‘Do you think you could move out of the way and let me pass?’ The speaker was a black-eyed girl in a beret, which failed to restrain unruly curls. She was alone in a two-seater which Edward, who loved motor cars, was able to identify as the new Morgan four-wheeler.
‘I’m afraid that isn’t possible,’ said Edward, coming round to speak to the girl. ‘You can see there are ditches on either side of the road.’
‘You’re not a local,’ said the girl, eyeing him curiously. ‘Are you by any chance the owner of that Lagonda I passed nestling in the ditch about three miles back?’
‘I am,’ said Edward, bowing slightly. ‘Like you, I wanted to do the impossible and pass this moving mountain but in my case I was going too fast to stop when I saw it couldn’t be done. It is my desire to save you from making the same mistake and adding to the litter in the streets. By the way, could you very kindly turn off the engine for the moment? I can hardly hear myself speak. It’s a jolly little car – a Morgan, ain’t it? – but noisy.’
‘Oh God,’ the girl said, clutching her brow. ‘This is all I need. I was trying to reach Mersham before dark but I’m hopelessly lost.’
‘Mersham,’ said Edward hopefully. ‘That’s where I’m going – or rather where I was going before I had the bad luck to run into this monster. Hey, you’re going in absolutely the wrong direction, Miss . . . Miss . . . ?’
‘Miss Browne . . . Verity Browne . . .’
‘Miss Browne, why don’t we turn your car round and I can guide you to Mersham. Are you going to the castle?’
‘Not immediately. I am staying at the Mersham Arms. Why, are you?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Edward. ‘I should have introduced myself. I’m Edward Corinth and I was expected at the castle in time for dinner. I am now,’ he checked his watch, ‘two hours late.’
‘Edward Corinth? Lord Edward Corinth, the Duke’s brother?’
‘The very same,’ said Edward bowing again. ‘Have we met before? If we have, please forgive my –’
‘No, no,’ said the girl hastily. ‘I write for Country Life magazine and of course I know your face from . . . oh, you know . . . from the illustrated papers.’ She coloured prettily but recovered herself. ‘I have an appointment with your sister-in-law, the Duchess, tomorrow, to go over the castle. I am writing a series of articles on castles and the editor particularly wanted to include Mersham and she . . . the Duchess, I mean . . . kindly agreed to see me.’
The girl spoke rapidly, a little over-eager, Edward thought, to provide information about herself.
‘Oh, I read Country Life but I don’t remember seeing –’ he said.
‘They have not begun to appear yet,’ said Verity Browne hurriedly.
By this time they had been joined by the wagon driver who had descended to see what was delaying his passenger.
‘I say, my man, think we can swing this little car round so this lady can go back the way she came? I doubt there’s enough room to do a three-point turn but let’s try.’
‘What’s that?’ said Verity.
‘What’s what?’ said Edward.
‘A whatever-you-said-it-was turn.’
‘A three-point turn? You know, reverse and then go forward and so on.’
‘Oh, I see. I’m sure there is room. Let me try. Now, where is reverse?’
‘How long have you had the car?’ inquired Edward nervously.
‘I picked it up today as a matter of fact and so far I haven’t needed to go backwards.’
‘Here, let me see what I can do,’ said Edward officiously, opening the driver’s door. As Verity obediently got out of the car, he was able to get his first proper look at her and he liked what he saw. She was short, not much over five foot he guessed, but her figure was trim and her legs slim and elegant. He suddenly realized she was watching him watching her. He blushed and Verity smiled broadly. Her merry eyes met his in frank enjoyment of his evident appreciation so that he too had to smile.
Hurriedly, he started to lever himself in behind the wheel but jumped back as fast as his gammy leg allowed him. A black Aberdeen terrier was sitting on the seat and despite its small size it gave every impression that it was capable of defending its mistress’s car against all comers. It gave Edward a look of contempt and then, to emphasize its distaste for the intruder, gave three or four little barks.
‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ said the girl. ‘Max, don’t be silly and jealous. This kind man is going to help us turn the car round.’
She scooped up the dog in her arms and thrust it at Edward. ‘Max, meet Lord Edward Corinth. Lord Edward, this is Max.’
‘Delighted,’ said Edward beginning to put a hand on the dog’s head. He withdrew it quickly as the dog gave a snarl and made an attempt to get out of the girl’s clutches.
‘I say, I don’t think Max likes you. I wonder why. He’s usually so nice to people.’
‘Yes, well, I’m not sure I like Max. Anyway, please keep a hold on the animal until I have finished.’
‘Oh, you don’t have to worry. As soon as I have explained to Max you are a friend he will be a pippin. Maxy,’ she said, nuzzling the animal, ‘this is Mummy’s friend and you have to be a good and grateful boy.’
The dog looked unconvinced. ‘It’s really odd,’ said the girl. ‘I have never seen him like this before. Of course, he is a bit class conscious and being a working dog I’m not sure he approves of the aristocracy.’
As Edward made his second attempt to get into the Morgan’s driving seat, he stumbled a little and Verity said, ‘I say, are you hurt? You’ve cut your forehead too.’
‘I did some damage to myself when I put the kibosh on my car,’ said Edward, ‘but don’t worry, it’s nothing serious and it won’t affect my driving.’
He found getting the Morgan into reverse gear painful but tried not to show it. After several attempts he managed to face the car in the opposite direction to which it had been travelling without putting it into the ditch. He got out and thanked his companion of the road for the pleasure of his company and tried to slip him half a sovereign.
‘Oh no, my lord. There be no call for that. I feels to blame for that fine automobile of yours ending up where it did.’
‘No blame to you, Mr . . . I’m so sorry but we met so informally I never got your name.’
