Read Frost Fair Online

Authors: Edward Marston

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Historical

Frost Fair (37 page)

    Lady Holcroft and peeved that she had been robbed of a companion on an expedition to the shops. Grabbing the potion from her son, she took another swig from the bottle.

    

    

     By the time that Christopher Redmayne arrived at the prison, his brother had recovered from the shock of the attack in his cell but his neck still bore an ugly red souvenir. He stroked it ruefully as he explained what had happened. Christopher was shinned.

    'He tried to
kill
you, Henry?'

    'He would have succeeded, had not your friend, Mr Bale, pulled him off me. I could never bring myself to like that constable but I owe him my sincere gratitude.'

    'I hope that you had the grace to tell him that.'

    'I did my best,' said Henry, 'though my throat was on fire at the time.'

    'Why did they let the man into your cell in the first place?'

    'He told them he was a friend and bribed the prison sergeant.'

    'Did nobody suspect that he was Jeronimo Maldini's brother?'

    'He gave a false name, it seems, and his English is good. He's lived here much longer than his brother. Pietro is a musician,' said Henry, still rubbing his neck. 'Perhaps that's why I felt I was being strangled with a lute string.'

    'Where is he now?'

    'Being charged with attempted murder. I know one thing, Christopher. If they keep him in Newgate, I've no wish to share a cell with him or with any other member of the Maldini family. They are much too hot-blooded for me.'

    'Before too long,' said Christopher, 'you won't even be in here.'

    'No, I'll be dangling from the end of a rope.'

    Henry looked more harassed than ever. His brother had brought another change of clothing for him but Henry showed no interest in it. The visit from his father had left him thoroughly jangled and the attack had shaken him even more. As long as he was in prison, he felt, he was at the mercy of everyone. The promised release seemed no nearer.

    'Father was impressed by the way you conducted yourself today,' said Christopher. 'He felt that you were showing true contrition.'

    'I'd have shown anything just to get rid of him.'

    'Henry!'

    'He kept on and on at me, Christopher. I felt that I was strapped into a pew at the cathedral while he directed a venomous sermon at me. At least, that crazed Italian tried to put me out of my misery quickly. Father raged on until I was reduced to tears.'

    'He only does it out of love for you,' said Christopher. 'And you must admit that you do give him good reason to censure you. Your life is so irregular.'

    'All that I can think about now is my death.'

    'No more of that kind of talk!' warned his brother. 'You promised me.'

    Henry sighed. 'I'm sorry, but the whole world seems to have turned against me.'

    'Not entirely, Henry. Those who know you best still believe in you.'

    'Thank you.' He took the apparel from his brother and put it on the stool. 'What really hurt me about Father's visit was the way that he harped on about you. Because of me, he said, there'd been a second attempt on your life. That upset me more than anything else, Christopher. Were you injured in any way?'

    'Cuts and bruises. Nothing serious.'

    'It's always serious when someone tries to kill you. I discovered that earlier on. It was a dreadful experience but there's one consolation to be drawn from it.'

    'What's that?'

    'Pietro Maldini won't be able to attack either of us again.'

    Christopher blinked. 'You believe that he was the man who stalked me?'

    'I'm certain of it,' said Henry. 'He confessed as much. I'd killed his brother, he told me, so he'd tried to murder mine. When he failed to do that, he decided to throttle me instead, even though he knew that he'd be throwing his own life away as well. They'd never have let him out of here.'

    'They should never have let him in.'

    'Somehow, they did. It means that you can stop watching your back.'

    Christopher was strangely disappointed. When he heard about the assault on his brother, he had never connected Pietro Maldini with himself. He was so convinced that his attacker had been involved in the murder of the fencing master that it took him some

    time to accept the truth. He had simply been stalked by a vengeful Italian brother. He chided himself for being misled.

    'Did you have a chance to talk to Jonathan Bale?' he asked.

    'No, he went off to make sure that they locked that lunatic up. And he was going to protest to the prison sergeant on my behalf. They've a duty to keep me safe in here.'

    'And to prevent you from harming yourself,' said Christopher, remembering the razor that had been dropped into the cell. 'Well, if you've not spoken to Jonathan, you've not heard about Captain Harvest.'

    'What's that reprobate been up to now?'

    'Quite a lot, Henry.'

    Christopher told him what Jonathan had found out then described how Martin Crenlowe and Sir Humphrey Godden had responded to the news. Henry was sour.

    'The villain!' he cried. 'What was his real name?'

    'We still haven't found that out.'

    'Martin never really trusted him. I, for my sins, did. Sir Humphrey was the one who gave him the most money but, then, he had much more to give than the rest of us.'

    'Was he close to Captain Harvest?'

    'Not really, Christopher. None of us were. Why do you ask?'

    'Because I think that there's some link between them that goes beyond a casual friendship. When the captain wanted to borrow money, the first person he always turned to was Sir Humphrey Godden. What did Sir Humphrey get in return?'

    'James could be a very engaging companion.'

    'I think that it may go deeper than that. Mr Crenlowe has been fairly helpful but Sir Humphrey has been awkward with both Jonathan and me. Why? He's supposed to be on your side.'

    'He is, Christopher. We've been friends for years.'

    "There's been precious little evidence of that friendship. He clearly has a short temper. When I called on him earlier, he was having a quarrel with Mr. Crenlowe. I had the feeling that it might be about the so-called Captain Harvest.'

    'One way and another, James has caused so much bother.'

    . 'It may be a lot more than bother, Henry.'

    'What do you mean?'

    'Supposing - for the sake of argument - that your fake soldier had a hold over Sir Humphrey. Supposing, for instance, that Sir Humphrey had employed him on a very important assignment.'

