The Repentant Rake

Chapter Ten

    When prayers had been said, the Bale family began their meal. The two boys, Oliver and Richard, fell on their supper with relish, chewing it so noisily and swallowing it so fast that their mother had to issue a warning.

    'You must not gobble your food like that,' she said. 'It will do you no good.'

    'I'm hungry,' replied Oliver through a mouthful of bread.

    'Eat more slowly, Oliver.'

    'And wait until you empty your mouth before you speak,' added Jonathan.

    'Will you read to us tonight, Father?' asked Richard the younger of the boys.

    'Only if you eat your food properly.'

    'I want to know what happened to Joseph and his brothers.'

    'You will.'

    'Oliver says that he kills them all.'

    'I said that he ought to kill them,' corrected Oliver, still munching happily.

    'No, Oliver,' said his father seriously. 'Murder is a terrible crime.'

    'But they deserve it,' argued the boy.

    'Nobody deserves to be killed.'

    'His brothers treated him cruelly. They wanted to get rid of him because they were jealous of him. They left him down that well.'

    'Yes,' said Richard, eager to show his knowledge of the story.

    'They took his coat of many colours and dipped it in blood. They told their father that Joseph had been killed by a wild beast.'

    'That was because Joseph had disappeared,' Jonathan reminded them. 'It was Reuben, the eldest of the brothers, who persuaded the others to spare him. But when Reuben went to release him, Joseph had gone.'

    'Where?' asked Richard.

    'Wait and see.'

    'I want to know now.'

    'The words of the Bible tell the story far better than I can.'

    'But I can tell you this,' said Sarah, brushing Richard's hair back from his face with a maternal hand. 'Joseph does not kill his brothers.'

    'Cain killed his brother,' noted Oliver.

    'That was a dreadful thing to do. Brothers should love one another.'

    'Is it always wrong to kill somebody?'

    'Yes,' said Jonathan firmly. 'Always.'

    'Was it wrong to chop off the head of the last king?'

    'Oliver!' chided his mother.

    'Was it?' persisted the boy. 'You named me after Oliver Cromwell yet he was the man who murdered the king. Was that a crime?'

    'Was it, Father?' asked Richard. 'Was it a crime or a sin?'

    'I think it was both,' decided Oliver.

    Jonathan glanced uneasily at his wife. 'Finish your supper, boys,' he advised. 'I can explain it to you when I put you to bed. And you will learn what happened to Joseph as well. But only if you eat your food quietly, as your mother told you.'

    The boys were sufficiently mollified to eat on in relative silence. Jonathan was learning that it was not easy to bring up two inquisitive sons. Oliver was eight and his brother was fifteen months younger. They asked questions that were sometimes difficult to answer. On the previous evening, Richard had enquired what a concubine was. It had caused Jonathan some embarrassment to explain but he had been honest. Oliver had giggled while Richard had blushed. Looking at his sons, Jonathan reflected how similar they were in appearance yet how different in character. It led to endless squabbles between them. He wondered how they would get on when they became adults and his mind drifted to another pair of brothers. Christopher and Henry Redmayne could not have been more disparate. They led divergent lives. While he admired one brother, Jonathan had polite contempt for the other. Yet they had been raised in the same way by their parents. What had made Christopher and Henry grow in opposite directions? Why had one embraced work while the other espoused idleness? Jonathan was exercised by the thought of how he could prevent the same thing from happening to his own sons.

    'Will you be going out again this evening?' asked Sarah.

    'Yes,' said Jonathan.

    'Not until you have read to us,' Richard piped up.

    Jonathan smiled. 'Of course not. I want to know what happens to Joseph myself.'

    'Will you be late?' said Sarah.

    'I hope not. I am going to meet Mr Redmayne.'

    Sarah was disappointed. 'Is he not coming here?'

    'Not this evening, Sarah.'

    'Do give him my regards.'

    'I will,' said Jonathan. 'I told him how helpful you had been. Without you, I might never have got to know the vigilant Mrs Runciman in Knightrider Street. And it was you who suggested that I got in touch with Mr Redmayne in the first place.'

    'You and he work well together, Jonathan.'

    'I still wonder why sometimes,' confessed her husband.

    'You have so much in common.'

    'Hardly, Sarah. Mr Redmayne consorts with the highest in the land while my work makes me rub shoulders with the very lowest. Had it not been for sheer accident, we would never have met.'

    'Are you glad that you did?'

    'I think so.'

    Sarah laughed. 'Oh, Jonathan!' she teased. 'You will hold back so. Be honest for once. You know that you like Mr Redmayne as much as I do but you never admit it. He obviously respects you.'

    'Does he?'

    'I can see it in his face. He thinks you far too good to be a mere constable.'

    'Nobody is too good for such important work, Sarah.'

    'Could Tom Warburton do the things that you have achieved?'

    'Probably not.'

    'He could never work with Mr Redmayne the way that you have. And the pair of you do have something in common,' she insisted. 'Both of you are like Tom's little dog. You are real terriers. Once you get your teeth into something, neither of you will let go.'

    The headache was so severe that Henry Redmayne took to his bed with a flask of wine for consolation. He was still propped up with pillows when his brother called on him. Christopher's news did nothing to alleviate the throbbing pain in his temples.

    'Sir Marcus is going to pay up?' he said in astonishment.

    'I made a bargain with him, Henry.'

    'But you did everything possible to stop me from handing any money over.'

    'I tried to prevent Sir Marcus as well,' said Christopher, 'but he was determined. So I decided to make virtue out of necessity.'

    'In what way?'

    'I volunteered to hand the thousand guineas over on his behalf.'

    'Why?'

    Christopher grinned. 'If I have to part with that amount of money, I want it to belong to someone else.' He became serious. 'I have to catch this villain, Henry. I owe it to Gabriel's family. Paying up is a means of luring the blackmailer out of hiding. That's not how I presented it to Sir Marcus, of course. He thinks that he is buying peace of