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, if 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.'
'Yes, Susan Cheever is a most agreeable young lady.' 'And a most intelligent one.' 'It's not often that I take to anyone as easily as that.' 'Nor me, Mother. She's such pleasant company.' 'I had a feeling that you liked her, Jack,' she said, patting his hand. 'It's wrong for you to be at my beck and call all the time. You need someone like her to bring a little colour into your existence.' He became defensive. 'I hardly know Miss Cheever yet.' 'But you approve of what you do know, I take it?' 'Yes, Mother.'
'Good. That's a promising start.'
'Do not rush things, Mother. We've only just met.'
'The girl is Lancelot Serle's sister-in-law. That tells you much.'
'I agree,' he said. 'But Miss Cheever is a handsome young lady.'
'So?'
'She'll have many admirers and may already have formed an attachment.'
'Then why was she staying at Serle Court?' 'To be with her sister.'
'And why was Brilliana so eager for us to meet her? Open your eyes, Jack.'
'I do not think she had any mercenary intent.'
'I'd not blame her if she had.'
'Mother!'
'We were invited for a purpose.'
'Yes,' he said. 'To enjoy the hospitality of good friends, that was all.'
'I have a sixth sense in these matters.'
'Miss Cheever would never lend herself to what you suggest.' 'Brilliana would give her no choice in the matter.' 'I'm sorry, Mother. I disagree with you. I see no hidden meanings here.'
'You will, Jack. You will. Where is Miss Cheever now?' 'She went to her room to rest.'
'At her age?' asked Mrs Cardinal in surprise. 'Rest is for ladies of my years and my constitution. It should not be encouraged in young ladies, especially those as robust as she. Fetch her, Jack.'
'What?'
'Fetch her. I want to speak to her.'
'But she may be asleep, Mother.'
'Then wake her up. I did not bring her all the way to London so that she could go to sleep on me. Invite her in here then we'll descend together. Lord and Lady Eames will think us poor guests if we slumber throughout the whole afternoon.'
He was reluctant. 'It would be unfair to disturb her.'
'My needs take precedence over Miss Cheever's,' said his mother. 'Shame on you, Jack! Would you oppose the wishes of a sick woman?'
'I'll fetch her at once,' he promised.
Cardinal went out. He was troubled by his mother's comments. As an eligible bachelor, he was not unused to having available young ladies thrust at him by grinning parents and he had learned to avoid the situations in which that could happen. He did not have the feeling that Susan was being presented for his approval in such an obvious way. If anything, she had been a little distant with him when he first arrived at Serle Court and had made no attempt to engage him in conversation. It was only when she had been invited to join them in London that she showed any enthusiasm for their company. He did not sense that Susan was deliberately trying to ingratiate herself with him. That was what he found so attractive about her. She seemed to be very much her own woman.
He walked along the landing to a room at the far end and tapped politely on the door. When there was no response, he knocked a little harder. Getting no reply again, he rapped on the door with more purpose. There was a long silence. He inched the door open and peeped in, only to find that the room was empty. Cardinal was about to report back to his mother when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see Susan Cheever, wearing her cloak and hat, tripping up the backstairs.
'Where have you been?' he asked.
'Oh,' she said, startled to see him. 'There you are, Mr Cardinal.'
'We thought you were in your room.'
'Yes, I was. But I had a headache and felt that a walk in the garden would help to clear it. Have you seen the rear garden? It goes right down to the river.' Having invented an excuse, she began to embellish it. 'I enjoyed my walk so much that I lost all purchase on time. It was fascinating to look at the river now that the ice is melting. I'm rather sad that the frost fair has disappeared but it could not last. What a pity you were not able to see it, Mr Cardinal! It took my breath away.' She removed her hat. 'Have I been gone long? Have you missed me?'
'Very much,' he replied with a smile. 'I'm glad that you came back.'
'I feel so much better for my walk.'
'What about your headache?'
'Oh, that soon vanished, Mr Cardinal,' she said, relieved that he obviously accepted her explanation. 'Going out into the fresh air was the best thing I could have done. My little walk has refreshed me completely.'
Christopher Redmayne had stayed long enough to watch her disappear around the side of the building before he set off again. The sudden change in his fortunes had left him in a state of exhilaration. To see Susan Cheever again so soon was a miracle in itself but there had been another unforeseen blessing. As a result of staying at the mansion in the Strand, she would be able to dine with Sir Ralph Holcroft and his wife. It gave Christopher the perfect opportunity to communicate with the woman whom he believed might hold vital information that could be of direct benefit to his brother. He was tingling all over.
