The Parliament House cr-5 Page 20

  'Because they would do everything they could to stop me.'

  'Why is that, Sir Julius?'

  'I've challenged the Earl of Stoneleigh to a duel.'

  Christopher was stunned. 'A duel?' 'It's the only way to answer such vile slander against me.'

  'But duelling is against the law.'

  'Then the law must be broken on this occasion. Honour demands it. My challenge has already been sent.'

  'I wish that you'd consulted me before dispatching it, Sir Julius,' said Christopher, worriedly. 'You should first have asked for a full public apology. If that had not been given, resort to litigation would have achieved your ends.'

  'The only way to do that is to kill Stoneleigh.'

  'But he's somewhat younger than you, I believe.'

  'So?' said the other, indignantly. 'Are you suggesting that I do not know how to handle a sword, Mr Redmayne?'

  'Of course not.'

  'Then obey my commands. When my challenge is accepted - as it must surely be - I need you to be standing ready.'

  'Why?' asked Christopher, increasingly alarmed at what he was hearing. 'What do you require of me, Sir Julius?'

  'You will act as one of my seconds.'

  Dorothy Kitson was about to retire to bed when she heard the front door being unlocked. Voices rose up from the hall and she recognised one as belonging to her brother. Putting on her dressing gown, she took up her candle and made her way along the landing.'

  'Is that you, Orlando?' she said.

  'Yes,' he replied, 'and I know that it's an inconvenient time to call but I felt that you should hear the news at once.'

  'What news?' She came down the marble staircase and saw the animation in his face. 'Whatever's happened?'

  'I'll tell you in a moment.'

  Taking a candle from one of the servants, he shepherded her into the parlour and shut the door behind him. Both candles were set on a table so that they cast a glow across the two chairs on which they settled. Dorothy looked bewildered.

  'It's unlike you to call at such an hour, Orlando.'

  'I felt that the tidings could not wait.'

  'What tidings?' 'You have had a narrow escape, Dorothy.'

  'From what?'

  'The ignominy of having your name linked with that of Sir Julius Cheever. I praise the Lord that I rescued you from that.'

  'You are talking in riddles,' she complained.

  'I'm sorry,' he said, reaching out to take her hands. 'I only heard about it myself over supper with friends. It's now the talk of the town, it seems, and will certainly feature in tomorrow's newspapers. A play called The Royal Favourite was performed today at the King's Theatre. It contained a vicious - if highly comical - satire on your erstwhile friend.'

  'Sir Julius Cheever?'

  'In the play, I believe, he is Sir Julius Seize-Her.'

  He told her what he had heard from someone who had actually witnessed the performance, and Dorothy sat there with an expression of dismay on her face. When he had finished, Orlando Golland was almost giggling with pleasure.

  'Well? What do you think of that?'

  'I think it very unkind of you to take such satisfaction from someone else's pain,' she reproached. 'It's unworthy of you, Orlando.'

  'It was the laughter of relief,' he said, trying to be more serious. 'I was celebrating my sister's escape from her unwise entanglement with Sir Julius. Were you and he about to contemplate marriage, then you would have suffered this public disgrace along with him.'

  'I do suffer it. I have the greatest sympathy for him.'

  'Sir Julius deserved it.'

  'I disagree.'

  'He's upset too many people - Stoneleigh among them.'

  'Cuthbert?' she said. 'This is one of his plays?'

  'Yes, Dorothy,' he replied. 'And from what I hear, it's nothing short of a masterpiece. Sir Julius has been well and truly stoned by the Earl of Stoneleigh.'

  'How cruel!'

  'It will finish him.'

  'What do you mean?

  'Even someone as obtuse and insensitive as Sir Julius will not be able to shrug this off. Public humiliation will force him to quit London and run all the way back home.'

  'You are quite mistaken,' she said. 'Sir Julius is neither obtuse nor insensitive. In some ways, he's one of the most sensitive men I've ever met. This will not simply wound him. It will shake him to the core. But he'll not take flight, Orlando,' she predicted. 'Of that you may be certain. You reckon without his pride.'

  'When he reads tomorrow's newspapers, he will have none left.'

  'You underrate him badly.'

  'My guess is that he may already have left the city.'

