The Repentant Rake cr-3

by Edward Marston

  'You must not gobble your food like that,' she said. 'It will do you no good.'

  'I'm hungry,' replied Oliver through a mouthful of bread.

  'Eat more slowly, Oliver.'

  'And wait until you empty your mouth before you speak,' added Jonathan.

  'Will you read to us tonight, Father?' asked Richard the younger of the boys.

  'Only if you eat your food properly.'

  'I want to know what happened to Joseph and his brothers.'

  'You will.'

  'Oliver says that he kills them all.'

  'I said that he ought to kill them,' corrected Oliver, still munching happily.

  'No, Oliver,' said his father seriously. 'Murder is a terrible crime.'

  'But they deserve it,' argued the boy.

  'Nobody deserves to be killed.'

  'His brothers treated him cruelly. They wanted to get rid of him because they were jealous of him. They left him down that well.'

  'Yes,' said Richard, eager to show his knowledge of the story.

  'They took his coat of many colours and dipped it in blood. They told their father that Joseph had been killed by a wild beast.'

  'That was because Joseph had disappeared,' Jonathan reminded them. 'It was Reuben, the eldest of the brothers, who persuaded the others to spare him. But when Reuben went to release him, Joseph had gone.'

  'Where?' asked Richard.

  'Wait and see.'

  'I want to know now.'

  'The words of the Bible tell the story far better than I can.'

  'But I can tell you this,' said Sarah, brushing Richard's hair back from his face with a maternal hand. 'Joseph does not kill his brothers.'

  'Cain killed his brother,' noted Oliver.

  'That was a dreadful thing to do. Brothers should love one another.'

  'Is it always wrong to kill somebody?'

  'Yes,' said Jonathan firmly. 'Always.'

  'Was it wrong to chop off the head of the last king?'

  'Oliver!' chided his mother.

  'Was it?' persisted the boy. 'You named me after Oliver Cromwell yet he was the man who murdered the king. Was that a crime?'

  'Was it, Father?' asked Richard. 'Was it a crime or a sin?'

  'I think it was both,' decided Oliver.

  Jonathan glanced uneasily at his wife. 'Finish your supper, boys,' he advised. 'I can explain it to you when I put you to bed. And you will learn what happened to Joseph as well. But only if you eat your food quietly, as your mother told you.'

  The boys were sufficiently mollified to eat on in relative silence. Jonathan was learning that it was not easy to bring up two inquisitive sons. Oliver was eight and his brother was fifteen months younger. They asked questions that were sometimes difficult to answer. On the previous evening, Richard had enquired what a concubine was. It had caused Jonathan some embarrassment to explain but he had been honest. Oliver had giggled while Richard had blushed. Looking at his sons, Jonathan reflected how similar they were in appearance yet how different in character. It led to endless squabbles between them. He wondered how they would get on when they became adults and his mind drifted to another pair of brothers. Christopher and Henry Redmayne could not have been more disparate. They led divergent lives. While he admired one brother, Jonathan had polite contempt for the other. Yet they had been raised in the same way by their parents. What had made Christopher and Henry grow in opposite directions? Why had one embraced work while the other espoused idleness? Jonathan was exercised by the thought of how he could prevent the same thing from happening to his own sons.

  'Will you be going out again this evening?' asked Sarah.

  'Yes,' said Jonathan.

  'Not until you have read to us,' Richard piped up.

  Jonathan smiled. 'Of course not. I want to know what happens to Joseph myself.'

  'Will you be late?' said Sarah.

  'I hope not. I am going to meet Mr Redmayne.'

  Sarah was disappointed. 'Is he not coming here?'

  'Not this evening, Sarah.'

  'Do give him my regards.'

  'I will,' said Jonathan. 'I told him how helpful you had been. Without you, I might never have got to know the vigilant Mrs Runciman in Knightrider Street. And it was you who suggested that I got in touch with Mr Redmayne in the first place.'

  'You and he work well together, Jonathan.'

  'I still wonder why sometimes,' confessed her husband.

  'You have so much in common.'

