The Frost Fair cr-4

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The Frost Fair cr-4 Page 27

by Edward Marston


  'About what?'

  She was curt. 'That's a private matter and, in any case, no longer relevant.'

  'It is to Henry. He still reveres you.'

  'I've not encouraged him to do that.'

  'But it explains why he was deeply upset when you were cast aside.'

  'I beg your pardon!' she said with indignation.

  'Henry claimed that the other gentleman took advantage of you.'

  'He did nothing of the kind, sir.' Cheeks blushing, she jumped to her feet. 'I regard that as a cruel insult.'

  'It was not intended to be, Lady Holcroft.'

  'Neither you nor your brother know anything about that particular friendship.'

  'But the gentleman did bring that friendship to a sudden end, did he not?'

  'No, Mr Redmayne,' she snapped, wrestling to contain her fury. 'I did that. No man would ever cast me aside. I dispense with them.' She moved to the door. 'Good day to you, sir. I can see that I made a grave error in coming here.'

  "The error was entirely of my brother's making,' he said, rushing to intercept her. 'Henry is the victim of a misunderstanding. He felt sorry for you because he thought that you were abandoned when the other gentleman tired of you.'

  'It was I who tired of him and his infernal questions.'

  'Questions?'

  'You are standing in my way, Mr Redmayne.'

  'What sort of questions did he ask?'

  "The wrong ones, sir,' she said coldly. 'And you have done the same.'

  Christopher stood aside. 'Thank you for coming, Lady Holcroft. I appreciate it.'

  Without a word, she swept past him into the hall and out through the front door. A moment later, he heard the coach pulling away from the house. Susan came into the parlour with a look of consternation.

  'Lady Holcroft has just left without me,' she said.

  'That was my fault,' admitted Christopher. He gave her a warm smile. 'I suppose that I'll have to take responsibility for getting you back to your friends.'

  Susan relaxed visibly. 'There's no hurry,' she said.

  A cold night in Newgate had left its imprint on Pietro Maldini. On the advice of Jonathan Bale, the Italian had been locked in a cell with fifteen other prisoners, sharing their stink, deafened by their noise and recoiling from their abuse. They mocked his accent, they reviled his nation and more than one of them felt obliged to punch or jostle him. He was already in pain. The blood had been cleansed from his face but nothing could be done about the broken nose and it throbbed unmercifully. After a sleepless night, Maldini was hollow- eyed and frightened. The fierce rage that had brought him to Newgate in the first place had been drained out of him.

  Jonathan had him moved to a small private room so that he could talk to him in relative comfort. Maldini was pathetically grateful even though the constable had been the person who stopped him from achieving his objective. Stripped down to shirt and breeches, he cut a forlorn figure, the once handsome face disfigured by the broken nose, the neat black beard caked with wisps of straw. They sat either side of a bare wooden table. Jonathan explained who he was and why he had come. Maldini was in a daze. His command of English was good, his accent quite pronounced.

  'What will happen to me?' he asked.

  'You'll have to stand trial on a charge of attempted murder, sir,' said Jonathan. 'You tried to kill Mr Redmayne and we believe that you made two attempts to kill his brother as well.'

  'I had to do it. That man, he stabbed Jeronimo in the back. I want revenge.'

  'People are not allowed to take the law into their own hands in this country. In any case, you attacked the wrong people. There's growing evidence to suggest that Henry Redmayne is not guilty of the murder and his brother, of course, was not involved in any way. You might have killed two completely innocent men.'

  'No,' denied the other. 'Henry Redmayne, he stabbed my brother. Everyone say so. Jeronimo's friend, he told me it was true.'

  'His friend?'

  'Captain Harvest.'

  'Ah,' said Jonathan. 'I had a feeling that he might be involved somehow.'

  Speaking slowly, he told the prisoner how the soldier had been exposed as an impostor and how he was liable for arrest on a number of charges. Maldini listened with increasing discomfort. When he heard that the man was under suspicion for the murder as well, he was confused.

  'No,' he said, 'this cannot be. The captain, he was Jeronimo's friend.'

