by Janet Tanner
Now that he had thrown the weight of his business empire behind their endeavours Gilbert’s enthusiasm for the new venture was growing by the day. Good as his word he had formed the new company and was busy making plans to set up workshops adjoining the works and negotiating to buy the adjoining land so that tests could be carried out there. He was planning to transfer some of his most experienced engineers and craftsmen to the new project and had made tentative enquiries of his contacts in France to ascertain whether he might be able to persuade some of the experienced continentals to join the new team on a short contract basis at least. In Europe the French were still leaders in the race for the skies and their expertise would be invaluable. A carefully prepared statement had been issued to the press, the local newspapers had shouted the news that Morse Motors was moving into the new and exciting world of flying, and the national dailies, though more sceptical, had picked up the story and sent a reporter to Chewton Leigh to interview Gilbert about his plans.
Adam was slightly bemused by this turn of events. He and Max had scarcely looked beyond getting their first aeroplane into the sky; there had been no time for wondering where they would go or what they would do with it once their objective had been achieved. But Gilbert had set his mind to exploring all the possibilities and he outlined them one December evening to Adam, Lawrence and Hugh, home on leave from his regiment, over their customary brandy.
‘As I see it there are two directions we can take once we have established a good sound base. The first is to look at the possibilities of aircraft for commercial use.’
‘I don’t quite follow you,’ Lawrence said. Like Adam he was a little bemused but for different reasons. All his life he had known Morse Motors as manufacturers of engines; now with the planned expansion changing everything at the works he felt a little like a man who has started out for a quiet ride on a solidly plodding donkey only to find his mount had become a mettlesome stallion. Events were racing away from him and he felt disturbed and out of control. ‘ What sort of commercial use did you have in mind?’
‘Every sort,’ Gilbert said expansively. ‘Think what a boon it would be to be able to airlift packages and mail direct from one given place to another! And eventually it won’t only be correspondence and inanimate objects but human cargo too. When flying can be made safer and more comfortable there will be no shortage of passengers, mark my words.’
‘Do you really think so?’ Lawrence puffed on his cigar looking doubtful.
‘I do indeed,’ Gilbert confirmed. ‘I dare say the steam engine was once treated with the same scepticism. But your great grandfather didn’t let that stop him. Our business has been built on looking to the future, Lawrence, and we would do well not to forget it.’
‘You mentioned a second use for aircraft,’ Adam said, sipping his brandy. ‘What else did you have in mind?
‘Military reconnaissance,’ Gilbert said.
In the startled silence that followed Hugh gave a short laugh.
‘Is that a dig at me, Father? You know reconnaissance has always been the job of the cavalry.’
‘Not entirely. Balloons have been used for the last hundred years to give men an aerial view of the enemy, as you are well aware. But balloons have to be tethered. What can be seen from them is limited. Now supposing an aircraft could actually fly far enough to scout out the lie of the land and what the enemy were up to and report back! Think what an advantage that would be to those planning strategy!’
The sense of the argument excited Adam. Gilbert was right – a bird’s eye view of an opposing army would be a tremendous advantage in time of war. But Hugh, the dedicated cavalry officer, remained unconvinced.
‘The noise would frighten the horses,’ he said flatly.
‘Perhaps the horses will have to get used to it,’ Gilbert suggested. ‘I have thought about it a great deal and I am convinced that supremacy in the air will play a great part in the wars of the future.’
Hugh laughed again, shaking his head in frank disbelief.
‘You will be telling us next that one day wars will be fought in the air instead of on the ground or the seas.’
‘I believe that is a possibility,’ Gilbert replied simply.
‘But it is up to us to convince the government of it. Do you know they set aside only £5000 to aeronautics this year?’
‘£5000 too much if you ask me,’ Hugh said rudely. His years at Sandhurst and with his regiment had served only to make his cavalier attitude more apparent – in the officers’ mess he was regarded as a wag, the master of the sharp put-down, and the adoration of his men had increased his natural self-confidence so that it now verged on conceit.
