The Parliament House cr-5

by Edward Marston

  'It would have been a form of suicide.'

  'No, Orlando. That's unfair. Sir Julius is a good man and my affection for him remains. But the gap that exists between us could never be bridged,' she concluded. 'I'll cherish his friendship instead.'

  'Allow a decent interval to elapse before you see him again.'

  'I had already intended to do so. Both he and I need to recover from this evening's setback. It was a salutary lesson for me.' Dorothy pursed her lips in resignation. 'I am simply not ready for a more serious relationship with anybody.'

  Christopher Redmayne was thrilled to see her again and pleased that she had travelled to his house by coach this time. Since it was such a glorious morning, he took Susan Cheever out into his garden and they sat in the shade of a pear tree. She was unusually subdued.

  'You seem rather sad,' he observed.

  'Not on my own behalf,' she said. 'I feel very sorry for Father.' 'Why?'

  'He built so much upon his friendship with Mrs Kitson. She brought happiness into his life and nobody could deny him that.'

  'What happened, Susan?'

  She told him about the visit on the previous evening and how the presence of Orlando Golland had cast a dark shadow over it. Christopher was not surprised to hear that Brilliana had been too enthusiastic with her questioning. She had always lacked her sister's tact and forbearance.

  'Your father must have been very disappointed,' he said.

  'He put a brave face on it last night, Christopher. This morning, over breakfast, he could not hide his feelings.'

  'What did he say?'

  'Almost nothing - and that was an indication in itself.'

  'Did he accept that the friendship with Mrs Kitson would go no further than it already has?'

  'Yes,' she said. 'I think so. He looked exhausted. I suspect that he stayed awake all night, tormenting himself with thoughts of what might have happened. By this morning, Father seemed to have realised that Mrs Kitson would not fit easily into our family any more than he would fit into hers. He's deeply upset.'

  'How did your sister respond?'

  'Fortunately, Brilliana did not join us for breakfast and Father had left the house before she even got up. I don't think that he could have coped with losing Mrs Kitson as a possible wife and facing Brilliana.'

  'But you told her how he felt, presumably?'

  'Of course. That's what prompted me to come here.'

  'I don't follow.'

  'It was to issue another warning,' said Susan. 'After protesting for a while, and claiming that she could bring Father and Mrs Kitson back together again, Brilliana finally accepted that it was better to leave things alone. Having failed to engineer Father into a marriage, she's now free to exercise her influence on us again.'

  'Not entirely, Susan.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'It pains me to say this,' he went on, shifting uneasily on the bench, 'but your sister may be distracted by someone else. It's my turn to give you a warning.'

  'About whom?'

  'My brother, Henry. For reasons that I would not dare to explore, he has conceived a passion for Brilliana and intends to woo her.'

  'But she is happily married to Lancelot.'

  'Henry sees the bonds of marriage as a challenge to his ingenuity rather than as any safeguard for a wife. In his mind, no woman is beyond his grasp, however unattainable she might seem. And he insists - though I do not believe him for a second - that your sister has given him some encouragement.'

  Susan was alarmed. 'Your brother certainly made an impact on her,' she said, 'and she kept praising his taste in art. But that should not have been mistaken for encouragement. Brilliana respects her marriage vows.'

  'Henry does not,' cautioned Christopher. 'That's why we must try to put distance between them. When will they return to Richmond?'

  'Not until they are convinced that Father's life is out of danger.'

  'That can only happen when we have caught those responsible for the attempts at killing him. As you may know, we no longer seek the man who actually fired the shots.'

  'Father told me. He was found dead.'

  'Silenced before he was able to tell us who his paymaster was. That's the person we must unmask, Susan. The one who is bent on seeing Sir Julius killed.'

  'Do you have no notion of whom he might be?'

  'One name will bear inspection, Susan.'

  'What name is that?'

  'The Earl of Stoneleigh.'

  An earl?' She was shocked. 'Could he really be behind all this?'

