The King's Evil (22 page)

When
he got back to the house in Addle Hill, his wife was waiting for him in the
kitchen. Sarah Bale looked up from the table without reproach.

'You
are late,' she observed.

'I
had much to do, my love.'

'You
have been saying that every night for a week, Jonathan. The children miss their
bedtime kiss from you. How much longer will this investigation go on?'

'Until
an arrest is made,' he said. 'As you well know, my own duties occupy most of
the day. It is only in the evening that I can take up my search for the man who
murdered Sir Ambrose Northcott.' 'Where did that search lead you this time?'

Jonathan
Bale lowered himself on to the chair opposite her. 'It began with a meeting,'
he explained. 'I sent word to Mr Redmayne to find me at the wharf near which
the
Marie Louise
was anchored. He has been as busy as I have so we had much news to exchange.
When he left, I scoured the taverns to see if I could pick up any more details
about Sir Ambrose's ship.'

'I
can smell the beer on your breath,' she said tolerantly.

'At
least I now know where she is sailing.'

'Good.
How was Mr Redmayne?'

'Civil.'

'He
could never be less than that,' she chided. 'He is a perfect gentleman. It
pains me that you cannot bring yourself to like him.'

'We
were cast in two different moulds, Sarah.'

'So
were he and I, yet I find him very affable.'

'Then
you speak for yourself,' he said. 'I do not have time to find the man affable
or not. We are investigating a murder together. It is a solemn undertaking. The
most it leaves room for is companionship.'

'You
are softening towards him,' she teased. 'I can see.'

'Then
you see more than I feel.'

'So
be it. Let us forget Mr Redmayne for the moment,' she said briskly. 'Someone
else demands your attention. I hoped that you'd be home earlier because she sat
in this kitchen with me for hours.'

'She?'

'Hail-Mary
Thorpe.'

'What
did she want?'

'To
speak to you, Jonathan.'

'Why?'

'Her
husband has been arrested.'

'On
what charge?'

'She
is not certain. He was taken from the house while she was visiting a neighbour.
Mrs Thorpe thinks that it might be for refusing to attend church and to pay
tithes.'

'Let
us hope that she is right.' 'Why?'

'Because
those offences carry a mild punishment, Sarah. If he is lucky, he may get away
with a fine. My fear is that he could be arraigned for a far more serious
offence.'

'What
is that?'

'Printing
and distributing a seditious pamphlet,' said Jonathan. 'I am fairly certain
that he is the culprit and tried to warn him of the dangers he faced. But you
know Jesus-Died-To-Save-Me Thorpe. He enjoys danger. The man welcomes arrest.'

'His
wife does not welcome it. She has only just recovered from a serious illness.
Mrs Thorpe needs her husband beside her.'

'I
made that point to him.'

'Would
that he had heeded your advice!'

'It
is not in his nature.'

'What
will happen to him?'

'That
depends on the charge brought against him,' said her husband, stroking his
chin. 'If that pamphlet were found on his premises, it will go hard with him.
Mr Thorpe could face a long prison sentence or even worse.'

'Worse?'

'Transportation.'

'God
forbid!'

'What
state was his wife in?'

Sarah
heaved a sigh. 'She was very agitated, poor dear! It took me an age to calm her
down. Mrs Thorpe was hoping that you might be able to help her in some way.'

'There
is little enough that I can do, I fear.'

'Could
you not find out with what he is charged?'

'Yes,
Sarah. That is easily done.'

'Mrs
Thorpe would be most grateful.'

'Who
made the arrest?'

'Tom
Warburton.'

'I
could wish it was any other constable,' said Jonathan with a grimace. 'Tom
Warburton does not like Quakers. If it were left to him, every member of the
Society of Friends would be hurled into prison.' He hauled himself up. 'I'll walk
to his house now. There is a good chance that Tom will still be up. He can tell
me what charges Jesus-Died- To-Save-Me Thorpe faces.'

'What
of Mrs Thorpe?'

'If
I see a light in her house on my way back, I will call on her and tell her what
I have learned. Otherwise, I will have to leave it until first thing in the
morning.'

'Either
way, she will not get much sleep tonight.'

'It
is not the first time her husband has been taken.'

'That
makes no difference,' she said, rising to her feet and reaching out to touch
his arm. 'She is suffering badly. I know that you must perform your duties
without fear or favour but they have been good neighbours to us. Try to help
them, Jonathan. There must be something you can do for Mr Thorpe.'

'There
is, Sarah.'

'What
is it?'

'Pray.'

At
intervals throughout the night, Christopher came awake with a smile as he
realised that Penelope Northcott was sleeping only yards away from him. While
he basked in his good fortune, he was also troubled by anxieties about her,
fearing the consequences she might have to face. George Strype would be angry
enough when he learned that she went to London without even telling him. If her
fiancée discovered that she had spent the night in a house in Fetter Lane, he
would be outraged. Christopher could imagine the kind of recriminations which
would ensue. That she should take such risks argued daring on her behalf and,
he hoped, hinted at slight affection towards him. In the privacy of his
bedchamber, he was ready to acknowledge far more than slight affection on his
side.

He
rose at dawn and, by the light of a candle, read the letters which she had
given him. They disclosed a relationship which had being going on for the best
part of a year. Sir Ambrose Northcott had not stinted his mistress. Each time
she wrote, she thanked him for some lavish gift and she was flattered when he
changed the name of his ship to
Marie Louise.
The constant theme of the
letters was the desire to spend more time with her lover and she looked forward
to the moment when they could move into the new London residence together.

