The Parliament House cr-5

by Edward Marston

  'What about your other daughter?' 'Brilliana?'

  'Was it not her place to look after you?'

  'It never even crossed her mind.'

  'Why not?'

  'Because she had other imperatives in her life,' he explained. 'My daughters are like chalk and cheese, so unlike every particular. Susan is selfless and tender-hearted - Brilliana has inherited my defects.'

  'I refuse to believe that you have any.'

  'Oh, I do, alas. I can be headstrong and stubborn at times. Outspoken, too. Above all else, I like to have my own way. In those regards, Brilliana takes after her father.'

  'How will she look upon me?'

  'With utter amazement.'

  She stifled a laugh. 'Am I such a freak, then?'

  'No, Dorothy,' he said, taking her hand, 'you are the most remarkable woman in London and, therefore, Brilliana will refuse to accept that her gnarled old oak tree of a father could hold the slightest attraction for you.'

  'Then I will have to convince her otherwise,' she resolved. 'I look forward to meeting your daughters, Sir Julius. The younger one sounds like a paragon of virtue, and, in spite of what you say, I'm sure that the elder has many fine qualities. I like them both already.'

  'And they are certain to like you - in time.'

  Brilliana Serle looked at herself in the mirror as she tied her hat in place, tilting it at a slight angle to give her a more roguish look. Now in her early thirties, she was a woman of startling beauty enhanced by clothing of the very highest price and quality. Her husband, Lancelot, came into the hall and stood behind her.

  'Do we really need to go to London today?' he asked.

  'We do.'

  'But I have business in hand here, Brilliana.'

  'Then it can wait,' she said with a peremptory wave of her hand. 'You read that letter from my sister. She and Father had a distressing experience yesterday. They saw a friend murdered before their eyes in the street. They require solace. I'd be failing in my duty if I did not instantly repair to the city to provide it.'

  'Can you not go without me?'

  'No, Lancelot.'

  There was a note of finality in her voice that he did not dare to challenge. Lancelot Serle was a tall, spare, nervous individual with features that could have been accounted handsome but for the blemish on his cheek. The little birthmark was all the more visible against the whiteness of his skin, and looked, at first glance, like a blob of raspberry preserve that he had forgotten to wipe away. There was, however, no blemish on his financial situation. He was a man of substance with a palatial house set in the middle of a vast estate. His combination of wealth, social position and readiness to obey Brilliana's every whim had made him an irresistible choice as a husband.

  'We do not want to be in the way, my love,' he said.

  'What a nonsensical idea!' she exclaimed, rounding on him. 'We are family, Lancelot. We could never be in the way,'

  'I do not recall that Susan actually solicited your help.'

  'Then why else did she write to me?'

  'Merely to keep you informed.'

  'I know when I am being summoned, so let's have no more evasion. The chest is packed, the coach is ready and we are going to drive to London. After all,' she said, leading the way to the front door, 'it will not only be a case of offering our commiserations.' 'Oh?'

  'We can satisfy our curiosity at the same time.'

  'About what?'

  She stamped a foot. 'Really! Do you listen to nothing I say?'

  'I do little else, Brilliana.'

  'Then you must surely recall that father has befriended a lady, a certain Mrs Dorothy Kitson.'

  'I recall mention of her,' he said, following her out of the house, 'but I assumed that the relationship would have expired by now. With respect to my father-in-law, he's a most unlikely suitor.

  The roughness of his tongue would put any woman to flight within a week.'

  'He seems to have curbed that roughness. I want to know why.'

  The footman was waiting by the door of the coach and she took his hand so that he could help her into the vehicle. While she settled down and adjusted the folds of her dress, her husband took the seat opposite her so that he would travel backwards. Serle wore exquisite apparel but he could not compete with her finery or with the array of jewellery that set it off. A whip cracked above them and the horses pulled the carriage in a semicircle. They were soon rolling steadily up a long drive through an arcade of poplars.

  'How much do we know about Mrs Kitson?' he asked.

