it.'
'Nor can I, Mr Redmayne,' said Letitia, still surveying the drawings. 'How on earth did you conjure such a beautiful house out of your imagination? It is magical.'
"Thank you,' he said.
'I have always wanted to live in the city.'
'It is only an occasional residence for us, Letitia,' her mother reminded her. 'This will always remain our principal home. Egerton will spend most of his time in London because he needs the society of young men. Country pleasures are no longer enough for him. You and I, however, will be more selective in our visits.'
'Yes, Mother.'
'We'll certainly not spend winter months in the capital.'
'You'll be warm enough, if you do so, my lady,' promised Christopher. 'I took especial care to give you large fireplaces in every room. Italian marble.'
'That was exactly what I required. Well,' she said, taking a final look at the drawings, 'I think that you deserve our congratulations, Mr Redmayne.'
'It was a labour of love, Lady Whitcombe.'
'We, too, have found it a most pleasurable experience.'
'Yes,' said Letitia with a grin.
'All that remains,' added her mother, 'is to get the house built. Who was the fellow you recommended?'
'Mr Popejoy,' replied Christopher. 'I've worked with him before. He built the house in Westminster that you admired so much. I'd recommend Sidney Popejoy without the slightest reservation. There are few more conscientious builders in London.'
'Would he be available?'
'I took the liberty of speaking to him about the project at the very start.'
"Then engage him forthwith.'
'Will your son need to approve the designs first?'
'Egerton?' she asked. 'No, he has no interest in architecture. His only demand was for a large house in London where we could entertain a much wider circle of friends than is possible here in Sheen. My son will be very grateful for what you've done, Mr Redmayne. His needs are simple and you've met every one of them.'
Christopher would never have described the house in terms of simple needs. It was a large property that would occupy a site overlooking the river and contain features that bordered on extravagance. Cost had been incidental. Lady Whitcombe had not merely inherited her husband's substantial wealth, she had independent means of her own. She was ready to lavish a huge amount of money on a house that she would only occupy at certain times of the year. It was her son, Egerton, who would derive most benefit from the place. As a wave of fatigue hit him, Christopher's legs buckled slightly.
'Are you hungry, Mr Redmayne?' asked his hostess.
'I am, Lady Whitcombe.'
'We shall dine very shortly.'
"Thank you.'
'It will give you time to get used to sharing our table.'
'I regard that as a privilege.'
'And we regard you as a friend, Mr Redmayne,' she said, bestowing her sweetest smile on him. 'Letitia made the same observation only this morning. We have not seen all that much of you and yet it feels as if you are one of the family.'
Letitia gave a nervous giggle. Christopher's legs wobbled again.
Jonathan Bale walked along the riverbank that afternoon until he was roughly opposite the point where the body had been found.
His sons would not be able to skate on the ice now. Cracks had been turned into deep crevices and thinner patches had broken up altogether. Blocks of ice floated in open water, melting gently in the sun. As the Thames slowly reasserted itself, the frost fair had been abandoned. Jonathan was glad. The city might be deprived of its winter merriment but the constable's younger son would be spared the visible reminder of the discovery he had made in the ice. There was a secondary reason why Jonathan was pleased at the thaw. Many of his friends earned their living from the river.
'Nor can I, Mr Redmayne,' said Letitia, still surveying the drawings. 'How on earth did you conjure such a beautiful house out of your imagination? It is magical.'
"Thank you,' he said.
'I have always wanted to live in the city.'
'It is only an occasional residence for us, Letitia,' her mother reminded her. 'This will always remain our principal home. Egerton will spend most of his time in London because he needs the society of young men. Country pleasures are no longer enough for him. You and I, however, will be more selective in our visits.'
'Yes, Mother.'
'We'll certainly not spend winter months in the capital.'
'You'll be warm enough, if you do so, my lady,' promised Christopher. 'I took especial care to give you large fireplaces in every room. Italian marble.'
'That was exactly what I required. Well,' she said, taking a final look at the drawings, 'I think that you deserve our congratulations, Mr Redmayne.'
'It was a labour of love, Lady Whitcombe.'
'We, too, have found it a most pleasurable experience.'
'Yes,' said Letitia with a grin.
'All that remains,' added her mother, 'is to get the house built. Who was the fellow you recommended?'
'Mr Popejoy,' replied Christopher. 'I've worked with him before. He built the house in Westminster that you admired so much. I'd recommend Sidney Popejoy without the slightest reservation. There are few more conscientious builders in London.'
'Would he be available?'
'I took the liberty of speaking to him about the project at the very start.'
"Then engage him forthwith.'
'Will your son need to approve the designs first?'
'Egerton?' she asked. 'No, he has no interest in architecture. His only demand was for a large house in London where we could entertain a much wider circle of friends than is possible here in Sheen. My son will be very grateful for what you've done, Mr Redmayne. His needs are simple and you've met every one of them.'
Christopher would never have described the house in terms of simple needs. It was a large property that would occupy a site overlooking the river and contain features that bordered on extravagance. Cost had been incidental. Lady Whitcombe had not merely inherited her husband's substantial wealth, she had independent means of her own. She was ready to lavish a huge amount of money on a house that she would only occupy at certain times of the year. It was her son, Egerton, who would derive most benefit from the place. As a wave of fatigue hit him, Christopher's legs buckled slightly.
'Are you hungry, Mr Redmayne?' asked his hostess.
'I am, Lady Whitcombe.'
'We shall dine very shortly.'
"Thank you.'
'It will give you time to get used to sharing our table.'
'I regard that as a privilege.'
'And we regard you as a friend, Mr Redmayne,' she said, bestowing her sweetest smile on him. 'Letitia made the same observation only this morning. We have not seen all that much of you and yet it feels as if you are one of the family.'
Letitia gave a nervous giggle. Christopher's legs wobbled again.
Jonathan Bale walked along the riverbank that afternoon until he was roughly opposite the point where the body had been found.
His sons would not be able to skate on the ice now. Cracks had been turned into deep crevices and thinner patches had broken up altogether. Blocks of ice floated in open water, melting gently in the sun. As the Thames slowly reasserted itself, the frost fair had been abandoned. Jonathan was glad. The city might be deprived of its winter merriment but the constable's younger son would be spared the visible reminder of the discovery he had made in the ice. There was a secondary reason why Jonathan was pleased at the thaw. Many of his friends earned their living from the river.
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