'And we will again,' predicted Henry. 'Very soon.'
Lunn strutted around the room in consternation, at a loss to understand why two of his closest friends were shunning the delights of the town. When he came back to Henry, he pointed an accusatory finger at him.
'You are to stay in bed all afternoon?'
'All day, I expect,' said Henry.
'Then I have plumbed your secret,' claimed Lunn with a snigger. 'Who is she, Henry? You have someone tucked away in your bedchamber, I'm sure of it. Do I know her? She must be a nimble filly if she can keep you occupied all day.'
'There is nobody else here, Arthur!'
'Do you swear that?'
'On my father's Bible,' vowed Henry, 'and he is the Dean of Gloucester!'
'And you'll not come out with me? Even if I bring a coach to pick you up and promise to drop you off again at your doorstep? Think, man,' he urged. 'What better cure for your illness than a bracing game of cards with friends? You only need stay an hour. What harm can there be in that'
Henry was tempted. The idea that he would be conveyed to and fro in Lunn's coach was very enticing and his enforced exile was taxing his patience. There was another reason that made him consider the offer favourably. His brother was acting as an intercessor between Sir Marcus Kemp and the blackmailer. It might even be that Christopher had apprehended the man by now. At the very least, he would have handed over a thousand guineas and appeased him. With money from one victim in his pocket, the blackmailer might be less likely to exert pressure on Henry. The cloud above Henry's head lifted somewhat and he did miss his old haunts.
'What do you say, Henry?' pressed Lunn. 'Will you come with me?'
'Yes, Arthur. Pick me up from here this evening.'
Sir Marcus Kemp was frothing with impatience. He was offhand with his wife, sharp with his children and almost vicious with his servants. Everyone else in the house chose to keep out of his way. By the time Christopher Redmayne finally arrived, Kemp was in a foul temper. Pulling him into the dining room, he glared at his visitor.
'Where have you been, man?' he demanded.
'To Covent Garden,' said Christopher.
'It is no more than ten minutes' walk away. Why the appalling delay?'
'I was made to wait outside the church.'
'But he did come in the end?'
'No, Sir Marcus.'
Kemp spluttered. 'No? I am still in danger?'
'I hope not,' said Christopher. 'I did not deal with the blackmailer himself. He sent a boy to relieve me of the purse. As you requested I handed it over.'
He gave Kemp a shortened version of events, omitting any reference to Jonathan Bale and the failed plan to ensnare the blackmailer. The visit to Celia Hemmings was described as a chance meeting in the square. Kemp slowly relaxed. His fears, he decided, had been groundless. He even rose to a hollow laugh.
'So that is it,' he declared. 'I am free.'
'With luck, Sir Marcus.'
'He has what he wants. It is only fair that I get something in return.'
'You presume too much on the blackmailer's notion of fairness.'
'I feel as if I've been released from a prison!' He looked at Christopher. 'I must thank you for your part in all this, Mr Redmayne. When you first came here I was angry that you even knew about my situation, yet you have been my salvation, / would never have dared to hand over that money in Covent Garden,' he confessed, 'and I could hardly send one of my servants. You saved me, Mr Redmayne.'
'I am hoping to save my brother as well, Sir Marcus.'
'Is he going to pay up?'
'No,' said Christopher, 'he is following a different course of action. But while I am here,' he went on, seeing an opportunity to gather information, 'I wonder if you could tell me something about Arthur Lunn.'
'Arthur? Why? Has he had blackmail demands as well?'
'Not that I know of, Sir Marcus.'
'I think it improbable,' said Kemp. 'He was here just over an hour ago, pressing me to join him for dinner. Since I was waiting for your news, I would not stir from the house so I sent him on his way.'
'Is it true that Gabriel Cheever once lodged at his house?'
'Yes, Mr Redmayne. For some months.'
'So Mr Lunn must have known that he was keeping a diary.'
Kemp was taken aback. ' 'Sdeath! I never thought of that. I suppose he must. Arthur is the most inquisitive soul alive. He pokes his nose into everything.'