  'Then you do not know him as well as I. He will stay.'

  'As long as he does not turn to you for succour,' said Golland. That would be too much to bear. I'd hoped that Stoneleigh's play would chase the old fool out of the capital, not send him running to your arms.'

  'At a time like this,' she said, 'Sir Julius needs friends. He'll find plenty of compassion here. I judge it to be heartless of Cuthbert to indulge in such gratuitous spite, and I shall tell him so if I see him. I feel sorry for anyone who is pilloried on stage like that.'

  'So do I,' said Golland, complacently, 'but not in this case. I've never been a theatregoer but, if the play is ever staged again, I will make certain that I'm there to see it.'

  Henry Redmayne was still trying to appease his employer by working at the Navy Office in the mornings. It was a torment. Two servants were needed to get him out of bed, the barber was on hand to shave him and a breakfast was prepared for him even though he barely touched it. He was on the point of leaving that morning when his brother presented himself at the door.

  'Christopher,' he said. 'What on earth has brought you here?'

  'Anger,' replied his brother, using the flat of his hand to push him backwards into the hall. 'Anger, disappointment and disgust.'

  'Such emotions can hardly have been engendered by me.'

  'All three, Henry, and many more besides. I'm angry because you hid something important from me that I had a right to be told. I'm disappointed because I did not think you'd go behind my back to consort with a man I regard as a murder suspect. And,' he continued with rising iritation, 'I'm disgusted that a brother of mine should enter a house under false pretences so that he could ogle a married woman under the nose of her husband.'

  'Brilliana wants me.'

  'Only in the confines of your fevered mind.'

  'She does, Christopher. I saw it in her eyes.'

  'And what do you see in my eyes?'

  Henry was frightened by the look of fierce displeasure that his brother shot him. He had never seen Christopher roused to such a pitch of fury before. He tried to mollify him.

  'I can explain everything,' he said, palms upraised. 'Yes, I did attend the play yesterday, and it did cross my mind that I should come straight to you afterwards.'

  'Why did you not come before the play was performed?'

  'Before?'

  'Yes, Henry,' said his brother. 'If we had known what the play contained, we could have moved to stop it before its poison was displayed on stage. You are a friend of the Earl of Stoneleigh. When you heard that his play was being revived, you must have been aware that new material had been added.'

  'I did and I did not.'

  'Don't prevaricate!'

  'I knew that Cuthbert had introduced a new scene into the play but I swear that I did not know what it contained.'

  'But you were told that it related to Sir Julius Cheever?'

  'Yes and no.'

  'You are doing it again!' protested Christopher.

  'Cuthbert hinted that a certain Member of Parliament would find it very uncomfortable if he were seated in the audience. No name was given, I assure you.'

  'But one was implied. In short, you knew.'

  'Let us just say that I had a vague idea.'

  'Henry, you appall me sometimes,' said Christopher, barely able to keep his
hands off him. 'You are fully cognisant of the situation. A man was murdered in place of Sir Julius. A second attempt was made on his life. Your own brother was involved in tracking down the killer. Yet you say nothing - nothing at all - when you are forewarned by a friend that his play will contain a brutal attack on Sir Julius.'

  'It was comical rather than brutal, Christopher.'

  'Only to those who enjoy the sport of blood-letting.'

  'And I could hardly alert you to something that I had not actually seen. All that you would have had was a rumour. That would not have been enough to halt the performance.'

  'It would have prepared Sir Julius for what was to come.'

  Henry sniggered. 'It was highly amusing, I must admit.'

  'Yes,' said Christopher, vehemently. 'And the moment you stopped laughing, you put on a different face and have the gall to tell Sir Julius that it was a trial to sit through so unjust a lampoon. The only reason you even bothered to tell him was so that you could get within reach of Brilliana Serle.'

  'And, by a miracle, I did. But she was snatched away from me at the critical moment. I'll never forgive Susan for doing that.'

  'I must remember to congratulate her.'

  'A man must follow the dictates of love.'

  'I'll not have you dignifying your lust as pure romance.'

  'You've never understood the promptings of my heart.'

  'I understand them only too well,' said Christopher, 'and I pity the poor wretches who are victims of them. Well, Mrs Serle is not going to be one of them. To sneak into her company on the pretext of helping her father was improper, immoral and ignoble. I've never felt so ashamed of you in all my life.'

