The Parliament House

by Edward Marston

  'So blithe and uncaring,' said Christopher. 'Sir Julius is incarcerated in the Tower. Think what that means to a man of his dignity. And spare a thought for his family. I had to tell them what had happened. They were distraught.'

  Henry was concerned. 'Was Brilliana upset?'

  'She was in floods of tears.'

  'I'd not have hurt her for the world. If I'd known what Cuthbert had in mind, I'd never have agreed to act as his second. But you insisted that I court him,' he told Christopher, 'and that's exactly what I did.'

  'Even though it meant enraging your brother?'

  'I hoped that you'd not recognise me.'

  'I'd recognise you anywhere, Henry. I was simply grateful that Sir Julius did not realise you were there. He'd have run you through.'

  'Then he'd not have heard what I discovered.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'The duel need never have taken place, Christopher.'

  'It should not have taken place,' said Bale, officiously. 'If it were left to me-'

  'One moment, Jonathan,' said Christopher. 'I fancy that Henry has something important to tell us. Am I right, Henry?'

  'You are,' replied his brother, 'and it will demonstrate which side I am really on. Be prepared for a revelation.'

  'Go on.'

  'The duel was arranged on false grounds.'

  'Sir Julius was goaded into it.'

  'That was deliberate, Christopher - but not strictly fair.'

  'Nothing about the earl suggests fairness.' 'Do not deride him,' said Henry. 'He's a brave man. When you take part in a duel, you put your life at risk. How was he to know that Sir Julius would not turn out to be an expert swordsman?'

  'I saw no bravery in him today - only arrogance.'

  'That's because you did not know the circumstances.'

  'They seem clear to me, sir,' said Bale. 'A play was performed that held Sir Julius up to ridicule. He was bound to feel the need to strike back at its author.'

  'I agree, Mr Bale, but that's not what he did.'

  'It's exactly what he did,' argued Christopher. 'He issued a challenge to the Earl of Stoneleigh.'

  'Yes, but Cuthbert did not actually write the offending scene.'

  'But it was in a play that bore his name.'

  'Inserted there by another hand, a very mischievous hand.'

  Christopher was bewildered. 'Are you telling us that the man who belittled Sir Julius Cheever in front of a theatre audience was not the earl?' Henry nodded. 'Then who did write that scene?'

  'Maurice Farwell.'

  Maurice Farwell rolled over in bed and reached for his goblet of wine. He offered it first to the woman who lay beside him and then, when she had taken a sip, he put it to his own lips. Farwell set the goblet back on the bedside table.

  'What better way to toast our success?' he said, suavely.

  'I knew that we'd bring him down in the end.'

  'I'm sorry that it took so long, my love. It meant that you had to endure his attentions far longer than I'd hoped.'

  'The most difficult part of it was being compelled to meet his family,' said Dorothy Kitson, purring as he caressed her thigh. 'He had a frightful daughter who badgered me all evening. It was not helped by the fact that Orlando insisted on being present.'

  'Your brother is such dull company.'

  'No woman could say that of you, Maurice.'

  'Orlando still thinks that it was an accident that we met Sir Julius at Newmarket that day. In fact, knowing that he'd be there, you made sure that you introduced me.'

  'One glance at you, Dorothy, and he was bewitched.' 'Thank you,' she said, accepting a kiss, 'but there's only one man in whom I have any real interest and he lies beside me now.'

  'What would Orlando say if he saw us together?'

  She laughed. 'I think that he'd have a fit. My brother knows so little about the ways of the world. He's very gullible. When I told him that I'd heard about the duel from your wife, he believed me implicitly. Poor Orlando!' she sighed. 'He's so blind.'

  'Forget about him, my love. Forget about everyone but us.'

  'The person I most want to forget is Sir Julius Cheever.'

  'Being alone with him must have been a trial for you.'

  'It was, Maurice. I'd hoped he'd be shot in Knightrider Street. When he somehow survived, I had to grit my teeth and carry on with the charade. And when he came back alive from Cambridge,' she said, pulling a face, 'I could not believe my misfortune.'

  'His luck has finally run out now, Dorothy.'

