'So?'
'I should have more of a say in who designs it and it will not be anyone who bears the sullied name of Redmayne. Dismiss the fellow at once.'
'It's too late. His drawings have already been delivered.'
'But no work has yet been done on the site. There's still time to think again.'
'Why should I do that?'
'Because I'm telling you, Mother,' he said, trying to assert himself by standing in front of her with his hands on his hips. 'Let me speak more bluntly. I simply refuse to occupy a building that's been designed by Christopher Redmayne.'
'Then Letitia and I will have to stay there in your stead.' 'What about me?'
'You'll continue to rent a room in a tavern.'
His face was puce with rage. 'But you promised me a house.'
'I've provided one, Egerton. It will be the envy of our circle when it's built.'
'Not if it's been designed by the brother of a murderer.'
'Stop saying that.'
'It's what everyone else will harp on.'
'I care not.'
'Well, I do, Mother,' he announced, stamping his foot for emphasis. 'I'll not let you do this. London is full of architects. Engage another one.'
'I already have the one that I prefer.'
'I'll find someone better.'
'There is nobody better,' said Letitia, forced to offer her opinion. 'Mr Redmayne is the most wonderful architect in the world. His design is exactly what we want.'
'We?' he sneered, rounding on her. 'We, we, we? I was the one who began all this, Letitia. I was the person who explained why a house was needed in London. Given that, I should be the one with the power of decision.'
'Not unless you intend to pay for it,' said his mother coolly.
'What?'
'If the money comes from my purse, Egerton, then I reserve the right to hire the man I want. And that's exactly what I've done.'
'That's so unfair, Mother!' he protested.
'It's the way of the world.'
'But the man is unsuitable.'
'You've never even met Mr Redmayne.'
'I've heard about his brother, Henry. He's the talk of every tavern in the city. It's only a matter of time before he's hanged for his crime. And rightly so,' he added. 'I knew the murder victim briefly. Signor Maldini once gave me fencing lessons.'
'Then he was a poor tutor.'
'Mother!'
'Jack Cardinal made you look like a novice.'
'I'll make him pay for that.'
'Oh, Egerton,' she said, using a softer tone. 'Let's not bicker like this. You've been away for so long. Must the first time we see you again be an occasion for sourness and recrimination? Be ruled by me.'
'It seems that I must be,' he said resentfully.
'And take that grim expression from your face. It ill becomes you. We should be celebrating your return, not falling out with each other.' She embraced him and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. 'There, the matter is settled.'
'Do not count on it,' he said under his breath.
'You'll soon see that your fears were in vain, Egerton. Wait until you meet him,' she said with a beatific smile. 'He'll win you over in no time. Forget about this brother of his. Christopher Redmayne is a perfect gentleman.'
'Good Lord!' exclaimed Jonathan Bale, staring at him in amazement at the bedraggled figure on his doorstep. 'Is that really you, Mr Redmayne?'
'Unhappily, it is.'
'But you are soaked to the skin.'
'I've been in the river,' explained Christopher, trying to stop his teeth chattering. 'Your house was so much nearer than mine that I came to throw myself on your mercy.'
'Of course, sir. Come in, come in.'
Jonathan stood aside so that this visitor could get into the house. Hearing Christopher's voice, Sarah came bustling out of the kitchen to look at his sodden apparel. Water was still dripping from him. He had lost his hat and his hair was plastered to his head. His cloak was a wet rag over his arm. When he moved, his boots squelched.
'What on earth happened?' asked Sarah.
'I fell in by accident.'
'Fell in?'
'Yes, Mrs Bale. I lost my footing.'
Sarah took control. 'Stand by the fire or you'll catch your death of cold. I'll fetch a blanket for you. Mr Redmayne will need a change of clothes, Jonathan,' she said, pushing her husband away. 'See what you can find.'
Christopher was grateful that the children had been put to bed and were not there to witness his humiliation. Stepping into the parlour, he huddled over the fire. Jonathan soon returned with some clothing and his wife brought a rough blanket on which their visitor could dry himself. They left him alone in the parlour so that he could peel off his coat, shirt and breeches before wrapping the blanket around him. Still shivering, he rubbed himself dry then put on the sober attire that his friend had loaned him. It was much too large and the material was far more coarse than anything he had worn before but Christopher did not complain. He crouched beside the fire and began to thaw slowly out. Jonathan tapped the door and came in. He was carrying a small cup.
'Drink this, Mr Redmayne,' he counselled. 'It might help.'
'What is it?'
'A remedy that Sarah often prepares for me. It's warm and searching.'
Christopher did not even ask what the ingredients were. When he saw the steam rising from the cup, he accepted the drink gratefully and gulped it down. It had a sweet taste and coursed through him with speed. He felt much better. Jonathan took the cup back from him and set it aside.
'Now, Mr Redmayne,' he said, 'perhaps you'll tell me the truth.'
'The truth?'
'I know that you did not wish to alarm my wife but I'm different. This was no accident, sir. A man like you would never lose his footing on the bank.'
'I was pushed in,' admitted Christopher. 'Someone shoved me from behind.'
'Who would do such a thing?'
'I wish I knew, Jonathan. Whoever it was did not expect me to get out of the water again. I was lucky to do so. The river was still icy cold. My clothing was so waterlogged that I could barely move. I flailed around and yelled until someone threw me a rope from the wharf. I was pulled out like a drowned rat.'
'What were you doing by the river in the first place?'
Christopher told him about his visit to the lawyer's office and his subsequent walk to Fenchurch Street. He had gone over ground that Jonathan himself had visited and reached the same conclusion.
'I think that the body of Signor Maldini was thrown in the water not far from the spot where my brother was found by the watchmen. In fact,' said Christopher, 'I may have dived headfirst into the Thames at almost the same point.'
'Why would anyone wish to attack you?' asked the other.
'I may have the answer to that, Jonathan. But, first, tell me your own news. Did you manage to speak to
