Frost Fair by Edward Marston Page A

Letitia wistfully. 'It must have been a wondrous experience to be there. Was it, Mr Redmayne?'
        'Oh, yes,' he confirmed.
        'There you are, Mother.'
        'We had sufficient amusements of our own, Letitia,' said the older woman.
        'Yet it would have been nice to visit the frost fair.'
        'It was quite out of the question.'
        Letitia gave a resigned nod. 'Yes, Mother.'
        'London is at its least alluring in the winter,' declared Lady Whitcombe. 'My late husband often remarked upon it. Cold weather seems to bring out the worst in people. It makes them angry, unsettled and disrespectful. You must have noticed the changes that the season brings, Mr Redmayne. Winter somehow strips people of  their finer feelings. They become tetchy and more inclined to violence. The streets of London are simply not safe to walk down.'
        'They are if you take sensible precautions,' said Christopher.
        "The most sensible precaution is to stay away. Everyone who has been there recently comes back with tales of woe. They complain of fraud, theft, assault and affray. And, as everyone knows,' she went on, turning a pair of large, blue, searching eyes on him, 'the most gruesome murders are always committed in London.'
        Christopher shifted uneasily in his seat. Lady Whitcombe's face was so impassive that it was difficult to tell if she was referring to the crime that involved his brother or not. He hoped that she might still be unaware of the murder but that set up the possibility of a revoked contract at a later stage when the news did trickle into her ears. He was certainly not going to volunteer any information on the subject. She stared at him for some time as if trying to communicate something. Relaxing slightly, she glanced at the satchel he had brought with him.
        'Is the design for my new house finished?'
        'It is, my lady.'
        'Let me see it,' she said, rising to her feet. 'I've been looking forward to this moment for weeks. So has Letitia.'
        'Yes,' agreed her daughter, getting up. 'It's very exciting.'
        Christopher opened his satchel. 'I hope that the drawings meet with your approval,' he said, taking them out and unfolding them. 'Shall I put them on the table?'
        'Please do, Mr Redmayne,' said Letitia.
        'Did you include the modifications?' asked Lady Whitcombe.
        'Every suggestion you made has been followed to the letter,' he said.
        Christopher went over to the table under the window. When some ornaments had been moved off it, he set out his drawings. The women were either side of him, bending over to study the designs and brushing his legs with their skirts as they did so. He caught a whiff of the most enchanting perfume. Letitia giggled with pleasure at what she saw but her mother inspected every detail in silence. Eventually, she gave a murmur of assent. Letitia pointed to an upstairs window in one drawing.
        'Is this my bedchamber, Mr Redmayne?' she asked.
        'It is, indeed,' he said, 'and it overlooks the river, as you see.'
        'Which is Egerton's room?'
        'Here at the front of the house,' said her mother, tapping the spot with her finger. 'You've not met my son yet, have you, Mr Redmayne?'
        "That's a pleasure still to come.'
        'He's due back from France very soon. It was Egerton who kept agitating for a house in London. Life in Sheen is idyllic in some respects but our opportunities for entertaining are rather limited. In London, our table will be more readily supplied with guests.' She straightened up to look at him. 'I trust that you'll be one of them.'
        'How could I refuse such an invitation?'
        'We look upon you as rather more than our architect, Mr Redmayne.'
        'I'm very flattered, Lady Whitcombe.'
        'Your company is so congenial.'
        'I hope that my work brings satisfaction as well.'
        'Oh, it does. I cannot fault