Lucy was in a turmoil. Everything that Gabriel had told her about his father made Sir Julius sound like an ogre. Had he come to bully his daughter-in-law in the same way that he had bullied his son? Or was he there to argue about the arrangements for the funeral? Whatever his reason for coming, he could not be ignored. Summoning up all of her strength, Lucy came down the stairs and into the hall. Anna stood back so that her mistress could see the visitors. Lucy looked at her father-in-law with apprehension, but it was ill-founded. He was not the tyrant of report at all. Sir Julius Cheever was a sad old man with moist eyes and a tentative smile of welcome. Standing beside him was a handsome young woman whose resemblance to her brother took Lucy's breath away.
It was Susan who made any introductions unnecessary. Flinging her arms round Lucy, she kissed her on both cheeks then stepped back to look at her through her tears.
'Hello, Lucy,' she said. 'Father and I are so pleased to meet you.'
Chapter Nine
The funeral of Gabriel Cheever was held at the parish church of St Andrew in the county of Northamptonshire. Built on the summit of a hill, the church acted as a beacon of hope and inspiration to the surrounding villages from which it drew its congregation. Christopher Redmayne took note of its architectural features, admiring the work of the stonemasons who had constructed the church over two centuries earlier and marvelling at the way they had overcome the problems of erecting the massive conical spire that pointed towards heaven with such reassuring certainty. Though its exterior was bathed in sunshine, the inside of the church was cold and cheerless. It seemed too large for the two dozen people who shuffled into their seats. Sir Julius Cheever wanted the funeral to be a quiet affair and only the closest family friends even knew that it was taking place. The deceased was no prodigal son being welcomed home by a delighted father. He was a murder victim who had left home after violent arguments. His funeral was also a service of reconciliation.
Like everyone else, Christopher was dressed appropriately in mourning clothes, helping to create a swathe of black across the front of the nave. He sat at the rear of the little congregation, wanting to be present but anxious to keep in the background an observer as much as a mourner. Seated in the front row were the members of the Cheever family and he ran his eye along their heads. Sir Julius was flanked by his two daughters. Brilliana Serle was weeping copiously as if trying to atone for the hostility she had shown towards her brother. Her husband tried to console her but she was too determined to draw attention to herself to succumb to his soothing touch. Susan Cheever bore herself with more dignity, subordinating her own grief to that of the diminutive figure who sat beside her. Christopher was moved to see that Lucy Cheever had been given pride of place alongside the others, her head bowed in prayer, her hand clutching that of her younger sister-in-law. It was ironic that she had to wait until her husband had been killed before she could be accepted by his family. No members of her own family were there. Two rows back, Anna, her loyal maidservant, was on hand to lend support to her mistress in the event of any collapse.
A minute before the service began, two latecomers slipped into the church. Hearing the latch being lifted and the heavy oak door opened, Christopher looked over his shoulder to see a man and a woman making their way slowly down the nave before sitting in a pew a few rows behind the main party. Both were dressed in black and kept their heads down, but Christopher thought that there was something familiar about the woman. When she glanced across the aisle at him, he caught a glimpse of the white face beneath the elaborate black hat and recognised Celia Hemmings. He was touched that she had made such a long journey in order to pay her last respects to her former lover but relieved that she sat apart from the family and close friends as if acknowledging her position with regard to Gabriel Cheever. Christopher wondered who her companion might be but he had no time to speculate because the funeral service began.
The vicar was a white-haired old man who had ministered to his flock for over thirty years and knew the Cheever family well. He conducted the service with practised solemnity. Having baptised Gabriel and prepared him for confirmation, he was able to talk with authority and affection about the dead man, sounding positive notes in the prevailing sadness and omitting any mention of his departure to London and its tragic consequences. Brilliana contributed some loud sobbing at various points in the sermon and Susan Cheever was also tearful but Lucy showed remarkable restraint, memorising every word said about her husband as if learning entirely new facts about him. In saying farewell to the man she had married, she was somehow discovering him.
The burial itself took place in the crypt, a dank, chill chamber lit by a number of shivering candle flames. The last remains of Gabriel Cheever were laid to rest in a family vault that already contained the bones of his mother and his grandparents. Sir Julius was visibly shaken and Brilliana wept more dramatically than ever until her husband, to his credit, put an arm round her to bury her face in his bosom and stifle the noise. Christopher watched Susan Cheever and mused on a paradox. The one member of the family who had not rejected Gabriel was not allowed to mourn his loss properly because she was too busy offering solace to her father and sister-in-law. Indeed, when Lucy's control finally snapped, it was Susan who caught her before she could fall to the stone-flagged floor. Anna moved in swiftly to help her mistress up the stone steps and out of the crypt. Christopher lent a steadying hand. The full force of her loss had finally hit Lucy Cheever and she was inconsolable. They lowered her gently down in a pew so that she could bury her face in her hands. Amid the sobbing, Christopher could hear prayers being said in Latin. The maidservant took charge. When he saw that he was no longer needed, Christopher drifted away.
After such a long time in the shadowed interior of the church, it was a shock to step out into bright sunlight. The fine weather seemed faintly inappropriate for a funeral but Christopher was grateful to be out in the fresh air again. As other members of the congregation filed out, he took the opportunity to intercept Celia Hemmings and her companion, realising, now that he could see the man clearly, that he knew him. It was Arthur Lunn, one of his brother's friends, so renowned for his ostentation that he was virtually unrecognisable in mourning apparel. Celia was tearful und Lunn subdued. They exchanged muted greetings with Christopher.
'It was very good of you to come,' he said.
'I would not have missed it,' murmured Celia.
'How did you know when the funeral would be held?'
'We made enquiries of the coroner,' explained Lunn, 'so we knew when the body was being brought back to Northamptonshire. In fact, we got here ahead of it.'
Christopher nodded. 'The journey took three days. A coffin has to be transported at a respectful pace. But how did you guess where to come?'
'I knew where Gabriel lived' said Celia quietly. 'Once we found his home, we came here to the church. Word had already been sent on ahead to the vicar so he was able to give us details of the funeral.'
'We might ask what you are doing here, young sir?' said Lunn.
'I'm a friend of the family,' said Christopher. 'I'm designing a house in London for Sir Julius, though that project has had to be set aside for a while.' He saw his client, weighed down with sorrow, coming out of the church porch. 'It may be some time before Sir Julius is ready to take an interest in it again.'
Lunn stepped in closer. 'Is the rumour true?' he asked.