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 journey, 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.'
'Not really, Mr Bale.'
'You both sell drink to the public.'
'Yes,' said Polegate, loftily, 'but we reach different markets. Beer is the choice of the majority of the populace. It's cheap and relatively easy to make.'
'I know, sir. My wife, Sarah, brews it at home.'
'Wine is more expensive because it has to be imported and is heavily taxed. In the main, I sell French and Rhenish wines, though
I expect to import from Spain and Portugal as well in future. Customers who drink beer at a tavern like the Saracen's Head would not even consider purchasing my stock.' He gave a dry laugh. 'Here's a paradox for you, Mr Bale. One of the city's leading brewers will not touch a drop of his beer. He prefers my wine.'
'Mr Howlett?'
'He has an educated palate.'
'And he can afford the higher prices.'
'Yes, Erasmus is a wealthy man. A very amiable one, too.'
'So I discovered,' said Bale. 'Though I felt sorry for the way that his hands were constantly trembling. That must be a problem.'
'It does not prevent him from counting the week's takings,' said Polegate, wryly, 'I know that. It's a problem he's had for years and it seems to be beyond cure.'
'Does it prevent him from writing?'
'I don't think so - not that I've had any correspondence from him myself.'
'Is he interested in political affairs?'
'Everyone in business takes a keen interest in that, Mr Bale. Our livelihoods are closely linked to the laws that are passed, and the taxes that are voted in. Why do you ask about Erasmus?'
'He had the air of a politician about him.'
'I've never noticed that. Sir Julius Cheever is my idea of a Member of Parliament - strong, outspoken and committed to his principles. My brother-in-law would have been the same,' he continued with a shrug, 'but it was not to be. Erasmus Howlett is hardly in their mould.'
'He would hardly share their ideals,' said Bale. 'What I meant was that Mr Howlett had unmistakable character. He spoke well and with great confidence. Such men often drift into the political arena.'
'In one sense, you are right about him.'
'Am I?'
'Yes,' said the other, 'Erasmus may have no ambitions to enter the House of Commons but he does have one dream with a political flavour to it - he wishes to be Lord Mayor one day.'
'Really?' said Bale. 'Is there any likelihood of that?'
'A definite likelihood and I would certainly profit from it. What better advertisement could I have than to be known as the vintner who fills the cellars of the Mayor of London?'
'And does Mr Howlett provide you with beer in return?'
'Oh, no, Mr Bale,' replied Polegate. 'Once you have acquired a taste for wine, beer is anathema. At least, it was in my case. As for dear Erasmus,' he went on, 'his desire to become Lord Mayor is no idle dream. It's a project on which he has worked very carefully. He's taken advice on how to achieve his aim from a true politician.'
'And who is that, sir?'
'His cousin - the Earl of Stoneleigh.'
'Stoneleigh!' exclaimed Sir Julius Cheever, cheeks puce with rage. 'I should have known that that wily devil was behind it.'
'I felt it my duty to report to you,' said Henry.
'I'm grateful to you, Mr Redmayne. It solves the mystery.'
'Word of it would have spread quickly. You must have been the subject of considerable mockery in parliament.'
'I was,' admitted the other, shuddering at the memory. 'They laughed at me like so many hyenas. Had I walked stark naked into the chamber, I could not have provoked more ridicule.'
Lancelot Serle had not needed to go to the Parliament House. He had met Sir Julius as his father-in-law was on his way home and told him of his visitor. Throbbing with fury, Sir Julius had refused to confide the cause of his anger to Serle. As soon as he got back to the house, he took Henry into the upstairs room he used as a study and demanded to know why he had come.
'Explain it in full,' he now invited. 'I want to know all the details of this outrage.'
'Earlier today,' Henry explained, 'I was taken by friends to visit the theatre. It's not something that I would ordinarily do, Sir Julius,' he lied, 'for I do not like to have my sensibilities offended by some of the base and slanderous matter that seems to inhabit our stages. I only agreed to go on this occasion because I was acquainted with the author of the play.'
'The Earl of Stoneleigh.'
'I know him as Cuthbert Woodruffe.'
'And I, as an arrant knave,' growled Sir Julius.
'The play was called The Royal Favourite and I had, by sheer chance, seen it when it was first performed at the King's Theatre. It's an amusing comedy and free from the kind of salaciousness that seems to infect the work of most dramatists.'
'Yet you say a new scene had been added to the play.'
'A long and very significant new scene, Sir Julius.'
'Portraying me in a very unflattering light.'
'Alas, yes,' said Henry, pretending to a sympathy he did not feel. 'I was so shocked on your behalf that I almost fled the theatre. What kept me there was the fact that you deserved a full account of what took place, so I forced myself to sit through the scene.'