  'What will happen to him?'

  'I'll let him rot in the Tower for a few weeks.'

  And then?'

  'I'll have him poisoned,' said Farwell, reaching for the goblet again. 'More wine, my love?'

  * * *

  Chapter Thirteen

  Still at home with his two visitors, Christopher Redmayne needed time to think. Two imperatives were guiding him. He had to rescue Sir Julius Cheever from his perilous situation, and he had to win back Susan's love and trust. The two demands were linked. The only way that he could liberate Sir Julius from the Tower of London and restore his reputation was by unmasking those who had devised the plot against him. That, in turn, would make Susan look on him more favourably again. At least, that is what he hoped. After the way that he had let her down, there was no guarantee that she would ever let him back into her heart. Christopher accepted that.

  After what Jonathan Bale had told him, he felt certain that the Earl of Stoneleigh and his cousin, Erasmus Howlett, were implicated in the murder of one man and the attempted murder of another. And it seemed crystal clear that the earl had baited the trap that had left Sir Julius imprisoned on a serious charge. The revelation from Henry Redmayne had forced his brother to question his assumptions. It had been Maurice Farwell who had penned the defamatory scene in The Royal Favourite and not the play's author. Were the two men working in concert with Howlett, or had Farwell and the brewer hatched the plot between them? An already complex situation had suddenly become even more confusing.

  While his visitors waited in silence, Christopher pondered for a long time. Eventually, he turned to Henry.

  'What do you know of Maurice Farwell?' he asked.

  'Nothing to his disadvantage,' said Henry, peevishly. 'Every man should have at least one vice in his life but Farwell seems to have none. While others scheme, he has risen by sheer merit. Now Cuthbert is cut from a very different cloth,' he added with a grin of approval. 'He knows how to carouse the night away with a pretty actress on each arm. Cuthbert is able to enjoy himself.'

  'That's not my idea of enjoyment, sir,' said Bale.

  'Then your life is too circumscribed.'

  'My enjoyment comes from my wife and family.'

  'It's the same with Cuthbert,' said Henry. 'He delights in his wife and children as well. But he keeps them in their place so that they do not interfere with his work.'

  'Carousing with actresses is hardly work,' noted Bale.

  'It's one of the privileges of being a celebrated playwright and Cuthbert is like me. He's not a man to neglect any of his privileges.'

  'What about Mr Farwell?' said Christopher. 'Is he a good friend of the earl's?'

  'I've never seen them together. On the other hand, they must be well-acquainted if he was allowed to write a scene in one of Cuthbert's plays. And what a hilarious scene it was! I laughed for an hour.'

  'Did you admit that to Sir Julius?'

  'Of course not,' said Henry. 'I'm not that stupid. And his daughter must never find out the truth either. Jeering at her father is not the best way to endear myself to Brilliana.'

  'I think that she already has your measure,' said Christopher.

  'What can I do next?' asked Bale. 'We know that Mr Howlett is related to the earl. Do you want me to find out how well the brewer knows this Mr Farwell?'

  'My brother is the best person to do that,' said Christopher. 'We need him to obtain a copy of their handwriting.'

  'Whatever for?' asked
Henry.

  'Because we have that unsigned letter, instructing a man to kill Sir Julius on his way to Cambridge. The person who wrote it was either the Earl of Stoneleigh or Maurice Farwell.'

  'It was certainly not Cuthbert.'

  'How can you be so sure?'

  'Because I know his hand well,' said Henry, reaching into his pocket. 'In fact, I have an example of it right here.' He produced a piece of paper and gave it to Christopher. 'It was my summons to act as his second. You showed me the two letters you found. As you see, Cuthbert's hand bears no resemblance to either of them.'

  'None at all,' said Christopher. 'Look, Jonathan.'

  Bale glanced at the letter and shook his head solemnly. 'It's not him, Mr Redmayne. The earl did not send that letter to Crothers.'

  'Then only one person could have done so.'

  'Maurice Farwell.'

  'Get us a copy of his handwriting, Henry.'

  'I'm not on those terms with him,' said his brother.

  'Then find someone who is,' said Christopher. 'And do so as a matter of urgency. We're trying to solve one murder and prevent another one.'