  'Hardly, Sarah. Mr Redmayne consorts with the highest in the land while my work makes me rub shoulders with the very lowest. Had it not been for sheer accident, we would never have met.'

  'Are you glad that you did?'

  'I think so.'

  Sarah laughed. 'Oh, Jonathan!' she teased. 'You will hold back so. Be honest for once. You know that you like Mr Redmayne as much as I do but you never admit it. He obviously respects you.'

  'Does he?'

  'I can see it in his face. He thinks you far too good to be a mere constable.'

  'Nobody is too good for such important work, Sarah.'

  'Could Tom Warburton do the things that you have achieved?'

  'Probably not.'

  'He could never work with Mr Redmayne the way that you have. And the pair of you do have something in common,' she insisted. 'Both of you are like Tom's little dog. You are real terriers. Once you get your teeth into something, neither of you will let go.'

  The headache was so severe that Henry Redmayne took to his bed with a flask of wine for consolation. He was still propped up with pillows when his brother called on him. Christopher's news did nothing to alleviate the throbbing pain in his temples.

  'Sir Marcus is going to pay up?' he said in astonishment.

  'I made a bargain with him, Henry.'

  'But you did everything possible to stop me from handing any money over.'

  'I tried to prevent Sir Marcus as well,' said Christopher, 'but he was determined. So I decided to make virtue out of necessity.'

  'In what way?'

  'I volunteered to hand the thousand guineas over on his behalf.'

  'Why?'

  Christopher grinned. 'If I have to part with that amount of money, I want it to belong to someone else.' He became serious. 'I have to catch this villain, Henry. I owe it to Gabriel's family. Paying up is a means of luring the blackmailer out of hiding. That's not how I presented it to Sir Marcus, of course. He thinks that he is buying peace of mind with his thousand guineas.'

  'What is this bargain you mentioned?'

  'He refused to show me any of the demands he received. Sir Marcus was angry that I even knew about them. It was hard work to strike a bargain with him,' said Christopher, 'but he agreed in the end. If the money is paid and the demands still continue, he's promised to give me the letters and that extract from Gabriel Cheever's diary.'

  'But the demands will stop if you arrest the blackmailer.'

  'I hope so, Henry.'

  'So why reach this agreement with Sir Marcus?'

  'To gain access to vital information in case we fail to catch our man.'

  'We?' echoed Henry.

  'I'll take Jonathan Bale with me.'

  'Why?'

  'He's been assisting me from the start,' explained Christopher.

  Henry was scornful. 'That flat-footed constable is more hindrance than help.'

  'Mr Bale is the ideal person for this kind of work.'

  'I beg leave to doubt that, Christopher. When will the money be handed over?'

  'Tomorrow.'

  'Somewhere in Covent Garden, as I remember.'

  'Yes,' confirmed Christopher. 'The details were sent in the first letter to Sir Marcus. Someone will be waiting to take the money from the designated spot. He's been there every day at noon so far. When Sir Marcus failed to pay up, the amount was promptly doubled.'

  'And he received that chilling extract from Gabriel's damnable diary. What are you going to do?'

  'Hand the money over tomorrow w
hile Mr Bale watches from nearby. It is highly unlikely that the blackmailer will take the money from me in person but the man who does will carry it to him.' He rubbed his hands in anticipation. 'With luck, he'll lead Mr Bale to the villain we are after.'

  'The one who threatened to kill me.'

  'That was a trick to make you pay up at once.'

  'It does not feel like a trick,' moaned Henry, putting a palm to his forehead. 'It has robbed me of sleep every night this past week. The Sword of Damocles hangs over me. Well,' he added grimly, 'the sword of a jealous husband to be exact. All the rogue has to do is to send that letter to Lord Ulvercombe and I am as good as dead.'

  'I still believe that you should get in touch with the lady herself.'

  'Fatal.'

  'Is it?'

  'Her husband stands guard over her day and night. It was only when business called him away that I could get anywhere near her.'

  'Lady Ulvercombe deserves to be warned.'

  'Not by me, Christopher.'

  'Could you not write to her?'

