Part 26 (1/2)

'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 companions.h.i.+p.' 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.'