The Repentant Rake

    'That would be an abuse of your hospitality.'

    'Treat my home as your own.'

    'I think it better if Father and I withdraw.'

    'Why?' said Christopher persuasively. 'You and Sir Julius can sleep here while your coachman spends the night at an inn in Holborn. We have ample room. There's fresh bed linen and Jacob will happily provide anything else that you require. Do please honour me by staying under my roof, Miss Cheever.'

    Susan was clearly tempted by the notion but felt unable to make the decision on her father's behalf. The time she had spent alone with Christopher had been pleasant and restorative. It had helped to lift her out of her sombre mood. She felt completely at ease in his house. However, while wanting to accept the invitation, she had reservations about doing so. Sir Julius swept them aside.

    'Thank you, Mr Redmayne,' he murmured. 'If we may, we'll be your guests.'

    'For as long as you wish, Sir Julius.'

    'One night will be sufficient.'

    'I'll make arrangements at once.'

    Christopher got up to go into the kitchen, closing the door behind him so that he could have a private conversation with Jacob. The servant was cleaning some silverware by the light of a candle. Christopher could not keep the excitement out of his voice.

    'Sir Julius and his daughter are staying the night, Jacob.'

    'I know, sir. I took the liberty of preparing rooms for them.'

    'You will need to speak to their coachman.'

    'I've already done so, sir,' said Jacob complacently. 'We unloaded the luggage together. On my recommendation, he is on his way to the King's Head. He'll find lodging there.' He looked up with a smile. 'I read your mind sir. I knew that you would offer them hospitality.'

    'You were ahead of me as usual.'

    'Will the visitors require supper?'

    'In time, perhaps. Sir Julius is still recovering from his ordeal.'

    Christopher went back to the parlour to be given a smile of gratitude by Susan Cheever. Tired and drawn, she was still more concerned about her father's condition than her own fatigue. Sir Julius had drifted off into another reverie, grinding his teeth. Susan waited until Christopher had resumed his seat before she spoke to her father.

    'What happened?' she asked quietly.

    'What happened?' repeated Sir Julius. 'I saw the dead body of my son.'

    'You should have let me come with you, Father.'

    'No, Susan.'

    'I could have helped you through it.'

    'Nobody could have done that,' he said mournfully. 'Gabriel and I needed to be alone together once more, if only for a brief while. I'm grieved that it took something like this to mend the rift between us. What kind of a father have I been to him?' he said in a rare moment of self-doubt. 'Can I only love a son after he's been murdered?'

    'You must not blame yourself, Sir Julius,' said Christopher.

    'Yes, I must. I drove Gabriel away.'

    'He would have gone, whatever you did' argued Susan. 'Gabriel was restless. He wanted to strike out on his own.'

    'Do not remind me.'

    'It no longer matters now.'

    'Oh, it does,' he said soulfully. 'It does.'

    'Did you make all the arrangements?'

    'I tried to, Susan. But there is a problem I never anticipated.'

    'A problem?'

    'Yes,' he said with a note of disbelief. 'It seems that I was not the first member of the family to identify the body. Someone I did not even know existed went to the morgue before me - a young lady claiming to be Gabriel's wife.'

    Susan's face remained impassive but Christopher could guess at her anxiety.

    'Mrs Lucy Cheever,' continued the old man. 'That was the name she gave. And she showed the coroner legal proof of her marriage so he could not deny her access. I want the body to be taken back home to be buried in the family vault, but this mystery wife wishes to be at the funeral as well. That's what has shocked me,' he confessed. 'I cared so little about my own son that he could not even tell me he was married. Think what that poor woman must be going through. She is not only denied any contact with his family, she has now lost Gabriel himself. She must be in despair.'

    'I hope that she'll be allowed to attend the funeral,' said Christopher.

    'It would be cruel to keep her away.'

    'Did the coroner give you her address? I'll gladly act as an intermediary.'

    Sir Julius was brusque. 'Thank you, Mr Redmayne, but this is family business. I may have spurned my son but I'll not turn my back on my daughter-in-law. The lady lives in Knightrider Street. I'll call on her tomorrow.'

    'Let me go with you, Father,' urged Susan.

    'Why?'

    'I'd like to meet her.'

    Sir Julius shot her a look compounded of curiosity, affection and distant anger. 'Did you know that Gabriel had a wife?' he asked.

    Susan did not hesitate. 'Yes, Father,' she said. 'I did.'

    Alice Runciman had preserved a resolute cheerfulness in the face of adversity. Death had robbed her of her parents, her husband, three of her five children and during the Great Plague, several members of her wider family but no despair clouded her gaze. She was indomitable. Primed by his wife, Jonathan Bale knew that Mrs Runciman had a sharp eye but he had not been told about the permanent smile on her lips. Short and stout, she had a florid complexion that made her cheeks look like shiny red apples. Jonathan warmed to her at once. The name of Sarah Bale gained him a cordial welcome. They were soon ensconced in the parlour, trading gossip about the ward. The constable had to remind himself that he was there on important business.

    'Mrs Runciman,' he said. 'I really came to ask about your neighbours.'

    'Oh?' she replied. 'Which ones?'

    'They go by the name of Henley.'

    'Ah, yes. They only moved in recently.'

    'What can you tell me about them?'

    'Why?' she wondered, suspecting scandal. 'Have they done something wrong?'

    'No, Mrs Runciman. Far from it.'

    'Then why come to me? You are the second constable in one day to call here. Another man knocked on my door this afternoon.'

    'That was Tom Warburton.'

    'He wanted to know if a Mrs Cheever lodged here. I knew nobody of that name.'

    'She lives a few doors away,' explained Jonathan. 'When she got married, Lucy Henley became Mrs Gabriel Cheever.'

    'Then why call herself by her maiden name?'

    'I'm not sure, Mrs Runciman.'

    'Good Lord!' said the other with a chortle. 'I live that close to someone and I don't even know their real name. A fine neighbour I am!' Her eyelids narrowed. 'Why are you so interested in them, Mr Bale?'

    'Gabriel Cheever was murdered earlier this week.'

    'Never!'

    'I was there when the body was found on Paul's Wharf.'

    'Is that who it was?' she said, oozing with sympathy. 'We wondered who it might be. Mrs Gately was talking about it only this morning. She thought it might be a sailor, killed in a brawl. And you say that it was Mr Henley?'

    'Cheever,' he corrected.

    'He was the murdered man?'

    'I fear so.'

    'Heavens! Think of his wife! She's far too young and frail to bear such a tragedy.'

    'Mrs Cheever is stronger than she looks.'

    'There's hardly anything of her. She's such a pretty little thing. Well, who would have guessed it?' she said with a long sigh. 'Her husband was a proper gentleman. He was always so polite. Yet he was killed? Who could do such a terrible thing?'