The Repentant Rake (41 page)

    'We
called on him last night.'

    'Is
he going to pay up?'

    'I
advised strongly against it, Mr Lunn.'

    'Why?'

    'Sir
Marcus handed over a thousand guineas,' said Christopher, 'and thought he was
free of danger. But a second demand for that amount has now come.'

    'Death
and damnation!' cried Lunn. 'The villain has us by the throat.'

    'I
fancy that we have loosened his grip slightly.'

    'Is
there any hope of catching him?'

    'Every
hope,' said Christopher, 'especially if you lend your assistance.'

    'What
can I do?'

    'Tell
us more about your friendship with Gabriel Cheever. Why did he turn his back on
everybody? Why did he renounce the life that he was living? You must have some
idea, Mr Lunn,' he suggested. 'What prompted this repentance of his?'

    Arriving
back in Knightrider Street, Susan Cheever was surprised to learn that Lucy had
been out for a walk. Wherever she had been, it had given her a lift. Lucy's
cheeks had some colour back in them and she seemed more at peace with herself.
It was the first time her eyes were not red-rimmed from crying. When they sat
down to dine together, Susan was able to have a proper conversation with her.

    'Where
did you go, Lucy?' she asked.

    'For
a walk.'

    'In
which direction?'

    'Oh,
up towards the ruins of St Paul's. I took no notice of where we were going,'
said Lucy. 'I simply went where Anna led me and enjoyed it.'

    'The
fresh air was obviously good for you.'

    'I
needed to get out of the house.' She chewed some food and swallowed it before
speaking again. 'But what about you, Susan?' she said. 'You told me there was
nothing wrong with Mr Redmayne but, in that case, why did he send his servant
for you like that?'

    'Jacob
came of his own volition.'

    'Why?'

    'He
felt that Mr Redmayne might want to talk to me.'

    Lucy
smiled. 'I might have told you that.'

    'Jacob
was sent to summon Mr Bale and being so close to Knightrider Street, came on
here to ask for me.'

    'Was
Mr Redmayne pleased to see you?'

    'I
think so.'

    'And
were you glad to see him?'

    'Very
glad' confessed Susan. 'But I did not come to London to visit anyone else,
Lucy. I'm here at your invitation and you must call on me whenever you wish. It
was pleasant to go to Fetter Lane again but I am back now and at your command.'

    'I
have no commands, Susan.'

    'Then
I'll just sit with you and offer comfort.'

    'Thank
you.'

    They
ate in silence for a while. Susan was desperate to tell her about the attack on
Christopher, partly for the pleasure of talking about him again but mainly in
order to impress upon Lucy that he was taking perilous risks on her behalf.
Christopher had advised against it lest it upset Lucy and the advice had seemed
sound at the time. Watching her sister-in-law now, however, Susan wondered if
she might broach the topic. If Lucy had recovered enough to venture out for a
walk, she could surely cope with some distressing news, especially as it might
engage her sympathies. Susan plunged in.

    'There
was more to it than that, Lucy,' she said.

    'To
what?'

    'My
visit this morning. Mr Redmayne has been injured.'

    'Injured?'
echoed Lucy. 'How badly?'

    Susan
described the state he was in when she arrived at his house. When she talked about
the attack, she mentioned that both Christopher and Jonathan Bale were
convinced that the would-be killer was the same man who had murdered Gabriel.
It opened fresh wounds for Lucy and she began to sob. At first, Susan thought
she had made an error of judgement, but her sister-in-law soon recovered and
brushed away her tears. She looked at Susan.

    'Why
is Mr Redmayne doing this for us?' she said.

    'He
sees it as a kind of mission, Lucy.'

    'Even
though his own life is in danger?'

    'He
is a strong man. He fought off the attacker.'

    'Gabriel
was strong yet he was unable to do that.'

    'Perhaps
he had more than one man to fight against.' Susan paused before returning to a
familiar request. 'It would help so much if we knew where the murder took
place,' she said. 'Gabriel was not killed in this house or there would have
been signs of disturbance. He was out somewhere.'

    'Yes,'
murmured Lucy.

    'And
you know where he was.'

    'I
might guess.'

    'Where
was it, Lucy?'

    'Do
not ask me.'

    'But
Mr Redmayne needs to know.'

    'Gabriel
was killed. That is the only fact that matters to me, Susan.'

    'But
you want his killer caught, surely?'

    'Of
course.'

    'And
you want to save Mr Redmayne from further attack?' She leaned in closer. 'What
will happen if the assassin strikes again, Lucy? Think how guilty you will feel
if Mr Redmayne is murdered.'

    'It
will not be my fault.'

    'I
know, but you can at least help to reduce the possibility.'

    'How?'

    'By telling
the truth. Not to me,' she added quickly, 'because I can see that I am not the
person in whom you will confide. Tell Mr Redmayne. He is such a kind and
understanding man. He will respect any confidences. I have not known him long
but I have formed the highest opinion of him.'