'I met him at Gabriel's funeral.'
'What was he doing there?'
'Ostensibly, he was escorting Miss Celia Hemmings,' said Christopher, 'but he may have had his own reasons for making the journey to Northamptonshire.'
'You think that Arthur Lunn was somehow involved in this blackmail?'
'I begin to wonder, Sir Marcus.'
'But he is the most obliging fellow in London.'
'Then why did Gabriel break with him? Mr Lunn was his closest friend. Why did Gabriel go into hiding without even telling him where he was?'
'I've no idea, Mr Redmayne. But I do know that Arthur was very upset.'
'How upset?'
'Deeply, I would imagine. It's difficult to say with a man like that who hides his feelings so well. But Arthur Lunn was hurt badly,' he said. 'He was cut to the quick.'
Christopher speculated on whether or not Lunn was sufficiently wounded to seek revenge. A man who valued his friendships so much would be bruised by the way in which he lost this particular one. It would be worth taking a closer look at Arthur Lunn.
Kemp reached for his purse. 'What do I owe you, Mr Redmayne?'
'Owe me?'
'For the help you gave me today.'
'You owe me nothing, Sir Marcus.'
'Come, come, man. You must have some reward for what you did.'
'If you insist,' said Christopher, 'but I'll not take it in money. All I ask is that you let me see the letters you received. Along with the extract from the diary.'
'But there is no need now.'
'There is every need, Sir Marcus. Where are they?'
'Locked away where nobody will ever find them,' said Kemp. 'I'm sorry, Mr Redmayne. I could not expose myself to ridicule by letting you see them. To be frank, I am tempted to burn them.'
'No!' implored Christopher. 'You must not do that, Sir Marcus.'
'But my ordeal is over. So is Henry's, I dare say. All that the blackmailer wanted was to frighten money out of one of us. A thousand guineas would satisfy any man,' he said confidently. 'We are liberated at last. There will be no more blackmail demands.'
Henry Redmayne was preening himself in the mirror in the hall when he heard the doorbell ring. Believing that Arthur Lunn had come to collect him, he opened the door himself, but his visitor was no beaming crony about to whisk him off to a gaming house. It was Peter Wickens and he glanced furtively over his shoulder before stepping into the hall. Henry had never seen him in such a state of anxiety. Wickens was usually so poised and urbane yet he was now twitching nervously.
'What is wrong, Peter?' asked Henry.
'Forgive this intrusion,' said Wickens. 'I simply had to come.' 'Why?'
'I need your advice.' He took something from his pocket. 'This arrived today.' 'What is it?'
'Read it, Henry,' he said handing the letter over. 'I am being blackmailed.'
* * *
Chapter Eleven
When he returned to Fetter Lane that evening, Christopher Redmayne met with a double surprise. Not only was Jonathan Bale waiting for him, an even more welcome visitor was sitting contentedly in his parlour. She looked up at him with a smile. After the ordeal of her brother's funeral, Susan Cheever had regained some of her radiance. She was pleased to see him again and he, in turn, was openly delighted.
'Miss Cheever!' he exclaimed.
'Good evening, Mr Redmayne.'
'What are you doing here?'
'Mr Bale kindly brought me to your house.'
'I thought that you were still in Northamptonshire.'
'Lucy invited me to stay with her for a while in Knightrider Street.'
Christopher was thrilled. 'So close?'
'That was how I came into it,' explained Jonathan, noting the fond glances that were being exchanged between the two of them. 'Miss Cheever had a message for you. Knowing that I live nearby in Addle Hill, she called to ask if I would deliver it. Since the message has a bearing on the investigation, I thought it best if Miss Cheever gave it to you in person.'
'Thank you, Mr Bale.'
'Did I make the right decision?'
'Without question,' said Christopher.
Realising that he had ignored Jonathan, he greeted him properly and urged him to stay for refreshment, but the constable had other work to do. He rose to his feet, took his leave of Susan then followed Christopher into the hall, where he lowered his voice to ensure that they were not overheard.