  'Precious little.'

  'Has your sister actually met the lady?'

  'Not yet - but Susan has grave reservations about her.'

  'Why?'

  'Because she has led Father to tell so many lies.'

  'Lies!' He was astonished. 'That's quite unlike him. Sir Julius is the most honest man alive. Far too honest, in my opinion, for he blurts out things that should best be left unsaid in civilised company.' Serle was rueful. 'I've suffered a great deal at the hands of your father's famous honesty.'

  'Then you should not annoy him so much.'

  'My very existence is a source of annoyance to him.'

  'You were my choice as a husband,' she said, briskly, 'and not his. You have merits that are not visible to the naked eye and I cherish each one of them.'

  He was pleased. 'Do you, Brilliana?'

  'You're a man of hidden qualities, Lancelot.'

  'Thank you,' he said, basking in a rare compliment from her.

  She did not allow him to savour the moment for long.

  'By the same token,' she resumed, 'you have shortcomings that are imperceptible at first sight but that slowly emerge on closer acquaintance. I see it as my task in life to remedy those shortcomings.'

  'I study to improve myself, Brilliana.'

  'Then assert yourself more. Do not be so easily cowed into silence. Whenever you meet your father-in-law, you hardly ever say a word.'

  'He gives me no opportunity to do so.'

  'Make an opportunity, Lancelot,' she urged. 'You bear the name of a noble knight. Display some knightly heroism. When we are in Father's company, seize the conversation with both hands.'

  'That's easier said than done.'

  'You'll earn his respect, if you do. And in time, I trust, you'll have enough confidence to follow in his footsteps.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'You must go into politics,' she decreed. 'You have money and position enough but you lack even a semblance of power. I want a husband of mine to guide the fate of the nation. If my father can become a Member of Parliament, so can you.'

  'But I disagree with everything that he stands for, Brilliana.'

  'Then oppose him vigorously in the House of Commons. Stand up for your principles. Proclaim them with a full voice.'

  Serle lapsed into a brooding silence. Since he first became involved with the Cheever family, the one thing he had never been allowed to do was to express his opinions with any degree of freedom. His wife muffled him and his father-in-law terrified him. As an unswerving Royalist, he had learned to button his lip whenever Sir Julius sounded off about the depravity of the court and the blatant unfitness of the King to reign. The thought of crossing verbal swords with the old man in the Parliament House made him shudder inwardly.

  'Coming back to your earlier remark,' he said, finding the strength to speak again, 'what's this about your father telling lies?'

  'He would probably call them excuses.'

  'For what?'

  'Concealing the fact that he is seeing so much of Mrs Kitson,' she pointed out. 'Whenever he leaves the house, he tells Susan that he is to meet other politicians but she knows that it is simply not true. Father has arranged clandestine meetings with his new friend.'

  'Is he so ashamed of the lady?'

  'On the contrary, Lancelot. He is inordinately proud of her. Susan can see it in his face and hear it in his voice. Yet he pretends that nothing is amiss. I'd not stand for such subterfuge,'
she said, smacking his knee for effect. 'That's why I intend to do what Susan has so far been unable to do herself.'

  'And what's that, Brilliana?'

  'Confront him. Tax him. Bully the truth out of him, if need be.'

  'Sir Julius will not be easily bullied.'

  'That's why I may need to call on you.'

  Serle winced. 'Me?'

  'Father will see me as an interfering daughter, but you can speak to him man to man. You can probe for information, Lancelot. You can catch him unawares.'

  'I've never managed to do so before.'

  'Then see this as a test of your mettle,' she said, firmly. 'Susan and I need to know what is going on and you are the person to find out. If we cannot wrest anything out of him, you must use your wiles.'

  'But I have no wiles, Brilliana.'

  'Exactly. When you speak to him, Father will be completely off guard. He will not suspect you for a moment. Take advantage of that, Lancelot. Beat him at his own game and use political wiles against him. Prove yourself to me,' she exhorted with sudden passion. 'Will you become the husband that I know you can be?'

