'I know, Mother.'

Her eyes moistened. 'It was so unfair of G.o.d to take him away from me like that. It was a tragedy. My dear husband went before his time and it broke my heart.'

'Do not distress yourself about it now, Mother.'

'I just wanted Susan to understand my situation. It was such a surprise,' she said, her cheeks trembling with emotion. 'I was the one with the delicate const.i.tution and my husband was in the rudest of health. Yet he was s.n.a.t.c.hed away first.'

'Father was thrown from a horse,' explained Cardinal, looking at Susan. 'It was a terrible accident. We've still not recovered from the shock.'

'I doubt that I ever shall,' said his mother.

'When was this?' asked Susan.

'Five years ago, Miss Cheever. Five long, lonely, empty years without him.'

'Come now, Mother,' said Cardinal softly. 'We must not dwell on such things, least of all now when we are setting off on a little adventure. It's months since you went to London and there will be so much to do.' He flicked his eyes to Susan again. 'Where would you like to go, Miss Cheever'

'Wherever you wish.'

'You must have friends of your own whom you'd like to see.'

'I do, Mr Cardinal.'

'Then you must feel free to get in touch with them.'

"Thank you.'

'We shall very much enjoy meeting them,' said Mrs Cardinal, squeezing her arm. 'Our friends are all rather old and a trifle dull. I've told Jack a hundred times that we need the company of younger people or we shall dwindle into dullness ourselves.'

'I cannot imagine that happening, Mrs Cardinal,' said Susan.

"Then help to prevent it.'

'How?'

'By introducing us to friends of your own age.'

'Miss Cheever might prefer to see them alone, Mother,' suggested Cardinal.

'There's no question of that.'

'Why not?' asked Susan, suddenly worried.

'Because I refuse to be left out,' said the old woman with a touch of belligerence. 'We are not simply giving you a lift to London. That would be to make a convenience of us and what we've offered you is true companionship.' She beamed at Susan. 'I'm sure that you appreciate that.'

'Yes, Mrs Cardinal.'

'I'm glad that we agree on that point.'

'We do,' confirmed Susan. 'I'd be hurt if you thought I was taking advantage of your good nature to make use of your coach. That would be ungracious. At the same time, however, I'm determined that I'll not get under your feet. I daresay that there will be moments when my absence will come as a relief.'

'That's too fanciful a suggestion even to consider,' said Cardinal.

His mother nodded. 'I side with Jack on that.'

'There'd be no benefit at all in your absence, Miss Cheever.'

'And so many from your presence,' said Mrs Cardinal as if laying down a law. 'Besides, I made a promise and I've sworn to keep it.'

'A promise?' said Susan.

'To your sister, Brilliana. She told me that you had a habit of going astray and we cannot have that in a city as large and dangerous as London. It would irresponsible of me. I promised her that I'd keep a motherly eye on you at all times, Miss Cheever.' She gave Susan a playful nudge. 'I hope that you've no objection to that?'

'Do you?' asked Cardinal.

'No,' said Susan, forcing a smile. 'I've no objection at all.'

She concealed her dejection well but her heart was pounding. Susan feared that the private meeting with Christopher Redmayne might not even take place. Her escape was illusory. Instead of breaking free from Brilliana, she was taking her sister with her in the bloated shape of Mrs Cardinal. She felt as if she had been betrayed.

Christopher Redmayne could see at a glance that he was not going to like him. Lady Whitcombe and her daughter were as pleasant as ever but Egerton Whitcombe exuded hostility from the moment he stepped into the house. While the ladies sat, he preferred to stand. When they accepted the offer of refreshment, he spurned it with a rudeness that fringed on contempt. Christopher's polite enquiry about his visit to France was met with a rebuff. Whitcombe made no attempt at civility.

'I was so anxious for Egerton to meet you,' said Lady Whitcombe with a benign smile. 'I wanted to still any doubts he has about you as an architect.'

'It's not Mr Redmayne's architecture that's in question, Mother.'

'Then what is?' asked Christopher.

'Your family, sir.'

'Egerton!' scolded his mother. 'You promised not to raise the matter.'

'It cannot be ignored.'

'Your son is correct, Lady Whitcombe,' admitted Christopher, ready to confront the problem honestly. 'You've doubtless heard about the unfortunate circ.u.mstances in which my brother finds himself. But the situation is only temporary, I do a.s.sure you. Henry is innocent of the crime with which he's been charged and I've every confidence that he'll be released in due course.'

'I admire your loyalty to your brother, Mr Redmayne,' said Whitcombe with a faint sneer, 'but you can hardly expect us to share it. Everyone else in London believes him to be guilty and you'll not persuade me otherwise.'

'I'd never attempt to do so.'

'You'd be rash even to try, sir.'

'Perhaps we can leave the matter there,' decided Lady Whitcombe.

'No, Mother.'

'Are you determined to exasperate me, Egerton?'

'I'm determined to bring everything out into the open,' he said, ignoring her warning glare. 'You may have no reservations about Mr Redmayne but I think it would be foolish and impolitic to link our name with that of his family.'

