The Frost Fair

by Edward Marston

  Christopher blinked. 'You believe that he was the man who stalked me?'

  'I'm certain of it,' said Henry. 'He confessed as much. I'd killed his brother, he told me, so he'd tried to murder mine. When he failed to do that, he decided to throttle me instead, even though he knew that he'd be throwing his own life away as well. They'd never have let him out of here.'

  'They should never have let him in.'

  'Somehow, they did. It means that you can stop watching your back.'

  Christopher was strangely disappointed. When he heard about the assault on his brother, he had never connected Pietro Maldini with himself. He was so convinced that his attacker had been involved in the murder of the fencing master that it took him some

  time to accept the truth. He had simply been stalked by a vengeful Italian brother. He chided himself for being misled.

  'Did you have a chance to talk to Jonathan Bale?' he asked.

  'No, he went off to make sure that they locked that lunatic up. And he was going to protest to the prison sergeant on my behalf. They've a duty to keep me safe in here.'

  'And to prevent you from harming yourself,' said Christopher, remembering the razor that had been dropped into the cell. 'Well, if you've not spoken to Jonathan, you've not heard about Captain Harvest.'

  'What's that reprobate been up to now?'

  'Quite a lot, Henry.'

  Christopher told him what Jonathan had found out then described how Martin Crenlowe and Sir Humphrey Godden had responded to the news. Henry was sour.

  'The villain!' he cried. 'What was his real name?'

  'We still haven't found that out.'

  'Martin never really trusted him. I, for my sins, did. Sir Humphrey was the one who gave him the most money but, then, he had much more to give than the rest of us.'

  'Was he close to Captain Harvest?'

  'Not really, Christopher. None of us were. Why do you ask?'

  'Because I think that there's some link between them that goes beyond a casual friendship. When the captain wanted to borrow money, the first person he always turned to was Sir Humphrey Godden. What did Sir Humphrey get in return?'

  'James could be a very engaging companion.'

  'I think that it may go deeper than that. Mr Crenlowe has been fairly helpful but Sir Humphrey has been awkward with both Jonathan and me. Why? He's supposed to be on your side.'

  'He is, Christopher. We've been friends for years.'

  "There's been precious little evidence of that friendship. He clearly has a short temper. When I called on him earlier, he was having a quarrel with Mr. Crenlowe. I had the feeling that it might be about the so-called Captain Harvest.'

  'One way and another, James has caused so much bother.'

  . 'It may be a lot more than bother, Henry.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Supposing - for the sake of argument - that your fake soldier had a hold over Sir Humphrey. Supposing, for instance, that Sir Humphrey had employed him on a very important assignment.'

  'Assignment?'

  "The murder of Jeronimo Maldini.'

  "That's impossible!'

  'Is it? We know that Sir Humphrey loathed the man as much as you.'

  'Yes, but James liked him. He and that scheming Italian were friends.'

  'No,' corrected his brother. 'Jeronimo Maldini was befriended by someone called Captain James Harvest. So were you and so were many others like you. The captain had a gift for ingratiating himself with people. But we now know that there's no such person as Captain Harvest. Under his real name,' said Christopher, 'he might not have been quite so fond of the fencing master. He could be our killer.'

  Lady Whitcombe was too fond of her son to be angry with him for long. When she and her daughter called on him that afternoon, she embraced him warmly and accepted a kiss on both cheeks. Egerton Whitcombe was in a much more pleasant mood. He even bestowed a peck on his sister.

  'I'm sorry for what happened yesterday,' he began.

  'Let's put that aside, shall we?' said his mother magnanimously. 'You were in an ill humour, Egerton. I choose to forget it.'

  'I was simply trying to protect the family name.'

  'Nobody does that more assiduously than me.'

  They were in the room that he had hired in the tavern in Holborn and he was dressed to go out. While he preened himself in a mirror, Letitia admired his new coat and his shining leather jackboots.

  'You look very splendid,' she commented. 'Where are you going, Egerton?'

  'To meet some friends.'

  'Do we know them?'

  'Not yet, Letitia. Some of them are still new to me at the moment.'

