The Parliament House cr-5

by Edward Marston

  'No,' said Golland. 'I had legal business at the Palace today. When I saw your coach arrive, I felt that I had to speak. This development has been more than worrying, Maurice. It's a daily torment.'

  'Put it out of your mind.' 'How can you say that?'

  'Because I cannot believe that someone as refined and well- bred as your sister would let a boor like Sir Julius anywhere near her. He may want to marry Dorothy - London is full of men who would happily fling themselves at her feet - but there's not the slightest danger that she would accept his proposal.'

  'But there is, Maurice.'

  'Surely not.'

  'Dorothy has agreed to meet his children.'

  Farwell's eyebrows shot up. 'Good gracious!'

  'And she has had a number of clandestine meetings with him.'

  'With that grotesque old buffoon? It verges on indecency. What can possibly have attracted her?'

  'Whatever it is,' moaned Golland, 'I fail to see it. He's a roaring bear of a man. The only thing I can say in favour of him is that he's a good judge of horses. Sir Julius picked the winner in almost every race at Newmarket that day - including my own filly.'

  'And is that when this unlikely friendship started?'

  'Apparently.'

  'Then I suppose that I must take the blame,' said Farwell with a shrug. 'Had I known that this would happen, I'd have kept Dorothy well away from him.' He became pensive. 'It's rather curious, though.'

  'What is?'

  'My wife may be more prescient than she knows.'

  'Prescient?'

  'Yes,' said Farwell. 'Adele has never shown any gift for prophecy before. When we got back from the races that day, however, she told me that she had a strong impression that your sister was ready for marriage again. Adele sensed it.'

  'She could not have sensed that Sir Julius would be the husband.'

  'Never in a hundred years!'

  'What am I to do, Maurice?' said Golland, anxiously. 'I can hardly speak to her as a man of the world. Dorothy has been married twice whereas I regard holy matrimony as the grossest intrusion of privacy.' 'Yes, you like to have control of your life.'

  'A wife would insist on rearranging it for me.'

  'But she would bring many compensating virtues,' said Farwell with a fond smile. 'That's what Adele has done for me.- She's a perfect helpmeet, a true partner.' He pondered. 'As to the best course of action with regard to your sister,' he resumed after a while, 'I know exactly what you should do.'

  'What?'

  'Nothing.'

  'Nothing?'

  'Let it runs its course, Orlando.'

  'But what if she gets hopelessly entangled with Sir Julius?'

  'I have more faith in Dorothy than you.'

  'She seems to be genuinely enamoured of him.'

  'It will pass,' said Farwell, smoothly. 'She'll soon see through that blundering fool. Ha! Your sister ought to be here this afternoon so that she could watch the bloated oaf pontificate. That would teach her what an irritating fellow he is. Later on, I'll be jousting with Sir Julius Cheever once more. He'll lead strong opposition to a bill that we mean to introduce.'

  'How do you know?'

  'He's a born rebel. Whatever we propose, he'll raise endless and unnecessary objections. I'll have to do battle with the old curmudgeon yet again. He's a menace, Orlando.'

  'And he may end up as my brother-in-law.'

  'Marry him?' he said with a laugh. 'If Dorothy knew him as well as I do, she'd run a mile from Sir Julius Cheever.'

  'Stay here, Sir Julius,' she pleaded. 'Remain where you are safe.'

  'I'll be out of harm's way at the House of Commons.'

  'How do you know that? That man tried to kill you. He may do so again. I care for you too much to let you put your life at risk again.'

  'Thank you,' he said, enjoying her attention and glad that he had decided to confide in her. 'But I'll not present such an easy target again. Now that I know what to expect, I'll have eyes in the back of my head.'

  Sir Julius Cheever had called at the house in Covent Garden to let Dorothy Kitson know that he had returned, and to test her affection for him by telling her about the ambush he had survived. The news had jolted her and, for the first time, she had reached out to touch him in a spontaneous gesture of concern.

  'Did you receive my letter?' he said.

  'Yes,' she replied, 'and I was pleased to hear that both of your daughters are in London. I'm ready to meet them whenever they wish.' She gave him an inquisitive smile. 'What have you told them about me?'

