The King's Evil

'My brother, Henry, was a friend of your father's. That fact alone,' he said, searching for a kind euphemism, 'hinted at a degree of moral laxity. Henry has always sought pleasure in abundance. I assumed that he and Sir Ambrose were birds of a feather. My brother has admitted as much.'

'Yet you made no mention of it to me.'

'I hoped to keep such details from you.'

'That was very kind of you,' she said, 'but I have no illusions left to shatter. When I heard that he had been killed, I thought I had lost a dear and loving father. It was like a knife through the heart to realise what sort of man he really was.'

'Was your mother equally wounded?' he said.

'Why do you ask that?'

'She may have noticed things which you did not.'

'Go on.'

'When I was leaving Priestfield Place, I chanced to see Lady Northcott in the garden. Your mother was not exactly overwhelmed with grief.'

Penelope nodded. 'I think that Mother had guessed what was going on and learned to live with it. Father's absences grew longer and longer. A wife is bound to draw conclusions. The garden has always been a great consolation to her.'

'Did you show her the letters?'

'Of course.'

'What was her reaction?'

'She refused to read them.'

'Does Lady Northcott know that you brought them to me?'

'It was my mother who urged me to find you.'

'And what of your fiancee?' he asked tentatively. 'Does Mr Strype know that you are here?'

'No,' she said bluntly. 'He would have stopped me coming.'

'Why?'

'That is a personal matter, Mr Redmayne.'

'Then I will not pry.'

Christopher turned the conversation to more neutral topics, asking about her coach journey and whether or not she found London an exciting city to visit. Penelope gradually relaxed. Having unburdened an unpalatable family secret, she could actually start to enjoy her host's company. She had no doubts about the wisdom of what she had done and knew that she could trust Christopher with her family secrets.

He was drawn to her more strongly than ever. What she had done would have been courageous in a mature woman. In a young lady, fragile and vulnerable after a bereavement, it was an act of sheer bravado, enhanced by the fact that she was concealing her movements from the man she was engaged to marry.

Time flowed past so freely and pleasantly that neither of them noticed the shadows lengthening. It was only when Jacob brought in additional candles that they realised how late it must be. As the servant quit the room, Penelope rose to her feet in a flurry of apologies.

'I have stayed far too long, Mr Redmayne. Do forgive me.'

'There is nothing to forgive.'

'Dirk must have been waiting for hours.'

'Do not worry about your coachman. Jacob will have looked after him, I am sure. Where do you plan to spend the night?'

'I had thought to go to the house in Westminster.'

'Had thought?' he repeated, hearing the doubt in her voice. 'Has something happened to change your mind?'

'Yes, sir. That bundle of letters.'

'Do you fear that you may find more in Westminster?'

'It is possible,' she said with a shiver. 'When you read the rest of those missives, you will see that Father was building the house near Baynard's Castle for this French lady of his.' Bitterness intruded. 'It was not enough to have her name painted on the side of his ship and to correspond with her. He was planning to live with her in London. To keep one abode here for his family and another for his mistress.'

'I had already made that deduction, Miss Northcott.'

'Then you will understand my reluctance to visit the house in Westminster. Its atmosphere would not be conducive to rest. No,' she said, reaching a decision. 'I will stay at a reputable inn. If there is one which you can recommend, I would be most grateful.'

'As it happens,' he began, responding to a sudden idea, 'there is such a hostelry. But I hesitate to name it because it falls so far short of the kind of accommodation to which you are accustomed at Priestfield Place. It is clean, decent, totally safe and there is nowhere in London where you will be looked after with more care. But,' he added with a shrug, 'it is small and limited in the comforts it can offer you.' 'All that I need is a warm bed, sir. I will dispense with comforts.'

'Then I recommend an establishment in Fetter Lane.'

'Where will we find it?'

'You are standing in it, Miss Northcott.'

Penelope was startled. 'You invite me to stay here?'

'As my honoured guest.'

'Oh, no, Mr Redmayne. It would be an imposition.'

'Jacob will have a room ready for you instantly.'

'An inn might be a more suitable place.'

'I leave the choice to you.'

Christopher's engaging smile helped to weaken her reservations. Exhorting the coachmen to make all due speed, she had suffered the consequences in the rear of the vehicle. Her bones were aching and fatigue was lapping at her. She did not want to endure a further drive to Westminster and the prospect of staying among strangers in an inn was not appealing. There was another reason why the house in Fetter Lane took on a lustre for her but she was not yet ready to acknowledge it.

'Thank you, Mr Redmayne,' she said at length. 'I accept your offer with gratitude. Will you tell my coachman to bring in my things?'

'Jacob has already done so.'

She smiled for the first time.

When he got back to the house in Addle Hill, his wife was waiting for him in the kitchen. Sarah Bale looked up from the table without reproach.

'You are late,' she observed.

'I had much to do, my love.'

'You have been saying that every night for a week, Jonathan. The children miss their bedtime kiss from you. How much longer will this investigation go on?'

'Until an arrest is made,' he said. 'As you well know, my own duties occupy most of the day. It is only in the evening that I can take up my search for the man who murdered Sir Ambrose Northcott.' 'Where did that search lead you this time?'

Jonathan Bale lowered himself on to the chair opposite her. 'It began with a meeting,' he explained. 'I sent word to Mr Redmayne to find me at the wharf near which the Marie Louise was anchored. He has been as busy as I have so we had much news to exchange. When he left, I scoured the taverns to see if I could pick up any more details about Sir Ambrose's ship.'

'I can smell the beer on your breath,' she said tolerantly.

'At least I now know where she is sailing.'

'Good. How was Mr Redmayne?'

'Civil.'