  'It's important to widen our circle at all times,' said Lady Whitcombe. 'Your father was most insistent about that. To the end of his life, he was meeting new people and forging new alliances. You must do the same, Egerton. Cultivate those who can help you to advance in life.' 'I do, Mother. When I have a house in London, of course, it will be far easier.'

  'Work on the foundations could begin in a matter of weeks.'

  'Yes,' said her daughter. 'Mother went to see Mr Redmayne about it earlier on.'

  Whitcombe frowned. 'Is this true?'

  'We had a few matters to discuss, Egerton,' said the older woman. 'And I needed to apologise for the way that you'd conducted yourself at the house. It was unseemly.'

  'It was necessary, Mother. Someone needed to put Mr Redmayne in his place.'

  'You were there simply to meet him, not to cause him offence.'

  'It's that brother of his who is causing the offence,' said Whitcombe. 'One of my friends is a lawyer and he says that there's no way that Henry Redmayne will escape the noose. Do you not see what I am trying to save you from, Mother? You risk employing an architect whose reputation will soon be in tatters.'

  'But Mr Redmayne is a genius at what he does,' said Letitia with passion. 'You only have to look at his drawings to see that.'

  'I prefer to look at his name, Letitia. That's what everyone else will do.'

  'Not everyone,' said Lady Whitcombe. 'Some people are more discerning.'

  'When I met him, I discerned a man whose career is about to come to an end. And I cannot find it in my heart to offer him any sympathy,' said Whitcombe, brushing a speck of dust from his sleeve. 'His brother stabbed Jeronimo Maldini in the back. I once went to the Italian for fencing lessons. He was a brilliant teacher.'

  'He could not teach you how to get the better of Jack Cardinal,' said Letitia with a giggle. 'You met your match in him.'

  'That was a long time ago,' said Whitcombe, caught on the raw. 'Things would be different now. The point is that Signor Maldini was a fine man who provided an excellent service to his school. I introduced Father to him once. He liked the fellow as well.'

  'We like Mr Redmayne.'

  'Who cares for you opinion, Letitia?'

  'I do,' said Lady Whitcombe, 'because I happen to share it.'

  Her son was appalled. 'Would you link our family with the name of Redmayne?' 'Yes, Egerton. I believe that I would.' She smiled to herself as she recalled her earlier meeting with Christopher. Her voice then hardened. 'I suggest that you start to get used to the idea.'

  Jonathan Bale had just finished talking to the prison sergeant when Christopher caught up with him. Turnkeys were standing in readiness as a new prisoner was being delivered to Newgate. The two friends stepped aside so that they could have a private conversation.

  'I cannot thank you enough,' said Christopher, shaking his hand. 'Henry told me what happened. He's indebted to you, Jonathan.'

  'I was only too pleased to help.'

  'That man should never have been allowed near my brother.'

  'I've just been saying the same thing to the prison sergeant,' explained the other. 'Isaac admits that they made a gross mistake. The man seemed harmless and he offered a tempting bribe. Nobody guessed that he might be Signor Maldini's brother. When he let him into the cell, the turnkey thought he had no weapon on him, but a length of co
rd was concealed about his person somewhere.'

  'Henry was caught off guard or he'd have put up more of a fight.'

  'He's still alive, Mr Redmayne, that's the main thing.'

  'Yes. Where's his attacker now?'

  'Safely locked up.'

  'I want to see him,' said Christopher.

  'There's no point, sir.'

  'Yes, there is. He's the man who pushed me into the Thames then attempted to kill me on my own doorstep. I'd like to take a good look at Pietro Maldini.'

  'Then I'd advise you to do it later,' said Jonathan. 'He's in a very excited state at the moment. Only a desperate man would try to commit murder inside a prison. It's a form of suicide.' Christopher winced at the mention of the word. 'Give him time to calm down. We can speak to him then. His testimony could turn out to be very valuable.'

  'Why?'

  'He can tell us about his brother, Mr Redmayne. Everything we've heard about the murder victim has come from people he taught at his school. They only saw one side of the man. Pietro Maldini will be able to tell us about the other sides.'

