The Parliament House

    'I can learn, Mother,' insisted the youth. 'Can't I, Mr Bale?'

    'Yes, lad,' said Jonathan, kindly.

    'Don't encourage him,' warned Bridget. 'Patrick is spoken for.

    Besides, what use is a constable who can neither read nor write nor even remember what day it is half the time?' She used her free hand to give her son an affectionate pat. 'You're my constable, Patrick. Your job is to look after the Saracen's Head.'

    Patrick was determined. 'I want to work with Mr Bale.'

    'One day, perhaps,' said the constable, knowing that it would never happen. 'One day, Patrick.'

    One surprise succeeded another. No sooner had Christopher Redmayne bade farewell to his brother than he had a second unexpected visitor at his house. Spurning both safety and convention, Susan Cheever had ridden unaccompanied to Fetter Lane, an address to which she normally travelled by coach. While his master took her into the parlour, Jacob once again acted as an ostler, leading her horse to the stables at the rear of the premises.

    Christopher was thrilled to see her again so soon. Seated beside her on the couch, he noted how the ride had put some colour in her cheeks and how the breeze had disturbed the ringlets of hair that peeped out from under the front of her bonnet. He also saw the slight anxiety in her eyes.

    'Is something amiss?' he asked.

    'I have tidings that might interest you, Christopher. Word came late yesterday that Mr Everett's body was ready for removal. Father intends to accompany it to Cambridge later this morning.'

    'Is he travelling alone?'

    'No,' replied Susan. 'Mrs Polegate and her children will share the coach with him. Mr Polegate is already there, of course. The whole family will stay for the funeral tomorrow.'

    'Thank you for telling me,' he said, worried that Sir Julius would be unprotected on the road. 'I'd like to pay my last respects to Mr Everett as well. What time are they leaving?'

    'Not until eleven o'clock.'

    'Then I'll bear them company.'

    'I had a feeling that you might wish to do that.'

    'As long as Sir Julius does not object. He and I did exactly not part on friendly terms yesterday.'

    'I think you'll find him a changed man today.' 'I'm glad to hear it, Susan,' he said. 'Your father can very irascible when his views are challenged. What's brought about the change?'

    'That's what I came to tell you,' she confided, lowering her head for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. When she looked up, she forced a smile. 'I have an apology to make, Christopher.'

    'Why?'

    'Because I lied to you.'

    'I don't believe that.'

    'I did and I hated myself for doing so. I suppose the truth is that I hoped that the problem would disappear of its own accord. You deserved better from me. I'm very sorry.'

    'You mentioned a problem.'

    'Yes,' said Susan, uncomfortably. 'It's one that I stupidly tried to conceal from you. Father has met someone who has made a deep impression on him. Her name is Mrs Kitson - Mrs Dorothy Kitson. He's been spending a lot of time with her.'

    'Ah,' he said as realisation dawned, 'so that accounts for his benign mood in Knightrider Street. I saw him go off into a reverie more than once. Sir Julius is in love.'

    'I'm not sure that it has reached that stage yet.'

    'Whatever stage it's reached, it's obviously a source of pleasure to him. In what way is that a problem, Susan?'

    'Father is too set in his ways to embark on a romance.'

    'That's a decision only he can make.'

    'Mrs Kitson is a distraction,' she argued. 'Father came to London to attend parliament, not to be beguiled into an attachment.'

    'Have you met this lady?'

    'Not yet.'

    'Then how do you know it was she who beguiled him? he asked. 'Could it not be that it was he who has actually enchanted her?'

    'Hardly - you've met him.'

    'Stranger things have happened, Susan. Look at my brother, for instance. Henry is very far from being what most people conceive of as handsome yet he's somehow bewitched a whole series of gorgeous ladies in his time.'

    'Your brother is still relatively young - father is nearly sixty.'

    'Age has no meaning in affairs of the heart.'

    'But I'm not certain that this is what it is.'

    'You can only make a proper judgement when you meet Mrs Kitson in person. Is your father ready for you to do that?'

    'Yes,' she said. 'He wishes to introduce both of us to her.'

    'Both of you?'

    'Brilliana arrived from Richmond without warning. Subtlety, alas, was never her strong suit. She confronted Father at once and demanded to know what was going on in his private life. In the end, he capitulated. We are to meet Mrs Kitson before long.'

    'Then all of your doubts may soon be eradicated.'

    'I still feel uneasy about it, Christopher.'

    'Why?'

    'Father was perfectly happy as he was.'

    'He leads a very full life, I grant you that.'

    'It's far too full,' she argued. 'Father never stops. When we are at home, he busies himself with the running of the estate. And the minute we arrive in London, he has endless meetings with other Members of Parliament. He has no time for a dalliance.'

    'Sir Julius obviously thinks otherwise. Besides, how do you know that's it's merely a dalliance? It may be more serious than that.'

    Susan was about to reply but she thought better of it. Simply talking about the situation had introduced a sharpness into her voice that was rather unbecoming. Christopher noticed it at once. What interested him was that she sounded less like a daughter, talking about her father, than an apprehensive mother, trying to shield a wayward son from an artful female. Years before, Sir Julius Cheever had been rocked by the death of his wife and he had leaned heavily on his younger daughter as a result. While Christopher admired her devotion to her father, it did prevent him from asking Susan to share her life with him instead. As long as she looked after one man with such dedication, she would keep another at arm's length.

    'I wonder if you are being altogether honest with yourself,' he said.

    'What do you mean?'

    'You've taken against this lady, Susan, haven't you?'

    'I'm bound to have fears.'

    'But they concern you rather than Sir Julius. Whenever you talk about him, you sound proprietary. He is yours. You've no wish to yield him up to another woman.'

    'I have a duty,' she said, igniting with passion. 'When she was on her death bed, my mother made me promise that I would take care of him. I gave her my word, Christopher. I can't go back on that now.'

    'You can if someone else lifts the burden from your shoulders.'

    'Father is no burden.'

    'He's no child either,' he pointed out. 'You can't make up his mind for him, especially on something as personal as this. Sir Julius will follow his instincts and you must let him do that.'

    'Not if he's making a terrible mistake.'

    'You've no proof that he's doing that, Susan.'