  Henry yawned. 'Your impersonation of Father is very tiresome.'

  'He'd disown you if he knew what you had done - disown you and deprive you of your generous allowance. Where would you be without that?'

  'You will surely not tell him of this?' said Henry, suddenly afraid. 'I need that money, Christopher.'

  'Then do something to earn it or, by this hand, I'll let him know what kind of a son you are. What you did was unpardonable but you can at least try to repair some of the damage. Now,' said Christopher, advancing on him, 'this is what I want you to do.'

  Sir Julius Cheever spent the whole day locked in his study. Meals were taken up to him but he was never even seen by his daughters. It increased their concern. Their father was in great distress yet he refused to tell them why. Tiring of being kept ignorant, Brilliana Serle had dispatched her husband to speak to his father-in-law and elicit the truth. Serle was met with such a verbal broadside from Sir Julius that he cut his losses and withdrew. The day wore relentlessly on. By the time they went to bed, Susan and Brilliana were still no nearer to understanding the cause of their father's evident suffering.

  Early next morning, they were awakened by the sound of wheels scrunching the gravel outside. Susan was out of bed in a flash and got to the window in time to see Sir Julius getting into his coach and being driven away. It was shortly after dawn. Before Susan could work out where he was going, there was a tap on her door and Brilliana came into the room in her nightgown.

  'What's going on, Susan?' she asked in consternation.

  'I wish that I knew.'

  'Father never gets up at this time of the morning.'

  'Well, he did today,' said Susan. 'He has not been the same since we had that visit from Henry Redmayne - though I don't believe that a desire to see Father was what really brought him here.'

  Brilliana was rueful. 'You are right,' she said. 'The first time I met Mr Redmayne, I must inadvertently have given him the wrong impression. Now I can see why he was so eager to get Lancelot out of the house. Fortunately, you were still here, Susan.'

  'What message did Henry bring for Father that day? That's what I'd like to find out.'

  'Christopher might know.'

  'Unhappily, no,' said Susan. 'I sent him a note on that very subject. He replied instantly but said that he was unable to help us.'

  'Then I must speak to his brother directly.'

  'That might not be a sensible idea, Brilliana. Stay clear of Henry Redmayne in future. If he had wanted us to know his secret, he would have divulged it. All will soon become clear.'

  'I hope so. Lancelot was most upset yesterday.'

  'Why?'

  'He asked to see the newspaper. Father had it delivered to his study and it remained there all day. When Lancelot sent a servant upstairs for it, his request was turned down with uncalled-for rudeness.' Brilliana's face puckered. 'Why was my husband prevented from seeing the newspaper'

  'I wish I knew.'

  'Oh, I do so hate a mystery, Susan.'

  'Especially one of this nature,' said her sister. 'It was bad enough for us to be denied the information that Father's life was in danger. We are his daughters. We should have been told.'

  'Christopher let you down badly.'

  'I remonstrated with him over that. He'll not fail me again.'

  'And if he does?'

  Susan let the question hang in the air. She could not believe that Christopher would deceive her twice in a row. He had vowed to be more open with her. She had to trust him.

  'Did you see Father leave?' said Brilliana.

  'I had a fleeting glimpse of him as he climbed into the coach.'

  'Did you notice anything odd about him, Susan?' 'Odd?'

  'He was carrying a sword in his hand.'

  Chapter Twelve

  The duel was to be held in the walled garden of a private house in the Strand. Though it was not far for Christopher Redmayne to ride, he slowed his approach to a gentle trot so that he could reflect on what lay ahead. He had profound misgivings about the whole exercise. His worst fear was that Sir Julius Cheever would be mortally wounded in the duel and that the Earl of Stoneleigh would have accomplished what his hired killer had been unable to do. What exasperated Christopher was the thought that the earl would suffer little punishment beyond a reprimand from the King. It would be a case of sanctioned murder.

