Winged Victory

by Barbara Cartland

  The Earl did not reply to his challenge. He merely smiled enigmatically as he said,

  “We will meet in London tomorrow evening and, if you wish to interrogate me, I will invite you to dinner and nobody else.”

  “So you admit that there is something to interrogate you about?” Eddie persisted.

  “I am admitting nothing, except that I dislike people who are inquisitive.”

  Eddie knew that this was true, but because the Earl was smiling he realised that it was not a put down, such as he would have given to anybody else, and they were too close as friends for him not to be interested.

  There was a crowd around the Earl’s smart phaeton, which was as well-known as his racing colours were on every Racecourse.

  When he swung himself into the driver’s seat and picked up the reins, a cheer went up which he acknowledged by raising his tall hat.

  Then the phaeton moved off, the crowd scattered in front of the horses, but the cheers continued until it was almost out of sight.

  Eddie watched until there was nothing more than a cloud of dust in the distance, then, as he turned back towards the Jockey Club box, it struck him that something was different in the Earl’s entourage from usual.

  It took him a minute or two to decide what this might be and then he realised that two things were strange, first, the Earl was not accompanied by his usual groom but by Yates and secondly it was unlike him to travel such a distance without outriders.

  ‘Perhaps he will pick them up at the Lodge,’ he ruminated.

  But the Earl had said distinctly earlier in the morning that he was driving straight from the races to his house in Hertfordshire and was not returning to the Lodge.

  ‘Strange,’ Eddie thought to himself and was even more certain than he had been before that something was up.

  The Earl in fact was driving as quickly as he could from the Racecourse towards the main highway.

  When he turned onto it, he said over his shoulder to Yates who was sitting in the seat behind him,

  “Where do we stop?”

  “By them trees about fifty yards from here, my Lord. If your Lordship drives into the middle of them, we’ll be out of sight of anyone passin’ on the road.”

  The Earl saw the trees a minute or so later and, turning his horses up a cart track, drove slowly and carefully into the middle of the copse.

  Here there was a clearing made by woodcutters and Yates jumped down and, moving between the trees, sought something that he had hidden earlier in the day at their foot.

  Two seconds later he came back towards the phaeton carrying in his arms a huge wicker basket.

  It was what the Earl knew that the gardeners in his various houses used to bring in the fruit and vegetables to the kitchens and inevitably, because there were so many people to feed, a great number were required.

  The baskets were not normally as long as the one that Yates was carrying, but he managed extremely skillfully to join two together so that it was now the size of a small coffin.

  He carried it to the phaeton and the Earl reached down to help him place it on the floor at his feet.

  Between them they wedged it skilfully so that it could not move however fast the horses travelled, and when it was in place the Earl lifted the corner of the light veil of butter muslin that covered Cledra’s face.

  She was still unconscious, as she had been when he brought her from her uncle’s stable to his own house.

  But now he was aware that she was breathing naturally and she was in fact sleeping from the herbs that Yates had given her.

  Yates had a great knowledge of country herbs, which he had learnt as a boy from his mother, who had been considered a white witch because she could heal local diseases better than any physician.

  The first night Cledra’s breathing had been so shallow as to be almost indiscernible and the Earl, when he looked at her the following morning, had still been afraid that she might die from the terrible beating that she had received.

  But Yates had treated her with his own special skills to bring her back to health.

  The Earl had impressed upon him that nobody else in the house must be aware that Cledra was there.

  “Don’t you worry, my Lord,” Yates had answered. “I’ve already said downstairs that I’m clearin’ out your Lordship’s wardrobes of a lot of things you’ve no further use for. They’ll therefore be expectin’ me to be workin’ upstairs.”

  In case the Earl was not completely satisfied that secrecy would be observed he added,

  “I’ll keep the doors locked and make sure the housemaids don’t see anythin’ when they does your Lordship’s bedroom. If they hears nothin’ and sees nothin’, they knows nothin’!”

  The Earl nodded.

  “That is what I want, Yates.”

  “I’ve been thinkin’ it over, my Lord,” Yates continued, “that it’d be best for the young lady not to realise what’s happened to her. She’ll be in agony if she comes round, so to speak, so I’ll just keep her sleepin’ ’till we gets her home.”

  “That is a good idea,” the Earl agreed.

  He knew only too well how efficacious Yates’s sleeping herbs, which he mixed with honey, could be because he had occasionally drunk them himself.

  Once when he was suffering from a high fever that made him so violent that it was impossible for anybody to keep him in bed and on another occasion when a wound that he had received gave him such agony that even with his iron self-control it was hard to stop himself from screaming.

  “For God’s sake, Yates,” he had said then, “give me something to stop this pain. It’s driving me mad!”

  Yates’s herbal draught had not only relieved the pain but also sent him to sleep for nearly twenty-four hours.

  Afterwards, although he disapproved of drugs in general, he recognised that it was the best thing that could have happened to him and apart from a very slight headache there had been no after effects.

  What was more the wound had healed more quickly than anybody might have expected it to do.

  When he stared down at Cledra now, he saw that the ashen whiteness had gone from her face and instead her skin looked translucent.