    'So
have I,' said Lucy quietly.

    'He
needs all the help that he can get. Why are you holding back?'

    Lucy
shrugged helplessly. 'Because I must, Susan.'

    Henry
Redmayne pounced on his brother like a hawk swooping down on its prey. 'Where
have you been, Christopher?' he said, shaking him vigorously.

    'Here,
there and everywhere.'

    'But
I needed you beside me.'

    'How
can I continue the search if I am trapped here?' asked Christopher. 'You must
try to shed this anxiety, Henry. Under your own roof, you are completely safe.'

    'That
is what I thought.'

    'What
do you mean?'

    'I
received another letter.'

    'A
blackmail demand?'

    'Of a
kind' groaned Henry. 'But first tell me your news. Did you find the man who
printed that extract from the diary?'

    'I
did. His name is Miles Henshaw.'

    'He
deserves to be hanged, drawn and quartered.'

    'No,
Henry. He was simply printing what he was given. Mr Henshaw had no idea what
cruel use his work would be put to by the blackmailer. Let me explain.'

    Eager
to hear his brother's tidings, Christopher gave him only a shortened account of
the visits to Elijah Pembridge and to Miles Henshaw. The call on Arthur Lunn
was summed up in a few sentences. Henry sank even further into dejection. He
had been hoping for results that had simply not materialised. As far as he was
concerned, a dangerous killer was still on the loose and he was the man's next
target.

    'What
about you?' said Christopher, ending his narrative. 'Show me this new letter
that you received today.'

    'Even
you will not be allowed to see that.'

    'Why
not?'

    'Because
I've already burned it.'

    'Whatever
for, Henry?'

    'It
is the only safe thing to do with that particular correspondence.'

    'Who
sent it?'

    'Amelia.'

    'Lady
Ulvercombe?'

    'Yes.
She has only just discovered that my
billet-doux
is missing. Why has it
taken her so long? I thought she had destroyed it, as she vowed she would do,
but she clung on to it for sentimental reasons. It was, I have to confess,
worded in such a way to excite a lady to the very pitch of delight. But does
she read it every day to keep the flame of our romance alive? No, no, no! It
takes her well over a week to notice that my deathless prose has been stolen. I
am desolate, Christopher. Heavens above! It is insulting. A man is entitled to
expect a mistress to drool over his correspondence.'

    'At
least, Lady Ulvercombe has learned the worst now.'

    'Not
before time.'

    'What
did her letter say?'

    'She
wants to meet me,' said Henry. 'This very afternoon. How can I venture outside
that door when an assassin is lying in wait for me? And why, in any case,
should I choose to confront the very woman who landed me in this infernal
mess?'

    'No,
Henry,' said Christopher firmly. 'You landed yourself in this mess.'

    'Amelia
lost the letter.'

    'You
wrote it.'

    'Only
because she pestered me.'

    'A moment
ago, you were boasting about the way you had worded it.'

    'Well,
yes,' agreed Henry. 'It was a small masterpiece of its kind. But destined for
the eyes of one person only before being consigned to the flames.'

    'Is
Lady Ulvercombe afraid that her husband will find out?'

    'She
is terrified. He already has suspicions of me. Were that letter to fall into
his hands, he would not hesitate to wreak his revenge. Not that Amelia has any
concern for me,' he added. 'Her anxiety is for herself.'

    'Go
on.'

    'She
insists on meeting me to discuss the matter. Otherwise - and this is the most
drastic form of blackmail - she will make a full confession to the egregious
Lord Ulvercombe and beg his forgiveness.' He flung his hands in the air. 'Where
will that leave me?'

    'Reason
with her.'

    'Desperate
women have no truck with reason.'

    'Assure
her that the letter will be recovered somehow.'

    'It
may already be on its way to her husband.'

    'I doubt
that,' said Christopher. 'Once sent, it loses its power to extract money from
you. Lady Ulvercombe must be told how it is being used to blackmail you. It
could easily be employed against her in the same way.'

    'Amelia
would panic and throw herself on the mercy of that brutish husband.'

    'You
must calm the lady down, Henry.'

    'How
can I when I dare not leave the house?'

    'You
must.'

    'No,
Christopher. It is not simply fear that keeps me immured. The truth is that I
do not wish to see Amelia again. She unsettles me.'

    'But
the two of you were so close at one time.'

    'Revulsion
is the Janus-face of romance.'

    'That's
not the remark of a gentleman,' said Christopher reproachfully.

    'I'm
not talking about my revulsion for
her
,' explained Henry. 'For my sins,
I still have a vestigial affection. It was Amelia who turned against me. I have
no idea why. I was encouraged, favoured then summarily discarded. That does not
make a man wish to have a rendezvous with a woman he once adored.'

    'If
you do not go, Lady Ulvercombe will tell all to her husband.'

    'There's
the rub.'

    Christopher
pondered. 'Where does she ask you to meet her?' he said at length.