  'I know that he worked at the fencing school with your brother.'

  'It was more than that. Jeronimo, he told me this man was a great help to him.'

  'In what way, sir?'

  'He did not say. My brother and me, we did not speak often. Our lives, they were very different. But I still loved him,' he asserted. 'When I hear of his death, I have to get revenge. It's - what do you call it - a matter of honour?'

  'I see no honour at all in trying to throttle a man to death,' said Jonathan harshly, 'especially as he may well turn out to have nothing to do with this crime.'

  'But he did. He was there. He had an argument with Jeronimo.'

  'So did one or two other people, by the sound of it.'

  'I still think Henry Redmayne, he is the man. That's why I went in search of his brother. He stabbed my brother, I wanted to kill his.'

  'How did you know where to find Christopher Redmayne?'

  'I was told where he lived.'

  'By the same Captain Harvest, I daresay.' Maldini nodded. 'He deliberately set you on. That means he incited murder. We have another charge to hang around his neck.'

  'Jeronimo always trusted him.'

  'Enough to turn his back on the man. That was his mistake.'

  'This captain, he told me, was very useful to him. Jeronimo, he relied on him.'

  'At the fencing school?'

  'For something else. My brother, he did not tell me what it was. He liked to keep secrets. It was the same when we were boys at home in Italy. Jeronimo was very private.'

  'Yet he led a very public life,' said Jonathan, perplexed. 'How much privacy can you have if you spend all day teaching pupils to fence? Your brother was surrounded by people.' He pulled a face. 'Unfortunately, the captain was one of them.'

  'All I know is what Jeronimo tell me.'

  The Italian shrugged his shoulders. He looked thoroughly miserable. Though he did not condone what the man had done, Jonathan nevertheless felt sorry for him. Impelled by a desire to avenge the death of his brother, he had sacrificed his own life.

  'Did you meet any friends of his?' asked Jonathan.

  'No, sir.'

  'Did he ever mention Sir Humphrey Godden to you?'

  'No, sir.'

  'What about a Mr Crenlowe? He's a goldsmith.'

  'Ah,' said the other, 'that name I know. My brother, he say that this man make some jewellery for him. Mr Crenlowe. That was his name.'

  'Did your brother tell you who the jewellery was for?'

  Maldini gestured with a hand. 'Who else but for a lady?'

  Jonathan had the feeling that the man could provide valuable information about his brother but he was not certain that he was the best person to elicit it from him. Maldini needed more time to understand what was happening to him. He was still too bewildered by the turn of events. Jonathan leaned forward on the table.

  'We both want the same thing,' he said. 'We want your brother's killer to hang. You tried to do the hangman's job for him and that was a terrible mistake. You were wrong about Captain Harvest being a friend. He's a criminal. And you are wrong about Henry Redmayne as well.'

  'No,' protested Maldini, 'he is the one. Everybody knows it.'

  'Most people think it, I agree. Those of us who know Mr Redmayne, and who have looked into this case, are certain that he's innocent. I won't try to convince you of that. I can see that it would be a waste of time. However, tell me this. If - and I only ask you to consider it - if someone else stuck that knife in your brother's back, would you help us to catch him?'

  'Yes, of course. Bu
t the killer has already been arrested.'

  'On false evidence in my view,' said Jonathan. 'That's why his brother is moving heaven and earth to prove his innocence. You can understand that, I think. You know how it feels when you think a brother has been cruelly wronged.'

  'Oh, yes,' said the other, knuckles tightening. 'I would have done anything for Jeronimo.'

  'You've already done too much.'

  Maldini's head fell to his chest. Jonathan felt another surge of pity. The Italian was young, strong and lithe with a promising career as a musician ahead of him. All that had been squandered. Jonathan sought to relieve his suffering a little.

  'Where did you spend the night?' he said.

  'With a pack of wild animals,' replied Maldini, looking up. 'It was torture.'

  'I might be able to get you moved to a cell on your own. Would you like that?'

  'Yes, please! Those others, they drive me mad,'

  'I'll speak to the prison sergeant.'

