The Frost Fair

    Sir Julius hovered. The three of them were standing in the hall of the house in Westminster. Milder weather had banished the icicles under the windowsills and the hoar frost on the garden. Winter sunshine was chasing away the last few deposits of snow. It was only Sir Julius who seemed impervious to the thaw. He regarded his son- in-law with glacial contempt. What upset him most was that he was forced to part with his younger, and favourite, daughter. It would be a long and lonely journey to Northamptonshire and, when he got there, his manor house would feel desperately empty without her. But Susan was determined to remain near the capital so a compromise was reached. Sir Julius grudgingly allowed her to stay behind on condition that she moved in with her sister in Richmond. He felt a flicker of paternal interest.

    'How is Brilliana?' he asked gruffly.

    'Extremely well, Sir Julius,' said the doting husband. 'She's full of plans for Susan's visit and regrets that you are unable to join us yourself.'

    'I've business elsewhere.'

    'We understand that. When can we expect your return?'

    'When I choose to make it.'

    'Ignore him, Lancelot,' advised Susan. 'Father is in a peevish mood today.'

    Sir Julius was always in a peevish mood when he was close to his son-in-law, a man whose personality and politics he found it impossible to admire. Lancelot Serle had none of the intelligence, thrust or ambition that would have impressed the older man. Instead, he was kind, considerate and inoffensive. He did not seem to mind that he was firmly under the thumb of his wife, indeed, he accepted his servitude with alacrity. Serle was proud to be linked to the Cheever family.

    'Brilliana was grateful for your letter, Sir Julius,' he said.

    'I felt that she needed to be made aware of the facts.'

    'As it happened, word of the crime had already reached us. We are not so cut off in Richmond that we do not hear the latest scandal. Brilliana was as shocked as I was,' he went on, looking at Susan. 'Who would have thought that Mr Redmayne's brother would be guilty of such a foul murder'

    'He is only suspected of the crime,' corrected Susan.

    'They would not arrest him without firm evidence.'

    Sir Julius was blunt. 'The fellow deserves to hang and there's an end to it!'

    Susan was dismayed that the subject had even been raised. Her aim had been to send her father on his way so that she could work on her amenable brother-in-law while they dined together. Before they left London, she believed, she could persuade Serle to let her call at a certain house in Fetter Lane. Her urge to see Christopher had hardened into a firm resolve. If nothing else, she wanted him to know that he was in her thoughts. Sir Julius was dressed for departure. His luggage had been loaded on to the coach that stood ready at his door. He reached for his hat and cane.

    'One last request, Lancelot,' he said.

    'Yes, Sir Julius?' asked Serle.

    'When you leave here, drive straight to Richmond.'

    'That was my intention.'

    'Do not be shifted from it,' said the old man with a reproving glance at his daughter. 'Especially if you are asked to direct your coachman to an address in Fetter Lane. I want no contact to be made between Mr Christopher Redmayne and my daughter. Do you understand?'

    'I understand and endorse your wishes, Sir Julius.'

    'It would be a relief to know that you got something right at last.'

    'Brilliana takes the same view,' said Serle.

    'So I should hope.'

    'She thinks it would be unwise and improper for Susan to maintain a friendship with anyone in the Redmayne family, however personable he may be. It's a name that now bears the most hideous stigma.'

    'Do you hear that, Susan?' asked her father. 'Forget all about Mr Christopher Redmayne. Your friendship with him is at an end.'

    Susan saw the futility of protest. Her hopes had been completely dashed.

    As soon as he stepped into the house, Jonathan Bale knew that he had made the right decision. Christopher Redmayne was not only pleased to see him, he was deeply touched. There was none of the awkwardness that the constable had feared. He was invited in, given a drink by Jacob and taken immediately into his friend's confidence.

    'I hoped that you'd come,' said Christopher.

    'Did you?'

    'I need your assistance.'

    'What can I do, Mr Redmayne?'

    'Two things,' explained the architect. 'Firstly, you can help me to drive out some of the demons that have been inside my skull since my brother was arrested. Secondly, you can trust my judgement.'

    'Your judgement?'

    'I firmly believe that Henry is innocent.'

    'Any brother would feel like that,' said Jonathan cautiously. 'But you have to accept that there must be substantial evidence against him for an arrest to be made.'

    'I know what that evidence is.'

    'Do you?'

    'I visited Henry this morning in Newgate.'

    'How was he?'

    'Still overwhelmed by the turn of events.'

    'Prison comes as a terrible shock for a gentleman.' 'It comes as a shock for anyone, Jonathan,' said the other. 'I saw some of the filthy cells in which the prisoners are kept. I'd not house animals in conditions like that.'

    'Newgate is better than some of the other gaols.'

    'Then they should be pulled down and rebuilt. Even criminals have the right to be treated as human beings. If I'd designed Newgate, I wouldn't spend all that money on a beautiful exterior that none of the prisoners can see. I'd make sure they had clean water, proper drains and larger windows to let in more light and air. Yes,' said Christopher, 'and there'd be far more single cells to allow a degree of privacy.'

    'Privacy costs a lot of money in prison,' said Jonathan.

    "That's what Henry has found. He's already spent everything in his purse. Luckily, I was able to replenish his funds.'

    'Were you able to speak to him alone?'

    'Yes, I was. Thanks to a bribe.'

    'Did he plead his innocence?'

    'No,' said Christopher, shaking his head, 'that was the strange thing.'

    Jonathan was astonished. 'He confessed to the murder?'

    'Not exactly. What Henry admitted was the possibility that he might have been guilty of killing Jeronimo Maldini. He was not entirely certain.'

    'He must have been. Either he stabbed the victim or he did not.'

    "There was more than just stabbing involved,' Christopher reminded him. "The body was dropped into the freezing water of the Thames and that's one charge that could never be laid at Henry's door.'

    'Why not?'

    'Because he was too drunk to walk properly, let alone carry a dead body.'

    'I thought that drink might be involved,' said Jonathan ruefully.

    'Henry's eternal weakness, I fear. One of them, anyway,' added Christopher sadly, 'for my brother is liberal in his choice of vices.'

    'They appear to have caught up with him at last, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Newgate has certainly been a sobering experience for him.'

    Christopher was standing behind the table on which his latest architectural drawing was set out. Lying on top of it was a piece of paper that he used to make some jottings. He picked it up to glance at what he had written.