'You deserve my gratitude for that, Mr Redmayne.'
'There could be no doubt that you were being lampooned. The name of the character was Sir Julius Seize-Her, a rapacious country gentleman from Northamptonshire.'
'Now I see why they cried "Hail, Caesar!" at me in parliament.'
'The actor had a clear resemblance to you and
dressed in the sort of apparel that you wear. Everyone recognised you instantly.'
'I did not know that I was so famous,' said Sir Julius, grimly. 'Was I shown as a Member of Parliament?'
'Oh, yes,' replied Henry. 'In fact, the whole scene took place in the Parliament House. Sir Julius Seize-Her had inveigled an attractive young woman into the chamber so that he could prey upon her virtue. When she resisted, he pursued her around the stage with gusto.' He gave an admiring smile. 'As a matter of fact, you showed a wonderful turn of foot, Sir Julius.'
'It was not me, man - only some crude version of me.'
'Crude and insulting.'
'How did the scene end?'
'Rather painfully,' said Henry. 'When she could not outrun her would-be seducer, the lady used her only means of defence and struck him with the Speaker's mace in a part of the anatomy that caused him to abandon his designs.'
Sir Julius flopped into a chair and brooded on what he had heard. Knowing Henry to be an incorrigible rake, he did not for a second believe that his visit to the theatre had been a rare event. It was a place that Henry and his friends haunted on a regular basis. Nor did Sir Julius accept the claim that Henry had been so scandalised that he had an urge to abandon the play. He was much more likely to have relished the scene with the rest of the audience.
That being said, the fact remained that he had taken the trouble to call at the house and describe what had happened at the King's Theatre that day. It explained everything. Sir Julius was certain that some of his fellow Members of Parliament had also been at the play, more interested in watching the denigration of an enemy than in attending a debate in the chamber. Sir Julius could imagine how quickly they had raced to Westminster to tell their friends what they had witnessed. When he had joined them, Sir Julius had walked into a solid wall of derision and he was still reeling from the impact.
Henry cleared his throat to attract the other man's attention.
'May I have permission to speak to your daughter?' he said. 'What?'
'Mrs Serle was understandably upset when I told her that you might be in danger of some sort. Since I was unable to give her any details, her fears were only intensified. If I could have some time alone with her,' Henry added, tentatively, 'I could explain to Brilliana - to Mrs Serle - why I had to hold the information back.'
'No,' snarled Sir Julius. 'You'll tell her nothing.'
'But she has a right to know.'
'And I have a right to shield her from any unpleasantness. At this stage, neither of my daughters need know the truth so you must not dare to divulge a word.'
'On my honour, I'll divulge nothing.'
'Then I've no need to detain you, Mr Redmayne.'
'If I could speak to Mrs Serle alone for a mere two minutes…'
'No,' said Sir Julius, getting to his feet. 'You'll talk to nobody in this house. Leave any explanations to me. It's no secret to you that I've never held a very high opinion of you and I daresay that you know the reasons why. On the other hand, I can recognise a good deed when I see one and this particular deed has earned my undying thanks.' He offered his hand and Henry shook it. 'You have not merely lifted a veil from my eyes. You have helped to determine what my course of action must be.'
Though he took no active part in debates, Lewis Bircroft was a dutiful man who felt honour bound to represent his constituents on the occasions when parliament met. He had been present during the humiliation of Sir Julius Cheever and was one of the few who had not joined in the raucous laughter. When he got back to his lodging in Coleman Street, he was still wondering why the appearance of his friend had aroused such concerted mockery. Hobbling into the parlour on his walking stick, he learned that he had a visitor. Jonathan Bale rose up out of the half-dark to welcome him.
'Good evening, Mr Bircroft,' he said. 'Forgive the lateness of this call but you've been out of the house all day. I wonder if I might have a small amount of your time?'
'As long as it is only a small amount, Constable. After a full day in the chamber, I'm extremely tired.'
He moved to the nearest seat and lowered himself slowly into it. Bale waited until the other man had settled down before he spoke.
'You remember what we discussed last time we met, sir?'
'I do and I have nothing else to add.'
'What you did not give me was the name of the man who paid those bullies to cudgel you.'
'I cannot give you what I do not know,' said Bircroft.
'Then perhaps I could suggest the man's identity.'
'No, Constable. The incident belongs in the past. As I told you before, even a mention of it causes me great pain and upset.'
'Would you not like to see justice done, Mr Bircroft:?'
'I've rather lost my belief in the concept.'
