The Parliament House

        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.