    'Assignment?'

    "The murder of Jeronimo Maldini.'

    "That's impossible!'

    'Is it? We know that Sir Humphrey loathed the man as much as you.'

    'Yes, but James liked him. He and that scheming Italian were friends.'

    'No,' corrected his brother. 'Jeronimo Maldini was befriended by someone called Captain James Harvest. So were you and so were many others like you. The captain had a gift for ingratiating himself with people. But we now know that there's no such person as Captain Harvest. Under his real name,' said Christopher, 'he might not have been quite so fond of the fencing master. He could be our killer.'

    

    

       Lady Whitcombe was too fond of her son to be angry with him for long. When she and her daughter called on him that afternoon, she embraced him warmly and accepted a kiss on both cheeks. Egerton Whitcombe was in a much more pleasant mood. He even bestowed a peck on his sister.

    'I'm sorry for what happened yesterday,' he began.

    'Let's put that aside, shall we?' said his mother magnanimously. 'You were in an ill humour, Egerton. I choose to forget it.'

    'I was simply trying to protect the family name.'

    'Nobody does that more assiduously than me.'

    They were in the room that he had hired in the tavern in Holborn and he was dressed to go out. While he preened himself in a mirror, Letitia admired his new coat and his shining leather jackboots.

    'You look very splendid,' she commented. 'Where are you going, Egerton?'

    'To meet some friends.'

    'Do we know them?'

    'Not yet, Letitia. Some of them are still new to me at the moment.'

    'It's important to widen our circle at all times,' said Lady Whitcombe. 'Your father was most insistent about that. To the end of his life, he was meeting new people and forging new alliances. You must do the same, Egerton. Cultivate those who can help you to advance in life.' 'I do, Mother. When I have a house in London, of course, it will be far easier.'

    'Work on the foundations could begin in a matter of weeks.'

    'Yes,' said her daughter. 'Mother went to see Mr Redmayne about it earlier on.'

    Whitcombe frowned. 'Is this true?'

    'We had a few matters to discuss, Egerton,' said the older woman. 'And I needed to apologise for the way that you'd conducted yourself at the house. It was unseemly.'

    'It was necessary, Mother. Someone needed to put Mr Redmayne in his place.'

    'You were there simply to meet him, not to cause him offence.'

    'It's that brother of his who is causing the offence,' said Whitcombe. 'One of my friends is a lawyer and he says that there's no way that Henry Redmayne will escape the noose. Do you not see what I am trying to save you from, Mother? You risk employing an architect whose reputation will soon be in tatters.'

    'But Mr Redmayne is a genius at what he does,' said Letitia with passion. 'You only have to look at his drawings to see that.'

    'I prefer to look at his name, Letitia. That's what everyone else will do.'

    'Not everyone,' said Lady Whitcombe. 'Some people are more discerning.'

    'When I met him, I discerned a man whose career is about to come to an end. And I cannot find it in my heart to offer him any sympathy,' said Whitcombe, brushing a speck of dust from his sleeve. 'His brother stabbed Jeronimo Maldini in the back. I once went to the Italian for fencing lessons. He was a brilliant teacher.'

    'He could not teach you how to get the better of Jack Cardinal,' said Letitia with a giggle. 'You met your match in him.'

    'That was a long time ago,' said Whitcombe, caught on the raw. 'Things would be different now. The point is that Signor Maldini was a fine man who provided an excellent service to his school. I introduced Father to him once. He liked the fellow as well.'

    'We like Mr Redmayne.'

    'Who cares for you opinion, Letitia?'

    'I do,' said Lady Whitcombe, 'because I happen to share it.'

    Her son was appalled. 'Would you link our family with the name of Redmayne?' 'Yes, Egerton. I believe that I would.' She smiled to herself as she recalled her earlier meeting with Christopher. Her voice then hardened. 'I suggest that you start to get used to the idea.'

    

   

    Jonathan Bale had just finished talking to the prison sergeant when Christopher caught up with him. Turnkeys were standing in readiness as a new prisoner was being delivered to Newgate. The two friends stepped aside so that they could have a private conversation.

    'I cannot thank you enough,' said Christopher, shaking his hand. 'Henry told me what happened. He's indebted to you, Jonathan.'

    'I was only too pleased to help.'

    'That man should never have been allowed near my brother.'

    'I've just been saying the same thing to the prison sergeant,' explained the other. 'Isaac admits that they made a gross mistake. The man seemed harmless and he offered a tempting bribe. Nobody guessed that he might be Signor Maldini's brother. When he let him into the cell, the turnkey thought he had no weapon on him, but a length of cord was concealed about his person somewhere.'

    'Henry was caught off guard or he'd have put up more of a fight.'

    'He's still alive, Mr Redmayne, that's the main thing.'

    'Yes. Where's his attacker now?'

    'Safely locked up.'

    'I want to see him,' said Christopher.

    'There's no point, sir.'

    'Yes, there is. He's the man who pushed me into the Thames then attempted to kill me on my own doorstep. I'd like to take a good look at Pietro Maldini.'

    'Then I'd advise you to do it later,' said Jonathan. 'He's in a very excited state at the moment. Only a desperate man would try to commit murder inside a prison. It's a form of suicide.' Christopher winced at the mention of the word. 'Give him time to calm down. We can speak to him then. His testimony could turn out to be very valuable.'

    'Why?'

    'He can tell us about his brother, Mr Redmayne. Everything we've heard about the murder victim has come from people he taught at his school. They only saw one side of the man. Pietro Maldini will be able to tell us about the other sides.'

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