The Repentant Rake (3 page)

    Jonathan
assumed it would be another victim from the rat population but he was wrong.
When the dog trotted across to his master and laid his trophy at Warburton's
feet, it was no dead animal this time. What the constable picked up was a man's
shoe with a silver buckle on it. It was too dark to examine the item properly
but he could tell from the feel of it that it was the work of an expensive
shoemaker. He handed it to Jonathan who came to the same conclusion. Tongue out
and panting quietly, Sam knew exactly what to do. He swung round and loped
away, leading them to the place where he had found the discarded shoe. Jonathan
and

    Warburton
followed him down to a warehouse not far from the water's edge. The Thames was
lapping noisily at the wharf, giving off its distinctive odour. A faint breeze
was blowing. Sam went along the side of the warehouse, then stopped to sniff at
something in a dark corner. Jonathan was the first to reach him. The dog had
led them to the other shoe, but it was different from the first. It was still
worn by its owner, who lay hunched up on the ground. Jonathan bent down to
carry out a cursory inspection of the man, but he had already sensed what he would
find. His voice took on urgency.

    'Fetch
some light, Tom,' he ordered. 'I think he's dead.'

    Christopher
Redmayne was delighted that he was leaving with a new commission under his belt
but sorry that he had not had the opportunity to become more closely acquainted
with his client's younger daughter. Susan Cheever had made a deep impression
upon him, and though he told himself that someone that attractive must have a
whole bevy of male admirers in pursuit of her, perhaps even a potential husband
in view, it did not prevent him from thinking about her obsessively when he was
alone. The problem was that he was very rarely on his own to luxuriate in his
thoughts. Sir Julius Cheever was a possessive man who hardly let his guest out
of his sight. Susan had joined them for dinner on the previous day but said
little and left well before the meal was finished. Her appetite simply could
not accommodate the fricassee of rabbits and chicken, the leg of mutton, the
three carps in a dish, the roasted pigeons, the lamprey pie and the dish of
anchovies that were served. Long before the sweetmeats arrived, she had made a
polite excuse and withdrawn from the table.

    Dinner
had continued well into the afternoon. Sir Julius ate heartily and drank deeply
from the successive bottles of wine. Christopher simply could not keep pace with
him. Besides, he wished to keep his head clear for their business discussion
and that ruled out too much alcohol. The huge meal eventually told on his host
and he fell asleep in the middle of a long diatribe for all of ten minutes,
waking up with a start to complete the very sentence he had abandoned and
clearly unaware that there had been any hiatus. Sir Julius knew exactly what he
wanted in the way of a town house. His specifications were admirably clear and
Christopher was duly grateful. Previous clients had not always been so
decisive. Sir Julius brought a military precision to it all, tackling the
project with the controlled eagerness of a commander issuing orders to his army
on the eve of battle. When the long oak table in the dining room had been
cleared he stood over the young architect while the latter made some
preliminary sketches.

    It
had been a long but productive day. Susan joined them again for a light supper
and Christopher gained more insight into her relationship with her father. She
chided him softly for keeping his guest up too late yet showed real concern
when he complained about pain from an old war wound in his leg. As the night
had worn on, Sir Julius came to look more tired, more lonely and, for the first
time, more vulnerable. He turned to maudlin reminiscences of his deceased wife.
Susan interrupted him, soothing and censuring him at the same time, bathing him
in sympathy while insisting that it was unwise for him to stay up so late. It
was almost as if she had taken on the role of her mother. Christopher was
touched by the unquestioning affection she displayed towards Sir Julius and
impressed by the way she handled him. His only regret was that the closeness
between father and daughter obviated any chance of time alone with Susan.
Retiring to his bed an ancient four-poster with a lumpy mattress, he slept
fitfully.

    After
breakfast next morning, on the point of departure, he finally had a brief
conversation alone with her. Sir Julius went off to berate a tardy servant and
the two of them were left at the table. Christopher had rehearsed a dozen
things to say to her in private but it was Susan Cheever who spoke first.

    'I
must apologise for my father, Mr Redmayne,' she said with a wan smile. 'His
manner is a trifle abrupt at times.'

    'Not
at all, Miss Cheever.'

    'When
you get to know him, you'll see that he has a gentler side to him as well.'

    'I
see it embodied in you,' said Christopher with an admiring smile. 'Apologies
are unnecessary. I find Sir Julius a most amenable client. It will be a
pleasure to work for him.' He fished gently for information. 'Your father
mentioned a second daughter with a house in Richmond.'

    'Yes,
Mr Redmayne,' she said. 'My sister, Brilliana.'

    'I
understand that he'll be staying there in due course.'

    'Until
the new house is built.'

    'That
will be done with all haste.'

    'I'm
glad to hear it.'

    'Will
you be travelling to London with your father, Miss Cheever?' he asked raising a
hopeful eyebrow.

    'Occasionally,'
she replied. 'Why do you ask?'

    'Because
Sir Julius is a different man with you beside him.'

    'In
what way?'

    Christopher
was tactful. 'He seems to mellow.'

    'It's
largely exhaustion.'

    'I
marvel at the way you look after him so well.'

    'Someone
has to, Mr Redmayne,' she sighed. 'Since my mother died he's been very
restless. It's one of the reasons he wishes to take up a political career. It
will keep him occupied. Father pretends to hate London yet he wants be at the
centre of events.'