  He thought actually she looked like a Fairy child who might have lived under the trees from which Yates had just brought her.

  She was wearing one of his silk nightshirts and her fair hair, as it fell over her shoulders onto the pillow that she was lying on, was longer than he had expected.

  Because her knees were bent so that the basket did not have to be longer than was absolutely necessary, she seemed to be cuddled down under the blanket that covered her.

  She might, the Earl thought, be sleeping among the flowers of Mount Olympus, where there were no mortals who would ill-treat anyone so young and so exquisite.

  Yates broke in on his thoughts.

  “She’ll be all right, my Lord,” he said briskly, “but I’d like your Lordship to drive on and get away from here as quick as possible.”

  The Earl knew that this was wise advice and he dropped the butter muslin back into place over Cledra’s face and Yates tucked it in so that it would not move in the wind.

  Then, as he jumped up behind, the Earl turned his team with considerable expertise in such a confined space and drove back onto the highway.

  He also wished to go away from Newmarket as quickly as his horses would carry him to make quite certain that Sir Walter had no idea that he was in any way involved with Cledra’s disappearance.

  Because of what he had learned from Yates yesterday morning, he had been aware that, if Sir Walter Melford had the slightest idea that he was involved in Star’s escape from his tyranny and then Cledra’s, his horses if nothing else might be in considerable danger.

  Yates’s investigation had substantiated everything that Cledra had told him.

  “I’ve made a few enquiries about the innkeeper, Bowbrank, my Lord,” Yates had said. “He drinks away his profits and it’s a scandal in Newmarket the way he
treats his horses.”

  “How does he do any business if that is the way he behaves?” the Earl asked.

  “Nobody decent patronises The Cross and Anchor, my Lord. It’s known to be a place where the tipsters and bookies who welsh if they lose congregate during Race Meetings.”

  Yates’s voice was scathing as he continued,

  “The inn itself is cheap and dirty, but Bowbrank does a certain amount of trade with those passing through the town or who want to get away quick ’cos they’ve lost money.”

  It was what the Earl had expected to hear and he enquired,

  “Have you had a chance to talk to Lord Ludlow’s groom?”

  “Yes, my Lord, I found him with some difficulty, but after a couple, of drinks he grew quite chatty.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “He said, my Lord, there was somethin’ ever so queer about Jessop’s death. The horse was fightin’ fit after the race and all of them was cock-a-hoop when he won, especially havin’ beaten Sir Walter Melford’s Warrior.”

  Yates paused for a moment and then he went on,

  “Then he tells me, my Lord, that, while they were havin’ a bit of a celebration in the stables, they hears a strange noise.”

  Yates paused again, this time dramatically, as he always enjoyed telling a tale somewhat theatrically.

  The Earl did not hurry him, as he was anxious to hear all the details.

  “One of the lads exclaimed, ‘that be Jessop’ and they got up to go to the winner’s stall.”

  “What was happening?”

  “They thinks the horse were havin’ a fit, my Lord. He appeared to be goin’ wild, throwin’ himself about and screamin’ as if he were human. Then suddenly he collapsed.”

  The Earl thought that this was consistent with the way that poison would react on a man.

  “They does all they could for him, my Lord,” Yates went on, “but his breathin’ got slower and slower and the groom said every muscle in Jessop’s body were twitchin’ until he died.”

  “They had no idea what caused this?” the Earl asked.

  “Lord Ludlow, when they fetched him from the house thought it must be a fit and the next day when they gets a vet in to look at the dead animal he says the same thing. But the groom I were talkin’ to had a different idea.”

  “What did he think?”

  “He said the next mornin’ when the carcass had been taken away and he were cleanin’ up the stall he found that in his frenzy Jessop had kicked over his bucket of water. Wherever it had spread on the floor of his stall, my Lord, anythin’ the water had touched was dead.”

  “What do you mean by ‘anything’?” the Earl asked.

  “He said there were three mice, a lot of different insects from the hay and they were all a-lyin’ on their backs, as dead as Jessop himself.”

  “Poisoned!” the Earl muttered under his breath.

  “Yes, my Lord, that’s what the groom thinks and there was sommat else he tells me.”

  “What was that?”

  “He says the next afternoon he goes back to the stall to finish cleanin’ it and he found one of the stable yard cats lying on the floor also dead. A young cat it were too.”

  “And yet the vet found no sign of poison in the horse’s body?”

  “I don’t suppose he looked very careful-like, my Lord,” Yates replied. “The horse were dead and there was nothin’ he could do for it.”

  Cledra had said that the poison had been administered in Jessop’s water and from what the Earl had just heard it was something that he was prepared to believe.

  He therefore talked to his Head Groom and his Trainer and told them that in future the buckets containing the horses’ water were not to be left outside the stalls at any time.

  What was more the stables were to be strictly watched at night so that it would be impossible for anybody to enter them unseen.

  Both men were surprised by the Earl's orders, but knew that they must be strictly obeyed or there would be trouble.