  'Only that you are the most wonderful woman in the world.'

  'That was very silly of you, Sir Julius.'

  'I was only speaking the truth.'

  'But you were not being very tactful,' she pointed out. 'For any daughters, the most wonderful woman in the world is their mother. I could never compete with your wife. Nor would I wish to do so.' He nodded soulfully. 'Be more judicious in future. If you praise me to the skies, your daughters are bound to find me wanting.'

  'You are entirely without fault, Dorothy.'

  'I've learned to hide my shortcomings, that's all.'

  'Mine are all too visible,' he confessed. 'But I fear that I must away,' he added, moving to the door. 'I've work to do in that yapping menagerie we call a parliament.'

  'Take care, Sir Julius.'

  'I'll be Caution itself.'

  'And speak to my brother about this outrage you suffered.'

  'What can Mr Golland do?'

  'Orlando can arrange some bodyguards for you.'

  'I have one waiting for me beside my coach. And like me,' he said, opening his coat to reveal the pistol that he carried, 'he is well-armed and primed for action.'

  'I find this all so troubling.'

  'You may rest easy, dear lady. Nothing can touch me now. I have a more potent weapon at my disposal.'

  'Oh? And what's that?' 'A young friend who has helped me in the past. He has a genius for hunting down villains. Christopher will not fail me. It's only a matter of time before this killer is behind bars.'

  Within minutes of arriving back at his house, Christopher Redmayne had a visitor. Eager to speak with his brother, Henry was even more peevish than usual. He adopted a tone of rebuke.

  'Where on earth have you been, Christopher?' he complained. 'This is the third time today that I've called.'

  'I thought you were shackled to your desk at the Navy Office.'

  'Fortunately, the hateful Surveyer has gone to Chatham. I was able to sneak away - and I expected you to be here.'

  'I was attending a funeral in Cambridgeshire.'

  'That's a paltry excuse.'

  'Nevertheless, it accounts for my absence. I went with Sir Julius Cheever to see his friend, Mr Everett, laid to rest.'

  Henry sneered. 'It's a shame that there was no room in the grave for Sir Julius himself. No, no,' he corrected immediately, 'I withdraw that calumny. It's unjust. Any man who can bring such glory into the world deserves respect.'

  'What are you talking about, Henry?'

  'His daughter. She is a positive divinity.'

  'I agree,' said Christopher with a warm smile. 'Susan is the most gorgeous woman alive.'

  'Then you have obviously not seen her sister.'

  'Brilliana?'

  'An angel in human form,' said Henry, fervently. 'A queen of her sex. Beauty personified.'

  'Brilliana cannot compare with Susan.'

  'She can, Christopher. You may be drawn by the virginal charm of the younger sister but it pales beside the seasoned excellence of the elder. I've never met such an alluring creature.'

  'You should not have met her now,' said Christopher.

  'It was destiny!'

  'It was unwarranted curiosity, Henry, and her sister has told her so in blunt terms. Brilliana had no call to pry into my private life. What right did she have to pester my brother?'

  'Every right,' said Henry. 'I grant it freely.'

  'You should have behaved with more di
scretion.'

  'In the face of such a temptress? It was impossible. The hour we spent together was magical.' A nostalgic beam lit up his face. 'Dare I hope that Brilliana enjoyed her visit to Bedford Street?'

  'It seems that she was rather impressed with you, Henry.'

  'Wonder of wonders!'

  'But I doubt if the same can be said of Lancelot.'

  'Who?'

  'Her husband,' said Christopher, pointedly. 'Not that you even noticed him, I daresay. Lancelot was horrified by your taste in art.'

  'How strange! Brilliana approved of it.'

  'That amazes me.'

  'It shows that she and I have a close affinity.'

  'Henry, she's married. She's beyond your reach. I refuse to let you entertain libidinous thoughts about her. Brilliana Serle is not available.'

  'Many women think that until they feel the first hot pang of desire. As for marriage, no man could have more respect for the institution. It's an inexhaustible hunting ground for me,' he boasted. 'I've helped to rescue many a bored wife from a dull husband.'