‘That is your opinion, Hugh, and I dare say you are entitled to it,’ Gilbert said equably. ‘It is not however the view of the German government. Whilst we had to be content with our miserly £5000 they were investing £400 000 for the development of aeronautics.’
‘More fools them.’
‘I think not. Whatever the Germans might be they are not fools. And if they – or any other nation – manage to get a good lead in that field I think we shall all rue the day.’
‘Give me a good horse and a scout who knows the land any time. It’s no use chasing the shadow and neglecting the substance.’ Hugh drained his glass and grinned engagingly. ‘Is there any more brandy, Father, or is that rationed too?’
‘You know very well it is not. Help yourself, Hugh,’ Gilbert said, shaking his head in mock exasperation. Hugh was still the apple of his eye and he regarded his outbursts with the same tolerance that had so often allowed him to escape punishment when he had got into scrapes as a boy. ‘Just don’t give yourself a hangover,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘Aren’t you riding with Clarissa Beamish-Browne tomorrow morning?’
‘I certainly am!’ Hugh’s eyes lit up at the prospect. Clarissa was one of the belles of the district. She liked fast horses and fast men – and she was always pleased to see him and ready to show her pleasure in a variety of ways, all equally agreeable. Why old Lawrence hadn’t made some effort to sweet-talk her in his absence he could not imagine – but Lawrence seemed totally disinterested in the fair sex, preferring his own plodding pursuits. Ah well – each to his own, Hugh thought dismissively.
‘Shall we rejoin the ladies?’ Gilbert suggested when Hugh had finished his brandy.
They went back to the drawing-room where Blanche and Alicia were listening to some music on the phonograph Blanche had recently acquired and Adam could not fail to be aware of Alicia’s quickening interest the moment he entered the room. She had been glancing through the latest edition of the Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine between winding up the phonograph; now she laid it aside on the small octagonal table.
‘Well and what have you gentlemen been discussing?’ she asked lazily. ‘No – don’t tell me – let me guess. The future of our new venture – Morse Aeroplane Company. Well, as a director I really think you should enlighten me on your deliberations.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Alicia!’ Blanche protested. ‘ Can’t we forget the business whilst we are relaxing?’
Alicia threw her a shrewd glance. She knew Blanche was irritated by the fact that she had been included as a director of the company – she believed that if another member of the family had had to be named it should have been Leo.
‘Don’t you think you are taking your position just a little too seriously?’ Blanche continued lightly.
‘I agree,’ Hugh said. Unnoticed by his father he had brought the brandy decanter into the drawing-room with him; now he refilled his glass surreptitiously and swigged at it. ‘We have had quite enough of flying for one evening.’
‘Well if the rest of you refuse to tell me what has been discussed I am sure Adam at least won’t be so mean.’ She leaned forward, her violet eyes narrowed in her pale face, and touched his arm lightly with her slim fingers. The tight bodice of her dinner dress emphasised the curve of her small firm breasts, light from the overhead chandelier made
her glossy black hair gleam with midnight blue highlights.
‘Don’t dare, Adam,’ Hugh cautioned him jokingly.
Alicia shrugged her narrow shoulders. ‘ Oh well, if you are going to be so tedious Adam and I will have to talk on our own sometime, won’t we, Adam?’ she said without removing her hand from his arm and her look left him in no doubt that it was not only business she wanted to discuss when they were alone.
Again he was aware of the quickening deep inside him. One of these days … he thought, one of these days, Miss Alicia Morse, you are going to get what you are asking for.
‘Now you have returned, gentlemen, I suggest one of you might wind up the phonograph,’ Blanche said.
‘Very well, I’ll do it,’ Lawrence said good naturedly, moving towards it whilst Hugh poured himself yet another brandy and Gilbert crossed to warm himself by the roaring fire. But Adam remained where he was, drawn against his will by the magnetism Alicia exuded and the pleasurable sensation her touch had started in his stomach, warming it as the brandy had done.