  'That's very true, Jonathan.' 'Leave him here awhile. He's not going anywhere.'

  They were let out of the prison and stood together in the swirling wind. Both men had to hold on to their hats to stop them from blowing away. Christopher told his friend about his second visit to Sir Humphrey Godden. The constable was intrigued.

  'Why did he and Mr Crenlowe fall out?' he wondered.

  'I wish I knew, Jonathan.'

  'Did you ask Sir Humphrey?'

  'He told me to mind my own business.'

  'He'd have used even stronger language to me,' said Jonathan with a chuckle. "There's no pleasure in standing in the cold, waiting for Captain Harvest to show up, but I think I'd prefer that to another talk with Sir Humphrey. He looks down on me.'

  'He may look up to you when he hears that you saved Henry's life.'

  'I doubt that. If he was involved in the murder, he could want someone to remove your brother. With the chief suspect dead, the case would be closed. The real killer, or killers, would have got away scot free.'

  'Not as long as I've breath in my body.'

  "That goes for me as well, sir.'

  'But you were so sure at the start that Henry was guilty.'

  Jonathan gave a penitential nod. 'I no longer feel that now, Mr Redmayne. We are pulling in the same direction now.'

  'That's a relief!' said Christopher. 'What will you do next?'

  'Bide my time until I can return to the Hope and Anchor this evening. If a certain person is still not there, I'll keep watch on that lodging again. What about you, sir?'

  'I need to go home.'

  'Your father will be horrified to hear about the attack on your brother.'

  'It may induce more sympathy in him for Henry,' he added, 'Father has been too harsh on him today. Also,' he added, 'I want to put Jacob's mind at rest.'

  'Your servant?'

  'Ever since I was cudgelled outside the stable, Jacob has patrolled the house with a dagger in his belt. He looks outside the front door every ten minutes. There's no call for that any more. Pietro Maldini is behind bars.'

  As soon as he saw his master's horse go past the window, Jacob leapt into action. Pulling the dagger from its sheath, he scurried out in time to watch Christopher dismount. Jacob swivelled his head so that he could scan Fetter Lane in both directions for any signs of danger. Christopher handed him the reins.

  'Put your weapon away, Jacob,' he said. 'The man will not strike again.'

  'How do you know?'

  'He's under lock and key in Newgate.'

  'Is he?' said the old man in astonishment. 'How did he get there?'

  'He took refuge in the prison out of fear of you,' teased Christopher. 'Stable the horse and I'll explain what happened. Is my father still here?'

  'No, sir. He's paying another visit to Bishop Henchman.'

  'I'll have news for him when he returns.'

  While Jacob led the horse to the stables, Christopher went into the house. After removing his coat and hat, he saw a letter waiting in the middle of the table. Snatching it up, he broke the seal and read the contents. His spirits soared. Written by Susan Cheever in a neat hand, the letter was short but explicit. Christopher was to present himself at a certain place and time on the following morning. No details were given but he required none. She had somehow contrived a meeting for him with Lady Patience Holcroft. He was so pleased that he kissed the letter with delight.

  When Jacob eventually joined him, Christopher was still holding the missive.

  'When did this come?' he asked.

  'About an hour ago, sir.'

  'Did Miss Cheever bring it herself?'

  'No, sir,' said Jacob. 'It was delivered by a man. He slipped it under the door.'

  'Have you any idea who he was?'

  'He did not stay long enough for me to find out, Mr Redmayne. Good news?'

  'The very best, Jacob,' said Christopher. "The very best.'

  Jonathan Bale waited until the children had been put to bed before he left the house. His wife gave him a parting kiss on the doorstep. She looked at the shipwright's garb that he was still wearing.

  "This is just like old times,' she said.

  'Not exactly,' he replied. 'I won't come back with the smell of pitch on me tonight, or with the sound of mallets still ringing in my ears.'

  'As long as you return safely, that's all I ask.'

  'I will, Sarah. Do not fear on my account.'

