Edward Marston - The Repentant Rake

'I must apologise for my father, Mr Redmayne,' she said with a wan smile. 'His manner is a trifle abrupt at times.'

'Not at all, Miss Cheever.'

'When you get to know him, you'll see that he has a gentler side to him as well.'

'I see it embodied in you,' said Christopher with an admiring smile. 'Apologies are unnecessary. I find Sir Julius a most amenable client. It will be a pleasure to work for him.' He fished gently for information. 'Your father mentioned a second daughter with a house in Richmond.'

'Yes, Mr Redmayne,' she said. 'My sister, Brilliana.'

'I understand that he'll be staying there in due course.'

'Until the new house is built.'

'That will be done with all haste.'

'I'm glad to hear it.'

'Will you be travelling to London with your father, Miss Cheever?' he asked raising a hopeful eyebrow.

'Occasionally,' she replied. 'Why do you ask?'

'Because Sir Julius is a different man with you beside him.'

'In what way?'

Christopher was tactful. 'He seems to mellow.'

'It's largely exhaustion.'

'I marvel at the way you look after him so well.'

'Someone has to, Mr Redmayne,' she sighed. 'Since my mother died he's been very restless. It's one of the reasons he wishes to take up a political career. It will keep him occupied. Father pretends to hate London yet he wants be at the centre of events.'

'What about you, Miss Cheever?' he said, keen to learn more about her.

'Me, sir?'

'Do you relish the idea of being at the centre of events?'

'Oh, no,' she said solemnly. 'I have no love for big cities. To be honest, they rather frighten me. I was born and brought up in this beautiful countryside. Why surrender that for the noise and filth of London?'

'London has its own attractions.'

'I know. My sister Brilliana never ceases to talk about them in her letters. She and her husband frequently take the coach into the city. Brilliana seems to keep at least three dressmakers in business.'

'Is her husband engaged in politics?'

'Lancelot?' She gave a little laugh. 'Heavens, no! Lancelot is no politician. He's far too nice a man to entertain the notion of entering Parliament. My brother-in-law is a gentleman of leisure. Running his estate and pampering Brilliana take up all his time.'

'Talking of estates,' said Christopher, glancing towards the window, 'you must have a sizeable one here in Northamptonshire.'

'Almost a thousand acres.'

'Sir Julius is obviously a highly successful farmer.'

'He inherited the land from my grandfather and extended it over the years.'

'It's a pity that he has nobody else to carry on the good work. Farming runs in families. Sons take over from fathers. But since you have no brother the Cheever name may have to make way for someone else.' Susan turned away in mild embarrassment. Christopher was immediately contrite. 'Have I said something to offend you?' he asked. 'I do apologise. It was not intentional, I promise you. In any case, Miss Cheever, it's none of my business. Please forgive me. I'd not upset you for the world.'

She met his gaze. 'There's nothing to forgive.'

'I made a crass remark and I'm truly sorry.'

'How were you to know, Mr Redmayne?' she said, getting to her feet. 'You touched unwittingly on a delicate subject. I do have a brother, as it happens, but Gabriel is not interested in taking on the estate. He has…' She searched for the appropriate words. 'He has other priorities, I fear.'

'Your father made no mention of a son.'

'Nor will he,' she warned. 'And I beg you to make no reference to Gabriel. It would cause Father the deepest pain. To all intents and purposes, he has no son.'

'Yet I suspect that you still have a brother?' he said quietly.

Susan Cheever coloured slightly and bit her lip. She took a deep breath. 'I think that it's time for you to go, Mr Redmayne.'

Sarah Bale was a woman of bustling energy. Rising shortly after dawn, she cleaned the downstairs rooms, roused her children from their beds, gave them breakfast, took them off to their petty school and since the weather was fine, returned to make a start on the washing that she took in to supplement the family income. By the time her husband came into the kitchen, she was humming contentedly to herself, her arms deep in a tub of soapy water. Suppressing a yawn, Jonathan crossed to give her a perfunctory kiss of greeting on the forehead.

'Awake at last, are you?' she teased.

'I was late getting back last night, my love.'

'I know.'

'Did I wake you?'

'Only for a moment.'

'I tried not to, Sarah.'

'You're not the quietest man when you move around the house,' she said, drying her hands on a piece of cloth so that she could turn to him. 'Your breakfast is all ready, Jonathan. Sit down. You look as if you need it.'

Lowering himself on to a chair, he gave a nod of agreement. The events of the night had turned a routine patrol into a harrowing experience and left him drained. When he climbed into bed, he had fallen instantly asleep. Now, after barely three or four hours, he was up to face a new day. Bread and cheese lay on the platter before him. Sarah put a solicitous hand on his shoulder as she poured him a cup of whey.

'Did you hear the children?'

'No, my love.'

'Then you must have been very tired. They made so much noise this morning, especially Oliver. I had to be very stern with him.'

'What was the problem?'

'The usual one,' she said, putting the jug on the table and sitting opposite him. 'He didn't want to go to school. And because Oliver complained, Richard joined in.'

'School is important. They must learn to read and write.'

'That's what I told them.'

'They don't understand how lucky they are to be able to have proper schooling. I didn't at their age, Sarah. My parents couldn't afford it.' He took a first bite of bread. 'I had to pick things up as I went along. My father was a shipwright for thirty years and never learned to read properly. When I took up the trade, none of the apprentices could even write his own name.'

'You could, Jonathan. And you'd taught yourself to read the Bible.'

He took a swig of whey. 'I wanted to be able to read the names of the ships I was helping to build. Knowledge gives you power. You don't have to rely on others. The boys must realise what an advantage they'll have in life by being able to read write and add up properly.'

'I keep saying that.'

'Let me have a word with them.'

'I'd be grateful.'

He addressed himself to his meal and munched away in silence. Pouring herself a cup of whey, his wife sipped it and watched him. Jonathan was gloomy and preoccupied. Sarah could see that something was troubling him but she knew better than to question him too closely about his work. It was a difficult and often dangerous job and he tried to leave it behind whenever he stepped over the threshold. Home was his sanctuary, free from the worries of the outside world. It was a place where he could relax and recover from the strains of his occupation. When he chose to confide in her, Sarah was always willing to listen but she did not prompt him.

She waited patiently until he had cleared his platter. 'More bread?' she offered.

'No, thank you.'

'I have a fresh loaf.'

'I can't stay, my love,' he said, getting to his feet. 'I have to pay an early call.'

'When will I expect you back?'

'For dinner, I hope. I'll speak to the boys then.'

'Good. They listen to you.'

He was about to leave the kitchen when he noticed the quiet concern in her eyes. Feeling that he owed her some kind of explanation, he crossed over to help her up from the table. He pursed his lips as he pondered.

'I was with Tom Warburton last night,' he said at length.

'How is he?'

'As melancholy as ever.'