Edward Marston - The Frost Fair

'How convenient!' Removing her hat and cloak, she handed them to Christopher who went into the hallway to hang them on a peg. When he returned, he saw that his visitor was seated in a chair, arranging her dress. 'Come and sit beside me, Mr Redmayne,' she said. 'There's something we need to discuss.'

Christopher took a seat. 'You talked about a change of mind.'

'Only with regard to my bedchamber. I think I'll go back to your original suggestion about the proportions of the room. I was wrong, you were right.'

'Every architect likes to hear that from a client.'

'Before we talk about the house,' she said, 'you must let me apologise for my son's behaviour yesterday It was very untypical of him. Egerton can be such a delightful young man, as you will in time discover.'

'I bear no grudges, Lady Whitcombe. I admired your son's forth- rightness.'

'His father always taught him to speak his mind.'

'He certainly did that,' said Christopher.

'He misses his father greatly,' she sighed. 'Almost as much as I do.' She regarded him through hooded eyes. 'What do you think of Letitia?' she asked.

'Your daughter is a charming young lady.'

'A little wanting in true beauty, perhaps.'

'Not at all,' he said gallantly. 'Good looks are obviously a family attribute. Your son is very handsome. He and his sister are a credit to you, Lady Whitcombe.'

'I hoped you'd think that. Letitia lacks maturity, that's her main fault.'

'It will vanish with the passage of time.'

'That's what I told her,' said Lady Whitcombe. 'Letitia will grow into herself. Believe it or not, I was a trifle gauche at her age.'

'I refuse to accept that.'

She gave a laugh. 'You flatter me, Mr Redmayne. Though, looking back, I have to tell you that I much prefer the blessings of maturity to the blundering of inexperience. Egerton became a man when his father died. Letitia has yet to blossom.' She beamed at him. 'It pleases me so much that you are fond of my daughter. In a sense, it signals your approval of me.'

'That was never in question, Lady Whitcombe.' She laughed again. 'Shall we look at the drawings again?' he suggested. 'I can soon make the necessary adjustments.'

'There are some other adjustments to be made first, Mr Redmayne.'

'Indeed?'

"This is a trying time for you, I know,' she said, reaching out to grasp his arm. 'When one has family anxieties, it's impossible to think of anything else. Patently, you are bearing a heavy burden at the moment.'

'I'd not disagree with that.'

'Well, you do not have to bear it alone, Mr Redmayne. You have friends. Loyal and supportive friends, who are there for you to turn to in moments of extremity. I'd feel privileged to be one of those friends.'

'Yes, Lady Whitcombe,' he said without enthusiasm. 'You are, you are.'

'That means a great deal to me.' She squeezed his arm before releasing it. 'You must have noticed how fond Letitia has become of you. When we came to London to welcome Egerton back, she insisted that we called on you as well. Not, mark you, that any insistence was required. I'd already made the decision to do just that.' She gazed at him for a moment. 'What will happen if your brother is convicted?' she asked.

"That's a possibility I do not even contemplate.'

'Most of London seems to think it a probability, Mr Redmayne. While I hope that he'll be acquitted, I'm compelled to accept that our system of justice is far from perfect. Innocent men sometimes to do go to the gallows. If – God forbid! – that did occur, how would it affect your career?'

'Adversely, Lady Whitcombe.'

'My commission would therefore be a valuable one.'

'It would be the saving of me.'

'Once built, of course, my new house would be a fine advertisement for you.'

'To show your faith in me, in such circumstances, would be an even better advertisement for me. Even if Henry is released, it will take time for me to win back some lost credibility. An architect is only as good as his name and mine is rather sullied at the moment. I'm deeply grateful for the way that you've helped me, Lady Whitcombe.'

'You've helped us as well.'

'Havel?'

'Yes, Mr Redmayne,' she said quietly. 'When you came on the scene, Letitia and I were very lonely. My husband had died and my son was in France for a lengthy period. There was no man in the house until you began to visit.' She touched his arm again. 'I'd like you to visit us more often in future. Will you do that for me?'

Christopher felt distinctly uneasy. Having feared that she was pushing her daughter at him in the hope that a romance might develop between them, he saw that the situation was far more threatening than that. It was Lady Whitcombe herself who had the real interest in him. In trying to involve him in her family she simply wanted him closer to her. Christopher saw the precariousness of his position. She was his only client at a time when the name of Redmayne was a serious handicap. To lose her commission would be to plunge him into a period of unemployment from which it would not be easy to escape. Lady Whitcombe was trying to exploit his vulnerability.

'Will you do that for me, Mr Redmayne?' she repeated, beaming at him.

'When the house is being built,' he said, 'we are bound to see a lot of each other.'

'Only as architect and client. I wish to see you as a friend – a close friend.'

Her fingers tightened on his arm. Christopher decided to play for time.

"Then you shall, Lady Whitcombe.'

'Good!' she said with a laugh of satisfaction. 'Now that we have sorted that out, perhaps we could take a look at the drawings again. I really do need your expert advice with regard to my bedchamber.'

Dinner at the house in the Strand was a sumptuous affair. Served in a room that was almost as large as a baronial hall, it was a veritable banquet. In addition to Lord and Lady Eames, there were sixteen people at a table that was laden with culinary delights. Those with appetites big enough could enjoy soups of various kind, a fricassee of rabbit and chicken, boiled mutton, carp, roast lamb, roasted pigeons, a lamprey pie, a platter of anchovies and a dish of four lobsters. Sweetmeats galore followed, the whole meal washed down with quality wines. Politics remained the chosen subject of debate.

Susan Cheever was at the opposite end of the table from Sir Ralph Holcroft and his wife. Seated next to Jack Cardinal, she engaged in polite conversation while trying to catch the eye of Lady Holcroft. Susan was studiously ignored. It intensified her sense of failure and she did not look forward to reporting it to Christopher. Her neighbour saw how little food she touched.

'Is that all you want, Miss Cheever?' he asked.

'I'm not hungry.'

'A magnificent feast like this makes one feel hungry. It's irresistible.'

"Then you can eat my share as well, Mr Cardinal,' she offered.

'Thank you. How long will you be staying in Richmond?'

'Until my father returns.'

'In the meantime, you must visit us,' he said, coupling the invitation with a cordial smile. 'Your sister tells me that you are a fine horsewoman. Perhaps we could ride out together.'

'When the weather improves,' she said, one eye still on Lady Holcroft. 'I do enjoy riding, Mr Cardinal. I much prefer it to travelling by coach.'

'That's something else on which we agree. Unfortunately, Mother can only get around on four wheels so, naturally, I have to make allowances for her. But there's nothing nicer than a ride to whet one's appetite before breakfast.'

'Your appetite seems to have be whetted today.'

'No,' he said with a guilty chuckle, looking at the food piled on his plate. 'This is not appetite, Miss Cheever. It's sheer greed.'

'I did not take you for a greedy man.'

'Why else do you think I sat next to you?'