  'Well, you'll not add Brilliana Serle to your list of conquests,' said Christopher, sternly. 'I can tell you for a fact that she is neither bored nor trapped in a dull marriage. More to the point, she is Susan's sister and that means I have a strong personal interest here.'

  'I would not dream of embarrassing you.'

  'You've already done so - many times.'

  'One sister is surely enough for any man. Leave the other to me.'

  'No, Henry!'

  'I'll move stealthily. Nobody will ever know.'

  'I'll know,' said Christopher, 'and so will the lady herself. You misjudge her completely. Brilliana will not welcome your blandishments. She'll be very distressed.'

  'She was not distressed by my paintings. They awakened her.'

  'No more of this. I forbid you to continue.'

  'Pish, man! Don't moralise. When you have designs on one daughter, it ill becomes you to climb into the pulpit about another. Besides, I have enough sermons from our benighted father. I came here for one simple reason,' said Henry, briskly. 'I need a brother's help. Contrive a situation so that I can meet Brilliana once again - without the distracting presence of her husband this time. Have I not helped you with regard to this murder investigation in which you are embroiled?'

  'You have,' said Christopher. 'I am very grateful.'

  'Then display that gratitude by doing what I ask.'

  Henry turned on his heel and sailed gracefully out of the room.

  Christopher was dumbfounded. Wanting to remonstrate with his brother, he saw how pointless his strictures were. He was also aware of how prudish he sounded when he tried to warn Henry about the pitfalls of a dissolute life. Christopher felt the same natural impulses as all men but he had learned to control them instead of being at their mercy. Henry was different. Having rejected the homilies of his father, the dean of Gloucester, he would hardly listen to the warnings of a younger brother.

  It was disturbing for Christopher. Any pursuit of Brilliana was doomed. If she rejected Henry - as was most likely - she would turn against the whole Redmayne family. If, on the other hand, she chose to encourage his interest, then the consequences were unthinkable. Either way, Christopher's friendship with Susan would be adversely affected and he resolved that that must never happen. Were she to discover that Henry was harbouring lustful thoughts about her sister, Susan would be truly appalled. And if the information ever reached the ears of Sir Julius, nothing short of disaster would follow.

  Christopher heard voices in the hall. Thinking that Henry might not, after all, have left, he went out to challenge him, only to discover that one visitor had been replaced by another. Jonathan Bale had just been let into the house. Christopher was pleased to see him. After the abrasive meeting with his brother, he needed stable companionship. He led the constable into the parlour and they sat down.

  'When did you return, Mr Redmayne?' asked Bale.

  'This morning. Sir Julius and I stayed overnight in Essex.'

  'Did everything go without incident?'

  'No, Jonathan.' 'Oh?'

  'Someone tried to kill Sir Julius.'

  He explained what had happened. Bale was reassured to hear that Sir Julius Cheever had escaped with only a minor injury. Like his friend, however, he feared that a third attempt might be made to shoot him.

  'Will he take more care in future?' he asked.

  'He has a bodyguard with him at all times,' said Christopher, 'and he'll remain vigilant. His daughters only consented to let him out of the house if he took precautions.'

  'Good.'

  'But what about you, Jonathan? Did you get my letter?'

  'Yes. I called on Lewis Bircroft in Coleman Street.'

  'An apposite address for him for a Puritan.'

  'At first, he refused to accept that his beating had any political connection but I sensed that he was lying. I pressed him hard.'

  'And?'

  'I eventually squeezed some of the truth out of him,' said Bale, taking a piece of paper from his pocket. 'Mr Bircroft told me that it was to do with a political pamphlet. Here,' he went on, handing the paper to Christopher. 'I asked him to write down the title because there was no way that I could remember it.'

  Christopher read it out. 'Observations on the Growth of Popery and Arbitrary Government in England. I've heard of this before. There were references to it in the newspapers.'

  'It caused a scandal, Mr Redmayne.'

  'I know. I remember a huge outcry against the pamphlet. It was published anonymously, wasn't it?'

  'Nobody would dare to put his name to it. A reward of £200 was offered for information that would lead to the arrest of the author.' 'And did Mr Bircroft tell you who that was?'

