The sound of someone coughing and clearing his throat made them jump and look around. Sir Jonas was standing beside the car.
‘Good afternoon,’ he said. He did not raise his hat. ‘I believe you are lost.’ He pointed his stick in the direction of the drive and the gates. ‘You will find plenty of people in the village who can be prevailed upon to help you. I wish you a very good afternoon.’
Catriona recovered first. She walked up to the old man and held out her hand. ‘It’s Sir Jonas Pring, isn’t it?’
He did not reply. Neither did he accept her hand.
She spoke with the casual confidence of someone who presumes that her name needed no further introduction. ‘I am Catriona Carsten. We’ve come about the colt you have for sale.’
Anabel held out her hand. ‘Anabel Carsten. It’s wonderful to meet you at last, Sir Jonas.’
He ignored her, adjusting his smart Sunday eyepatch and affecting to be puzzled.
‘Are you from the hunting yard?’ he asked vaguely.
‘No, we event,’ said Anabel evenly.
‘We bought Gladstone from you several years ago,’ prompted Catriona.
‘Gladstone?’ At last Sir Jonas was genuinely mystified. ‘I have no recollection of an animal of that name on our studbooks. Are you here to discuss a prime minister of great historical importance? Or perhaps you are referring to the merits of a particular type of leather-crafted luggage?’ He indicated the bag on her shoulder. ‘With which you have evidently neglected to equip yourself,’ he added.
The women looked at one another. Anabel raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips.
‘Of course,’ continued Sir Jonas, ‘if you are intending to procure a light carriage of that name, I must tell you that regretfully we gave up driving our horses many years ago. The carriages were sold accordingly, although we never dared to presume to replace them with quite such a vulgar statement of wealth as this.’ He rapped the roof of the car smartly with his stick. ‘In which case I am afraid you have made a wasted journey and once again I must bid you good day.’
Anabel stiffened. Catriona tried again. ‘We are absolutely delighted with the horse we bought from you previously. When we heard that you had another of the same bloodline for sale, there was nothing else for it but to come down like a shot to see him.’
The blue eye stared at her. ‘Then if you have already had the good fortune to purchase one of our animals, you will doubtless be aware that we do not, and will not, deal directly with our customers.’ The old man’s tone was icy. ‘I will instruct the agency accordingly and you must pursue the matter with them.’ He pointed to the car. ‘Now I would be obliged if you would leave immediately. You are not invited to return. Good afternoon!’
‘I suppose that means no,’ muttered Anabel.
Sir Jonas stayed resolutely in position until he was satisfied that the car was safely on its way down the drive. Catriona kept an eye on the rear view mirror, waiting for him to turn back towards the house.
‘What an impossible old beast!’ spluttered Anabel. ‘He’s not just potty, he’s downright rude! Now what do we do? We must have that colt!’
Catriona slowed the car to a crawl and stopped just where a fractional thinning in the rhododendron hedge afforded a determined photographer with a long zoom lens a glimpse into the paddock.
‘I for one have absolutely no intention of being sent packing completely empty handed!’ she said forcefully. ‘We’ll have some decent photographs at the very least before we leave!’
Anabel picked up the camera. ‘You’re right! The old swine will be glad enough of our money when he gets the cheque.’
She slipped out of the car and leaned into the hedge, attaching the lens. At that precise moment Kyri jumped the rails from the bridle path through the copse into the paddock, followed by Freyja. Rúna and Nanna cantered to meet them. The colt galloped madly in circles around the paddock.
Catriona gasped and snatched up the binoculars. ‘Are you seeing what I’m seeing, Bel? Have you ever seen anything like that mare?’
‘Never!’ breathed Anabel. She focused the camera on Kyri and started taking pictures.
Catriona grabbed her bag and jumped out of the car.
‘Come on!’ she cried. ‘We’re not taking no for an answer on this one!’
CHAPTER 57
Kyri whickered sharply. Caz slid down from her back and motioned her into the shadows under the trees while Freyja charged across the paddock, bucking and kicking and calling out. She lunged, teeth bared, at the trespassers over the fence as they came running to the gate. Rúna and Nanna galloped after her, keeping the colt securely chaperoned between them.