Having accompanied Susan back to the house, he now had to walk home alone and he did not let his feeling of joy distract him from the need to be watchful. His dip in the River Thames was still a painful memory. On the stroll back to Fetter Lane, there
fore, he kept his hand on the hilt of his sword and his mind alert. It was still light and traffic was busy. When he reached Fleet Street, he had to wait until a coach and three carts had gone by before he could cross the road. Fearing that someone might lunge out of the crowd at him, he remained vigilant all the way home. No attack came but he did have an uncomfortable feeling that he was being followed. When he reached his door, therefore, he turned suddenly on his heel and stared down the street. His instinct had not betrayed him.
Christopher had been followed but it was by a friend. Jonathan Bale was hurrying towards him.
'Why did you not shout?' he asked when the constable caught up with him.
'You'd not have heard me with all the noise,' said Jonathan, as a carriage thundered past with two horsemen behind it. 'London gets more deafening every day.'
"Then let's step inside where we can hear ourselves.'
They went into the house and made for the parlour. Jacob appeared from the kitchen to take their cloaks and hats. Since the attack on his master, he insisted on wearing a dagger himself even though the likelihood of his having to use it was remote. The two men sat down in order to exchange their intelligence. Christopher felt constrained. Though he had confided everything else to his friend, he had deliberately kept his brother's involvement with Patience Holcroft to himself. It meant that he could not share the exciting news that he had finally found a means of getting in touch with the lady. Instead, he had to enthuse about his father's visit.
'It removed all trace of doubt in my mind,' he explained. 'My brother is innocent. If Henry had been guilty of that crime, my father would surely have known it.'
'How, Mr Redmayne?'
'How do you know when your sons have misbehaved?'
'Murder is rather more than misbehaviour.'
'You know what I mean, Jonathan.'
'Yes, I do,' said the other. 'As for my sons, they always look so uneasy that I can see at once if they've been up to mischief. And so can Sarah.'
'It's not quite as simple as that in this case. Henry was so confused.'
'And now?'
'He knows that he could never have killed that man.'
'What did your father think of Newgate?'
'He was horrified,' said Christopher, 'and not merely because one of his sons was being held there by mistake. The whole prison revolted him. Father is like me. He could not believe that a building with such a grand exterior could be so vile and soulless on the inside. That abiding reek turned his stomach. He looked ill when he came out again.'
'Did you visit your brother yourself?'
'Briefly. I took some more food and drink for him.'
'Were you able to mention my request?' asked Jonathan. 'I know that your brother is not fond of me but I would still like to visit him on my own. Would that be possible?'
'Only if you are ready to withstand a torrent of abuse.'
'What did he say?'
'At first, he ordered me to keep you away at all costs.'
'And then?'
'He changed his mind. Henry told me that he so hated being locked up alone in a prison cell that he'd welcome a visit from his worst enemy. Those were his exact words.'
'I see.'
'You'll have to make your own decision, Jonathan. But I'd better warn you that he was very upset when I told him that you were taking a particular interest in his case.'
'That does not surprise me.'
'Henry seems to have forgotten a previous occasion when you helped to get him out of trouble. All that he remembers is the way that you upbraided him afterwards.'
'He deserved it, Mr Redmayne.'
'Oh. I agree. But it did not endear you to him.'
'We'll never be close friends, sir.'
'He's still prickly. Your visit may be in vain.'
Jonathan pondered. 'I'd still like to go,' he said at length.
'Would you like me there with you? It might make it a little easier.'
'No, I'll go on my own. I'm used to talking to prisoners in their cells. They give things away without even realising it sometimes.' He studied the glow on Christopher's face. 'You look happy, sir. Has something else happened?'
'A pleasing encounter with a dear friend, that's all,' said Christopher evasively. 'What's really given me new heart is the discovery that the man who killed Signor Maldini is frightened enough to strike again. I have him on the run, Jonathan. It's only a question of time before I find out who he is.' He rubbed his hands. 'But you would not have called if you did not have news of your own to impart? What have you learned?'
'What we both suspected about him, Mr Redmayne.'
'About whom?' 'Captain Harvest.'
'He's entertaining company, I know, but I'd not trust him for a second.'
'Nor I,' said Jonathan. 'You met him at the Hope and Anchor. I began to wonder why he chose to spend time in a sailors' tavern when, if he'd gone elsewhere, he could have found plenty of old soldiers to talk to about his days in the army.'