  He set off on the long walk to the Hope and Anchor, wishing that the wind was not quite so blustery nor the sky so black. There was plenty to occupy his mind. Now that he had come round to the view that Henry Redmayne was, after all, innocent of the crime, he had to find another culprit. The former Captain Harvest was a possible suspect but he schooled himself not to rush to judgement. While the man was clearly guilty of a number of offences, there was no direct proof that murder was one of them.

  When he reached the tavern, he popped his head inside but the man he was after was still not there. Jonathan adjourned to the tenement and spoke to the landlord, only to be told that Hannah Liggett had not been seen all day. Undeterred, he took up the vantage point that he has used on the previous evening and resigned himself to a long wait. In fact, his stay lasted less than an hour. He was still crouched in his hiding place when he felt a hard object strike him on the shoulder. It was a small stone and it was soon followed by another missile. Jonathan dodged behind the angle of a building for protection.

  There was no need for evasive action. His unseen assailant was already riding away on his horse. Jonathan recognised the mocking laugh of the man who had called himself Captain Harvest. He had obviously been warned about the constable. The vigil was decisively over.

  Any hopes that Mrs Cardinal had of being invited to join them soon faded. When the coach arrived next morning at the house in the Strand, she insisted on coming out with Susan Cheever so that she could exchange pleasantries with Lady Holcroft. Wearing her cloak and hat, Mrs Cardinal was ready for an outing.

  'May I ask where the two of you are going, Lady Holcroft?' she said as Susan clambered into the coach. 'I'm intrigued to find out.'

  'I offered to take Miss Cheever for a ride around the city.'

  'But you hardly spoke to her yesterday.'

  'Precisely,' said Lady Holcroft. 'That's why I wanted to spend time with her today. Goodbye, Mrs Cardinal.'

  'You make me feel very envious.'

  'I envy you that visit to the shops, Mrs Cardinal,' said Susan sweetly. 'Goodbye.'

  To the old woman's disgust, the whip cracked and the horses pulled the coach away from the house. She stamped back into the house to complain to her son. The two younger ladies, meanwhile, were driven along the Strand and into the much narrower confines of King Street. Though she had written the letter to Christopher, Susan had not been in a position to deliver it so Lady Holcroft had sent one of her footmen to Fetter Lane. She h
ad stressed that the meeting should take place elsewhere. Accordingly, Susan had suggested the family house in Westminster.

  Lady Holcroft said nothing on the journey and Susan did not try to draw her into conversation. As they pulled up outside the house, however, Lady Holcroft flipped back her hood to look up at it with interest.

  "This is your home, Miss Cheever?' she asked.

  'When my father is in London.'

  'It's a beautiful house.'

  Susan swelled with pride. 'Mr Redmayne designed it for us.'

  When they went inside, Christopher was already waiting for them in the parlour. Susan could see from his eyes how grateful he was to her. She introduced them then swiftly withdrew to leave the pair alone. Lady Holcroft did not remove her cloak. She perched on the edge of a chair and waited. Christopher took a seat opposite.

  'Thank you so much for agreeing to see me, Lady Holcroft,' he said. 'I know how embarrassing this must be for you but it could be such a help to my brother.'

  'How is Henry?'

  'As well as can be expected.'

  Christopher was conscious of being weighed up. He could see that it would be fruitless to tell her about the attempt on his brother's life or about the privations he was suffering. Lady Holcroft was patently uneasy about her connection with Henry and with Jeronimo Maldini. She wanted her stay at the house to be as brief and painless as possible. Though her face was pinched and her eyes filled with suspicion, she was still beautiful and Christopher was bound to wonder what had attracted her to his brother.

  'Miss Cheever assures me that you are very discreet,' she said.

  'I am, Lady Holcroft.'

  'There's no need to explain the delicacy of my position. I could see from your letter that you understood it very well. It's the only reason that brought me here.'

  'I see.'

  'I did know your brother,' she confessed. 'His work at the Navy Office brought him into contact with Sir Ralph and that was how we became acquainted. I allowed his admiration to me to develop to a degree that was perhaps unwise. But it went no further than that,' she said quietly, 'and I wish to make that clear. Whatever Henry has told you, we did not - and could not - ever go beyond the bounds of simple friendship even though that friendship gave me, at the time, much joy.'