The King's Evil (10 page)

It
was almost three weeks before Sir Ambrose Northcott returned to London and he
did so in high spirits. They were temporarily dampened when he learned of the
crimes at the site but lifted once more at the news that three thieves were now
in custody along with the man who received and paid for their stolen goods.
Everything taken from the site was still in the latter's warehouse. Complete
restitution occurred. Northcott was delighted that he had suffered no real
loss. His only regret was that the malefactors would not appear before him
when he sat on the Bench. It deprived him of the pleasure of imposing vile
punishments upon them.

Building
had continued apace in his absence. The improvement was dramatic. With the
cellars complete, the bricklayers were able to start on the exterior walls of
the house. Additional men had been taken on by Littlejohn to construct the high
wall around the garden, ensuring both privacy and a higher level of security.
Though much still remained to be done before skilled craftsmen were brought in
to work their magic on the interior of the residence, Northcott was vastly
encouraged. The house now bore a much closer resemblance to the one which first
began life as an architect's vision on a sheet of paper in Fetter Lane.

Christopher
Redmayne earned his employer's warm gratitude. It was his initiative which had
helped to ensnare the thieves and which led, indirectly, to the return of the
materials which they stole. Northcott pressed the architect to dine with him at
a select tavern. Christopher accepted with alacrity though his pleasure was
diluted somewhat when he realised that there was a third person at the table
with them. He found Solomon Creech more repellent than ever. The lawyer was at
his most unctuous.

'Yes,
Sir Ambrose,' he said, washing his hands in the air, 'I was most insistent that
we solved the crime before your return. I could not have you coming back to
find us hampered by such setbacks. I made that clear to Mr Littlejohn and to Mr
Redmayne here,' he said, offering a weak smile to Christopher. 'I had perforce
to speak sternly to them on your behalf but my firmness paid dividends.'

'So
it appears, Solomon,' said Northcott.

'I
had half a mind to hide under that tarpaulin with them.'

'Brave
man!'

'Age
alone held me back.'

'Yet
I believe that Mr Littlejohn is older than you,' said Christopher, annoyed at
the way in which the egregious lawyer was trying to wrest glory from them. 'Age
did not deter him. He fought like a lion.'

'Solomon
is more of a fox,' remarked Northcott.

I
knew that he was some kind of animal, thought Christopher, but he did not
express it in words. Sir Ambrose Northcott was an astute man. He would not be
taken in by the lawyer's claims. Christopher could rely on his employer to sift
arrant lies from the plain truth.

When
the meal was over, Northcott gave a signal and Creech rose to leave, covering
his exit with obsequious thanks and bending almost double as he backed out of
the room. Northcott turned to his other guest.

'You
do not like him, Christopher, do you?' he said.

'I
hardly know the man.'

'You
know enough about him to despise him. I could see it in your eyes.' He laughed
at the other's discomfort. 'Do not be alarmed. I am far from fond of him
myself. Solomon Creech can be odious at times but he has one of the shrewdest
legal brains in London and that is why I employ him. I always seek out the best
men to serve me.' He flicked a finger to order more wine. 'That is why I chose
you.'

'Thank
you, Sir Ambrose.'

'I
have no regrets on that score.'

'Nor
I,'
said Christopher.

'Come,
sir,' teased the other. 'You must have some complaints. When you were engaged
to design a house for me, you could hardly have imagined that it would involve
spending several hours under a tarpaulin before fighting with a couple of
ruffians.'

'I
enjoyed every moment of it.'

'So,
by all accounts, did Samuel Littlejohn.'

'He
is a powerful man when he is roused.'

'As
indeed are you, Christopher. Your brother did not just regale me with details
of your architectural abilities. He spoke of your physical prowess as well.
Henry told me what a fine swordsman you are. And you clearly keep yourself in
excellent condition.' The teasing note returned. 'No wonder you have made such
an impression on the Littlejohn family.'

'Samuel
is a splendid man. It is I who revere him.'

'I
was referring to his daughter.'

'Ah.'

'Margaret?
Is that what she is called?'

'I
believe so.'

'You
know so, Christopher. The girl is enthralled by you.' 'Hardly,' said the other,
trying to brush an embarrassing subject aside. 'We have hardly spoken two words
to each other.'

'She
worships you in silence,' said Northcott with a grin. 'I saw her at the site
yesterday. Those big eyes of hers never left you for a second. Her father tells
me that she was taken with you from the start. Since your exploits with those
thieves, she adores you.' He gave his companion a sly nudge. 'What do you
intend to do about it?'

