The Repentant Rake (36 page)

    'You
were party to this botched plot.'

    'That's
not true.'

    'Why
on earth did you inflict that brainless brother of yours on me?'

    'Yesterday,
you told me what a sterling fellow he was.'

    'A
sterling fool, more like. Did he really think that he could get away with it?'

    'Christopher
was only trying to help you.'

    'Help
me?' echoed Kemp. 'How does a second demand for money help me? I acted in good
faith. It's the Redmayne family that is at fault here.'

    'Moderate
your passion a little, Marcus.'

    'I'll
moderate nothing.'

    'Then
at least exclude me from your rage. I am quite innocent.'

    'Are
you?' said Kemp sourly. 'Who was it who foisted his brother on to me in the
first place? Who was it who broke a confidence and told that idiot sibling of his
that I was a victim of blackmail?'

    'Christopher
is no idiot.'

    'He
betrayed my trust.'

    'My
brother tried to catch the villain,' argued Henry. 'Had he done so, you would
have got your thousand guineas and your peace of mind back. You should be
grateful to Christopher for taking the initiative on your behalf.'

    Kemp
grabbed the letter. 'This is the result of his initiative.'

    'Let
me show it to him.'

    'No,
Henry.'

    'He
has a right to see it.'

    'Keep
your brother away from me. All that I want from him is the money.'

    'What
money?'

    'The
thousand guineas, of course,' said Kemp, brandishing the letter. 'He got me
into this mess so he must buy me out of it.'

    'Christopher
does not
have
a thousand guineas.'

    'Then
you can share the cost with him, Henry. I think that you are in this with your
brother. He discussed his plan with you beforehand. Did you try to stop him?
Did you have the sense to warn me? No!' he asserted. 'You are as guilty as he
is. I want five hundred guineas from each of you by this afternoon.'

    Henry
gurgled. 'Why not ask for five thousand?' he said with heavy sarcasm. 'You are
just as likely to get it. This is preposterous, Marcus.' He hopped out of bed
to confront his visitor. 'Christopher may have misled you slightly but it was
only for your own good. Look at the tone of that letter,' he advised. 'We're
dealing with a ruthless man here. Even if you had handed over the money
yourself yesterday, I can promise you one thing. You would still have got another
demand.'

    Kemp's
ire slowly drained away and he flopped down on the edge of the bed. 'What am I
to do Henry?'

    'Take
heart, my friend. All is not yet lost.'

    'It
is if I have to pay out a thousand guineas time and time again.'

    'Christopher
did say that this would happen,' warned Henry.

    Kemp
shook with rage. 'Who
is
the callous devil behind it all?'

    'Help
us to find out, Marcus.'

    'How
do I do that?'

    'Keep
to your side of the bargain,' said Henry softly.

    'What
bargain?' asked Kemp, looking at him.

    'The
one you struck with my brother,' Henry reminded him. 'If, for whatever reason,
you received another blackmail demand, you agreed to show Christopher all the
correspondence you have received.'

    'I
feel as if I want to stuff it down his throat!'

    'What
would that achieve? Christopher is on our side.'

    'Is
he?' wondered Kemp.

    'Yes,'
said Henry reasonably. 'This is not his fight. He need never have got involved.
He could have let the pair of us stew in our own juice. But did he? No,
Christopher has done everything in his power to help. But for my brother,' he
admitted sadly, 'I'd have been driven insane by this whole business.'

    Kemp's
fury had burned itself out. Instead of hurling wild accusations, he was a
crumpled figure with barely enough strength to sit upright. He widened his
eyes.

    'I am
done for, Henry,' he murmured. 'I might just as well be dead.'

    It
was a paradox. In trying to find out more about her sister-in- law, Susan
Cheever was instead learning a great deal about herself. She had liked
Christopher Redmayne from the start but it had taken Lucy's gentle teasing to
make her realise how deep her affection for him had become. Susan was faced
with a dilemma. Wanting to see him again, she could not imagine how it could be
arranged. Her stay in London was not indefinite. Once Lucy had recovered enough
to make decisions about her future, Susan would have to return home. It would
be possible for her to visit her sister for a while but Christopher would have
no call to travel to Richmond so her chances of meeting him there were slim. To
call on him unannounced would be improper yet she was sorely tempted to do that.
She tried to manufacture an excuse. Everything depended on Lucy. If Susan could
extract some valuable information from her sister-in-law, she would have a
legitimate reason to visit Fetter Lane yet again and she was desperate to help
in the search for her brother's killer. When breakfast was over, she began to
probe.

    'How
did you sleep, Lucy?' she asked solicitously.

    'Fitfully.'

    'You
need proper rest.'

    'I
have too much on my mind.'

    'Try
to catch up on your sleep during the day.'

    'If only
I could,' sighed Lucy. 'But I cannot sleep properly in that bed. I keep waking
up in the hope that I will find Gabriel lying beside me.'

    Susan
gave her a smile of sympathy. Lucy was pale and tense. She looked smaller and
more defenceless than ever. The cumulative effect of her bereavement was
telling on her more obviously. She had only eaten a frugal breakfast.