    'What
about you, Miss Cheever?' he said, keen to learn more about her.

    'Me,
sir?'

    'Do
you relish the idea of being at the centre of events?'

    'Oh,
no,' she said solemnly. 'I have no love for big cities. To be honest, they rather
frighten me. I was born and brought up in this beautiful countryside. Why
surrender that for the noise and filth of London?'

    'London
has its own attractions.'

    'I
know. My sister Brilliana never ceases to talk about them in her letters. She and
her husband frequently take the coach into the city. Brilliana seems to keep at
least three dressmakers in business.'

    'Is
her husband engaged in politics?'

    'Lancelot?'
She gave a little laugh. 'Heavens, no! Lancelot is no politician. He's far too
nice a man to entertain the notion of entering Parliament. My brother-in-law is
a gentleman of leisure. Running his estate and pampering Brilliana take up all
his time.'

    'Talking
of estates,' said Christopher, glancing towards the window, 'you must have a
sizeable one here in Northamptonshire.'

    'Almost
a thousand acres.'

    'Sir
Julius is obviously a highly successful farmer.'

    'He
inherited the land from my grandfather and extended it over the years.'

    'It's
a pity that he has nobody else to carry on the good work. Farming runs in
families. Sons take over from fathers. But since you have no brother the
Cheever name may have to make way for someone else.' Susan turned away in mild
embarrassment. Christopher was immediately contrite. 'Have I said something to
offend you?' he asked. 'I do apologise. It was not intentional, I promise you.
In any case, Miss Cheever, it's none of my business. Please forgive me. I'd not
upset you for the world.'

    She
met his gaze. 'There's nothing to forgive.'

    'I
made a crass remark and I'm truly sorry.'

    'How
were you to know, Mr Redmayne?' she said, getting to her feet. 'You touched
unwittingly on a delicate subject. I do have a brother, as it happens, but
Gabriel is not interested in taking on the estate. He has…' She searched for
the appropriate words. 'He has other priorities, I fear.'

    'Your
father made no mention of a son.'

    'Nor
will he,' she warned. 'And I beg you to make no reference to Gabriel. It would
cause Father the deepest pain. To all intents and purposes, he has no son.'

    'Yet
I suspect that you still have a brother?' he said quietly.

    Susan
Cheever coloured slightly and bit her lip. She took a deep breath. 'I think
that it's time for you to go, Mr Redmayne.'

    Sarah
Bale was a woman of bustling energy. Rising shortly after dawn, she cleaned the
downstairs rooms, roused her children from their beds, gave them breakfast,
took them off to their petty school and since the weather was fine, returned to
make a start on the washing that she took in to supplement the family income.
By the time her husband came into the kitchen, she was humming contentedly to
herself, her arms deep in a tub of soapy water. Suppressing a yawn, Jonathan
crossed to give her a perfunctory kiss of greeting on the forehead.

    'Awake
at last, are you?' she teased.

    'I
was late getting back last night, my love.'

    'I
know.'

    'Did
I wake you?'

    'Only
for a moment.'

    'I
tried not to, Sarah.'

    'You're
not the quietest man when you move around the house,' she said, drying her
hands on a piece of cloth so that she could turn to him. 'Your breakfast is all
ready, Jonathan. Sit down. You look as if you need it.'

    Lowering
himself on to a chair, he gave a nod of agreement. The events of the night had
turned a routine patrol into a harrowing experience and left him drained. When
he climbed into bed, he had fallen instantly asleep. Now, after barely three or
four hours, he was up to face a new day. Bread and cheese lay on the platter
before him. Sarah put a solicitous hand on his shoulder as she poured him a cup
of whey.

    'Did
you hear the children?'

    'No,
my love.'

    'Then
you must have been very tired. They made so much noise this morning, especially
Oliver. I had to be very stern with him.'

    'What
was the problem?'

    'The
usual one,' she said, putting the jug on the table and sitting opposite him.
'He didn't want to go to school. And because Oliver complained, Richard joined
in.'

    'School
is important. They must learn to read and write.'

    'That's
what I told them.'

    'They
don't understand how lucky they are to be able to have proper schooling. I
didn't at their age, Sarah. My parents couldn't afford it.' He took a first bite
of bread. 'I had to pick things up as I went along. My father was a shipwright
for thirty years and never learned to read properly. When I took up the trade,
none of the apprentices could even write his own name.'

    
'You
could, Jonathan. And you'd taught yourself to read the Bible.'

    He
took a swig of whey. 'I wanted to be able to read the names of the ships I was
helping to build. Knowledge gives you power. You don't have to rely on others.
The boys must realise what an advantage they'll have in life by being able to
read write and add up properly.'

    'I
keep saying that.'

    'Let
me have a word with them.'

    'I'd
be grateful.'

    He
addressed himself to his meal and munched away in silence. Pouring herself a
cup of whey, his wife sipped it and watched him. Jonathan was gloomy and
preoccupied. Sarah could see that something was troubling him but she knew
better than to question him too closely about his work. It was a difficult and
often dangerous job and he tried to leave it behind whenever he stepped over
the threshold. Home was his sanctuary, free from the worries of the outside
world. It was a place where he could relax and recover from the strains of his
occupation. When he chose to confide in her, Sarah was always willing to listen
but she did not prompt him.