  'Only time will tell. When you arrived, I was just about to go off to make enquiries about him. I can make the first one right now. Did you ever hear your father mention the Earl of Stoneleigh?'

  'Not to me. But I did hear it in passing a number of times.'

  'When your home was turned into a Parliament House?'

  'Yes, Christopher,' she explained. 'I heard Father yelling that name more than once. There was real anger in his voice. And I seem to recall that Mr Bircroft took the earl's name in vain as well.'

  'But he sits in the Upper Chamber. Neither Sir Julius nor his supporters will ever have come face to face with the Earl of Stoneleigh.'

  'That's where you're wrong.' 'Oh?'

  'Father first met him almost twenty years ago,' she said. 'He had not been ennobled then. His name was Cuthbert Woodruffe in those days and he had good cause to remember my father.'

  'Why?'

  'Because he was captured by Colonel Cheever - as Father then was - at the battle of Worcester. He was not held for long. Mr Woodruffe escaped and fled abroad to join the rest of the scattered Royalists. He was so loyal that, after the Restoration, he was granted an earldom.'

  'I see,' said Christopher, thoughtfully. 'So he and Sir Julius faced each other on a battlefield, did they?'

  'Yes,' she replied, 'and that is something not easily forgotten. From what I've heard Father say, the earl has ever forgiven him for being on the winning side that day.'

  'He's waited a long time to take his revenge - if, indeed, that's what he been trying to take. Thank you, Susan,' he said. 'What you've told me is very helpful. The Earl of Stoneleigh clearly needs close examination.'

  Even that late in the day, the Parliament House was reasonably full. As a former chapel, it had no aisle and was an ideal conference chamber. The Members sat in the choir stalls on the north and south walls, crammed in together for important debates. The Speaker's chair was placed where the altar had been, in an elevated position from which he could see and control the entire room. His symbol of office, the Mace, lay on a table where the lectern had once stood. Separated from the main chapel by choir-screen was the ante-chapel that served as a lobby when a vote was taken. Those who wished to register their votes as Ayes filed into the ante-chapel while the Noes were accustomed to remain in the chapel.

  Countless decisions of historic significance had been made there over the years. Debates had raged, reputations had been made and lost, impeachments had added to the drama of the place. It was at once a seat of government and a cockpit of robust argument. That evening, however, the mood was almost light- hearted. Though a debate was in progress, it was of little general interest and most of the Members were not even listening to the exchanges. They were waiting for something else before they were ready to leave. Whispers had passed around the whole chamber and there was an atmosphere of high amusement.

  Eventually, their patience was rewarded. Sir Julius Cheever, who had been there all day, had spent most of it in an anteroom, serving on various House of Commons committees. As one had completed its business, another had taken its place. Only now could he come into the Parliament House itself to take his seat. The moment he appeared, dead silence fell on the chamber and all eyes turned on him. Sir Julius was used to feeling a tide of hostility rolling in his direction but this reception was unlike any he had ever received before.

  'Here he is!' cried someone. 'Hail, Caesar!'

  'Hail, Caesar!' chorused th
e Members, rising to their feet and lifting their arms in a mock gesture of obeisance. 'Hail, Caesar!'

  The explosion of mirth started. It was not the affectionate laughter of friends but the harsh, derisive, sustained cachinnation of enemies. It went on for minutes, getting ever louder and building to a crescendo. Sir Julius had been howled down in parliament before but this was a more disturbing experience. Almost everyone there was jeering him. He was the laughing stock of the House of Commons and he felt as if he were being pummelled by the deafening noise. What mystified him - and what made his ordeal even worse - was that he had absolutely no idea why he had been singled out for such collective ridicule.

  Chapter Eleven

  Henry Redmayne could not miss such a golden opportunity. Though he knew that he should confide in his brother first, he decided to ignore Christopher and deliver his message directly. It would not only earn him certain gratitude, it would give him the chance to get close to Brilliana Serle again. To be in the same city as her was, for him, an exciting experience. To be under the same roof with Brilliana once more would be exhilarating. Accordingly, he ordered his horse to be saddled then rode off towards what he hoped might be Elysium.