'That puzzled me as well.'
'I found out why.'
'Was the gallant Captain Harvest discharged with dishonour?'
'I doubt if he ever bore arms in war. Whenever I was with him, I felt that I was being tricked. So I tried to trick him myself.'
'He'd not have expected that, Jonathan. What did you do?'
'I pretended that I had a friend who worked as a clerk in the army and told him that the man had looked through all the muster rolls without finding any trace of a Captain Harvest. The trick worked,' he said with a smile of self-congratulation. 'He believed me. When I asked him what regiment he served in, he knew that the game was up and fled on his horse. He'll not be so easy to track down again.'
Christopher was intrigued. 'If he is not Captain Harvest, who is he?'
'I do not know, Mr Redmayne, but I intend to find out.'
'Did he not try to talk his way out of it?'
'He tried and failed, sir. His eyes betrayed him.'
"This is news indeed!' said Christopher with a laugh. 'You look so honest that he never suspected that you'd dupe him. Bravo! You tricked a master trickster, Jonathan.'
"Then I let him get away.'
'That was unlike you. Well, this puts a different complexion on the whole thing. I did suggest that he might be involved in the murder but we thought he'd have no motive.'
'Mr Crenlowe believed he might be guilty.'
'Did he say why?'
'No, it was just a feeling that he had about the man.'
'Yet Sir Humphrey Godden disagreed with him.'
'Very strongly. I think that Mr Crenlowe had suspicions of Captain Harvest - or, at least, of the man who was passing himself off under that name. The murder brought those suspicions to the surface.'
'Perhaps I should call on him again.'
'You'd fare better than me, Mr Redmayne. I learned little from the goldsmith.'
You learned that he was not as pleasant a man as he appeared to be.'
'He showed you more respect, it's true.'
'What about Sir Humphrey? Should I see him again?'
'I think that someone should tell him how completely he was fooled. Let me do it. That fraudulent soldier deceived them all, including your brother.'
'And me, Jonathan. His voice, manner and gestures were so persuasive.'
'I fought in an army, sir. You did not. He troubled me from the start.'
'You've done us all a service by unmasking him,' said Christopher. 'It raises all kinds of new questions. How close was he to Jeronimo Maldini? Did the Italian know his true identity or was he taken in as well? Why was 'the captain' the only one of Henry's friends who did not stand by him? I think we know the answer to that,' he decided. 'It was as I guessed. He accused my brother to divert attention from himself.'
'We need to catch him, Mr Redmayne - and soon.'
'But where is the mysterious Captain Harvest?'
Sir Humphrey Godden dined at home with his wife for once then set some hours aside to wor
k on his accounts. It was a tiresome exercise but he stuck to his task, going through his bills in order and making the appropriate entries in his ledger. When a servant entered, his master looked up in the hope that he had brought some refreshment but the man had only come to inform him that he had a visitor. Sir Humphrey was not pleased to hear the name that was whispered in his ear. Setting his quill aside, he marched out of the room and into the hall, expecting to see a familiar face and distinctive apparel. Instead, he was looking at a big, broad-shouldered man in dark clothing that robbed him of all of his flamboyance. Where there had once been a red beard, there was now a cleanshaven face. Coming to a halt, Sir Humphrey stared with incredulity at his friend.
'I was told that Captain Harvest was here,' he said.
'He is,' replied the other with his telltale grin.
'Is that you, James? What have you done to yourself?'
'I'll explain that, Sir Humphrey.'
'Why have you come here?'
'I need to borrow some money.'
Sir Humphrey was in two minds, wanting to turn the visitor away yet held back by invisible ties of friendship. Eventually, he glanced over his shoulder.
'Follow me,' he said.
Martin Crenlowe was in high feather at the hope of success. He had spent over an hour displaying his wares to a customer in search of a goldsmith who could fashion some highly expensive jewellery for him. The man had gone away to consider the matter but Crenlowe was almost certain that the lucrative order would in time be placed with him. It was the latest piece of good fortune in what had been a profitable week. Alone in his office, he allowed himself a celebratory glass of brandy. There was a tap on the door then one of his apprentices came in.
"There's a gentleman to see you, sir,' he said.
Crenlowe was pleased. 'Is it the customer who was here earlier?'
'No, sir. His name is Christopher Redmayne.'
'Oh.' He was disappointed. 'Did you tell him that I was here?'
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