  'And have my correspondence intercepted by that mad husband of hers? Oh, no!' asserted Henry. 'I've already written one letter to her that is a possible suicide note. Why tempt Fate with a second?'

  'How did your billet-doux fall into the wrong hands?' said Christopher. 'That's what puzzles me. Someone must have stolen it from her. Lady Ulvercombe may have some idea who that could be. It's another means of unmasking the blackmailer, Henry. Is there nobody who could act as an intermediary between you and the lady?'

  'No, Christopher.'

  'There must be a reliable confidant.'

  'The liaison was strictly a private affair. Nobody else knew about it - until now, that is. Do not vex me with questions,' he complained as his head pounded. 'My only concern is to stop Lord Ulvercombe from killing me in a duel.'

  'I share the same ambition, Henry.'

  'Then reclaim my billet-doux before anyone else can read it.'

  'I'll do my best,' promised Christopher. 'But do be more discreet next time.'

  Henry grimaced. 'There will be no next time.'

  'You always say that.'

  'Henceforth, I'll confine myself to unmarried ladies. If I live to do so.'

  Christopher smiled confidently. 'Have no qualms on that score, Henry. By this time tomorrow, your worries may all be over and you will be forced to concede what a splendid fellow Jonathan Bale is.'

  'If he gets me off this hook, I'll sing his praises like a choir of angels.'

  'He would enjoy that.' He turned away. 'I'll leave you to get some rest.'

  Henry raised a weary arm. 'One moment, Christopher.'

  'Yes?'

  'When that first blackmail demand arrived you urged me not to pay.'

  'So?'

  'Now you are trying to tempt the villain out into the light of day by handing over some money to him. Why act on behalf of Sir Marcus Kemp when you could have done exactly the same for me?'

  Christopher went back to him. 'How much were you asked for, Henry?'

  'Five hundred guineas.'

  'Do you have that amount in hand?'

  'Of course not.'

  'Then how did you propose to raise it?'

  'From friends,' said Henry airily.

  'What about me?'

  'I would have started with you, naturally, Christopher. But the bulk of the money would have come from the one man who can afford such a sum without blinking an eye.'

  'Sir Marcus Kemp.'

  'Precisely.'

  'Would you have wanted to go cap in hand to him?'

  'It would have been galling.'

  'Then I've spared you that as well. Now you see what brothers are for, Henry. I want to help. When I hand over that money tomorrow, you will not have to worry about paying a penny of it back to the man who would have loaned it to you.'

  Henry rallied visibly. 'How profoundly true! Whether I pay or he does, it is all one. Sir Marcus Kemp's money is handed over either way. You have done me a favour, Christopher. My headache is easing already.'

  'Do not swallow gudgeons ere they're catched.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'It will not be easy to net this blackmailer,' warned Christopher. 'Even with the redoubtable Mr Bale at my side, we will need good fortune if we are to succeed.'

  Sir Julius Cheever had been disappointed that his daughter-in-law wanted to return so soon to London. It cut short the time in which they could develop their acquaintance. He had been even less pleased when Susan announced that she wished to travel back with Lucy, and the old man needed a great deal of persuasion before he consented. Sir Julius himself felt that his place was in the family home, mourning his son in the parish where he was born and brought up. The thought of subjecting himself again to the hospitality of his elder daughter and her husband deprived him of even the slightest urge to travel back to the city. Accordingly, the two young women departed without him, joining a large group of travellers for safety.

  The jolting of the coach and the presence of Anna, the maidservant, made any intimate conversation impossible but Susan and Lucy did manage to spend some time together during the two overnight stops that the party made at roadside inns. Over supper on the second of those nights, Susan Cheever felt that she was at last beginning to win her sister-in-law's confidence.

  'I cannot thank you enough for this,' said Lucy. 'It would have been so dismal to go back to that empty house on my own.'

  'You have Anna.'

  'It is not the same, Susan. I need someone to whom I can talk about Gabriel.'

  'You can do that as much as you wish.'

  'Coming from his wife this may sound strange, but I feel as if I never really knew him properly. All the time we were in Northamptonshire, I kept learning things about him that he never even mentioned.'