Caz kept his hat low over his eyes and walked to the gate. He made no attempt to open it and gave the women no chance to introduce themselves.
‘There is no public right of way here,’ he said. ‘You are on private property without invitation. I must ask you to leave.’
Anabel was the first to recover her breath. ‘We want to buy the mare you were riding.’
Freyja reared over them, snorting.
‘I don’t think she will agree to that,’ said Caz.
‘You were riding another mare,’ said Catriona. ‘We saw you quite clearly.’
Caz shook his head. ‘There are no other horses here, other than what you see, and they are not for sale.’
Anabel held up the camera triumphantly. ‘We photographed you!’
‘We both saw her and we have no intention of leaving without her,’ said Catriona briskly, opening her bag. ‘I have a cheque book and pen, and I’m ready to sign. You only have to name your price.’
Caz looked around the paddock. Kyri was nowhere to be seen. ‘I’m afraid you are mistaken.’
‘We have her on film!’ insisted Anabel.
Caz made direct eye contact. ‘Then show me the pictures.’ He held out his hand for the camera. The eyes under the black rim of the hat were compelling.
Anabel stared back, hesitated and slipped the strap over her head.
Catriona grabbed the camera. ‘Don’t you dare, Bel! Those pictures are our only proof.’ She lifted her chin, looking down her recently sculpted nose at Caz. ‘You will not call me a liar, boy! Do you know who I am?’
He smiled suddenly. ‘I have no idea. Show me the pictures,’ he repeated.
‘Very well,’ she said scathingly. ‘As you insist.’
She turned so that he could see the screen and began flicking back through the shots. They were all blank.
Anabel was furious. ‘What have you done, Cat?’ She checked the shots herself. ‘I don’t believe this!’
Caz’s expression did not change. ‘As I said, you are mistaken.’ He slipped his hand into the breast pocket of his riding coat. ‘Now go before I call security to remove you.’
‘What security?’ blustered Catriona. ‘This is perfectly ridiculous!’
She jumped as a gunshot ripped through the air. Pheasants scattered, squawking, out of the copse. Rúna and Nanna hustled the colt back under the trees while Freyja snorted and stood her ground beside Caz. A line of rooks settled in the treetops behind them. A dark bird shape circled high overhead.
Sir Jonas came around the side of the barn, impressively armed with a twelve-gauge, pump-action shot gun.
‘Is this your idea of security?’ sneered Anabel.
‘You are requested to leave,’ repeated Caz.
Sir Jonas stopped level with the two women and raised the gun to his shoulder.
‘Get out!’ he barked. ‘Now!’
Catriona decided to call his bluff. She took a step towards the gun.
‘I’m sure there has been a mistake,’ she said, smiling. She took a leather wallet out of her bag, peeled off a cheque and signed it. She held it out to Sir Jonas. ‘We will accept whatever figure you name, in return for the colt and the mare we saw this boy riding a few minutes ago.’
The old man’s face turned brick red. He trembled with rage. The gun shook in his
hands.
‘Get off my land, viperous whores!’ he shouted. He stripped off the eyepatch. The startled women recoiled speechless, mesmerised by the dreadful glare of the gaping socket and the adjacent blood-shot blue eye.
Caz took the gun, swinging it up against his shoulder in one easy movement, ready to fire, while Sir Jonas ranted, stabbing at them with his walking stick in the direction of the drive. ‘I will take you through the courts, upstart harpies! Your names will be blackened and those of your families! I will ruin you and every fool you have ever associated with, presumptuous harlots!’
The women stepped backwards, instinctively clutching at each other for support. Caz’s eyes narrowed. From where he stood the enemy offered a perfect single target. He could take them both out in one shot. He took aim sighting directly at their faces. He saw the doubt in their eyes and the fear as they stared down the barrel of the gun. He knew the cartridge was live. He didn’t care. He heard the harsh cry of the raven.
