightly embarrassed about it and turned away. Susan glanced down the table. Lady Holcroft was listening to an anecdote from her host and laughing obligingly. All that Susan could see was the back of her head. Cardinal looked past her.
'Sir Ralph Holcroft is a fortunate man,' he observed. 'His wife is a perfect example of the trappings of power. Lesser beings would not get near her.'
'You make her sound very calculating, Mr Cardinal.'
'Far from it. I think the calculation was on her husband's part.'
'Does it not encourage you to go into politics?'
'No, Miss Cheever. I'd be bored within a week. I'm very happy with my life as it is. Power and position are such temporary things. They rest on so many imponderables. I'm old enough to remember a time when we had no King on the throne. What happened to those who held sway then'
'Do not put that question to my father,' she cautioned. 'His answer is apt to be rather trenchant. He'd not approve of his daughter, sitting at such a table as this.'
'I cannot imagine disapproving of you, whatever you did.'
The compliment went unheard. Susan had noticed that Lady
Holcroft had just excused herself from the table. As she walked past, she deliberately looked at Susan before moving on. The signal was unmistakable. After waiting a full minute, Susan made her apologies and rose to leave. She found Lady Holcroft waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. Susan hurried over to her.
'Where is that letter?' asked the other.
'In my room,' said Susan. 'Shall I fetch it, Lady Holcroft?'
'I'll come with you.'
They went upstairs together and slipped into the bedchamber at the end of the passageway. Susan retrieved the letter from the valise in which she had concealed it then handed it over. She moved towards the door.
'Wait,' said Lady Holcroft. 'There's no need to leave.'
'I don't wish to intrude.'
'Please stay, Miss Cheever.'
Turning away so that Susan could not see her face, she broke the seal and read the letter. Susan watched her shoulders tighten. Evidently, it was a long missive that provoked serious thought. It was some time before Lady Holcroft faced her again. When she did so, her expression gave nothing away.
'What sort of man is Mr Christopher Redmayne?' she asked.
Christopher had never before been so relieved to see his servant. When Jacob returned to the house, bowed down with produce from the market, Lady Whitcombe was poring over the table with her master as they studied the design for her house. Christopher broke away at once, glad to escape from the rub of her shoulder against his and to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that he was, in some sense, a victim of intended blackmail. Lady Whitcombe was quite ruthless. Having commissioned a new home, she decided to acquire the architect as well. Jacob's return made further progress impossible for her and she soon withdrew, confident that she had achieved her objective.
It was not long before the Reverend Algernon Redm
ayne came back from his second visit to the prison. Over dinner together, he told Christopher how ill and forlorn his elder son had looked. Henry had been perplexed to hear of the latest assault on his brother and sent his deepest apologies. What pleased the Dean was that the prisoner seemed to be showing genuine remorse at last. He was taking responsibility for his actions and vowed to make amends if the chance were granted to him. It had obviously been a harrowing encounter for father and son, but the old man left with a degree of hope. Acknowledgement of sin was the first step towards redemption. His elder son, he felt, had finally taken that step.
Christopher intended to visit his brother as well but he had another call to make first. Wearing sword and dagger, he rode off in the direction of Sir Humphrey Godden's home to see if his own impression of the man matched that of Jonathan Bale. He got within thirty yards of the house when two figures emerged and had what appeared to be a lively argument. Sir Humphrey was gesticulating angrily and Martin Crenlowe was wagging a finger at him. At length, the goldsmith raised his palms to calm his friend then backed away. Christopher waited in the angle of a building so that Crenlowe did not see him as his carriage rolled past.
Sir Humphrey, too, was dressed to go out. Before he could walk off in the opposite direction, Christopher trotted up beside him and leaned over in the saddle.
'Good afternoon, Sir Humphrey!' he said, touching his hat.
'Ah, it's you,' grunted the other, coming to a halt.
'May I have a moment of your time?'
'If it really is a moment, Mr Redmayne.'
'I saw you talking to Mr Crenlowe just now,' remarked Christopher, dismounting from the horse. 'I thought the two of you were good friends.'
'We are, sir.'
'It did not look like it from where I was standing.'
'A slight difference of opinion, that's all,' said Sir Humphrey. 'When we meet again, it will all be forgiven and forgotten.'
'Which one of you has to forgive and forget?' He collected a glare by way of an answer. 'I gather that my friend, Jonathan Bale, called on you again.'
'Yes, Mr Redmayne. Is there any way that you can keep the fellow away from me? I find him the most unpleasant individual. He's so grim and tenacious.'
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