  Maldini grabbed his arm. "Thank you, Mr Bale. Thank you, sir.'

  'But I expect a favour in return, mark you.'

  'A favour?'

  'I want you to talk to Christopher Redmayne.'

  Maldini withdrew his hand in disgust and spat on to the floor.

  The meeting with Lady Holcroft had been less enlightening than he had hoped but Christopher had the supreme consolation of spending an hour alone with Susan Cheever. At no point did she press him about his reason for a secret rendezvous with Lady Holcroft and he was grateful for that. She felt able to confide in him her worries that Mrs Cardinal was showing an interest in her as a possible future wife for her son and assuring him that, while she admired Jack Cardinal, she would never choose him as her partner in life. He was tempted to reveal his own dilemma with regard to Lady Whitcombe but he drew back, still hoping that he could resolve that particular problem.

  'What will I tell Mrs Cardinal when I get back to the house?' she asked.

  'Tell her that you and Lady Holcroft went for a ride in the coach.'

  'She's bound to press for details.'

  'Invent some,' said Christopher cheerfully. 'Lady Holcroft will not contradict you. I suspect she'll pretend that this morning did not really take place. The main thing is to get you back before Mrs Cardinal and her son return.'

  'Yes,' she agreed, sad to leave. 'I suppose so.'

  'I'm deeply grateful to the lady. After all, she brought you to London.' 'She did, Christopher. If the situation were different, I could like her very much. But she will watch me all the time, just like Brilliana. It's almost as if they have a secret pact to marry me off, and I hate it when people try to make decisions for me.'

  'I'd never presume to do that.'

  'Thank you.' She turned round so that he could put her cloak around her shoulders. 'It's been wonderful to see you again,' she said, facing him again, 'but I know that you have to get back to helping your brother. How is he? I heard his name mentioned more than once at the dinner table yesterday. The comments were not flattering.'

  'They will be when Henry is exonerated.'

  'How close are you to proving his innocence?'

  'Jonathan Bale and I get closer every day, Susan,' he said. 'I've managed to win over the most difficult man to persuade.'

  'Who is that?'

  'Jonathan himself. He thought at first that Henry was guilty.'

  "That must have made for some awkwardness between the two of you.'

  'Oh, it did,' he agreed, 'but friendship is an odd thing. It sometimes thrives on differences of opinion. At least, I felt that it did in this case.'

  'Does he know that you were coming here today?'

  'No, Susan. It was something that even he could not be told about. And he never will. I promised Lady Holcroft in my letter that nobody else would ever be aware that our meeting took place. Apart from you, that is.'

  'I can be very discreet.'

  'That's why I turned to you.' He gave her a smile of gratitude then remembered what he had been told earlier by Lady Holcroft. 'May I please ask you something?'

  'Of course.'

  "This is purely a suggestion,' he explained, 'and relates to nobody in particular. Suppose that a certain lady, married and of good reputation, permitted a gentleman to pay court to her in strictest privacy.'

  'Yes,' said Susan, 'I can readily imagine that.'

  'And suppose that she decided to bring their friendship to a sudden end.'

  'Why should she do that?'

  'Because he pestered her with questions.' 'Questions?'

  'Infernal questions,' he said. 'What sort of questions would annoy a lady most in those circumstances? In short, what would she be least willing to talk about?'

  'That's easy to answer,' replied Susan. 'Her husband.'

  Chapter Sixteen

  When he visited the prison that morning, the Reverend Algernon Redmayne was in a more compassionate mood. Instead of condemning his elder son for his past sins, he brought fresh food and a degree of comfort into the cell. Henry had never seen his father in such a benign state. For his part, the Dean was pleased that his son had taken some pains with his appearance. Henry had washed, shaved and donned the change of apparel that his brother had taken to him. He had even combed his thinning hair into a semblance of order. It no longer looked as if he had just come in from a howling gale.

  'Christopher told me about the vicious attack on you, Henry,' said his father. 'It's unforgivable that such a thing should happen. I'll speak to the authorities myself.'

  'I was rescued just in time, Father.'