'I assured Miss Cheever that you would see that she got back safely.'
'I shall insist on it.'
'I had a feeling that you might, Mr Redmayne,' he said, face impassive. 'But how did you fare when we parted this afternoon?'
'Very well.'
Eager to get back to his guest, Christopher recounted, in only the briefest outline, details of his respective meetings with Celia Hemmings and Sir Marcus Kemp. The constable's eyebrows lifted at the mention of Arthur Lunn.
'He was not a man I could ever admire,' he said.
'You and he are hardly well matched.'
'Do you wish me to speak to him again?'
'No, Mr Bale,' said Christopher, opening the front door. 'I'll take care of Mr Lunn from now on. In fact, I had planned to track him down this very evening.'
'I felt so out of place in that coffee house.'
'You would feel even more out of place in one of his nocturnal haunts. For that's where I am likely to run Arthur Lunn to ground.' He eased Jonathan into the street. 'Leave him to me. I'll call on you tomorrow and report anything that I find out.'
'Thank you, Mr Redmayne.'
Christopher waved him off before closing the door. He was deeply grateful to his friend. Jonathan had not merely brought Susan to his home. He had tactfully left them alone together, knowing that Christopher would elicit far more from his visitor if he were not sitting between them. The thought of accompanying her back to Knightrider Street was a joy in itself. Christopher went back into the room with anticipatory pleasure.
'What can I offer you, Miss Cheever?' he said.
'Nothing, thank you. Jacob has been looking after us.'
'So he should.' He grinned broadly. 'I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you again. Did Sir Julius travel back to London with you?'
'No, Mr Redmayne. Father remained at home. He prefers to mourn there.'
'I can understand that.'
It was a timely reminder that Susan herself was still in mourning, dressed in sober attire and rather subdued. Christopher saw the impropriety of grinning at her. Making an effort to look more serious, he took the seat opposite her.
'Did you tell Mr Bale what this message was?' he asked.
'Yes,' she replied. 'He is assisting you in the inquiry.'
'It's more a case of my assisting him, Miss Cheever. He is the officer of the law, not me. It was Mr Bale, after all, who helped to find the body on Paul's Wharf.'
'I know. I asked him to show me the spot.'
Christopher frowned. 'You went there?'
'Before we set out for Fetter Lane.'
'It's hardly a fit place for a young lady.'
'Nor for my brother, I would have thought. What was Gabriel doing there?'
'That has still to be ascertained.'
'Mr Bale believes he was killed elsewhere and carried to the wharf.'
'I'm sure that the full truth will emerge in time.'
The pleasure of being with her again was making it difficult for Christopher to concentrate. When he parted from Susan at the funeral, he had resigned himself to a wait of several weeks before he chanced to see her again, and that meeting would certainly be in the presence of Sir Julius Cheever. Yet here she was, unencumbered by her father, talking to him alone under his own roof. He had to force himself to keep to the matter in hand.
'What is this message, Miss Cheever?'
'Lucy and I have spent a lot of time together,' she explained. 'I think that she is slowly learning to trust me.'
'You are one of the most trustworthy people I have ever met.'
'She is still wary of everyone, Mr Redmayne, and still in a state of shock.'
'Has she told you why her marriage had to be kept secret?'
'Not yet. But she may do so in time.'
'I hope so. It will be relevant to our inquiry.'
'What she has done is given me a few hints.'
'Hints?'
'They were not deliberate,' said Susan, 'but they dropped out in conversation.'
'Go on.'
'She knows something important about the time that Gabriel was killed. Lucy was visiting her ailing mother in St Albans. Her maidservant went with her. Gabriel was left in the house on his own. But he was not there when he was attacked.'
'What makes you say that?'
'I think that he was meant to be somewhere that night,' she said. 'Lucy more or less confirmed it. Gabriel was ambushed on his way to or from this place and murdered. His body was carried to the wharf.'
'He was certainly not killed at the house. There would have been signs of the struggle. Besides, someone as cautious as Gabriel would not have let a stranger in.'
