The Repentant Rake

and less like one of its servants.'

    'What an unkind remark!' he protested.

    'Unkind but not inaccurate,' she said, facing him again. 'Your ancestors fought hard to build up this estate, Lancelot. Prove that you are a worthy successor. When Father comes, do not accede to his every request. Be your own man.'

    'That is what I am.'

    'Only to a degree.'

    Her basket full, she headed back towards the house. Serle fell in beside her. He ducked under some fronds of willow that overhung the path and raised a new topic.

    'What is the likelihood of your sister's coming?' he asked.

    'Why?'

    'We must take care not to neglect Susan.'

    'You can leave my sister to me, Lancelot. We will take the coach into the city and visit the shops. Susan will like that,' she said with a patronising smile. 'She is a country mouse, remember. London is a source of continual wonder to her.'

    'Susan must envy you so much, Brilliana.' He did not see the sneer that rose to her lips. 'Indeed, it is with that in mind that I have a suggestion to put. For reasons that I fail to understand, my beautiful sister-in-law is neither married nor even betrothed. I know that she has rejected the cream of Northamptonshire's bachelors and wondered if we might not find one more acceptable to her.'

    'We?'

    'There are plenty of eligible young men we could invite to the house.'

    'Why?' she said with contempt. 'So that she may run her eye over them like a farmer at a cattle market? It is not our task to find her a husband.'

    'A helping hand is all that I am advocating.'

    'Offer that and you'll get little thanks from Susan.'

    'Why?'

    'My sister has true Cheever spirit. She insists on making her own decisions.'

    'Your brother made his own decisions,' he said ruefully, 'and look what happened to him.'

    'Lancelot!' she exclaimed.

    'Gabriel had rather too much of the Cheever spirit.'

    'That's a dreadful thing to say.'

    'Yet it contains a measure of truth.'

    Brilliana was quivering with anger. 'Gabriel chose his path in life and he must suffer the consequences. We no longer accept him as a member of the family, as you know only too well. Why do you vex me by mentioning his foul name?'

    'He is your brother, my dear,' he said weakly.

    'He was, Lancelot, but I refuse to acknowledge him now. So does Father.'

    'I learned that to my cost.'

    'Then why touch on a subject you know will offend me?'

    'No offence was intended.'

    'As far as I am concerned' she emphasised, 'Gabriel does not even exist any more. My brother might just as well be dead.'

    Instead of returning to Fetter Lane to collect his horse, Christopher decided to make the journey on foot. The long walk to Addle Hill gave him time to reflect. He was puzzled by the second letter sent to his brother, reasoning that it had to come from someone who was party to Gabriel Cheever's murder because nobody else knew about it. Henry had flown into a panic but the death threat did not entirely convince Christopher. A man who was trying to squeeze money from a victim by means of blackmail would not toss away all hope of profit by killing that victim. Yet that was what was implied by the mention of Gabriel Cheever. Had he foolishly resisted blackmail demands? According to Henry, Cheever had been a single-minded young man with a forceful character. He had clearly inherited some of his father's traits. Unlike Henry Redmayne, he did not sound like a natural target for blackmail. Why choose someone who would surely never cave in to demands for money? And how could anyone blackmail a man who, it transpired, was so careless of his reputation that he gloried in his debauchery? The rakehell described by Henry would have no qualms whatsoever if his amours became public knowledge. He was impervious to extortion.

    Something else worried Christopher about the second letter. It was not written by the same person as the first one. Accomplices were at work. One of them had the most graceful handwriting. Jonathan Bale had explained that Gabriel Cheever's assassin must have been a powerful man. Was a vicious killer capable of such stylish calligraphy? The more Christopher thought about it, the more persuaded he became that the blackmail emanated from someone within Henry's circle. The problem was that the circle was rather large. His brother had now provided him with a list of over thirty close friends. A supplementary list of acquaintances included the name of Gabriel Cheever. To pick a way through the complex private life of Henry Redmayne was a formidable task.

    As Christopher entered the city through Ludgate, his thoughts turned to Susan Cheever. The death of her brother would be a bitter blow to her and she would be agonised when she learned the nature of that death. How her father and her sister would react, Christopher did not know. His only concern was for the young woman who had made such a deep impression on him during his visit to Northamptonshire. It grieved him that they had parted on such an awkward note. He did not relish passing on the grim tidings. A mere question about her brother had been enough to upset her. News of his murder might destroy her completely Christopher resolved to choose his words with utmost care. Eager to see Susan Cheever again, he wished that he could meet her in any circumstances but the present ones.

    She remained at the forefront of his mind until he turned into Addle Hill.

    'Mr Redmayne!'

    'Good day to you, Mrs Bale.'

    'It is so nice to see you again, sir.'

    'The pleasure is mine, I assure you.'

    Though she had only met him on a handful of occasions, Sarah Bale was very fond of Christopher. He was always polite, charming and kind to her children. Having heard that he was due to call, she made sure that she answered the door to him. Once she had shown him into the parlour, however, she left him alone with her husband. They had serious business to discuss and she did not wish to hold them up. Christopher was touched that he had been invited to the house. It was a sign of friendship. Whether out of resentment or from feelings of social inferiority, Jonathan Bale had always been unhappy about his earlier visits, but those objections seemed to have disappeared. Christopher was welcomed and shown to a seat. Turning down the offer of refreshment, he plunged straight into the matter in hand.

    'I believe that I know who killed Gabriel Cheever,' he began.

    Jonathan was delighted. 'You have a name?'

    'Not yet, Mr Bale, but I have critical evidence. The person behind the murder is the same man who has been trying to extort money from my brother.'

    After swearing the constable to secrecy, Christopher gave him an abbreviated account of the two blackmail letters, tactfully omitting any scurrilous details about his brother's indiscretions. Jonathan listened with fascination. He was especially attentive when given more details about the murder victim. One fact was pounced upon.

    'Gabriel Cheever lived in Knightrider Street?' he said.

    'Not necessarily,' warned Christopher. 'Someone claims to have seen him there, that is all. There's no guarantee that he had lodgings there.'

    'On the other hand it does establish a possible link with this ward.'

    'Granted.'

    'Knightrider Street is not far from Paul's Wharf.'

    'It might be worth knocking on some more doors.'

    'Yes,' said Jonathan. 'Tom Warburton can try his luck there.'