  'So I hear. I'll give my personal thanks to this doughty constable.'

  'As long as you do not try to engage him in theological debate,' warned Henry. 'You'd find him a stubborn parishioner. Mr Bale is a resolute Puritan.'

  'The fellow is also a hero and I salute him for that.'

  The Dean insisted on hearing a full description of the attempt on his son's life and Henry was only too willing to give it. His father offered him uncritical sympathy so rarely that he intended to exploit it to the full. He embroidered the tale to make the ordeal seem even worse than it was. Enfolding his son in his arms, the Dean offered up a prayer of thanksgiving. There were tears in his eyes.

  'You've walked in the valley of the shadow of death,' he said.

  'It's difficult to walk anywhere when someone is trying to strangle you.'

  'What went through your mind, Henry?'

  'Nothing at all.'

  'Did you not think that your end was nigh?'

  'Of course, Father.'

  'And did you not cry out to God for his aid?'

  'I could not say a word,' replied Henry, rubbing his neck. 'The cord was so tight that I could do little but gurgle. I was terrified. I believed that I was going to die and I felt desperately unready.'

  'That's what I was hoping you'd say. At that awful moment of extremity, you felt unready to meet your Maker. That's a good and proper feeling, Henry,' said his Father, releasing him at last. 'It shows that you recognised your failings as a human being.'

  'Oh, I did that the moment they locked me up in here.'

  'What will happen when you get out again?'

  'I'm beginning to give up all hope of that.'

  'You must never do that!' said the other seriously. 'Christopher assures me that he and his friend will soon apprehend the real culprit. You will then have to be released. I trust that you will resolve to lead a more Christian life.'

  'Yes, Father.'

  'You fell among evil men and were led astray.'

  'I'll choose my friends with more care in future,' promised Henry. 'I've never been a contemplative man but this experience has wrought a profound change in me. I've been arrested, imprisoned, vilified by all and sundry, then attacked by a murderous Italian. If and when I'm let out of Newgate, I vow to start a new life.'

  'Why not quit London and return to Gloucester with me?'

  'Not that new, Father,' said Henry, gulping at the prospect. 'I'd r
eturn to my post at the Navy Office and apply myself even more conscientiously than before. To leave the city would give the impression that I'm running away, and I'd never do that. I need to stay here to rebuild my lost reputation.'

  'That shows courage and I applaud you. What of this other fellow?' he asked with a glance over his shoulder. 'This demented Italian who tried to strangle you.'

  'Pietro Maldini is having a taste of what I've been through. He's learning just how unpleasant it is to be deprived of your liberty and flung into gaol among strangers.'

  After an hour of sustained misery, Pietro Maldini began to have second thoughts. The other prisoners would not leave him alone. He was ridiculed, cajoled, pushed, prodded and even tripped up for the amusement of the ragged assembly. The food he was given was inedible and the water too brackish to drink. Life as a Court musician had hardly prepared him for the squalor and intimidation of Newgate. When two men tried to steal the clothes from his back, he had to fight them off with all his strength. There was no way that he could keep them at bay indefinitely A turnkey appeared at the door and Maldini rushed across to him.

  'Take a message to Mr Bale!' he yelled.

  'Who?' said the other gruffly.

  'The constable I spoke to earlier.'

  The turnkey sneered. 'I'm not here to carry your messages.'

  'Please!' implored Maldini. 'Tell him I will do him that favour!'

  When he got back to his house, Christopher was pleased to see Jonathan Bale waiting for him in the parlour. The constable reported what had happened the previous night during his ill-fated vigil and described his long conversation with the Italian prisoner. Fascinated by what he heard, Christopher was disappointed that he was unable to speak to the man himself. He seized on one item of information.

  'At least, we know that the so-called Captain Harvest is still in London.'

  'He was taunting me,' said Jonathan. 'He knew exactly where I was.'

  'His boldness could prove his downfall. If he does not have the sense to remain hidden, he's bound to make a mistake sooner or later.' Christopher stroked his chin. 'What interests me is the suggestion that he and the fencing master were closer friends than we thought. Did the brother give no details?'

 

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