  'Another one?'

  'You don't suppose that they will let Sir Julius escape now, do you? They have him exactly where they want him.'

  'The law must take its course,' said Bale.

  'I don't think that it will be allowed to, Jonathan. These men are devious. Why wait for a trial when they can have him removed any day they wish? No,' decided Christopher, 'my guess is that they had Sir Julius imprisoned in the Tower so that he would be at their mercy. Act swiftly, Henry,' he instructed. 'We simply must find out the truth about Maurice Farwell.'

  'I thought that I might catch you, Maurice,' said Orlando Golland. 'You always dine here when parliament is in session.'

  'I'm a creature of habit,' said Farwell.

  'You are like me. Work comes before everything.'

  'But I do like to eat well while I'm doing it.'

  Maurice Farwell had just left the tavern in Westminster when Golland intercepted him. The lawyer was itching to learn more about the rumour that his sister had passed on to him.

  'I can guess why you came, Orlando,' said Farwell, tolerantly.

  'Dorothy gave me the most remarkable tidings.'

  'She had them from my wife, I believe.'

  'Is it true? Sir Julius has been arrested?'

  'Arrested and clapped into the Tower. He challenged Cuthbert to a duel and committed a crime in doing so by seeking the life of a Privy Councillor.'

  'I had a feeling that might be the offence.'

  'It all arose out of a scene in one of Cuthbert's plays,' said Farwell, blandly. 'You may have seen mention of the performance in the newspaper. Sir Julius was attacked with unabated savagery, I hear, and several Members were there to witness the wicked satire. When they reported what they had seen to the rest of us, we could not help laughing at Sir Julius Seize-Her - his name in the play, apparently - as he entered the chamber. The whole place was consumed with mirth.'

  'That must have made him smoulder.'

  'He turned bright red and stormed out of the House.'

  'I can picture it well, Maurice,' said Golland, 'and I have no pity for him. He's brought all his troubles upon himself.'

  'This may be the last time he does that.'

  'What does the law dictate?'

  'A death penalty has been imposed in the past.'

  'His Majesty could show leniency.'

  'Yes,' said Farwell, 'he could, and I hope, for my part, that he does. We need one or two politicians like Sir Julius Cheever. His chances, however, are not good.'

  'He has too many enemies on the Privy Council.'

  'When all is said and done, Orlando, we hold the major offices of state. We advise His Majesty and we make all the decisions affecting the people of this country. To threaten one of us is a rash thing to do,' he said. 'To challenge a Privy Councillor to a duel and thereby seek his life is even more impulsive. In pleading for clemency, I suspect that I may well be a lone voice.'

  'If he came up in front of me, I'd pronounce him guilty.'

  'Is that a judicial or a personal opinion?'

  'I never let my personal opinions influence me,' said Golland, pompously. 'I assess each case on its merits then make an objective judgement. In this instance - though I would have to study the relevant statute beforehand, naturally - the outcome is unavoidable. Sir Julius was bent on taking the life of Cuthbert, Earl of Stoneleigh.'

  'He was provoked, Orlando.'

  'He should not have yielded to provocation.'

  'Sir Julius is hot-blooded,' said Farwell. 'You must make some allowance for that.' 'None at all,' said Golland, dogmatically. 'A man should learn to control himself at all times. It's what I do. I never lose my temper.'

  'You must have solid ice in your veins. Unless one of your horses is running in a race, of course. Then you can actually show passion. Disciplined passion, Orlando.'

  'As you wish.'

  Farwell touched Golland on the arm by way of a farewell. 'It's good to talk to you, Orlando, but I must get back. We have a committee meeting in half-an-hour. By the way,' he said, casually, 'how is Dorothy? This news must have shaken her.'

  'It did. In time, she'll come to perceive that it was good news for her. At the moment, however, she still has emotional ties to Sir Julius. For that reason, Dorothy is suffering.'

  'Your sister was always soft-hearted.'

  'It's a weakness I've pointed out on many occasions.'

  'An attractive weakness,' said Farwell with affection. 'I've not seen Dorothy for ages, not since our visit to Newmarket, in fact. You and she must call on us some time.'