Christopher
had designed the house. He was jolted by the thought that his career as an
architect had begun in the lustful embraces of Sir Ambrose and his mistress. He
was also angry that his brother had not warned him of the existence of Marie
Louise Oilier. It was one more sin of omission with which to tax Henry
Redmayne.

The
correspondence raised a brutal question. It was easy to see what a middle-aged
man like Sir Ambrose Northcott found so tempting about a beautiful young
Frenchwoman but what did she see in him? His charms were hardly overpowering.
Love was expressed in every one of the letters but Christopher had no means of
judging how sincere it was. After a second reading of the
billets-doux,
he
could still not decide whether he was looking at the tender outpourings of a
woman in love or the guileful prose of someone in pursuit of Sir Ambrose's
wealth. No false note was sounded by Marie Louise Oilier, however, and he
slowly came to see her as the innocent victim of an older man's lechery.
Whatever the true nature of their relationship, one thing was clear. She
deserved to know that it had been brought to a premature end.

After
a fruitful hour of reflection, Christopher dressed and went downstairs. He was
surprised to see that Penelope Northcott was already up, seated at the dining
room table over the breakfast which Jacob had prepared for her. He sensed an
element of discomfort.

'Good
morning, Miss Northcott.'

'Good
morning.'

'Did
you sleep well?'

'Extremely
well, Mr Redmayne. The bed was very soft.'

'You
were welcome to stay in it much longer,' he said. 'Did you have to rise so
early?' 'My coachman will be here for me soon.'

'I
am disappointed that you cannot tarry.'

'So
am I,' she said, meeting his gaze. 'But I have imposed on you enough. Besides,
I have business elsewhere.'

'Do
you plan to return to Kent today?'

'No,
Mr Redmayne. I will be staying in London for a few days.'

'My
home is entirely at your disposal.'

'A
kind offer, sir, but one which I must decline. Before I fell asleep last night,
I reached a decision. It is vital that I visit our house in Westminster because
it may contain clues which will be of great help to you. That being the case, I
am forcing myself to go there.'

'I
would be happy to accompany you.'

'That
will not be necessary,' she said almost primly. 'I would prefer to be alone.
Dirk will take me there in the coach.'

Christopher
took a seat opposite her as Jacob brought him his breakfast. They ate in
silence until the servant left the room. Penelope was a trifle nervous. He
noticed that she avoided his eyes.

'I
hope that you have no regrets, Miss Northcott,' he said.

'Regrets?'

'About
staying under my roof.'

'None
at all, Mr Redmayne,' she said, looking up at him. 'And it was convenient to
have an inn around the corner in Holborn where my coach and coachman could be
lodged for the night.'

'You
give me the impression that you would have preferred to spend the night there
yourself.'

'That
is not the case at all, I promise you, and I am sorry if my manner suggests
otherwise. You have been generosity itself but my mind is in turmoil over
recent events. Please excuse me if I appear at all rude,' she said with a
penitent smile. 'I am merely preoccupied.'

'Of
course.'

'Is
there anything you wish to ask before I leave?'

He
grinned. 'I have questions enough to detain you for a week.'

'You
will have to save them until a more fit time.'

'I
will,' he said. 'Just remember that I am always here. If you need help of any
kind while you are in London or, more to the point, if you do uncover what you
conceive to be useful evidence at your house in Westminster, you know where to
find me.'

'At
the sign of the Kind Landlord.'

'Is
that what I am?'

'You
keep a comfortable inn, sir.'

'It
has been blessed by your presence, Miss Northcott.'

His
frank admiration unsettled her slightly and she was grateful when the rumble of
wheels was heard outside. A glance through the window confirmed that her coachman
had arrived. Showering him with more thanks, she rose from the table and
crossed to the door. He followed her until a thought made her stop.

'There
is something which deserves my particular thanks, sir.'

'Is
there?'

'Your
discretion,' she said. 'When we talked last night, you refrained from asking
what anybody else would have asked at the outset.'

'And
what was that?'

'How
much of what I told you my fiancée must have known.'

'Nothing
at all, surely.'

'I
hope that is the case, naturally, and my heart assures me that it is. But you
are more aware than I of how closely Mr Strype's business affairs were
intertwined with my father's. They met frequently here in London. It must have
crossed your mind that Mr Strype may have stumbled on some unpleasant facts about
his future father-in-law.'

'It
never entered my thoughts,' he lied.

'I
do not believe you.'

'Then
let me put it another way, Miss Northcott. It does not concern me. I consider
it a matter between you and your fiancée.'

'Your
tact is appreciated.'

Jacob
opened the front door to let her out and Christopher helped her into the coach.
When she settled into her seat, she spoke to him through the window.

'Please
let me know if your investigations start to bear fruit,' she said.

'They
already have,' he said with a smile which he instantly changed to an earnest
frown. 'I will, Miss Northcott. But how will I reach you? I do not have your
address in Westminster.'

'You
will find it in my note.'

'What
note?'

'The
one I left for you in my bedchamber,' she said, 'thanking you for your
hospitality. As you may imagine, I had great qualms about this visit but I feel
reassured now. I just hope that some of the information I brought you may prove
useful.'

'It
is invaluable.'

'What
will you do next?'

'Go
straight to Mr Creech's office in Lombard Street to confront him with your
findings. He must have known about this Marie Louise Oilier all along. And
there is much else which that lawyer has been concealing from me. Not any more,
Miss Northcott,' he vowed. 'You have given me the ammunition I need. I will
make him divulge everything. I'll not leave his office until I have got the
full and unequivocal truth out of Solomon Creech.'