'Yes, Sarah.'

'I know what Mr Redmayne would do in your place.'

'Do you?'

'He'd be knocking on our door to offer you his help.'

'What possible help can I give?'

'You're an officer of the law. You can advise him.'

'I doubt if he'd even agree to see me.'

'How do you know if you refuse to call on him?'

'It's not as simple as that,' he said, running a ruminative hand across his chin. "There's more to this than you understand, Sarah. If it was merely a question of going to a friend in need, I'd be there now. But his brother is accused of murder.'

'Does that make Mr Redmayne a criminal as well?'

'No, but it does oblige me to think carefully.'

'What do you mean?'

'I'm deeply involved in this investigation. It was our son who found that body in the first place. Richard keeps asking me when I'm going to arrest the killer.'

'That should not stop you going to Fetter Lane.'

'But it does, Sarah,' he argued. 'Don't you see? I'm gathering evidence that may lead to the conviction of Henry Redmayne. What will people think if I'm seen helping the brother of the accused man?'

'Since when did you worry about what people thought?'

'I have to keep an open mind.'

'Mr Redmayne would expect no less of you, Jonathan.'

'Then it would be safer if I kept well away from him.'

'Why?' 'Because there'd be no complications then.'

Sarah put her sewing aside. 'You disappoint me, I must say.'

'What do you mean?'

'I never thought that you could be so selfish.'

'It's not selfishness, Sarah. It's commonsense.'

'Oh, is that what it is?' she said with light mockery in her voice. 'It sounds more like putting your own needs first, Jonathan Bale, and I'm ashamed of you for doing so.'

'I have to do my duty.'

'And don't you have a duty towards a friend as well?'

'It's not the same thing.'

'So it seems.'

'I'm in an awkward position,' he explained. 'I'm searching for evidence that will lead to the prosecution of Henry Redmayne and you want me to go running off to the one person in London who is trying to defend him.'

'You see it your way, I see it mine.'

'If I arrived on his doorstep, Mr Redmayne would feel embarra.s.sed.'

'No, Jonathan. You would. And that's what really holds you back.'

'It would be wrong and it would be foolish.'

'My parents once told me it was wrong and foolish of me to marry a shipwright named Jonathan Bale,' she recalled with a wistful smile. 'But I listened to my heart instead.'

His tone softened. 'Do you have any regrets?'

'None at all - until now.'

'Sarah!'

'Yes, I know. I'm a woman. I couldn't possibly understand.'

'That's not what I was going to say.'

'What's the point in talking about it?' she asked, taking up her sewing again. 'You tell me that you must keep an open mind but it's shut tight against sympathy or reason. You pay no attention at all to me.'

'I do, I promise you.'

'I see precious little sign of it.'

'There are some decisions I can only make on my own.' He gave a smile. 'Did your parents really say that it was wrong and foolish of you to become my wife?' 'They thought it would never last.'

'We proved them wrong.'

'In some ways,' she conceded. 'Prove me wrong, Jonathan.'

'You?'

'Show me that you're not the fair-weather friend that you seem.'

'Now, that's unjust!' he protested.

'Is it?'

'Yes.'

'Mr Redmayne is waiting for you.'

"Then he must wait in vain.'

'Why is that?' she challenged. 'Are you going to let him down?'

When she plied her needle again, Jonathan felt as if it were piercing his brain.

Susan Cheever had always liked her brother-in-law. Lancelot Serle was a willing, affable, tolerant man who was pa.s.sably handsome and never less than impeccably dressed. He had none of the arrogance that wealth often brings and he was endlessly obliging. Ordinarily, Susan would have been pleased to see him again but circ.u.mstances militated against her. Serle had come to take her away from the city and put distance between her and Christopher Redmayne. It made her fretful. She gave her brother-in-law only a muted welcome. Sir Julius Cheever did not even bother with a greeting.

'Where, in G.o.d's name, have you been?' he demanded.

'We were delayed, Sir Julius,' replied Serle with a shrug of apology.

'I can see that, man. I wanted you here by mid-morning and it is well past noon. Are there no clocks in Richmond? Or have you lost the ability to tell the time?'

'We reached London hours ago but we were held up on the bridge. Every cart, carriage and coach in England seem to have congregated there. It took an age to battle our way through. That's the beauty of living in the country,' he said, turning to Susan. 'We have the freedom to move at will.'

'I was hoping to enjoy that freedom myself,' said Sir Julius testily, 'but you've kept me cooling my heels in Westminster.'

'Not deliberately, Sir Julius.'

'You should have set out earlier.'

'n.o.body could have foretold that amount of traffic.'

'London Bridge is always an ordeal to cross.'

