The Frost Fair

    "The bout should never have taken place.' 'According to Lancelot, the other man goaded you into it.'

    'He did, Miss Cheever, and I was foolish to go along with it.'

    'Why?'

    'Because I did not realise how seriously my opponent was taking the whole thing. Egerton Whitcombe was so confident that he would get the better of me that he'd made a number of wagers with friends.' He gave an apologetic shrug. 'Losing the bout cost him a sizeable amount of money.'

    'No wonder he was so embittered.'

    'He keeps asking for a return meeting to recoup his losses but I'll not measure swords with him again. Too much rides on it for Egerton - and for his mother, of course.'

    'Lady Whitcombe?'

    'She was there to cheer her son on the last time,' he said. 'Lady Whitcombe was so outraged that I proved the finer swordsman that she's not spoken to me since.'

    'My brother-in-law tells me that she's very grand.'

    'Very grand and very determined.'

    'In what way, Mr Cardinal?'

    'She has the highest ambitions for her family,' he said. 'She drives them on. Lady Whitcombe expects that her son - and her daughter - win at everything.'

        Egerton Whitcombe paced angrily up and down the room like a caged animal. He was not accustomed to having his demands rejected. Tall, slim and striking in appearance, he was immaculately dressed in a blue doublet and petticoat breeches. His gleaming leather jackboots clacked noisily on the oak floorboards. When he finally came to a halt, he turned to his mother with an accusatory stare.

    'Has work begun on the house yet?' he barked.

    'No, Egerton,' she replied. 'The ground is still too hard for them to dig the foundations and the stone they need will not be brought in by boat until the ice has vanished from the Thames.'

    'Then we still have time to cancel the contract.'

    'I've no intention of doing that.'

    'Do you know who the architect is, Mother?'

    'Of course. I've met Mr Redmayne a number of times.'

    'His brother is in prison on a charge of murder,' he said with disgust. 'I only heard about it today and I was shocked. We cannot let ourselves get involved with a family such as that.'

    'We are not getting involved with a family, only an individual.'

    'His brother is a killer. That means his name is tainted.'

    'His father is the Dean of Gloucester,' she retorted, 'and that says far more about him. It's unfortunate that this other business has cropped up, I agree, but it will not affect my judgement of Christopher Redmayne. He's not merely a brilliant architect, he's a delightful young man.'

    'With a criminal for a brother.'

    'Egerton!'

    'People talk, Mother. What will our friends say?'

    The quarrel took place in a room that he had rented at a tavern in Holborn. Lady Whitcombe and her daughter were staying with friends in London but they were spending the evening with the man in their family. Hoping for a joyful reunion with her son, Lady Whitcombe was disappointed to find him in a combative mood. Letitia was too distressed by his truculent behaviour even to speak. Instead of listening to an account of her brother's adventures abroad, she was witnessing a fierce argument. She made sure that she kept out of it.

    Lady Whitcombe was imperious. 'My decisions are not subject to the dictates of my friends,' she declared. 'I saw what I wanted and engaged the architect who could give it to me. There's an end to it.'

    'No,' retorted her son. 'I'm the person who'll spend most time in the house.'

    'So?'

    'I should have more of a say in who designs it and it will not be anyone who bears the sullied name of Redmayne. Dismiss the fellow at once.'

    'It's too late. His drawings have already been delivered.'

    'But no work has yet been done on the site. There's still time to think again.'

    'Why should I do that?'

    'Because I'm telling you, Mother,' he said, trying to assert himself by standing in front of her with his hands on his hips. 'Let me speak more bluntly. I simply refuse to occupy a building that's been designed by Christopher Redmayne.'

    "Then Letitia and I will have to stay there in your stead.' 'What about me?'

    'You'll continue to rent a room in a tavern.'

    His face was puce with rage. 'But you promised me a house.'

    'I've provided one, Egerton. It will be the envy of our circle when it's built.'

    'Not if it's been designed by the brother of a murderer.'

    'Stop saying that.'

    'It's what everyone else will harp on.'

    'I care not.'

    'Well, I do, Mother,' he announced, stamping his foot for emphasis. 'I'll not let you do this. London is full of architects. Engage another one.'

    'I already have the one that I prefer.'

    'I'll find someone better.'

    'There is nobody better,' said Letitia, forced to offer her opinion. 'Mr Redmayne is the most wonderful architect in the world. His design is exactly what we want.'

    'We?' he sneered, rounding on her. 'We, we, we? I was the one who began all this, Letitia. I was the person who explained why a house was needed in London. Given that, I should be the one with the power of decision.'

    'Not unless you intend to pay for it,' said his mother coolly.

    'What?'

    'If the money comes from my purse, Egerton, then I reserve the right to hire the man I want. And that's exactly what I've done.'

    "That's so unfair, Mother!' he protested.

    'It's the way of the world.'

    'But the man is unsuitable.'

    'You've never even met Mr Redmayne.'

    'I've heard about his brother, Henry. He's the talk of every tavern in the city. It's only a matter of time before he's hanged for his crime. And rightly so,' he added. 'I knew the murder victim briefly. Signor Maldini once gave me fencing lessons.'

    "Then he was a poor tutor.'

    'Mother!'

    'Jack Cardinal made you look like a novice.'

    'I'll make him pay for that.'

    'Oh, Egerton,' she said, using a softer tone. 'Let's not bicker like this. You've been away for so long. Must the first time we see you again be an occasion for sourness and recrimination? Be ruled by me.'

    'It seems that I must be,' he said resentfully.

    'And take that grim expression from your face. It ill becomes you. We should be celebrating your return, not falling out with each other.' She embraced him and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. 'There, the matter is settled.'

    'Do not count on it,' he said under his breath.

    'You'll soon see that your fears were in vain, Egerton. Wait until you meet him,' she said with a beatific smile. 'He'll win you over in no time. Forget about this brother of his. Christopher Redmayne is a perfect gentleman.'

      'Good Lord!' exclaimed Jonathan Bale, staring at him in amazement at the bedraggled figure on his doorstep. 'Is that really you, Mr Redmayne?'

    'Unhappily, it is.'

    'But you are soaked to the skin.'

    'I've been in the river,' explained Christopher, trying to stop his teeth chattering. 'Your house was so much nearer than mine that I came to throw myself on your mercy.'

    'Of course, sir. Come in, come in.'

    Jonathan stood aside so that this visitor could get into the house. Hearing Christopher's voice, Sarah came bustling out of the kitchen to look at his sodden apparel. Water was still dripping from him. He had lost his hat and his hair was plastered to his head. His cloak was a wet rag over his arm. When he moved, his boots squelched.