Anabel choked. ‘This is absolutely absurd! You can’t shoot us!’
‘I don’t need to.’ He swung up the barrel and pulled the trigger.
The cartridge exploded. The force of the shot blasting over their heads ripped at their hair. The rooks plummeted down from the trees and the women fled. They scuttled, shrieking, back down the drive, bent almost double with their arms flailing as they tried to protect themselves from raking claws and beating wings. The birds swooped around the Jaguar, hammering at the roof and the white faces at the windows, until the car cleared the gates. Freyja led the triumphant cavalry charge thundering around the paddock.
Sir Jonas leaned on the gatepost. He felt light-headed and quite out of breath. His face was pale and filmed with a layer of cold sweat. Caz picked up his walking stick.
‘Thank you, my boy,’ he gasped. ‘Is it done? Are they really gone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then we must secure the gates. I believe I must prevail upon you to help me back to the house.’
He shuffled across the yard, leaning heavily on Caz’s arm, and sat down on the mounting block to wait for the dizziness to pass. At length he pushed back his hat and mopped his brow wearily with his pocket-handkerchief, noting where a last yellow rose was budding among the leafless stems clinging to the cracked pointing in the brickwork along the garden wall. He gazed up at the elegant old house with the patterned brick chimneys towering above the red tiled roof.
‘I fear the raiders are only temporarily repulsed,’ he said sadly.
‘I doubt it,’ answered Caz. ‘I think they will be too frightened to come back.’
‘But we are discovered at last, as I always dreaded we would be. How now to protect Valkyrjan and everything we have worked for?’
‘She’s completely capable of protecting herself. I don’t think we have to worry.’
The old man’s face was grim. ‘Believe me, base-born women of that ilk stop at nothing. They will regroup and attack with even greater determination.’
He fished a spare patch out of his waistcoat pocket and set it carefully to cover his scarred eye socket. The simple gesture restored his courage. He took a deep breath, grasped his stick and stood upright.
‘We will not tolerate a further breach of security,’ he declared more heartily. ‘Fortunately I took note of the registration number of the car as soon as it arrived. Mister Charles must be instructed to make immediate enquiries at his club. One of those dreadful creatures must have a husband whose business interests will not bear close scrutiny.’ He was once more master of himself and his resolution. ‘I must ask you to summon the Guardians, Caspar. We must meet in Council without delay.’
CHAPTER 58
The iron-studded front door was left wide open. A mouse, about to cross the threshold, scuttled into hiding among the flower tubs serene with bright winter pansies, as the old man mounted the steps. Caz followed him into the dimly lit hall. He restored the gun to the discreetly concealed cabinet in the cloakroom and threw the override switch on the security panel to close the main gates. The fire in the study was low. One of the windows had been left open and the room was cold.
They went to the kitchen. Sir Jonas sank down in the cook’s chair, warming his hands at the fire. He sipped a large brandy while the tea was brewing and the coffee grounds were set to simmer in the pot. Caz went to the office to make the necessary telephone calls.
‘Bring a pen and plenty of paper,’ said Sir Jonas. ‘We must consider the immediate future and start planning the appropriate action!’
The blue eye was bright and the colour in his cheeks quite restored when Caz came back to report. ‘Daisy’s coming in about half an hour. The others will be here tonight.’
‘Excellent, excellent! Thank you, my boy! Thank you!’
Caz pulled a couple of stools out from under the big oak table and set the tea tray on one of them beside the old man. He straddled the other, pouring the coffee and pulling a blank sheet of paper off the pile he had brought from the office. He picked up the pen. ‘So?’
‘We must begin by drawing up a list of every man available to us.’
‘Everyone or just Guardians?’
‘Every tried and trustworthy soul must be called up for duty,’ said the old man decisively. ‘Mister Alan must see to it that we are all armed.’
‘How?’
‘Every one of us who is capable of firing a gun must be issued with the appropriate firearm and ammunition. We dare not presume to recruit from among the women folk, although I am quite sure the Lady Sara would make an excellent shot. Can we count upon Mister Jasper’s two young cronies, Mister Tristan and Mister Laurence, to support us during our hour of siege?’