  'No,' said Bale, sadly, 'but he did admit that many people thought it was his work. He's been an assiduous pamphleteer in the past and is very critical of the government.'

  'So that's why he was attacked.'

  'They tried to beat a confession out of him with cudgels. Though he swore that he was not the author, they refused to believe him. It took him months to get over his injuries and he now uses a walking stick.'

  'The pamphlet must have been very seditious.'

  'Yet it was not written by Lewis Bircroft.'

  'Who was responsible for it, Jonathan?'

  'He could not tell me. However, one thing he did know.'

  'Go on.'

  'Suspicion has now moved to Sir Julius Cheever. Some people are convinced that he wrote that pamphlet. They are so enraged,' said Bale, 'they they've taken the law into their own hands. They want him executed for what he did.'

  'Sir Julius has said nothing to me about the pamphlet.'

  'Then he may not be its author.'

  'The title certainly bears his stamp,' said Christopher, 'but he is not a man to hide behind anonymity. Also, of course - if the pamphlet really had been his - he would not have told me in case I tried to collect that reward.'

  'You'd never have done that, Mr Redmayne.'

  'I know that. Sir Julius, perhaps, may have doubts about me.'

  'Even though you've done your best to protect him?'

  'Even then.' Christopher put the paper aside. 'You've done well, Jonathan. We finally have a motive. Sir Julius may be wrongly accused but that will not make his enemies stay their hand. A pamphlet that somebody else wrote may bring about his downfall.'

  'That's unfair, sir.'

  'Granted, but it's the situation with which we have to deal. Before he can strike again, we simply must catch the killer between us.'

  'We may have some assistance.' 'From where?'

  'The Saracen's Head. Mrs McCoy drew a picture of the man who rented a room there. She says it's a good likeness. Her son cannot wait to go in search of the man. For some reason,' he explained, 'Patrick wants to be a constable like me. He's determined to find Mr Field for us.'

  They set out even earlier than usual. Bridget McCoy was not optimistic
.

  'He'll not be there,' she said, gloomily.

  'He may be, Mother. You never know.'

  'He was not at the market when you went there yesterday.'

  'He might have been,' said Patrick, lumbering along beside her. 'I could easily have missed him in the crowd. That's why it needs two of us to catch Mr Field.'

  'That's not his name, Patrick.'

  'How do you know?'

  'Because I've been thinking about it,' she said. 'If a man was about to commit a terrible murder, would he give his real name to me? No, it would be foolish of him. A name can be used to hunt someone down.'

  Patrick was bewildered. 'If his name is not Mr Field,' he said with a frown, 'then what is it?'

  'We may never know.'

  'We will if we catch him today. I'll make him tell us the truth.'

  'No, Patrick.'

  'He lied to you, Mother. That was wrong.'

  'Yes,' she agreed, 'and he deserves to be punished but it's not for us to touch him. That's Mr Bale's job. I made that mistake the first time. When I saw him in the market, I ran after Mr Field - or whatever his name was - and he must have seen me coming. I scared him off.'

  'I can run faster than you.'

  'He may have a weapon.'

  Patrick held up his fists. 'I have two.'

  'They're no use against a dagger or a pistol,' she said. 'Save them for rowdy customers at the tavern. This is a job for a constable.'

  'That's what I'll be one day, Mother.'

  'One day - perhaps.'

  They walked on in silence. Bridget felt it would be too unkind to dampen his enthusiasm by reminding him of some of the other aspects of a parish constable's occupation. All that Patrick thought about was the pursuit and arrest of criminals. On the previous day, he had returned in a state of exhilaration because he had watched a prisoner being locked in the pillory by two constables. It was a task that he relished doing himself. It simply required brute force. When it came to giving evidence in court, or to interrogating a suspect, it was a very different matter. Patrick would flounder badly. He would be a figure of fun once again.

  'I could have brought a cudgel,' said Patrick, bravely. 'I took one off that man I had to throw out last Saturday. He tried to hit me with it. With a cudgel in my hand, I could take on anybody.'

  'You'd only get hurt.'