  'Thank you, Maurice. We'll take up that invitation. When this whole business is settled.'

  'Yes, it might be sensible to wait.'

  'The fate of Sir Julius Cheever weighs down on her. Until he is dispatched, Dorothy will pine for him. She is not good company at the moment. It would be wrong of me to inflict her upon you.'

  'Pass on my warmest regards.'

  'I will, Maurice.'

  'And assure her that at least one member of the Privy Council will be speaking up for her friend. Sir Julius can count on my vote.'

  It was Jacob who saw him first. Old as he was, his eyes remained sharp and his instincts keen. Since his income was more regular now, Christopher also employed a youth to do all the menial chores but it was Jacob who still ran the house and watched over his master with paternal care. He raised the alarm at once.

  'There's someone outside, Mr Redmayne,' he said.

  'There are hundreds of people outside, Jacob. Fetter Lane is always busy People come and go all day.'

  'But they do not stand still in the same place.'

  'What do you mean?' asked Christopher.

  'I noticed him when I showed your brother in, and again when I showed him out. He was still there when Mr Bale left.' 'So?'

  'He's keeping the house under surveillance.'

  'Surely not.'

  'See for yourself, Mr Redmayne,' advised the servant.

  Christopher went over to the front window and, standing well back so that he would not be observed from the street, he peered out. Two coaches were passing in opposite directions to obscure his view. When they had vanished, he saw a figure lurking in a doorway that was diagonally opposite. The man was pretending to show no particular interest in Christopher's house but, every so often, he tossed it a look. Jacob stood at his master's shoulder.

  'Well, sir?'

  'As always, Jacob, you are right.'

  'Would you like me to scare him away?' offered the other.

  'No,' said Christopher. 'I want to know who he is and why he's there. Jonathan warned me that this might happen.'

  'What, sir?'

  'Never you mind.'

  Christopher did not want to alarm Jacob. If he confided his fears, the old man would worry. He hated the thought that his master could be in any danger. Christopher welcomed the
appearance of the stranger. If someone was concerned about the way that the murder investigation was going, it showed how much he and Bale had achieved. Since he was taking the leading role, Christopher was almost more likely to be a target. He recalled what Bale had said about Erasmus Howlett. The brewer had taken an unduly close interest in the architect. The man outside might well be the result.

  'Fetch my hat, Jacob,' he said. 'I think that I'll take a stroll.'

  'When that fellow is still watching the house?'

  'He'll lose interest in that when he sees me.'

  'That's what I'm afraid of, sir. Let me come with you.'

  'There's no need.'

  'I could ensure your safety,' said Jacob.

  'You'd also frighten the man away,' said Christopher. 'If I'm on my own, he may follow me. With you at my side, he'll be more circumspect and I'll never get to know his business.'

  While Jacob went for his hat, he strapped on his sword belt and slipped his dagger into its sheath. He took another look at the man who was keeping a vigil outside. Wearing nondescript clothes, he was a relatively short individual of stocky build. He wore a dark beard so Christopher could see little of his face beneath the hat. At that distance, it was difficult to put an age on him. Christopher could see that he wore a dagger but there was no sign of a musket or pistol.

  'Goodbye, Jacob,' he said. 'I'll not be long.'

  'Take care, sir.'

  'I always do.'

  Opening the front door, Christopher stepped out and walked towards High Holborn. He did not look in the direction of the man as he passed and gave no indication that he knew he was being followed. He turned the corner and joined the many pedestrians heading east towards Shoe Lane. Strolling along, he sensed that his shadow was not far behind him. He felt safe. An attack was unlikely in such a crowded thoroughfare. To tempt him to make his move, Christopher had to go somewhere more private.

  He soon saw his opportunity. An alleyway zigzagged off to the left, too narrow for coaches, too dark and uninviting for most passers-by. Crossing the road, Christopher turned into the alleyway and lengthened his stride. He was going around the first bend when he heard footsteps scurrying behind him. The ruse had worked. Following the next twist in the lane, he stopped abruptly and flattened himself against the wall. Hurried footsteps now broke into a run.