  When he reached the house in Westminster, he could not believe his good fortune. Sir Julius Cheever had not yet returned but his elder daughter was there with her husband. Henry was shown into the parlour, almost swooning as he caught a whiff of Brilliana's delicate perfume. He also took note of the suspicion in Lancelot Series eye and realised that he had to get rid of the husband before he could negotiate with the wife. Dispensing with the social niceties, he came straight to the point.

  'I need to speak to Sir Julius at once,' he said.

  'Father is still at the Parliament House,' returned Brilliana.

  'So I was told by the servant who admitted me. I think that your father should be rescued from there at the earliest opportunity.'

  'Rescued?' said Serle. 'Is he in some kind of danger?'

  'Grave danger - though not of a physical kind.'

  'I do not understand, Mr Redmayne.'

  'I'm not able to enlighten you just yet, I fear,' said Henry. 'It's a matter of the utmost discretion. I'm sure that Sir Julius would rather hear my news in confidence. Only he can decide whether it should reach a wider audience.'

  'But we are his family,' said Brilliana.

  'And how fortunate he is in having such a daughter.'

  'Can you not even give us a hint what this news portends?'

  'No, Mrs Serle. I simply want to place certain facts at the disposal of your father. It might explain what has probably happened to him at the House of Commons today.'

  'And what is that?' asked Serle.

  'Only he can tell you.'

  'You have me troubled, sir.'

  'Mr Serle,' said Henry, trying to manoeuvre time alone with Brilliana, 'if you have your father-in-law's best interests at heart, you would go and fetch him at once.'

  'I can hardly drag him out of a debate.'

  'Oh, there will be no debate, I assure you. My guess is that Sir Julius will be relieved to see a friendly face. He'll need no persuasion to come home with you.'

  'Do as Mr Redmayne suggests,' urged Brilliana.

  'Your father will soon return of his own volition.'

  'This is a matter of great importance, Lancelot.'

  'A true emergency,' insisted Henry.

  'Then why not go yourself?' said Serle, unwilling to leave the two of them alone. 'You could have ridden to parliament instead of coming here.'

  'What use would that have been? The name of Henry Redmayne carries no weight with Sir Julius. If I were to have a message sent to him in the chamber, he would surely disregard it. If, however,' he went on, pointing at Serle, 'he hears that his son- in-law is without, he will respond immediately.'

  'What are you waiting for?' demanded Brilliana, pushing her husband towards the door. 'Away with you.'

  'Not until I know what this is all about,' said her husband.

  'It's about Father. What else do you need to know?'

  'Think of the perils he's come through recently,' added Henry. 'This is the latest of them and, perhaps, the most agonising. It will be a cruel blow to his pride.'

  'Lancelot - go!'

  With obvious misgivings, Serle left the room. After closing the door behind him, Henry turned to feast his eyes on Brilliana. She was even more gorgeous than he had remembered. Her fragrance was captivating. He took a few steps towards her.

  'Mrs Serle, I cannot pretend that concern for your father was the only thing that brought me here this evening. I had hoped - nay, I'd fervently prayed - that I might be rewarded with a glimpse of you as well.' 'Why, thank you,' she said, smiling at the compliment.

  'Since our chance meeting the other day, my mind has dwelt constantly upon you. Am I being presumptuous in thinking that you might have entertained pleasant memories of me?'

  'Not at all. We enjoyed our visit to your house.'

  'No guest was more welcome.'

  'You have such an original taste in decoration.'

  'I'm known for it.'

  'And you are so utterly unlike your brother, Christopher.'

  'We are equally talented - but in very different ways.'

  'That's what I sensed.'

  He took a step closer and beamed at her. Striking a pose, he turned what he believed to be his better profile towards her. Brilliana was struck by the arresting flamboyance of his attire and by his Cavalier elegance. What she found slightly unsettling was the intensity of his manner. When she had met him before, she had her husband beside her, a line of safety behind which she could retreat at any point. Because Serle had been there, she had felt able to be bold and forthcoming with a new acquaintance. Now, however, she had nobody to give her that invisible sense of security. As he stepped even nearer, Brilliana retreated involuntarily.