'A decision has already been made,' she said with steely authority, 'and it will not be changed. Now, let's have no more of your bleating.'

'I must be allowed to speak my mind, Mother.'

'Enough is enough!'

There was a long silence. It was broken by an involuntary giggle from Let.i.tia, who had not taken her eyes off Christopher since she had been in the room and who had blushed deeply at her brother's forthright comments. Conscious that her giggle was out of place, she mouthed an apology then shrank back in her seat. At best, it would have been an unwelcome visit because Christopher did not wish to see his client at such an awkward time. The presence of Egerton Whitcombe made the discussion very painful. Silenced by his mother, he was now glowering. Christopher chose to address his objections in the most reasonable way.

'Lady Whitcombe,' he began, 'it's absurd to pretend that a problem does not exist here. I do not blame your son for adopting the att.i.tude that he takes. It is, alas, one that's shared by the vast majority of people. That's regrettable but understandable. What I propose, therefore, is this.'

'You've no need to propose anything, Mr Redmayne,' said Lady Whitcombe.

'Hear him out, Mother,' advised her son.

'Yes,' added Let.i.tia nervously. 'I'd like to know what Mr Redmayne has to say.'

'It's quite simple,' said Christopher. 'Since my family name is under a cloud, would it not be sensible to set aside the contract that I have with you and leave it in abeyance? As it happens, the weather conspires against us. It may be some time before work could begin on site and, by then, I am certain, my brother's fate will have been decided. His name will be cleared and your son's objections will be removed.'

'Supposing that your brother is hanged for his crime?' asked Whitcombe.

'He did not commit any.'

"Then why is he being held in Newgate prison?'

Christopher took a deep breath. 'In the event that Henry is found guilty - and there have been miscarriages of justice before - then my contract with Lady Whitcombe is null and void. I accept that.'

'Well, I do not,' she a.s.serted.

'It's your son for whom the house is primarily being built.'

'I'm glad that someone else appreciates that,' said Whitcombe.

'Do you consider my offer a fair one?'

'I do, Mr Redmayne.'

"Then that's how we will proceed.'

'No,' insisted Lady Whitcombe. 'I commissioned the house and I'll hold you to the contract that you signed. Whatever the outcome of the trial, I want to see the property built and I wish you to remain as its architect.'

'So do 1,' Let.i.tia piped.

'Keep out of this,' snapped her brother.

'I'm ent.i.tled to an opinion, Egerton.'

'You simply do as Mother tells you.'

'And you would be wise to follow her example,' said Lady Whitcombe.

'Please,' said Christopher, trying to calm them down. 'I do not wish to sow any family discord here. I'm honoured that you selected me as your architect and would hate to be compelled to withdraw from the project. At the same time, I have to acknowledge that there are peculiar difficulties here so I offer you a compromise. Let us wait. What harm can there be in that?'

'None,' said Whitcombe, partially mollified.

Christopher turned to his client. 'Lady Whitcombe?

'I need to think it over,' she replied before shifting her gaze to her son. 'Well, Egerton. Did I not tell you what a considerate man Mr Redmayne was? He has taken your objections into account. I think that you owe him an apology.'

'For what?' asked Whitcombe.

'Your bad manners.'

'It's not unmannerly to protect the good name of your family.'

'Indeed not,' said Christopher, quick to agree with him, 'I'm in the process of doing the same thing myself.'

'Even though you may be wasting your time.'

'That remark was uncalled for, Egerton,' said Lady Whitcombe reproachfully.

'We shall see,' he said. 'Well, now that I've met Mr Redmayne, I'll not take up any more of his time. I have friends to call on. You know where to find me, Mother.'

Christopher had hoped they would all leave but it was only Egerton Whitcombe who was shown out. The hostility towards his host was still there but it was not as p.r.o.nounced as before. Feeling that he had at least achieved a degree of victory, Whitcombe walked off in the direction of Holborn. Christopher braced himself before returning to face the two ladies in the parlour. He conjured up a pleasant smile.

'You must forgive my son,' said Lady Whitcombe when he reappeared. 'His stay in France has coa.r.s.ened him somewhat. Egerton is normally so amenable.'

'As long as he gets what he wants,' observed Let.i.tia.

'That's not true at all.'

'Egerton does like his own way, Mother.'

'He takes after me in that respect.'

Christopher sat opposite them and sensed an immediate change of mood. They were not there solely to talk about the new house. Both of them were now looking at him with a mingled respect and admiration. Let.i.tia tried to suppress another giggle but it came out in the form of a squeak instead. Her mother nudged her sharply before looking around the room.

'What a charming house you have here, Mr Redmayne,' she said.

'Yes, Lady Whitcombe,' he replied. 'I'm lucky that it still stands.'

'Was it threatened by the fire, then?'

'Very much so. The lower half of Fetter Lane was burned to the ground. What you saw when you pa.s.sed them were the new houses that have been built.'

'I prefer this one,' said Let.i.tia. 'It feels so homely.'

'It's also my place of work.'

'That's why I like it so much. Was our house designed in here, Mr Redmayne?'