'Well, I haven't,' said Bale, proudly. 'My whole life is dedicated to it, sir. Nobody can right all the wrongs that are committed for they are too many in number. But I like to feel that I've brought justice to bear in many instances - and I would like to do the same here.'
'What can a mere constable do against such people?'
'So you do know who ordered that beating.'
'That's not what I said,' retorted the other. 'I was trained as a lawyer, Mr Bale. I choose my words with great care. In the wake of what happened to me, I've exercised even more precision.'
'I do not blame you, Mr Bircroft.'
'Then do not add to my discomfort by harping on the subject.'
'Let me ask but one question,' said Bale.
'The other man sighed. 'Very well - just one.'
'Do you know the Earl of Stoneleigh?'
'Yes.'
'What manner of man is he?'
'I answered your question - now leave me alone.'
'Even if we are able to prove that it was the earl who paid those men to attack you?'
'No,' said Bircroft, crisply.
'You may have no faith in justice, but surely you can take some satisfaction from revenge?' He sat close to him. 'Yes, I am only a parish constable but I can draw on immense resources. I've arrested members of the peerage before, Mr Bircroft. Nobody is above the law.'
'But there are those who can twist it to their advantage.'
'As a lawyer, you should want to stop them doing that.'
'I tried, Mr Bale - and look what happened to me.'
He stretched out both arms. Even in the flickering candlelight, Bale could see how frail he was. All the life seemed to have been knocked out of Lewis Bircroft. He was a hollow shell of a man.
'Are you afraid of the earl?' asked Bale.
Bircoft indicated the door. 'You will have to see yourself out.'
'Who are his friends? What company does he keep?'
'Only he can tell you that, Mr Bale.'
'What will it cost you to give me the truth?'
'This is the truth,' said the other, sharply, pointing to his wry neck and injured leg. 'I have to live with it every day. I was suspected of causing offence to someone and I suffered as a result. A man can only take so much truth, Mr Bale. I've already had my fill.'
'So you fear a second beating, is that what troubles you?'
'It would be a death sentence. I could never survive it.'
'You'll not need to if we arrest the man responsible.'
'He's way beyond your reach, Mr Bale. Nobody is above the law, you tell me? You have clearly not been following the activities of the King and his Court. They revel in their lawlessness,' said Bircroft with rancour. 'They commit crimes upon innocent people whenever they choose and an army of constables could not stop them. When you live under such tyranny, you learn to be circumspect.'
'Sir Julius Cheever is not circumspect.'
'His turn will come, alas.'
'Every man is entitled to fight back against his enemies.'
'Not when they hold a power of you.'
'Is that the situation you are in, Mr Bircroft? Does someone hold a power of you?'
'I think that I would like you to go,
Constable.'
'Is the name of that person the Earl of Stoneleigh?'
Bircroft said nothing but his eyes were pools of eloquence. Bale did not need to stay. He had the answer he sought.
Christopher Redmayne went to open the front door himself. When he saw the coach draw up outside his house, he thought that Susan Cheever had returned and he rushed to greet her. In fact, it was her father who descended from the vehicle. After issuing a gruff apology for the lateness of the hour, Sir Julius followed the architect into the house and they settled down in the parlour. Sensing that it might be needed, Jacob materialised out of his pantry to place a bottle of brandy and two glasses on the table between them. From the eagerness with which his visitor accepted the offer of a drink, Christopher could see that he was thoroughly jangled.
'Has something happened, Sir Julius?' he asked.
'Another attempt has been made to kill me.' 'When? Where?'
'At the King's Theatre,' said Sir Julius, taking a long sip of his brandy. 'Since musket balls will not bring me down, they are trying to murder my reputation.'
'I do not understand.'
'Then let me explain.'
Sir Julius told him about the savage laughter he had endured from his parliamentary colleagues, and how he had been unable to fathom its cause until Henry Redmayne had arrived at his house. When he recalled the scene in the play that traduced him, he was shaking with uncontrollable anger. By the end of his account, he had finished his brandy and requested another.
Christopher was annoyed and troubled. His ire was reserved exclusively for his brother. He could see exactly why Henry had concealed the information from him so that he would have an excuse to visit the house in Westminster in the hope of seeing Brilliana Serle. It made Christopher seethe. At the same time, he was deeply concerned for Sir Julius. He had never seen him in such a ravaged condition. His visitor looked like an old bear that had been chained to a stake then attacked by a pack of hounds.
On any other day, Sir Julius would have beaten them away with a growl of defiance but he was already in a weakened state as the result of a personal setback. Christopher knew how upset he must have been when Sir Julius saw his hopes of a closer relationship with Dorothy Kitson founder on the rocks of a family gathering.
The Parliament House Page 19