  'Such as?'

  'Angling,' said Lucy. 'It turns out that he had a passion for angling. Sir Julius used to take him fishing when he was a little boy.'

  Susan nodded. 'Yes,' she said. 'And they always caught something for the table. I remember how upset Father was when Gabriel became so skilled with a line that he managed to catch more fish than him.'

  'Why did Gabriel never talk about angling to me?'

  'It belonged to the past that he chose to forget.'

  'Yet it was something he enjoyed, Susan.'

  'Gabriel enjoyed most things. That's what I envied about him. His capacity for sheer enjoyment was remarkable. It's something that I never had.' She pulled a face. 'Nor did Brilliana.'

  'She never seems to enjoy anything.'

  'That's not entirely true.'

  Lucy lowered her voice. 'Why did your sister marry Mr Serle?'

  'Because he asked her.'

  'But she is so critical of him.'

  'Brilliana is critical of all men,' explained Susan, 'which is why so many of them were terrified of getting too close to her. She had suitors from all over the Midlands but they always turned tail in the end. Lancelot Serle did not.'

  'Does he still love her?'

  'Very much. When Brilliana lets him.'

  'Gabriel told me very little about her except that she had rejected him.'

  'She never had much time for him, I'm afraid.' Susan looked at her companion over the dancing flames of the candle. They were seated at a table in a quiet corner. The atmosphere was conducive to an exchange of intimacies. 'Talking to you makes me feel that I never knew him all that well either.'

  'How could you when you were apart for so long?'

  'Whole areas of his life were a closed book to me.'

  Lucy gave a half-smile. 'Perhaps that is just as well.'

  'Did he tell you everything about his past?'

  'Everything that I wished to know.'

  'And was there anything that you did not, Lucy?'

  'Oh, yes. I thought it best to draw a veil of decency over much of it.'

  'You were very wise,' agreed Susan, wondering if it was the right moment to probe a little mor
e deeply. 'Did he tell you that he sent me one of his poems?'

  'Yes, he did.'

  'It was very sad but so beautiful. I had no idea he had such talent.'

  'Gabriel was a wonderful writer.'

  'Did you read everything that he wrote?'

  'Only what he chose to show me.' Lucy's face lit up. 'Several of the poems were written especially for me. Gabriel always said that they were his best work.'

  'He was truly inspired.'

  'I never read any of his plays. There was no point, Susan. I've never been to the theatre and have no idea what makes a good play. Besides,' she said with a little shrug, 'I think that Gabriel felt I might not approve.'

  'What about his diary?' She saw Lucy's jaw tighten. 'You did know that he kept a diary?'

  'Of course.'

  'Were you allowed to look at it?'

  'Gabriel never tried to stop me from doing anything.'

  'So you did read the diary?'

  'Bits of it,' admitted Lucy. 'It was like reading about a complete stranger.'

  'Were you shocked?'

  'To some degree. But I was also very amused.'

  'Amused?' echoed Susan in surprise.

  'Gabriel had such a wicked sense of fun. Some of the entries in his diary were so comical that I burst out laughing.' A hunted look came into her eye. 'Even that pleasure has been taken from me now. Someone stole the diary from the house.'

  'Did they take anything else?'

  'No, Susan. They only came for one thing.'

  'Would you have read the diary in full if it was still in your possession?'

  'Who knows?' said Lucy evasively, resisting the gentle interrogation. 'But let us talk about you, Susan. I am grateful for your company, but you must not feel tied to my apron strings while you are in London. Your sister will doubtless want to see you and there must be other friends you can visit in the city.'

  'One perhaps,' said Susan wistfully.

  'Mr Christopher Redmayne?' She smiled as her companion blinked. 'I may be in mourning, Susan, but that does not mean I am deaf. Since we left Northamptonshire, that gentleman's name has been on your tongue a dozen times. I think that you are fond of Mr Redmayne.'

  'He is a personable young man.'

  'He is much more than that to you, I suspect.'

  'We are barely acquainted,' denied Susan without conviction.