The Repentant Rake

on his diary. I can see why now.'

    Kemp blanched. 'You mean, there is more?'

    'Far more, I suspect, and even more damaging than,4 Knight at the Theatre.'

    'Then I might as well run myself through with my sword,' confessed Sir Marcus, putting both hands to his head. 'Gabriel witnessed everything. He was with us at the theatre when we invited those impudent ladies to dance naked for us in private. He watched those wonderful breasts bobbing magically in the candlelight. He saw me fling off my own clothes and sat there while you and Amy Dyson ran to the bed and-'

    'Yes, yes!' interrupted Henry. 'There's no need to remind me.'

    'Gabriel must have had a hundred such tales to write.'

    'They will all be used against us, Marcus, be certain of that. You and I are the first victims but others will soon trail in our wake. Arthur Lunn and Peter Wickens have roistered even more than us. So has Gilbert Sparkish,' said Henry, throwing out the first names that came into his head. 'They, too, will certainly have a place in Gabriel's diary. There'll be others in the same plight as us before long.'

    'A thousand guineas from each of us? He'll make a fortune.'

    'Only if we are weak enough to pay.'

    'I'd hand the money over right now!' declared Kemp.

    'What happens when he sends you a second page from the diary?' asked Henry.

    Kemp was in torment. After playing anxiously with his wig, he tore it off and flung it down, revealing a bald pate with a defiant tuft of hair at its centre. There was no defiance in the man himself. Shocked and humiliated, he sat back in his chair and looked towards heaven. A thought then nudged him.

    'Were you the first to receive a threat?' he said.

    'What of it?'

    'I seem to recall that a letter was involved.'

    'It was,' admitted Henry gloomily. 'A billet-doux sent on a foolish impulse.'

    'To whom?'

    There was an embarrassed pause. 'A married lady, Marcus.'

    'Which one?' asked Kemp. 'You sniff around so many.'

    'Her name is irrelevant. The point is that the letter fell into the wrong hands.'

    'How?'

    'I wish I knew!'

    'So you're not being blackmailed with an extract from Gabriel's diary?'

    'Not yet,' said Henry ruefully. 'That time may yet come.'

    Kemp was puzzled. 'Why was your life threatened?'

    'I think I've worked that out. The man who strangled Gabriel Cheever has no need to murder me. He simply has to show that letter of mine to a certain husband. He's a vengeful man,' said Henry apprehensively. 'He'll insist on a duel. That's why the blackmailer does not need to kill me, Marcus. An angry husband will do the job for him.'

    For two days, Lucy Cheever barely left her room. The funeral had been a severe trial for her and she lay prostrate on her bed for most of the time. Even her maidservant was only allowed limited access to her. Lucy's collapse aroused mixed feelings in the household. Sir Julius was at once sad and relieved, sorry that she was suffering so badly but glad to be left alone to nurse his own woes. Before he learned more about his daughter-in- law, he wanted to clarify his feelings about his son. Lancelot Serle was sympathetic to the young widow but Brilliana was more critical, unable to accept that a secret marriage entitled Lucy to the attention she was receiving and unwilling to embrace her in the way that Susan had done. Brilliana bickered so much on the subject with her father and sister that Sir Julius was on the point of ordering her out of the house. Serle anticipated him and, in a gesture that earned a rare compliment from his father-in-law, more or less hustled his fractious wife into their coach to take her back to Richmond.

    The atmosphere in the house improved markedly. As if sensing the fact, Lucy made her appearance on the third day, apologising profusely for imposing on her hosts and for remaining out of sight. Susan Cheever took her off to her own room so that they could talk in private. While Lucy sat in the chair, she perched on the bed.

    'How are you feeling now, Lucy?' she began.

    'As if all the life has been drained out of me.'

    'We all feel like that.'

    'What happened to your sister?'

    'Brilliana decided to return to Richmond.'

    'I heard her voice a number of times.'

    'Yes,' said Susan wearily, 'Brilliana tends to shout, I fear, especially when she's losing an argument. It was best for all of us that her husband took her away when he did. The house seems much quieter all of a sudden.'

    'Do you see much of your sister?'

    'Enough.'

    'She is so unlike you, Susan,' said Lucy 'Gabriel warned me that she would be.'

    'Do you have any brothers or sisters?'

    'Not any more. I had one of each but both died during the Plague.'

    'What about your parents?'

    'My mother is a widow.' She felt a lurch of recognition. 'Just like me.'

    'Not quite, Lucy. You were unlucky. Gabriel was taken before his time.'

    'I wish that I had been killed alongside him!'

    Susan was shocked. 'That's a dreadful thought!' she exclaimed.

    'At least we'd still be together.'

    'You are together, Lucy. As long as you preserve his memory.'

    'I'll cherish it for ever.'

    Susan felt a pang of regret that she had never seen her brother and his wife together. They must have made a handsome couple, but there was far more to their marriage than a pleasing appearance. Lucy had somehow managed to rescue Gabriel from his former dissolute existence and give him a sense of purpose. In doing so, she had found her own true path through life.

    'May I ask how you met?' said Susan.

    'By accident.'

    'Where? Gabriel said so little about you in his letters, apart from the fact that he loved you to distraction, that is. I can see why,' she added with a smile. 'But he told me nothing about how you met and where you were married.'

    'We agreed to keep that secret.'

    'Why?'

    Lucy was wary. 'I'm not able to tell you that, Susan. It's rather complicated. Gabriel had reasons of his own for secrecy. Nobody was to know where we were.'

    'Somebody knew,' noted Susan.

    'I was not counting you.'

    'Nor was I, Lucy. The man who killed Gabriel must have known where he lived as well. From what you told me, Gabriel hardly ever left the house.'

    'He was wedded to his work, Susan. He wrote all the time.'

    'That sounds like my brother. Gabriel did nothing by half- measures.'

    'I miss him so much.'

    Lucy's control snapped again and she burst into tears. Leaping off the bed, Susan knelt down to embrace her, fighting off her own urge to cry. They were entwined for several minutes. When Lucy felt well enough to push Susan gently away, she looked into her eyes.

    'You've been so kind to me.'

    'I loved Gabriel as well.'

    'He doted on you,' said Lucy. 'Gabriel could be harsh at times. He told me that he would not mind if he