Edward Marston - The Frost Fair

Susan bit back a reply. In his present mood, Sir Julius would not even listen to her properly. His mind was already made up while her own was still very confused. The tidings about Henry Redmayne had alarmed her. In her heart, she could not accept that any member of the Redmayne family could be capable of murder. Vain and feckless, he might be, but Henry was not, in her opinion, a potential killer. Yet he had been indicted and such a step would not be taken lightly. Her real concern was for Christopher. Though he was the younger brother, he always seemed older and more responsible than Henry. The latter's peccadilloes were an unceasing source of discomfort to him and he had rescued his brother from countless embarrassments. This time, Susan feared, even Christopher would be uncertain what to do. She felt an urge to go to him.

Sir Julius Cheever seemed to read his daughter's mind.

'Stay away from him, Susan,' he warned.

'Who?'

'Mr Redmayne.'

'But he must be in great distress.'

'That's a problem he must cope with alone. It does not affect us.'

'It does. At a time like this, he wants friends around him.'

'Well, he'll not number us among them.'

'He will and he ought to,' she said hotly. 'Do you condemn one brother for the alleged sin of another? What a miserable species of friendship that is! It's callous to desert Mr Redmayne when he needs us most.'

'We do it for our own protection.'

'From what?'

'The taint of evil.'

'That's a monstrous suggestion!'

'I'll not have you associating with any member of that family.'

Susan was defiant. 'Would you forbid me?'

'No,' he said, taking a deep breath to calm himself. 'I'd not go that far. I'd simply appeal to your love and loyalty. For my sake, keep away from Mr Redmayne. I know that you are fond of him, Susan, and I know that he has many virtues. Why,' he went on, looking around the room, 'he designed this very house in which we stand and I'm very grateful to him for that.'

'He did much more than that to earn our gratitude, Father.'

'Do not harp on about Gabriel.'

'He was my brother,' she said with tears in her eyes. 'You shut him out of your life in the same way that you now want to exclude Mr Redmayne and his brother. Did you never stop to think that, if Gabriel had been kept within our family, he would not have met such an untimely end?'

'No!' yelled Sir Julius, rounding on her. 'That's not true!'

'Be honest with yourself, Father.' 'Silence!'

He was so furious that he did not trust himself to say anything else until he had regained his composure. Crossing to a large oaken court cupboard, he opened the door to take out a bottle of brandy and a glass. He poured himself a measure and drank it down in one gulp, waiting until it had coursed through him. When he turned back to his daughter, there was sadness as well as anger in his voice.

'Never dare to say that to me again,' he cautioned.

'I did not mean to hurt you so.'

'Gabriel's death lies heavy enough on my heart, as it is. I need no additional burden of anguish. Let him rest in peace, Susan. Please do not tax me on his account.'

'No, Father.'

He opened his arms to give her a hug of reconciliation and she kissed him on his cheek. Since he was due to leave London the following day, Susan did not want any disagreement between them. It might be months before they were reunited. On a subject as important as her friendship with Christopher Redmayne, however, she could not stay silent. Sir Julius held her by the shoulders to look at her.

'It's so ironic,' he reflected.

'What is?'

'Here am I, telling you to spurn Mr Redmayne when, only a few days ago, I called at his house for the express purpose of asking him to keep an eye on you while I was away from London.'

She took a step back. 'You talked to Mr Redmayne about me?'

'Yes.'

'Why did you not say?'

'It was a private matter between the two of us.'

'Not if it concerns me,' she said, hands on hips. 'I'm not sure that I like the idea of anyone keeping an eye on me. Am I a child that needs to be assigned to a new parent whenever my own goes away on his travels?'

'No, Susan. You misunderstand the situation.'

'I understand it all too well. You do not trust me to fend for myself.'

'That's not the case at all.'

'I'm wounded by this news. It's galling enough to be packed off to Richmond to stay with Brilliana when I could just as easily remain here.' 'Not on your own.'

'There are servants in the house.'

'They are hardly adequate companions.'

'I've friends in London on whom I can call.'

'That's my fear. Mr Christopher Redmayne is one of them.'

'A few days ago, you were urging him to look after me.'

'That was before I learned the ugly truth about his family,' said Sir Julius. 'It changes everything. Tomorrow, I depart for home but not before I've delivered you into Lancelot's hands. His coach will arrive by mid-morning at the latest.'

'You do not have to stand over me like that, Father.'

'I do it by choice. That imbecile of a brother-in-law will hardly be entertaining company but Lancelot will at least get you safely back to Richmond. I've written to Brilliana to tell her what's afoot here.'

'There was no need to do that.'

'Brilliana is your sister. She has a right to know what's going on.'

'She's too critical of Mr Redmayne.'

'With just cause, it seems.'

'This will only feed her misconception.'

'Brilliana will take a dispassionate view of it all.'

'She'll only interfere.'

'Precisely,' he said with a cold smile that signalled the end of the conversation. 'Brilliana will agree with me and her husband will, as usual, do what she tells him. That contents me. Between the two of them, they'll keep you well away from Mr Redmayne and that murderous brother of his.'

Susan felt helpless. She could do nothing but smoulder in silence.

The first thing that Christopher Redmayne did when he left the prison was to fill his lungs with fresh air. It helped to clear his head and rid his nostrils of the abiding stench of Newgate. His visit had been deeply disturbing. It was bad enough to find his brother in such an appalling state. To learn that there were genuine grounds for suspecting Henry Redmayne of murder was truly shocking. What made it even worse was that Henry himself could neither deny nor confirm his guilt, making it almost impossible for Christopher speak up in his defence. On previous occasions when he had been arrested, Henry had been fined for being drunk and disorderly before being discharged. He had never spent a night in a prison cell before, especially one as cramped and fetid as the bare room that he now occupied. Unused to squalor, he was having it rubbed in his face and his ordeal seemed likely to continue until he went to trial for murder.

Christopher walked away from Newgate then turned back to study it. Razed to the ground in the Great Fire, the prison had been rebuilt and work was still continuing on it. As an architect, Christopher had to admire the magnificent facade, decorated, as it was, by emblematic figures and statues. Among other civic worthies of the past, Richard Whittington and his cat looked down on the hordes of people going in and out of the city. Behind the sumptuous exterior of Newgate, however, was a grim prison that retained all the faults of its hated predecessor. Bad ventilation, an inadequate water supply and serious overcrowding made it a breeding-ground for disease. Those who survived the brutal regime imposed upon them often fell victim to gaol fever. In one way or another, Newgate left an indelible mark on anyone incarcerated there.

Fearing for his brother, Christopher heaved a sigh and turned his steps homeward. The stroll back to Fetter Lane gave him an opportunity to reflect on the situation. Henry Redmayne had mourned the loss of his job and of his reputation but there was another potential loss, so great and so frightening that Henry had not even been able to address his mind to it. Out of consideration to his brother, Christopher had said nothing but the dilemma now had to be faced. What of their father, the eminent Dean of Gloucester? Should he be informed of the disgrace brought upon the family by his elder son or should he be kept in the dark in the hope that Henry would be found innocent and set free? It was a thorny problem.