  He nodded willingly but his heart was a giant butterfly.

  Sir Julius Cheever returned to his house in Westminster in buoyant mood. As soon as he came in through the door, Susan knew that he had dined with Dorothy Kitson. She gave him a token kiss of welcome then she pointed in the direction of the parlour.

  'Christopher is waiting to see you.'

  'Christopher Redmayne?' he asked.

  'Yes, Father. He called this morning after you had left. I suggested that he came back later this afternoon.' She shot him a reproving look. 'Though I did not expect it to be quite this late.'

  'I'd better go and speak to him.'

  He opened the door of the parlour and went in. Christopher rose from his seat but was immediately waved back into it. Sir Julius lowered himself into a chair opposite him.

  'I take it that you've come about yesterday's sad event,' he said.

  'Yes, Sir Julius.'

  'Has any progress been made?'

  'Not as yet,' replied Christopher, 'but it will be.'

  'Bale is a good man. He'll not let us down. And I know that you have the instincts of a bloodhound as well, Christopher.'

  'We'll find the villain between us.'

  'I'm counting on it.'

  Sir Julius's voice was stern yet he had not altogether shed his air of contentment. A smile still hovered around his mouth and his eyes sparkled. Christopher was puzzled. Whenever the older man had returned from a heady political discussion before, he had always been roused to a pitch of excitement. If he had dined with a parliamentary colleague, he should be highly animated. Instead, he was curiously happy and relaxed. Christopher had never seen him so tranquil before. He was sorry that he would have to disturb that tranquillity.

  'I've been talking with my brother,' he began.

  'There's nothing unusual in that, surely?'

  'We spoke about you, Sir Julius.'

  'Oh? To what end?'

  'Henry has a wide circle of friends, not all of them entirely suitable, as it happens. But he's well-known at court and numbers several politicians among his intimates.'

  Sir Julius frowned. 'Supporters of the King no doubt.'

  'Denizens of the Parliament House,' said Christopher. 'Men who know the very nerves of state and who keep a close eye on each new faction that comes into being.' 'So?'

  'Is it true that you have formed your own club?'

  'That's my business,' said the other, curtly.

  'I've been forced to make it mine.' 'Don't meddle in things you don't understand.'

  'I understand danger when I catch a whiff of it.'

  'What are you taking about?'

  'You, Sir Julius,' said Christopher, sitting forward. 'Everyone I've spoken to has told me the same thing. You've been gathering men around you who share your aims and values. Susan has confirmed it. According to her, you hold meetings in this house that-'

  'Enough!' shouted Sir Julius, getting to his feet. 'What happens under this roof is entirely my own affair.'

  'I disagree.'

  'Then you are being impertinent.'

  'No, Sir Julius,' said Christopher, rising from his chair.

  'And you begin to irritate me.'

  'What happens in this house may be your own affair but yesterday, as we both well know, it spilled out into Knightrider Street.'

  'Nobody regrets that more than I do.'

  'It's a cause for fear rather than regret.'

  'Fear?'

  'Yes,' said Christopher with passion. 'Bernard Everett was an able man who might in time have caught the eye in the Parliament House. You, however, have already established your worth, so much so that you have attracted disciples.'

  'I do not follow your argument.'

  'Remember the weather.'

  'The weather?'

  'It was raining when we left that house yesterday. You and Mr Everett wore similar coats and hats. From a window in the Saracen's Head, it would have been impossible to tell you apart.'

  'Someone apparently did so.'

  'No,' declared Christopher. 'He made a mistake. From everything I've learned since then, I'm absolutely convinced of it. You were the intended victim. That man was hired to kill Sir Julius Cheever.'

  Chapter Four

  He was momentarily stunned. It had never crossed Sir Julius Cheever's mind that his own life had been at risk in Knightrider Street. Since his friend had been killed so expertly with a single shot, he had assumed that Bernard Everett was the designated target. Now, he was forced to consider the possibility that he himself might have been murdered in cold blood on the previous day. He did not ponder for long. Having briefly looked at the evidence, he dismissed the idea completely, like a horse flicking its tail to rid itself of a troublesome insect.

