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The Painted Lady cr-6

Page 27

by Edward Marston


  ‘One day, perhaps,’ she said, thoughtfully. ‘One day.’

  It was too soon for her to make the decision. Christopher did not press her on the matter. When she had expressed her thanks to them again, he signalled to his brother that it was time to leave and they bade farewell. Before they were shown out, Araminta exchanged a handshake with each of them. Henry was thrilled that he had actually touched her. When he came out of the house with Christopher, his right hand was tingling with pleasure.

  ‘She likes me,’ he said, joyfully. ‘Araminta likes me.’

  ‘Lady Culthorpe likes what she saw of you today,’ said his brother. ‘She viewed you as a person who took great pains to prove Monsieur Villemot’s innocence. Had she known that you’d tried to steal her portrait from the studio, however, and heard what underhand methods you employed to do so, she’d never have let you cross her threshold. Be grateful that we were able to display the better side of Henry Redmayne for once.’

  ‘I thought I did that when I wrote those poems.’

  ‘They’ve helped to drive her out of London.’

  ‘I was not her only correspondent,’ said Henry. ‘Jocelyn and Sir Willard showered her with letters and gifts, and Elkannah sent her a copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Poetry is the proper expression of true love. That’s why I addressed Araminta in heightened language.’

  ‘Heightened language that concealed the lowest desires.’

  ‘I confess it straight, Christopher. When I saw her today, I felt thoroughly ashamed that I’d been a member of that dreadful Society. It was Elkannah Prout who drew me into it.’

  ‘He was determined to win by any means,’ said Christopher, ‘even if he had to suborn someone to commit a murder. Unlike the rest of you, he was prepared to be patient.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Henry, sadly. ‘We were like eager schoolboys, chasing their first kiss from some rosy-cheeked girl. The moment that Sir Martin was killed, we thought more of our foul ambitions than we did of Araminta’s distress. While we pushed forward, Elkannah drew back and affected indifference. Since Araminta had chosen an older man as a husband, he hoped that his age and his forbearance would in time recommend him.’

  ‘He was a cunning man. When he had that key made, he told Paskins to give the name of Jocelyn Kidbrooke to the locksmith. That misled us. His most clever trick,’ said Christopher, ‘was to dine with you and your friends at the very time when he knew that Sir Martin would be murdered. That lifted any suspicion from him.’

  ‘Elkannah has always been a devious rogue. Well,’ said Henry, ‘he was a lawyer. What else can one expect? I should have known that he’d find out that Sir Martin had dismissed a gardener who nursed a grievance against him. He engaged Paskins as his killer, taking him away from Jocelyn.’ He laughed. ‘One poacher was outdone by another. Jocelyn Kidbrooke only wanted information from Paskins. Elkannah wanted someone with an urge to kill Sir Martin.’

  They had walked to the rear of the house to collect their horses from the stables. When they saw the large, iron garden gate, they stopped to look at it. Christopher thought of the artist.

  ‘If that gate had been open,’ he said, indicating it, ‘I can see that it must have been a strong temptation to Monsieur Villemot. He’d been to the house before to choose the dress from Lady Culthorpe’s wardrobe that he wanted her to wear in the portrait. He knew that her bedchamber overlooked the garden. What took him in there was the vague hope of a glimpse of her at the window.’

  ‘I’d have done the same in his place, Christopher. This is where Araminta lives. It would have been like stepping into the Garden of Eden. I might even have been rewarded with a sighting of her.’

  ‘Monsieur Villemot was rewarded with a spell in Newgate. He also tore the sleeve of his coat on a briar. His visit to that garden was a disaster for him.’

  ‘The wonder is that he still wishes to remain in England.’

  ‘He likes it here.’

  ‘After the way he was treated?’

  ‘He’s unable to return to France,’ said Christopher, ‘until he can finally claim Monique as his wife. Paris is still full of her husband’s family and friends so they could never live there.’

  ‘Instead, you’ve designed them a French house in England.’

  ‘By the time it’s built, he may well have a beautiful wife with whom to share it.’

  ‘What will he do until then?’ said Henry.

  ‘Oh, he has plenty to keep him occupied in the meantime. There are gorgeous young women all over the city who want to sit for a portrait by Jean-Paul Villemot. Now that he’s been exonerated, he’s more popular than ever. He’ll be just like Henry Redmayne in that Molly House.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Christopher. ‘Surrounded by painted ladies.’

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  Edward Marston

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