‘You’ll have to ask them.’
‘Mister Jasper must bring them here tomorrow afternoon for tea and I shall consult them personally. I have no doubt that a handsome monthly retainer will persuade them to leave aside whatever casual employment they are presently undertaking and make themselves available to us at a moment’s notice. Make sure they are included on the list.’
Caz wrote down the names: Tristan Freeman. Laurence Stoningham.
Jas’ll have a field day, he thought, trying not to smile.
‘How many are we?’ asked Sir Jonas anxiously.
‘Seven, including you.’
‘So few, so few,’ he groaned. ‘It will barely suffice but it will have to be enough.’ He sipped his tea, considering. ‘I must fetch up my grandfather’s sword from the exhibition room and we must both keep a brace of pistols beside our beds in the event of a night assault. We must call in the lease on the cornfields and step up the security on the boundaries. All entrances must be doubly chained and locked. All exterior doors must be kept locked and Mister Alan must provide both the front and back doors of the house with those rather ingenious spy holes that one associates with the better hotels. He can put one in the study door at the same time. Who knows when the need may arise where we may be obliged to barricade ourselves into a tight corner in order to make a last, desperate stand?’
He poured himself a third cup of tea and sighed. ‘I suppose the number of the those dreadfully expensive surveillance cameras that Mister Charles is so fond of must be increased, and each of us must be issued with a separate pass to open the main gates. I am afraid Mister John must be persuaded away from his duties in the garden, at least until Mister Charles has done his part among our various, time-honoured connections and considers us to be sufficiently out of immediate danger.’
The workings of the ‘old boy’ network were a mystery to Caz, as were the manipulations and manoeuvrings of the master puppeteer, Charles Fordham-Marshall.
‘How long is all that going to take?’ he asked.
‘In the short term, hopefully not too long. Mister Charles is a man of quite considerable influence, all of which can be brought to bear fairly sharply in whatever direction he considers necessary to repulse the advances of the foe. But when they are subdued, others will appear. We must plan for t
he long term and make changes accordingly.’ He put down his teacup and shifted in the chair.
‘You are a Guardian now, Caspar,’ he said firmly, ‘and your place is here at the house. Therefore I would be obliged if you would undertake to move your quarters permanently to the master’s suite in the west wing, leaving me free to concentrate on the surveillance of the eastern flank. The southern boundary can be equally surveyed from both positions and we must trust to the impregnability of the forest to maintain our security to the north.’
Caz shrugged off a pang for the little attic room with the round window.
‘It’ll be handy for the bathroom, I suppose,’ he mumbled gloomily.
‘My grandfather’s old quarters will be a great deal more than handy, I can assure you!’ replied Sir Jonas haughtily. ‘I shall instruct Madame Marguerite upon her arrival and you will immediately liaise with her as to whatever items of furniture you prefer to be put at your disposal. The rooms must be made habitable as from today. I will talk to your mother in the morning about bringing the rest of your belongings up from the lodge.’
Caz put down the pen. ‘She might not be too happy about that.’
The blue eye widened in astonishment. ‘On the contrary, I have no doubt that she will be greatly relieved that I shall not be left to face the foe singlehanded. She has expressed her concern for my solitary state on more than one occasion, I can assure you.’
‘All the same, don’t you think it’s going a bit far?’
Sir Jonas rapped the arm of the chair with his teaspoon. ‘We cannot go far enough in considering our preparations!’ he cried. ‘The world intrudes upon us! We cannot shut it out indefinitely, whatever ideas we may entertain to comfort ourselves to the contrary. Today has shown us how entirely salient Mister Jasper’s more modern viewpoint really is!’
‘I think you are worrying too much.’
The blue eye was piercing. ‘We can never worry too much when it comes to a question of security!’
Caz was not persuaded. ‘I think today has shown us how well protected we really are, and not just because you showed up with a gun.’
Second Night Page 26
