Edward Marston - The Repentant Rake

Susan said nothing. There was no point in stirring him up even more. Sir Julius was still fighting battles that had already been won and lost many years earlier. Rooted in the past, he wanted a say in the future, but his language was hortatory rather than persuasive. His fellow Members of Parliament would soon become familiar with the sound of his ranting. Susan let her mind drift to something else. When her father had calmed down enough to permit a civilised conversation, she put her thoughts into words.

'Are you pleased with the design of the new house, Father?'

'I should be. I more or less drew up the plans for it myself.'

'With the help of Mr Redmayne,' she reminded him.

'Well, yes,' he agreed. 'Redmayne actually did the drawings but they were based on ideas that were entirely my own. If I must have a house in London, it must conform exactly to my specifications. Redmayne appreciates that.'

'He seems a most obliging young man.'

'Obliging and capable.'

'Have you seen anything that he designed?'

'Only that bookshop of his,' said Sir Julius. 'It may be small but it's the finest building in Paternoster Row. Elijah Pembridge was thrilled with it and rightly so. He could not speak too highly of Christopher Redmayne.'

'What else has he designed?' asked Susan.

'A couple of houses in London, both far larger than the one I've commissioned.'

'Where exactly are they?'

'Why do you ask?'

'I thought it might be amusing to take a look at them when I go into the city with Brilliana,' said Susan, trying to hide her curiosity. 'Mr Redmayne talked so fervently about his work that he aroused my interest.'

'When was this? You hardly spoke to the man.'

'I heard his voice through the door.'

Sir Julius grinned. 'Eavesdropping, were you?'

'Not at all,' she said without conviction. 'I just happened to be passing when the two of you were discussing the new house. It was impossible not to catch what he was saying about his work. Evidently, it's a labour of love.'

'That's why I chose him. Redmayne has passion.'

'Could you find out where these other houses are?'

'Oh, I think you should do that for yourself, Susan.'

'What do you mean?'

'I may be old,' he said with a paternal smile, 'but I've not lost all my faculties yet. Talk to the fellow in person. Why pretend to be interested in architecture when your real interest is in the architect himself?'

Christopher arrived just in time. Celia Hemmings was on the point of leaving her house in Bow Street when he presented himself at her door. She was a slim woman of medium height, impeccably attired in a low-necked, full-sleeved dress of pink satin with a billowing skirt that opened at the front to reveal an underskirt of a darker hue. Her face was heart-shaped her lips red and her eyes sparkling. Christopher could see what had attracted Gabriel Cheever to her. After introducing himself, he asked her to give him a few minutes alone in private.

She was cautious. 'I am not in the habit of inviting strangers into my house.'

'The news I carry ought not to be divulged on a doorstep,' he explained.

'Why not, sir?'

'I fear that it is of too heavy a nature.'

'What does it concern?' she said.

'A friend of yours – Gabriel Cheever.'

She tensed. 'You have bad tidings of Gabriel?'

'The worst, alas.'

Celia Hemmings was alarmed. She invited him into the house and took him into the parlour. Christopher suggested that she sat down before he broke the news. Still wearing her wide-brimmed hat, she perched on the edge of a chair and waited with trepidation. Christopher lowered his voice.

'Gabriel Cheever has passed away, I fear.'

'Never!' she cried, hands moving involuntarily to her throat.

'It happened a few days ago, Miss Hemmings.'

'But Gabriel was so strong and healthy.'

Christopher tried to be gentle. 'He did not die a natural death.'

'He was murdered?'

'I'm afraid so.'

The woman was so shaken that he thought she was about to keel over, and he reached out a steadying hand. Seizing a handkerchief from her sleeve, she buried her face in it and sobbed uncontrollably Christopher was unable to console her. It was minutes before she dabbed at her eyes and looked up at him.

'Forgive me, Mr Redmayne,' she said. 'Gabriel was a dear friend of mine.'

'That is why I felt you had a right to know.'

'What brought you to me?'

'I came at my brother's suggestion. I believe you know Henry.'

'Henry Redmayne?' she muttered. 'Yes, of course. I have met him on occasion.' She got up from the chair. 'But who committed this terrible crime? And why? Gabriel was the sweetest man in the world. Nobody could want to kill him. Has anyone been arrested? Tell me all.'

Christopher gave her nothing but the details he had rehearsed on his way there, stressing the need for her help if the killer was to be brought to justice. Eyes still moist, she nodded her consent. The self-possessed young woman he had met at the door now looked weak and vulnerable. He persuaded her to resume her seat, and she removed her hat.

'When did you last see Gabriel?' he asked.

'Some months ago. We reached the parting of the ways.'

'So I understand.'

'It was not a sad event, Mr Redmayne,' she said. 'Gabriel Cheever was unlike any other man I know. There were no violent arguments or bitter recriminations. Thanks to him, it was almost painless. We parted on the most amicable terms.'

'Did you keep in touch with him?'

'Only through mutual friends. Then that suddenly stopped.'

'Why?'

'Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. He seemed to disappear completely. I wondered if he had gone back home to Northamptonshire,' she said wistfully. 'He always talked about being reconciled with his father one day.'

'I know Sir Julius Cheever.'

'Then you will understand why he disapproved of his son.' She gave a wan smile. 'He would certainly have disapproved of me as well, but that does not worry me. I loved Gabriel. When we were together, I'd gladly accept anyone's condemnation.'

'Did he have any enemies, Miss Hemmings?'

'None that I knew of.'

'He must have had rivals.'

'Dozens of them, but they sought to gain advantage over him at a card table, not in some dark alley. That was where he blossomed, Mr Redmayne. In a gaming house.'

'So my brother tells me.'

'Gabriel had the most uncommon skill at cards.'

'Henry described it as damnable luck.'

'It was much more than that, believe me,' said Celia loyally. 'Gabriel had expensive tastes. Since his father had cut him off without a penny, he had to find an income from somewhere. The card table was the making of him.'

'It's been the ruin of my brother.'

'Perhaps he should drink less and concentrate more.'

'How true!' sighed Christopher. 'Henry will over-indulge. But coming back to Gabriel's family, I know that he and Sir Julius were not on speaking terms, but what about his relationship with his sisters?'

'The elder one, Brilliana, was as stubborn as her father.'

'And his other sister, Susan?'

'He always spoke with such affection of her.'

'I can imagine that,' said Christopher, conjuring up her face in his mind. 'Did he ever correspond with her?'

'From time to time.'

'How did he contrive that?'

'His letters were sent to a neighbour and Susan retrieved them from there. It would have been far too dangerous to send them directly to the house. Had her father discovered the truth, Susan would have been in serious trouble. She's very brave.'

'Did you ever meet her?'

'Alas, no,' she said, 'but Gabriel managed to see her when she came to London. She gave her sister the slip one afternoon and spent an hour with him. It meant so much to Gabriel,' she remembered 'though I suspect that Susan would have been given a stern reprimand for wandering away. Gabriel told me that Brilliana has a vicious tongue.'