'Do
about it, Sir Ambrose?'

'Margaret
is an attractive creature.'

'Nobody
would gainsay that.'

'Then
what is holding you back?'

'From
what?' Christopher saw the candid lechery in his eye. 'Oh, no, Sir Ambrose.
There can be no question of that.'

'Why
not? You are young, unmarried and virile.'

'I
am wedded to my work.'

'Every
man needs to season his labours with pleasure.'

'You
begin to sound like my brother.'

'Henry
would not hesitate in such a case as this.'

'I
am afraid that he would not, Sir Ambrose.'

'So
why must you?' pressed the other. 'Margaret Littlejohn is patently entranced by
you. Requite her love.' Another nudge. 'Take pity on her, Christopher. Give the
young lady what she so earnestly craves.'

'That
would be unwise and unfair.'

'Would
it?'

Christopher
weighed his words carefully before speaking. His first impression of Margaret
Littlejohn had proved correct. She was a potential danger. Her admiration of
him was now so blatant that he tried to avoid her eye lest even a greeting nod
from him be mistaken as a form of encouragement. Christopher had known
infatuation himself in his younger days and he understood the lengths to which
it could drive a person. His fear was that the builder's daughter would become
so enamoured of him that she would discard all propriety and blurt out a
declaration of love. That was something which he wished to avoid at all costs.

'Answer
me,' insisted Northcott. 'Unwise and unfair, you say?'

'Yes,
Sir Ambrose,' explained Christopher. 'It would be unwise for me to become
involved with any woman at this time because it would prove a serious
distraction. And it would be especially unwise of me to engage the affections
of a young lady whose father works alongside me.'

'But
the fellow approves of the match.'

'It
is not a match. That is the crucial point. Margaret Littlejohn is a charming
young lady but I could never requite her love,' he admitted, 'and it would be
unfair both to her and her father to pretend that I could. As for the other
course of action, it would be quite monstrous of me to take my pleasure then
cast her aside when I tired of her. What purpose would be served by that?'

'Ask
your brother.'

'Henry
and I view these things differently.'

'I
am more inclined to side with him.'

'Would
you do so if you were involved in a similar situation?'

'What
do you mean?'

'Only
this, Sir Ambrose,' said Christopher. 'Henry told me that you have a daughter
who is little above Margaret Littlejohn's age. Were she to become hopelessly
entranced by a young man, would you advise him to take full advantage of her?'

'Leave
my daughter out of this!' said Northcott testily.

'I
only sought to draw a parallel.'

'It
is an offensive one. Let us forget the whole matter.'

'Gladly,
Sir Ambrose.'

'My
daughter, Penelope, is engaged to be married.'

'Henry
omitted to mention that.'

'I
will tax him on the subject when I meet him this evening.'

'Please
accept my apology. No offence was intended.'

'Enough,
man! I will hear no more!'

There
was an awkward pause. Another bottle of wine arrived and their glasses were
refilled. Christopher waited until his host had taken a long sip before he
resumed the conversation.

'I
have made enquiries about an artist,' he said quietly.

'Artist?'
grunted the other.

'You
wanted a portrait painted, Sir Ambrose. To hang in the hall of the new house.
You stressed that the artist had to be worthy of such a commission. I have
found two men, either of whom would suit you.'

'Who
are they?'

Christopher
described the two men and praised their work in equal measure. Northcott's
interest was engaged once more and his ruffled feathers were gradually
smoothed. He insisted on seeing the work of both artists before reaching a
decision between them. Talk of the portrait led on to a discussion of
furnishings for the house and an hour slipped pleasurably past. The architect
was glad that Margaret Littlejohn had faded completely out of their discourse.
Northcott had obviously forgotten all about her. Christopher took great care to
make no further reference to his host's daughter. He did not wish to provoke
more ire.

Northcott
regained his buoyant mood. When they parted company, he shook Christopher's
hand warmly and thanked him once again for the bravery he had shown in
confronting the thieves. Sir Ambrose Northcott was expansive, promising that no
expense would be spared on the house and assuring the young architect that he
would be among the first guests invited to dine there. Christopher was
honoured. The prospect of owning a beautiful new home seemed to rejuvenate
Northcott. He walked away with a jauntiness in his gait.

Christopher
was struck by the extraordinary vitality of the older man. Sir Ambrose
Northcott truly defied his years. He had an inner zest which somehow made light
of the passage of time. Though no longer entirely uncritical of his employer,
Christopher could not but admire his bounding energy.

As
he watched the man go, it did not occur to him for a second that he would never
see Sir Ambrose Northcott alive again.