  'No,' he decided. 'I simply refuse to believe that.'

  'Mr Everett did not pose a threat,' argued Christopher. 'You do, Sir Julius. You make your presence felt in the House of Commons.'

  'That's why I was elected.'

  'Your views are not universally popular.'

  'I did not enter parliament in search of popularity.'

  'You're a natural leader. Others are drawn to you.'

  'Fortunately, there are still some men of integrity left in England. Bernard was one of them. He would have been a welcome addition to our little group.'

  'That group would soon disappear if you were assassinated.'

  'It will take more than some villain in the window of a tavern to get rid of me,' said Sir Julius, thrusting out a pugnacious jaw. 'Besides, I'm not persuaded that the crime has anything to do with me. There may be other reasons why Bernard was shot. We know litde about his private life. It's not inconceivable that someone bore him a grudge.'

  'No,' admitted Christopher, 'but it seems highly unlikely that they would wait until Mr Everett came to London before striking at him. If he has enemies in his home county, they would surely attack him there. I'm still strongly of the opinion that you were supposed to be the victim and that raises a worrying prospect.'

  'Does it?'

  'Having failed once, the killer will try again.'

  'Upon my soul!' cried Sir Julius with exasperation. 'I don't know what nonsense your brother has put into your head but I'd advise you to forget every last stupid syllable of it.'

  'Henry is very well-informed.'

  'From what I've heard about your brother, he's a conceited fop who spends most of his time consorting with low company. Do you trust his assessment of the House of Commons over mine?'

  'Of course not, Sir Julius.'

  'Then cease this pointless line of argument. I detest most politicians to the height of my power and I daresay that they, in turn, detest me. But that does not mean they'd seek my life. Back- stabbing is the order of the day in parliament but only in the metaphorical sense. I have absolutely no fears for my safety.'

  'You should,' said Chris
topher.

  'Stop badgering me, man.'

  'Precautions must be taken.'

  'The only precaution that I'll take is to ignore everything that your idiot brother has told you.'

  'I'm not relying solely on Henry's advice,' said Christopher, hurt by the antagonism towards his brother. 'I spoke to two Members of Parliament as well - Ninian Teale and Roland Askray. They agreed that you were perceived in some quarters as a dangerous firebrand.'

  'I have the courage of my convictions, that's all,' announced Sir Julius, truculently, 'so I'm bound to cause a flutter in governmental dovecotes. And I have to tell you that I resent the way that you've gone behind my back in this matter.'

  'It was for your own good, Sir Julius.'

  'My own good! In what way can discussing me with your imbecile brother, and with two Members of Parliament who clearly deride me, be construed as my own good? This is a gross intrusion on my privacy.'

  'I acted with the best of intentions,' said Christopher.

  'And the worst of results.'

  'Sir Julius-'

  'I'll hear no more of this,' yelled the old man, interrupting him with a vivid gesture. 'Instead of pestering me, you should be out there, trying to catch the man who killed Bernard Everett.'

  'I only came to issue a warning.'

  'Then let me give you one in return. If you dare to bother me again in this way, you'll no longer be allowed into this house.'

  'That's unjust.'

  'Good day to you!'

  Fuming with anger, Sir Julius turned on his heel and left the room. Christopher could hear his footsteps, ascending the staircase. Shortly afterwards, Susan came into the parlour.

  "Whatever did you say to Father?' she wondered.

  He swallowed hard. 'Sir Julius and I had a slight disagreement,' he replied. 'Nothing more.'

  'He swept past me without a word.'

  'I must take the blame for that, Susan.'

  'Why? What happened in here?'

  'I inadvertently upset him.'

  'But he was in such good humour when he arrived home,' she recalled. 'What can have happened to deprive him of that?'