    'What
will you do?' asked Susan gently. 'Are you going to stay on here alone?'

    'No,'
said Lucy firmly. 'I could never do that. The house has too many bad memories
for me now. It holds some wonderful memories as well, of course, and they have
helped me through this dreadful time, but I could never go on living so close
to the place where Gabriel was…' Her voice tailed off. 'You understand.'

    'Yes,'
said Susan. 'Where will you go?'

    'I am
not sure yet.'

    'Back
to your mother?'

    'Probably.
It's my duty to do that. Mother is failing badly and she needs me.'

    'Perhaps
you need her as well,' suggested Susan. 'When we travelled back from
Northampton, I had no idea that your mother lived near St Albans. It could not
have been too far out of our way. I remembered how restless you were on the
second day of our journey. You kept glancing through the window of the coach.
Were you thinking about your mother?'

    'Yes,'
admitted Lucy. 'I felt guilty that we were passing within a few miles of the
house. Mother would have been delighted to see me but, in the circumstances, it
was quite impossible.'

    'Why?'

    'She
would have noticed my sadness and asked what caused it.'

    'Did
she not notice your joy when you last visited her?'

    'She
would have put that down to something else.'

    'What
else?'

    Lucy
shook her head. 'I need time, Susan. I am still dazed by it all. I need time to
recover from this blow. I will not make any decisions until I can think
properly again. When that happens, I expect I will return to St Albans.'

    'What
will you tell your mother?'

    'That
I have come back to nurse her.'

    'Will
you tell her why?'

    'No.'

    'Surely,
she deserves to know that you were married? You cannot keep it from her for
ever. Until she learns the truth, she will not be able to help you.'

    'It
is Mother who is in need of help.'

    'Is she
not well enough to cope with the truth?'

    Lucy
pursed her lips in thought. Her eyes shone with concentration. Susan felt that
she was on the verge of learning something important but she waited in vain. At
the very moment when Lucy was about to speak, the doorbell rang. The noise made
her start. She was annoyed at the interruption; she felt robbed. It would not
be easy to bring Lucy to that same point again. The maidservant answered the
door and voices were heard in the hall. Susan paid no attention until Anna came
into the room.

    'You
have a visitor, Miss Cheever,' she said. 'His name is Mr Vout.'

    Susan
was puzzled. 'Vout? I know nobody of that name.'

    'He
said that he came from Mr Redmayne.'

    Susan
was on her feet immediately, brushing past Anna to go into the hall. Hat in
hand, an old man was waiting deferentially. Susan recognised him at once. She
saw the look of concern on his face and became alarmed.

    'What
is the matter, Jacob?'

    Jonathan
Bale listened with a mixture of interest and dismay as Christopher Redmayne
told him about the events of the previous night. Eager to hear every detail,
the constable was upset to see his friend in such a state. The lacerations on
Christopher's face were vivid and a bruise discoloured his cheekbone. Through
the open neck of his shirt, the bandaging on his shoulder was visible.
Christopher's knuckles bore testimony to the ferocity of the fight. One hand
was bruised while the other had lost some skin from the backs of the fingers.
Jonathan felt guilty that he had not been there to protect him.

    'Next
time you go out at night, Mr Redmayne, I will come with you.'

    Christopher
grinned. 'To a gaming house?'

    'If
need be,' said Jonathan.

    'I'll
not be caught off guard again, Mr Bale.'

    'No,
sir. I will be watching your back.'

    'It
was my own fault,' recalled Christopher. 'My mind was on something else. I
should have realised that someone was following me. The irony is that I had
just acted as Henry's bodyguard. I deliver him safely to his house in Bedford
Street then I'm the one who is attacked.'

    'He
obviously put up a fight.'

    'Yes,'
said Christopher modestly, 'but, luckily, he came off far worse.'

    'He
may try again.'

    'Not for
some time, Mr Bale. I managed to stab his arm.'

    'It
must have been the same man who killed Gabriel Cheever.'

    Christopher
felt his neck. 'He used the same method, I know that. He was a strong fellow. I
can see how he overpowered Gabriel.' He saw Jonathan's grim expression. 'Do not
look so gloomy. I am not destined for the grave just yet.'

    'I
hope not, Mr Redmayne. Thank you for sending for me.'

    'Jacob
insisted on going for you.' He glanced around. 'By the way, where is he?'

    'He
said that he had somewhere else to go.'

    'Where?
Jacob should have come back with you. Those were his orders.'

    'He
is probably on his way now.'

    'It's
so unlike him to go missing.'

    'Forget
your servant,' said Jonathan. 'Tell me about your visit to Mr Wickens.'

    'He
was reluctant to show me his anonymous letter at first. It's understandable, I
suppose. No man wants his vices to be put on display like that, though I
suspect that Peter Wickens had less to hide than Sir Marcus Kemp. In any case,'
said Christopher, 'we persuaded him eventually and he allowed me a glimpse of
the letter.'

    'Was
it written by the person who sent your brother's demand?'