Frost Fair (41 page)

    'I told you, Mr Redmayne. All my transactions are strictly private.'

    'They must also be lucrative, Mr Crenlowe. Nothing in your shop would come cheaply. If Jeronimo Maldini commissioned something from you, it must have been expensive. Was he able to pay for it?' The goldsmith remained silent. 'Very well,' resumed Christopher, 'if you'll not tell me, I'll have to ask someone else.'

    'Who?'

    'Your client's brother - Pietro Maldini.'

    Mrs Cardinal was still annoyed that she had been rebuffed by Lady Holcroft and deprived of a companion for her visit to the shops. In the event, she remained at the house in the Strand and sulked. It took Susan Cheever a long time to mollify her, showering her with apologies and promising to go out with her that same afternoon. By the time that her son returned, Mrs Cardinal had recovered some of her good humour. Jack Cardinal joined the two of them in the parlour and sat opposite Susan.

    'Did you enjoy your ride with Lady Holcroft?' he asked.

    'Yes,' replied Susan. 'I enjoyed it very much.'

    'I've just been hearing about it,' said Mrs Cardinal, 'and it sounds rather dreary. Who could wish to be driven along crowded streets when she could have been helping me to choose some new additions to my wardrobe? But let's put that behind us, shall we?' she went on. 'Miss Cheever was hardly in a position to refuse the invitation. Now, then, Jack. What sort of a morning have you had?'

    'A rather dull one, Mother,' he said. 'Lawyers are such cautious creatures.'

    'Your father always called them a necessary evil.'

    'I seemed to be there for hours.'

    'What did you do after you left?'

    'I went to the coffee house nearby,' he told her. 'I knew that I'd meet some friends there and I was in need of more lively company. It was very pleasant.'

    'Whom did you meet?'

    'All sorts of people, including one whom I could cheerfully have avoided.'

    'Oh?' said his mother. 'Who was that!'

    'Egerton Whitcombe.'

    'Such an obnoxious young man!'

    'His manners have not improved since I last saw him,' said Cardinal. 'He's just returned from France and is staying here for a week or so. Lady Whitcombe and her daughter have come to London to welcome him back. According to Egerton, they've done nothing but argue since they met.'

    'That's unusual. Lady Whitcombe usually indulges his every whim. When Egerton is around, that poor daughter of hers is all but ignored.' She turned to Susan. 'Letitia is appallingly plain and totally lacking in any feminine virtues. She'll be around her mother's neck for ever.'

    'Not necessarily,' said her son.

    'What do you mean, Jack?'

    'The argument with Egerton concerned the new house that his mother is having built in London. The designated architect is none other than Christopher Redmayne.'

    Mrs Cardinal was contemptuous. 'He should be dismissed immediately.'

    'Why?' asked Susan, stung by the sharpness of her remark.

    'You know why, Miss Cheever. The man's name is impossibly tainted.'

    'Not if his brother is proved to be innocent.'

    "That's highly unlikely,' said Cardinal. 'The talk at the coffee house was that Henry Redmayne would be convicted of murder. It's what Egerton believes as well. That's why he demanded that Lady Whitcombe engages a different architect.'

    'She intends to keep Mr Redmayne?' asked his mother in amazement.

    'So it seems. Egerton vows that it will never happen. Unfortunately for him, Lady Whitcombe holds the purse strings. I fancy that she'll call the tune.'

    'But it's madness. Lady Whitcombe will be employing the brother of a convicted murderer. How can she possibly even consider someone with the name of Redmayne?'

    'Egerton thinks he has the answer to that.'

    'What is it?

    'His sister seems to be inordinately fond of this fellow.'

    'Does she?'

    'And he was very attentive to her.'

    'Was he?' asked Susan, feeling uneasy.

    'He thinks that Christopher Redmayne has gone out of his way to court Letitia so that he can secure this contract. That's what really provoked his ire,' said Cardinal. 'Lady Whitcombe even hinted that this architect could soon be linked to the family by the bonds of holy matrimony.'

    Mrs Cardinal was astounded. Susan felt as if her cheeks were on fire.

      The landlord was a short, bustling man with a bald pate. Having no objection to a second search of the room once occupied by Jeronimo Maldini, he led the constable upstairs.

    'It's exactly as you found it last time, Mr Bale,' he explained. 'All the furniture belongs to me except the desk. That came from Italy with Signor Maldini. His brother is going to arrange to have it moved.'

    'I don't think his brother will have any need for it now,' said Jonathan.

    The house was only a few hundred yards from where he lived but it was substantially bigger than anything in Addle Hill. He was conducted into a large, low, rectangular room with a capacious bed against one wall. The room also contained three chairs, a small table, a water jug and a bowl, a collection of swords and an oak desk with ornate carvings. On one wall was a crucifix. As soon as he was left alone, Jonathan began his search, working systematically around the room. He lifted the carpet, he crawled under the bed and he poked into every corner. No new discovery came to light.

    All that was left was the desk, a bulky object that had taken two of them to move on the first visit so that they could look behind it. The drawers had been emptied for the most part. All that remained in them were some writing materials and a manual on fencing, written in Italian. Jonathan sat down to study the desk, deciding that it must have had exceptional importance for its owner if he had brought it all the way from Italy. He began to explore it more carefully, pulling out the drawers so that he could reach in with his arm then tapping the desk all over with his knuckles as he listened for a sound that indicated hollowness.

