Elkannah Prout had watched it all with horror. Seeing that his accomplice had been overpowered, he mounted his horse and tried to ride off. Christopher stood in his way. He remembered how Bale had unsaddled Villemot when the artist had tried to ride off from Lady Lingoe’s house. Whisking off his hat, the architect waved it wildly in the horse’s face. It reared up on its hind legs and flung its rider backwards. Prout was badly dazed by the fall. When he had caught the reins and calmed the horse, Christopher tethered the animal before moving to stand over Prout.
‘You should have gone to Newmarket.’
‘I had to be here,’ insisted Prout. ‘Araminta is mine.’
‘You’ll never get anywhere near her again,’ said Christopher, hauling him up. ‘Unless she decides to attend your execution, that is.’
It was several days before Araminta Culthorpe felt able to see them. In the aftermath of the funeral, she had shunned company of any kind and spent most of the time alone in her bedchamber or the garden. She had not even allowed Eleanor Ryle to stay with her for long. As the full facts about the murder began to emerge, however, she saw how indebted she was to the efforts of Christopher Redmayne and others. When she felt strong enough, she invited him to visit her at the house in Westminster. Henry was overjoyed when the invitation was extended to him.
The two brothers met her in the drawing room with its generous proportions and exquisite furniture. Rising from the table where she had been writing letters of thanks, Araminta did her best not to look so forlorn. When her visitors sat side by side on the couch, she took a chair opposite them.
‘I thought you had nothing whatsoever in common,’ she said, looking from one to the other, ‘but I see now that I was mistaken. You’ve both shown your mettle and I’m deeply grateful. So, I am sure, is Monsieur Villemot.’
‘We believed strongly in his innocence,’ said Christopher.
‘I never doubted it for an instant,’ added Henry.
‘Fortunately,’ she recalled, ‘someone else thought that he’d been wrongly accused — my maid. Eleanor is a wonderful companion. I never thought that she would help to solve a murder as well.’
‘Her assistance was invaluable,’ said Christopher. ‘She’s a young woman with initiative, Lady Culthorpe. But she’s not the only person who deserves plaudits here,’ he went on. ‘Thanks to my brother, Lady Lingoe was able to provide some useful information and the real hero was a parish constable, Jonathan Bale.’
‘Yes, I heard about the way that he was assaulted.’
‘He was able to turn the tables on his attacker.’
‘He was able to arrest Abel,’ said Henry, disappointed that his weak pun did not even earn a smile from Araminta. He felt a twinge of guilt at his earlier stalking of her. ‘May I take this opportunity to apologise for sending you those unwelcome verses?’
‘I prefer to forget that they ever existed, Mr Redmayne.’
‘Then they did not, Lady Culthorpe. They were figments of my imagination.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Whoosh — they’ve gone forever!’
‘I’m grateful — and I owe you thanks for another reason. You were considerate enough to stay away from the funeral.’
‘It never occurred to me to go,’ said Henry, saying nothing about his last-minute decision to stay away. ‘I wish that others had shown the concern for you that I did.’
She turned to Christopher. ‘Have you seen Monsieur Villemot?’
‘Many times,’ he replied.
‘Does he still wish to have a house built here?’
‘Work started again the day that he came out of Newgate.’
‘I’m so glad that we’ve not frightened him away.’
‘You could frighten nobody away,’ said Henry, beaming at her.
‘It’s I who’ve been frightened away, Mr Redmayne,’ she told him, meeting his gaze. ‘I’ll be quitting London for a while to live on my late husband’s country estate. You might pass on that information to your friends. Their attentions can cease forthwith.’
Henry was suitably reprimanded. Now that he was in the same room as the woman he had idolised, he saw how cold, ruthless and unwelcome his pursuit of her had been. He had been a willing member of a Society with base intentions and uncompromising methods and he was chastened, all the more so since the founder of the Society had been driven to commit a murder by his obsession. He left his brother to continue the conversation.
‘Monsieur Villemot is wondering about the portrait,’ said Christopher, tentatively. ‘He still regards it as his finest work.’
Araminta gave a pale smile. ‘I’m flattered to hear that.’
‘In due course, he’d like to finish it.’
‘I daresay that he does, Mr Redmayne.’
‘May I tell him that that will be possible? In view of what’s happened, that portrait has taken on great significance for him. It brought him untold and undeserved suffering,’ Christopher reminded her. ‘If he were allowed to complete it, those unhappy memories of Newgate might be obliterated.’
‘One day, perhaps,’ she said, thoughtfully. ‘One day.’
It was too soon for her to make the decision. Christopher did not press her on the matter. When she had expressed her thanks to them again, he signalled to his brother that it was time to leave and they bade farewell. Before they were shown out, Araminta exchanged a handshake with each of them. Henry was thrilled that he had actually touched her. When he came out of the house with Christopher, his right hand was tingling with pleasure.
‘She likes me,’ he said, joyfully. ‘Araminta likes me.’
‘Lady Culthorpe likes what she saw of you today,’ said his brother. ‘She viewed you as a person who took great pains to prove Monsieur Villemot’s innocence. Had she known that you’d tried to steal her portrait from the studio, however, and heard what underhand methods you employed to do so, she’d never have let you cross her threshold. Be grateful that we were able to display the better side of Henry Redmayne for once.’
‘I thought I did that when I wrote those poems.’
‘They’ve helped to drive her out of London.’
‘I was not her only correspondent,’ said Henry. ‘Jocelyn and Sir Willard showered her with letters and gifts, and Elkannah sent her a copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Poetry is the proper expression of true love. That’s why I addressed Araminta in heightened language.’
‘Heightened language that concealed the lowest desires.’
‘I confess it straight, Christopher. When I saw her today, I felt thoroughly ashamed that I’d been a member of that dreadful Society. It was Elkannah Prout who drew me into it.’
‘He was determined to win by any means,’ said Christopher, ‘even if he had to suborn someone to commit a murder. Unlike the rest of you, he was prepared to be patient.’
‘Yes,’ said Henry, sadly. ‘We were like eager schoolboys, chasing their first kiss from some rosy-cheeked girl. The moment that Sir Martin was killed, we thought more of our foul ambitions than we did of Araminta’s distress. While we pushed forward, Elkannah drew back and affected indifference. Since Araminta had chosen an older man as a husband, he hoped that his age and his forbearance would in time recommend him.’
‘He was a cunning man. When he had that key made, he told Paskins to give the name of Jocelyn Kidbrooke to the locksmith. That misled us. His most clever trick,’ said Christopher, ‘was to dine with you and your friends at the very time when he knew that Sir Martin would be murdered. That lifted any suspicion from him.’
‘Elkannah has always been a devious rogue. Well,’ said Henry, ‘he was a lawyer. What else can one expect? I should have known that he’d find out that Sir Martin had dismissed a gardener who nursed a grievance against him. He engaged Paskins as his killer, taking him away from Jocelyn.’ He laughed. ‘One poacher was outdone by another. Jocelyn Kidbrooke only wanted information from Paskins. Elkannah wanted someone with an urge to kill Sir Martin.’