She was not Sarah. Oh no, there was only one Sarah. But she was a very attractive woman – and he was a man. She did not stir his heart, but by God she could stir his body. After the havoc Sarah had wreaked with his emotions he had little desire for anything else. Perhaps, he thought, it would be enough.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The snow came in the night, covering the countryside in a soft white blanket. The moment he awoke the strange luminous light it cast through the gap in his curtains announced its arrival to Adam and he swore softly, turned back the covers and padded across to the window.
It lay unbroken as far as the eye could see, deep and smooth over the parkland, whipped into long flowing ridges and waves by the wind further out on the slopes of the meadow. The thick crust on his window sill gave him some idea of the depth of it and the way the bare branches of the trees hung low beneath its weight confirmed the assessment. This was not just a passing flurry but the onset of a sudden harsh spell. What was more it was still snowing, small firm flakes falling steadily from a leaden sky.
Adam swore again. There would be no flying today – or for some days to come if the look of the sky was anything to go by. They had been very lucky with the weather so far this winter and it was unreasonable to expect the mild spell to continue for ever. But it was infuriating to have to suspend tests now, just when things were going so well.
Adam shivered, padded into his dressing-room and pulled on his trousers. His obsession with teaching himself to fly was such that he was jealous of every hour of every day; the thought of a spell of enforced inactivity was anathema to him. But perhaps at least they could usefully employ the time attempting to fix a passenger seat to the aeroplane. Some time ago Max had expressed the desire to be taken up for a flight as soon as possible but so far other modifications had taken precedence. Maybe today while Max attended to the finer technical details Adam could be working out the best position for a passenger seat and deciding how best to construct it.
This plan was short lived, however, for when the family gathered for breakfast Adam learned to his dismay that the snow had almost certainly made him a prisoner in the house for the day at least.
‘Bloody annoying!’ Hugh was saying as he helped himself to kidneys and bacon from the silver chafing dishes. ‘I’m only here for a few days and I have to choose the very week when we get snowed in!’
‘Surely there is some way out?’ Adam said.
‘If there was I promise you I’d know about it!’ None the worse for his excess of brandy the previous evening Hugh was piling his plate high. ‘ I have an appointment with Clarissa this morning, remember. No, the way this place lies in the fold of the hills we get drifts, God knows how deep, on every side. If the snow comes during the day we can at least have a crack at keeping the road open, though we can’t always guarantee it. But when it comes at night we haven’t a cat in hell’s chance.’
‘Can’t we dig ourselves out?’ Adam suggested.
‘Until it stops snowing there’s no point. As fast as we clear one bit another will drift over and you might as well resign yourself to it.’
‘But for how long?’
Hugh shrugged. ‘Who knows? It doesn’t often last down here like it does further north. But I remember once we were cut off for a week. Sickening, isn’t it?’
Adam made no reply but he resolved that whatever conditions might be he had no intention of remaining marooned for a week. There was far too much to do. If only he could get to the shed it would not be so bad – but if the roads were impassable common sense told him it was quite out of the question to even think about reaching the shed. Fuming with impatience he helped himself to bacon and coffee.
They were soon joined by Gilbert, Lawrence and Alicia. Both men were as annoyed as Adam by the vagaries of the weather but Alicia seemed merely amused by their incarceration. She was looking lovelier than ever this morning, Adam noticed, in a warm red woollen gown, her clear skin seeming to reflect the whiteness of the snow. Since today there was no reason to hurry they lingered over breakfast but when the last of the coffee had gone Gilbert and Lawrence departed to the library to work on what papers they had with them and Adam put on his boots to investigate conditions outside.
He soon discovered they were every bit as bad as Hugh had predicted, deep drifts making it impossible to get much further than the stable-yard, and after exchanging a few words with the grooms who were plodding through the swirling whiteness to attend to feeding and watering the horses he had to admit defeat and go back indoors.
All morning the snow continued to fall and after lunch Adam decided to spend the time making some drawings that would help with the construction of the passenger seat on the aeroplane. It was warm and cosy in his small sitting room with a log fire blazing in the grate and sending showers of sparks up the chimney. He sat at the writing table, absorbed in his work, and when he heard the door opening softly he looked up in surprise to see Alicia standing there.