'Mr Bale explained that.'
'Oh?'
'He says that the killer must have stolen Gabriel's key.'
'Quite probably,' said Christopher, thinking it through. 'There was no indication of forced entry. When she got back, your sister-in-law had the feeling that someone had been in the house but everything seemed to be in its place. It was only when she carried out a thorough search that the theft of the diary came to light;
'Yes,' said Susan under her breath. 'The diary.'
'What do you propose to do, Miss Cheever?'
'Try to break down Lucy's reserve completely so that she tells me the truth.'
'And if that fails?'
'I was hoping that you might speak to her, Mr Redmayne.'
'Gladly. If you think she is up to it.'
'She is,' Susan assured him. 'Lucy has an inner strength.'
'Tell me when to come and I'll be there immediately.'
'Let me try first of all.'
'I will,' agreed Christopher. 'You are in a much better position to win her over. When the rest of your family rejected Gabriel, you stood by him. Lucy knows that. You are probably the only person with whom she can discuss her husband.'
'We've been doing nothing else for the past few days.'
'It must be very lowering for you.'
'Not really, Mr Redmayne. It's been something of a revelation.'
'In what way?'
Susan did not reply. She looked deep into his eyes. He met her gaze, his affection for her shining through, but it sparked off no response. She was looking at him with a curiosity that was tempered with faint disappointment. Christopher felt uncomfortable.
'Is something wrong, Miss Cheever?' he asked.
She appraised him carefully. 'May I ask you a question, please?'
'As many as you wish.'
'Do you know a Henry Redmayne?'
'I should do. He's my brother.'
'And was he one of Gabriel's friends?'
'For a time.'
'Why did you not mention it before, Mr Redmayne?'
Christopher shrugged. 'It did not come up in conversation.'
'Well, it should have,' she said with a note of reproof. 'I had a right to know. It would have saved me some embarrassment when Lucy mentioned his name.'
'Lucy?'
'Yes.'
'But she has never met Henry.'
'It seems that your brother's name appears in Gabriel's diary?
'
'So I hear.'
'Yet you did not have the courtesy to pass on the information to me?'
'Miss Cheever-'
'Let me finish,' she went on, anger beginning to show. 'How can you expect me to confide in you when you hold back something as important as this from me? You put me in a very awkward position. Imagine how foolish I felt when Lucy recalled the name of Henry Redmayne and wondered if the two of you were related. Not only that,' she emphasised. 'Your brother's name appears in the very diary that led to Gabriel's murder so he is involved here. You've been deceiving me, Mr Redmayne.'
'Not intentionally.'
'I feel hurt.'
Christopher was contrite. 'I would never willingly hurt you.'
'Then why have you been hiding your brother?'
'For two very good reasons,' he explained. 'The first concerns Sir Julius.'
'Father?'
'He has many virtues but tolerance is not one of them. And what my brother requires most of all from others, I fear, is a tolerant attitude. Henry leads the kind of existence that Gabriel managed to escape.' He sat forward. 'Can you understand what I am saying, Miss Cheever?'
'I think so. You are telling me how keen you were to design the new house.'
'Would Sir Julius be equally keen to retain me if he knew that I had a brother like Henry? He would assume that I, too, was the kind of rakehell that he so despises.'
'Father would not make that mistake. He's a good judge of character.'
'I wanted to be judged for my work and not in terms of my brother.'
'That is still not reason enough to lie to me.'
'I did not lie,' he stressed. 'I simply held back a portion of the truth.'
'You said that there were two reasons.'
'Yes,' said Christopher sadly. 'The second concerns you.'
'Me?'
'In my own blundering way, I sought to protect you.'
'From what?'
'The full horror. Gabriel's murder has been a shattering blow for you, Miss Cheever. I did not want to distress you any further by telling you about its ugly consequences. If you feel that I hid things from you unfairly,' he said, leaning even closer to her, 'then I apologise unreservedly. I promise to tell you all that you wish to hear.'
The Repentant Rake Page 19