  It was deliberate. Christopher was certain of that. The offending scene in The Royal Favourite had not simply been written to malign Sir Julius. It was there to goad him into a duel and put him at the mercy of his enemy. A good swordsman in his younger days, he had lost all of his speed and dexterity. Sir Julius was travelling to the duel in a spirit of revenge that obscured from him facts that were obvious to others. Stoneleigh was years younger than him. He was slim and lithe whereas his opponent was portly and cumbersome. Since the older man had been lured into a duel, Christopher suspected that the earl would have been practising hard for the contest with his fencing master. Sir Julius had not used a sword for ages.

  The potential consequences were too hideous to contemplate. Christopher would first be answerable to Susan, a woman to whom he had pledged his honesty. Yet here he was, conspiring in something that would rob her of her one surviving parent and of any trust she still placed in Christopher. In losing the father, he would surely forfeit the daughter whom he loved. Susan would never forgive him, and there would be recriminations from the other members of the family. Earlier, he had acted as Sir Julius's bodyguard. Now he was assisting him in what might well turn out to be a suicidal encounter.

  Then there was Jonathan Bale. He would be horrified that a friend whom he respected so much was implicated in what was, in fact, an illegal act. And the constable would be even more shocked to learn that Christopher condoned a duel in which one man was at such a severe disadvantage. Why spend so much time trying to hunt down the person who had ordered Sir Julius's death and then deliver him up to their prime suspect? It was indefensible. Christopher had toyed with the idea of warning Bale about the duel so that he could interrupt proceedings. He had abandoned the notion because he knew that it would only be arranged on another day at a different venue. Sir Julius would not be baulked.

  Arriving at the designated house, Christopher was in a sombre mood. Sir Julius's coach reached the house shortly after
him. When he stepped out, he was followed by his other second, Francis Polegate. Christopher caught the vintner's eye and saw that they shared the same reservations. Notwithstanding that, they had both agreed to participate in the event and had to fulfil their duties. Admitted to the garden, they took up their position beneath the boughs of a chestnut tree. It seemed an appropriate place for someone as prickly as Sir Julius Cheever. Christopher found himself praying that, unlike ripe horse chestnuts, the Member of Parliament would not fall.

  'I'm not at all sure that this is wise, Sir Julius,' said Polegate.

  'I did not ask for your advice, Francis,' said the other, 'only for your assistance. My honour is at stake here. Would you have me walk away?'

  'No, but there are other ways to resolve this quarrel.'

  'I agree,' said Christopher. 'What appeared on that stage was a dreadful libel. There are countless witnesses, including my own brother. Fight for your honour in a court of law.'

  'That would take an eternity,' replied Sir Julius, 'and I do not see it as my mission in life to enrich squabbling lawyers. This matter can be settled within minutes.' He raised his sword. 'Here is the only lawyer that I'll employ.'

  Christopher and Polegate continued to try to dissuade him from going ahead but he dismissed their entreaties with scorn. It was too late to withdraw now. Once given, a challenge could not be rescinded. All that his seconds could do was to hold their tongues and hope for a miracle. Their pessimism deepened when

  Cuthbert Woodruffe, Earl of Stoneleigh, finally appeared. He had already divested himself of coat and hat. Wearing a pair of breeches and with a crimson waistcoat over his shirt, he entered the garden with a flourish and gave Sir Julius a mocking bow. He was a striking man. Tall, lean and moving with easy grace, he exuded confidence. Stoneleigh was too sharp-featured to be handsome but it was an arresting face with a hooked nose and a pair of gimlet eyes.

  'Look at the fellow,' said Sir Julius. 'He's full of himself.'

  'Give him the chance to make an apology,' suggested Polegate.

  'He can have it engraved on his tomb, Francis.'

  'There's still time to abandon this folly.'

  'I'd not even consider it.'

  Sir Julius turned round so that Polegate could help him off with his coat. Christopher was more interested in the people who had come into the garden with the earl. Like Sir Julius, he had brought a surgeon in case he sustained a wound but it was one of the seconds that made Christopher start. The man was wearing dark apparel and a wide-brimmed black hat pulled down over his face, but his gait was unmistakable. Incredible as it might seem, it was his brother, Henry. Christopher had never felt such a burning sense of betrayal. Knowing that Stoneleigh was under suspicion for instigating a murder, Henry was actually helping the man in his long-standing quarrel with Sir Julius Cheever. The sight of his brother sickened Christopher.