  Because he thought that they looked at him somewhat speculatively, the Earl explained,

  “I have reason to believe that there is somebody in Newmarket who might be mad enough to wish to damage my horses in some way or other and I therefore insist that you take no chances.”

  “I’ll see to it, my Lord,” his Head Groom nodded.

  As he left the stable, the Earl’s Trainer followed him to ask,

  “Would your Lordship consider giving me any information you have not yet communicated about the danger to our horses, my Lord?”

  The Earl hesitated and then decided that it would be a mistake to confide in anybody.

  “I have simply heard rumours about the way that Lord Ludlow’s horse, Jessop, died,” he replied. “Of course there are always suspicions when a winning horse dies after a race, but I think we should take every precaution to see that my own horses are in no danger.”

  He was aware as he spoke that because he was so successful there would always be fanatics who might hate him for his successes, just as there were anarchists who wished to overthrow Monarchs for no personal reason but because they disapproved of them in principle.

  His Trainer was silent.

  And then he said,

  “I understand what you are saying to me, my Lord. At the same time I admit I’m rather disappointed that you didn’t buy anything at Sir Walter Melford’s sale yesterday. I was hoping that you would bid for Raskal and Mandrake, if nothing else.”

  The Earl had expected this and he replied,

  “When I saw the horses close to, I was not so impressed with them as I expected to be. But don’t be disappointed. There is a sale coming up at Tattersalls in two weeks’ time, where I understand there will be some exceptional animals that I shall certainly wish to add to my stable.”

  The Trainer smiled.

  “That’s good news, my Lord. Very good news!”

  The Earl walked away knowing that he had left him happy.

  But he was still worried in case Melford should treat any of his horses as he had treated Jessop.

  The Earl was aware what a grievous blow this must have been to Lord Ludlow, considering he certainly could not afford to add to his stable, which had been sadly depleted by Jessop’s death.

  He made a mental note to try and help him in some way, but for the moment he could not think how he could do it without making anything he suggested sound patronising or a kind of charity, which would be humiliating.

  Now driving at a speed that was the envy of every vehicle they passed, the Earl had the feeling that by carrying first Star and then Cledra out of reach of Sir Walter, he was starting a war, the outcome of which for the moment he could not anticipate.

  He was quite certain from what he had heard of Sir Walter Melford that he would not take such insults lying down.

  He would undoubtedly try to find out by every means in his power who was responsible for what he would consider the criminal kidnapping of his niece and her horse.

  The Earl thought dryly that he could legally cause a great deal of trouble as he was after all Cledra’s Guardian.

  Equally he would be well aware that, if he took the case to the Magistrates while the plea of cruelty might not be valid in law, the disclosure of his behaviour would undoubtedly destroy him socially.

  The Earl therefore reasoned that Sir Walter would strike secretly in his desire for revenge, using poison or any other weapon that came easily to his undoubtedly twisted mind.

  With Cledra lying at his feet he could not help as he drove on having a very clear remembrance of her blood-stained back.

  He told himself that only a man who was mentally deranged could have behaved in such a manner towards any woman, let alone one who was little more than a child and as delicately made as Cledra.

  The Earl reasoned that, had she stayed the whole night and perhaps part of the next day tied to the manger without being attended to, she might easily have died.

  The idea ma
de him so angry that there was a scowl between his eyes as he drove on and only Eddie would have been aware of exactly what he was feeling.

  *

  In record time the Earl turned in at his very impressive lodge gates.

  The great house that had been in the Poynton family for more than two hundred years was majestic in the afternoon sunshine, standing above a large lake spanned by a stone bridge.

  But the Earl did not drive towards the house. Instead he turned left down a narrow track through the trees and drove on through his Park, scattering the speckled deer as he approached them.

  It was over half-a-mile before, out of sight of the big mansion, there were gates leading into a beautiful garden filled with flowers where stood an attractive house, Queen Anne in origin, built of red brick and mellowed with age.

  The Earl drew up with a flourish outside the front door and Yates jumped down to raise the brass knocker with a noisy rat-tat.

  Before finally the door was opened which took a minute or two, an elderly groom had come from the stables that were hidden among the trees.

  He came up to the phaeton touching his forelock respectfully.

  “’Afternoon, your Lordship. Nice to see you.”

  “I am not stopping, Cobbler,” the Earl replied, “but go to the horses’ heads while Yates and I carry something inside that we have brought for her Ladyship.”

  “Aye, my Lord.”

  The Earl fixed the reins on the driving board and then as the front door opened he and Yates lifted Cledra very carefully from the floor of the phaeton and carried her into the hall.

  The white-haired butler, who was rather deaf, greeted the Earl who said,

  “Tell your wife, Dorkins, that I want to speak to her in the Blue Bedroom.”

  “My – wife, my Lord?”

  “Yes, Dorkins, your wife!” the Earl repeated raising his voice.

  The butler shuffled away while Yates and the Earl carried the basket with Cledra in it up the carved wooden staircase to the first floor.

  There were rooms opening off each side of a large corridor, but the Earl and Yates walked on.

  The Blue Bedroom was situated at the far end with windows overlooking the garden at the back and the Park at the side.