    He knew that skilled cabinetmakers could make ingenious secret compartments but he could find none in the desk. He was about to give up when his eye fell on the swords propped up against the wall. Selecting a rapier, he pulled it from its sheath and used it to prod in each of the cavities where the drawers had fitted. Nothing happened at first then he inserted the weapon into another part of the desk and jabbed gently The response was immediate and sudden. As the point of the rapier struck a small panel, there was a twang as a spring was released and a small door flapped open in the side, and at the rear of, the desk. Jonathan went down on his knees to grope inside the compartment that had just been revealed.

    The first thing to emerge was a ledger, containing the accounts of the fencing school but a pile of letters soon followed. Some were in Italian but several were in English. Though they were unsigned, most bore a number to aid identification by the recipient. Jonathan skimmed through some of the correspondence, wondering why an Italian fencing master should be interested in the subjects that were discussed. He then found the most important item in the cache. It was a list of names, against each of which was a number. When he saw the name at the top of the list, he was shocked.

      Christopher Redmayne did not relish the idea of being locked in a room with a man who had tried to murder both him and his brother. When he saw Pietro Maldini, however, he decided that he was in no danger. The man looked beaten and hunted. Wearing manacles, he sat on a chair in the corner of the room with his shoulders hunched and his knees drawn up. Released from his cell on the instruction left by Jonathan Bale, he was ready to fulfil his side of the bargain, albeit with great reluctance. He did not even look up when Christopher came into the room. The architect stayed on his feet.

    'Do you know who I am?' he asked. Maldini nodded. "Then you need to be aware of something else,' said Christopher earnestly. 'My brother is not guilty of this crime and I'll prove it by catching the man who was. You can help me in my search.' Maldini simply glowered at him. 'I've not forgotten what you did to me, Signor Maldini, but that's not important at this moment. You acted the way you did because you loved your brother. That's exactly what I'm doing.'

    'Your brother murdered Jeronimo,' said Maldini, glaring at him.

    "The evidence points that way, I admit, but I had doubts about it at the start. Let me tell you why Did you ever see your brother take part in a fencing bout?'

    'Many times.'

    'He was a fine swordsman, I hear.'

    "There was no better one,' said the other with pride.

    'In other words,' said Christopher, 'he was a man well able to look after himself. My brother was not. On the night when the crime took place, my brother was too drunk even to know where he was going. His only weapon was a dagger. Your brother never went anywhere without his rapier. It was the mark of his trade.'

    'What you trying to tell me?'

    'I want to ask you a simple question. If the two of them met that night, which would have the advantage? A drunken man with a dagger or an unrivalled swordsman?'

    Maldini was confused. 'Your brother stabbed him in the back.'

    'How?' asked Christopher, spreading his arms. 'He'd never get close enough to try. Do you think your brother would be stupid enough to turn his back on someone with whom he'd fallen out? Had they closed with each other, there would have been only one winner and it would not have been Henry.'

    'You make this up to trick me.'

    'Why should I do that? Why should I bother to defend my brother's name if I was not absolutely certain that he was innocent? There's no trick involved, Signor Maldini.' He moved forward to stand over the man. 'Do you think I'd trouble to speak to someone who tried to murder me if I did not believe he could help me? I'm the one with the right to be angry,' he said with studied calmness, 'and you know why. But I put my personal grievances aside for the sake of my brother. Do the same for the sake of yours.'

    Maldini was still suspicious. 'What do you want from me?'

    'A clearer notion of what your brother was like. Everything I've heard about him so far has been coloured by prejudice. Tell me about the real Jeronimo Maldini,' he said. 'I admire anyone who comes to a foreign country and masters its language enough to make a good living here. Both you and your brother did that. Why did you come in the first place? What made you choose England?'

    The prisoner gave a wistful smile. 'We thought we'd have a better life here.'

    'And did you?'

    Pietro Maldini was resentful at first, feeling that he and his brother had been badly let down in their adopted country, talking about some of the slights they had received. But the more he talked, the more relaxed he became. He spoke with great fondness of his brother and revealed many insights into his character. Christopher was struck by the speed with which Jeronimo Maldini had settled into his new home. He pressed for more personal detail.

    'Did he never wish to marry?'

    Maldini shrugged. 'Why tie yourself to one woman when you can please many?'

    'Is that what your brother did?'

    'Jeronimo was a very handsome man. He could take his pick.'

    'I understand that he bought jewellery from a goldsmith called Mr Crenlowe.'

    'That is so.'

    'Was he able to afford the high price that must have been charged?'

    'Of course!' rejoined the other.

    'And did you brother always buy expensive gifts for his ladies?'

    'No,' said Maldini with a half-smile. 'He did not need to. The gift they had was Jeronimo himself. That was enough.'

    'Except in this particular case,' noted Christopher. 'Why was that?'

    'One lady, she was very special to him. He love her dearly.'

    'But not enough to marry her, obviously.'

    'She already had a husband. Most of them did. Jeronimo, he prefer that.'

    'Who was the lady he loved more than the others?' asked Christopher. 'She must have been special to him if he was ready to spend so much money on her. Did he ever tell you her name?'

    'My brother, he would never do that. He protect the lady's reputation. But I did watch him seal a letter to her once,' said Maldini. 'He wrote something on the front of it.'

    'Well?'

    'It was her initial. Her name, I think it begin with 'M".'

     Sir Humphrey Godden had enjoyed his visit to his favourite coffee house. He was among friends and able to relax. There was far less gossip to be heard about the murder of the Italian fencing master and that, too, contented him. It was something that he was trying to put out of his mind for the time being. When he finally came out of the building, he was feeling more cheerful than he had done for a week. Then someone stepped out of a doorway and took him familiarly by the arm. It was the man he had first known as Captain James Harvest.