‘May I come in?’ she asked.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said, though he was annoyed at the interruption.
She came in, closing the door behind her, and crossed to the fire to warm her hands.
‘You look very busy,’ she said conversationally. ‘ What are you doing?’
He explained and though she listened he sensed her mind was not entirely on what he was saying.
‘I think it is most amusing the way you men all mind so much about being snowed in,’ she said at last. ‘I should have thought you would be only too pleased to take an enforced break. I can understand Hugh’s annoyance of course – he is furious at not being able to enjoy Clarissa’s company, but the rest of you … Father and Lawrence have locked themselves away in the library and here are you, still thinking about nothing but your aeroplane even though it will probably be weeks before you can fly it again.’
‘I certainly hope not!’ he said with feeling. ‘And judging by what you were saying last night I should have thought you would be as frustrated as we are.’
She turned, cocking her head to one side. Firelight gleamed on her raven hair.
‘Oh no, Adam, I can think of nothing nicer than being cut off for weeks and weeks from the outside world – especially if I am cut off with you!’
In spite of the veiled invitations of the past weeks her boldness startled him. She smiled, pretending not to notice.
‘You promised last night to initiate me into the mysteries of what is going on in the company of which I am a director,’ she said silkily. ‘I thought that since we are alone now was as good a time as any to begin.’
I promised nothing of the kind, he thought, but the blood was beginning to pound at his temples and congest in his body.
‘You know you don’t give a fig for the business, Alicia,’ he said roughly.
‘That is not true!’ she protested. ‘I am very proud to be a director.’
‘Perhaps, but it is only a game to you. Just as I
am. Why do you persist in trying to make me seduce you?’
She smiled again, standing there quite still before the fire.
‘Perhaps because I want you to,’ she said softly.
He felt the breath ragged in his throat.
‘You don’t know what you are saying.’
‘Oh yes I do. And you are wrong when you accuse me of playing games with you, Adam. I have never been more serious in my life. Come here.’
He almost did as she bade, so great was the power of her magnetism and the response throbbing through his body. But his very masculinity stopped him. He was not a man to be manipulated and seduced by a woman, however attractive. When he took her – if he took her – he would make sure that he was the initiator. He got up, leaning back against the desk, arms folded.
‘You want to know about the business, Alicia. Very well – I shall tell you. I expect it will bore you to tears, knowing as I do your scant interest in it. But you can hardly admit that now, can you?’
Inwardly she swore yet his unyielding dominance was inflaming her. She had planned to use her sexuality to possess Adam body and soul, now to her chagrin she found herself hoist with her own petard. As he talked, outlining plans, describing laws of aerodynamics, she sat on the chintz covered chaise, hands folded tightly to keep them from trembling, eyes demurely lowered because to look at him would have been unbearable torture. Beneath her petticoats her thighs were pressed together as tightly as her hands; they were sensitised and she felt small prickles of desire flickering over them to the congested and most secret places of her body. Why ever was it said that a woman could not enjoy these sensations? she wondered. Why ever was it whispered that sex was a disgusting animal activity which a woman must endure in order to satisfy a man’s basest instincts? She raised her eyes from his shining brown boots, stealing a glance at the long hard columns of his legs which the narrow cut of his trousers did nothing to conceal and longed to feel them wrapped around her, another upward glance at his body, lean yet undeniably powerful beneath the matching jacket and waistcoat, and her breath was so tight in her throat she could scarcely breathe. She lowered her eyes quickly again, not daring to look him in the face. He was still talking, endlessly it seemed, and she had heard not a single word, yet she knew she could have gone on listening to that dark brown voice forever, caressing every rise and fall, intoxicated by the harsh masculinity of it. Her flesh rose and crept in willing response to the tumbled thoughts which seemed to come not from her brain but from the very core of her being and the curious white light reflecting into the room from the snowcovered landscape outside the window imbued her every thought, every emotion, with a dreamlike sense of unreality.