'Except when the river freezes over,' observed Serle with an almost childlike smile. 'The ice is breaking up now or we could have ridden across the Thames itself. What an adventure that would have been! I'm so sorry that we missed the frost fair but Brilliana refused to stir from the house during the cold spell.' His smile broadened into a polite grin. 'Brilliana sends her love, by the way.'

'I'd have been more grateful if she could have sent a punctual husband.'

'I did not mean to hold you up, Sir Julius.'

'You never mean any of the idiocies that you commit.'

'Do not be so choleric, Father,' said Susan, trying to save their visitor from further abuse. 'Lancelot has made the effort to get here and you have not even had the grace to offer him refreshment.'

Sir Julius was dismissive. 'He does not deserve any.'

'Forgive him, Lancelot,' she said. 'Father is so eager to be on the road that he has forgotten his manners. I'm sure that you'd like refreshment after your journey and the horses will appreciate a rest.' She turned to Sir Julius. 'Carry on, if you must. There's nothing to detain you now.'

Sir Julius hovered. The three of them were standing in the hall of the house in Westminster. Milder weather had banished the icicles under the windowsills and the h.o.a.r frost on the garden. Winter sunshine was chasing away the last few deposits of snow. It was only Sir Julius who seemed impervious to the thaw. He regarded his son- in-law with glacial contempt. What upset him most was that he was forced to part with his younger, and favourite, daughter. It would be a long and lonely journey to Northamptonshire and, when he got there, his manor house would feel desperately empty without her. But Susan was determined to remain near the capital so a compromise was reached. Sir Julius grudgingly allowed her to stay behind on condition that she moved in with her sister in Richmond. He felt a flicker of paternal interest.

'How is Brilliana?' he asked gruffly.

'Extremely well, Sir Julius,' said the doting husband. 'She's full of plans for Susan's visit and regrets that you are unable to join us yourself.'

'I've business elsewhere.'

'We understand that. When can we expect your return?'

'When I choose to make it.'

'Ignore him, Lancelot,' advised Susan. 'Father is in a peevish mood today.'

Sir Julius was always in a peevish mood when he was close to his son-in-law, a man whose personality and politics he found it impossible to admire. Lancelot Serle had none of the intelligence, thrust or ambition that would have impressed the older man. Instead, he was kind, considerate and inoffensive. He did not seem to mind that he was firmly under the thumb of his wife, indeed, he accepted his servitude with alacrity. Serle was proud to be linked to the Cheever family.

'Brilliana was grateful for your letter, Sir Julius,' he said.

'I felt that she needed to be made aware of the facts.'

'As it happened, word of the crime had already reached us. We are not so cut off in Richmond that we do not hear the latest scandal. Brilliana was as shocked as I was,' he went on, looking at Susan. 'Who would have thought that Mr Redmayne's brother would be guilty of such a foul murder'

'He is only suspected of the crime,' corrected Susan.

'They would not arrest him without firm evidence.'

Sir Julius was blunt. 'The fellow deserves to hang and there's an end to it!'

Susan was dismayed that the subject had even been raised. Her aim had been to send her father on his way so that she could work on her amenable brother-in-law while they dined together. Before they left London, she believed, she could persuade Serle to let her call at a certain house in Fetter Lane. Her urge to see Christopher had hardened into a firm resolve. If nothing else, she wanted him to know that he was in her thoughts. Sir Julius was dressed for departure. His luggage had been loaded on to the coach that stood ready at his door. He reached for his hat and cane.

'One last request, Lancelot,' he said.

'Yes, Sir Julius?' asked Serle.

'When you leave here, drive straight to Richmond.'

'That was my intention.'

'Do not be shifted from it,' said the old man with a reproving glance at his daughter. 'Especially if you are asked to direct your coachman to an address in Fetter Lane. I want no contact to be made between Mr Christopher Redmayne and my daughter. Do you understand?'

'I understand and endorse your wishes, Sir Julius.'

'It would be a relief to know that you got something right at last.'

'Brilliana takes the same view,' said Serle.

'So I should hope.'

'She thinks it would be unwise and improper for Susan to maintain a friendship with anyone in the Redmayne family, however personable he may be. It's a name that now bears the most hideous stigma.'

'Do you hear that, Susan?' asked her father. 'Forget all about Mr Christopher Redmayne. Your friendship with him is at an end.'

Susan saw the futility of protest. Her hopes had been completely dashed.

As soon as he stepped into the house, Jonathan Bale knew that he had made the right decision. Christopher Redmayne was not only pleased to see him, he was deeply touched. There was none of the awkwardness that the constable had feared. He was invited in, given a drink by Jacob and taken immediately into his friend's confidence.