  'Why do you flee from me, Mrs Serle?'

  'I was merely adjusting my dress,' she said, playing with the folds of her skirt. 'Pray, do sit down while you are waiting.'

  'I'd sooner stand in your presence - stand or kneel.'

  'Mr Redmayne, I do believe that you are teasing me.'

  'Not at all,' he assured her, producing his most disarming smile. 'I'd never even dream of it. I seek only your happiness. To that end,' he said, 'I will not rest until I have furthered your husband's political ambitions and found a way to introduce him at Court.'

  'Lancelot is having second thoughts about that.'

  'But you deserve a husband with such achievements to his name.'

  'I still hope to have one,' said Brilliana, 'in the fullness of time. Thank you very much for your generous offer. It is much appreciated but Lancelot prefers to forge his own destiny.'

  'And so do I.'

  Henry took a deep breath. This was his moment. The speech that he had honed to perfection over the years was trembling on the tip of his tongue. It had never failed him, melting the heart of any woman who heard it and sweeping aside any lingering reservations that she might have. Brilliana was there for the taking. He had the familiar sensation of power as the blood coursed through his veins. He was ready to strike. Henry put a hand to his breast in a gesture of love. Before he could ensnare her in the seductive poetry of his declaration, however, the door opened and Susan Cheever entered. She took in the situation at a glance.

  'Good evening, Mr Redmayne,' she said, blithely.

  'Oh, good evening, Miss Cheever.'

  'How nice to see you again! I apologise for this interruption. You don't mind if I spirit my sister away for a moment, do you?' said Susan, crossing the room to take a grateful Brilliana by the arm so that she could lead her out. 'There's something that I must show her.'

  The pair of them swept out. Henry wilted.

  The Polegate family did not return to London until late afternoon, so it was evening by the time that Jonathan Bale called on the vintner. He was invited into the counting house.

  'How was your journe
y, sir?' said Bale.

  'Slow and uncomfortable. We left with heavy hearts.'

  'Mr Redmayne told me about the funeral. He was very moved by the ceremony. He said that it was conducted with great dignity.'

  'That's the least my brother-in-law deserved,' said Polegate. 'We stayed on for a few days to console his wife. I assume that you've come to tell me about the progress of the investigation into Bernard's death? Has anything happened in our absence?'

  'Yes, sir. We found the man who shot him.'

  'You did? That's cheering news. Has he been imprisoned?'

  'Alas, no.' 'Why not?'

  'Because he was no longer alive when we caught up with him.'

  Bale described their visit to Old Street and told him what conclusions had been drawn from the murder of Dan Crothers. The vintner was disturbed.

  'Are you telling me that my brother-in-law was killed by a meat porter?' he said with patent disgust. 'Bernard was a man of great intelligence. He was a politician, a philosopher and a scholar. It's horrifying to think that he was shot by some illiterate labourer from the lower orders.'

  'Dan Crothers was not illiterate,' said Bale, recalling the letters they had found upon him. 'And he was only the tool of someone else, sir. His services were bought.'

  'By whom, Mr Bale - and for what reason?'

  'We will find out in due course.'

  'I have every faith in you and Mr Redmayne. I understand that this is not the first time you've been involved together in solving such a heinous crime.'

  'No, Mr Polegate. We've joined forces in the past with some success. What we've learned is that nothing can be rushed. Patience is our watchword. Slow, steady steps will eventually get us to the truth.' He changed his tack. 'I spoke to those friends whose names you gave me. They were all full of sympathy.'

  'That's good to know.'

  'Mr Howlett was particularly upset to hear the sad tidings.'

  'He would be. Erasmus has a kind heart - except when it comes to business, that is. There's no room for sentiment in that.'

  'It surprised me that the two of you should be on such familiar terms when you must be keen rivals.'