‘Ben Tranter, your honour,’ said the wagoner, passing him his bag, ‘I did not think as how –’
‘No matter, it was my own silly fault. At least I avoided doing damage to those magnificent animals of yours. I would never have been able to forgive myself if I had harmed Myrtle or Florence.’ He turned to Verity. ‘Will you allow me?’
‘Be my guest, Lord Edward. Together we may yet reach Mersham Castle before break of day.’
With a final wave Edward got into the Morgan – Verity Browne once again in the driving seat, Max curled peaceably at Edward’s feet which he tried not to move in case the little dog got irritated – and they set off for Mersham. They passed the Lagonda without stopping to inspect it. Edward knew there was nothing he could do until the morning; then he would get Bates to send someone out to look at it. Half a mile further on there was a bang and the Morgan swerved to one side and came to a sudden halt. Max scrambled up on to Edward’s lap and began barking.
‘Gosh, what was that?’ said Verity, rather shaken.
‘Blast it . . . I’m sorry, Miss Browne . . . I did not mean to swear but I do believe we have a puncture. You’re not hurt, are you? I am beginning to think that any vehicle I get into is cursed or else there is some conspiracy aimed at stopping us from ever reaching Mersham. I have learnt my lesson. From now on I am keeping to the main roads. Now, let’s see if your splendid new car is fitted with a spare tyre.’
In fact there were two spare wheels, so obviously punctures were anticipated by Mr Morgan when he designed his motor car, but it took Edward half an hour to remove the damaged wheel and replace it. He sweated over the jack until he wondered if he would have a heart attack. H
e got covered in grime and oil – for some reason Mr Morgan had taken upon himself to protect his precious vehicle with pints of the wretched stuff – but in recognition of Miss Browne’s presence he kept his language to a moderate damn and blast and then only when the wheel fell on his foot. Max, to his relief, stayed in the car and snored.
Verity, on the other hand, hopped about offering him advice and passing him the occasional spanner. ‘I say,’ she said, ‘it was dashed fortunate for me picking you up like that. I mean, if I had been alone when we ran over that nail I would have had to spend the night in the car or walk miles. Who would think we’re in Hampshire? We might be in the middle of the Gobi Desert, except for the cows and the grass and . . . well, you know what I mean.’
It was half-past nine and beginning to get dark when Edward, feeling stiff and tired, restarted the Morgan and they swung on down the road, the headlights illuminating the chalk and stone so it resembled a white ribbon in the gathering gloom. In fifteen minutes they reached the junction with the main road and from there, Edward knew, it was only twenty minutes to the castle.
‘Might I suggest, Miss Browne, as it is so late and you have been so kind as to rescue me that, instead of going to the Mersham Arms, we drive straight to the castle. I am sure my brother would never forgive me if I did not offer you a room for the night. We can telephone the hotel and tell them where you are.’
‘Oh well, that’s very kind,’ Verity began, ‘but it might be better if –’
‘No, I insist, Verity. May I call you Verity? I feel our adventures on the road have brought us closer together than if we had met in the normal way. And you must call me Edward. Well, that’s settled then.’
‘But I’m just a journalist. I’m not sure the Duke would be –’
Edward was feeling too tired to argue so he merely ignored the girl’s protests. ‘Right here, and then first left over the cattle grid,’ he said. ‘I happen to know that Gerald already has a journalist staying at the castle – Lord Weaver. Do you know him?’
‘Oh no,’ said Verity Browne weakly. ‘I don’t mix with press barons or whatever they are called.’
‘Never mind,’ said Edward, ‘this is a good opportunity to start. Think what it might do for your career.’
‘I don’t need that sort of help,’ said Verity stiffly.
‘No, I’m sorry. That was crass of me. Left here.’
Verity soon found herself on a gravel drive and she gasped as she saw the castle silhouetted in the moonlight. ‘Oh, it’s so beautiful!’ she exclaimed, slowing down. ‘It’s magic, pure magic. How amazing actually to live here.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Edward, humbled. ‘I am fortunate. Of course, I don’t live here any more but I come as often as I can and I do regard it as my real home.’
Edward’s leg was now very painful but he tried not to show it as he stumbled out of the car and banged on the great door. After a few moments it was opened by the butler.
‘Bates, it’s me. I had an accident. Oh, and this is Miss Browne. Would you get a bed made up for her? She has been kind enough to give me a lift and I have invited her to stay the night.’
‘Good evening, my lord. Good evening, miss. His Grace was concerned that you might have had an automobile accident. I trust that you are not hurt?’
‘The Lagonda went off the road about ten miles back, my own silly fault. I’ll have to ask you to send out a salvage party in the morning, Bates.’
‘You are limping, my lord. Shall I telephone Dr Best?’
‘No, in the morning. I bumped my knee, that’s all. Just give me a stick, will you?’ He indicated an elephant’s foot in which umbrellas and walking-sticks were crowded. Bates did as he was asked and then stopped open-mouthed as Edward hobbled inside the house. The chandelier in the hall permitted Bates to see for the first time the state of the young master. His hair and face were messed by oil and dirt and his ulster was smeared and torn.
‘His Grace said you were to go straight into the dining-room without changing,’ the butler said doubtfully. ‘The gentlemen are having their port and cigars, sir, but there is cold ham and salad if you and the lady are –’
At that moment the dining-room door opened and the Duke appeared. ‘My dear boy, I thought it must be you,’ he said, coming forward agitatedly. ‘We have been worried. Have you had an accident? Are you hurt? Bates, tell the Duchess Lord Edward has arrived. Ned, what on earth has happened? You’re filthy –’
‘Calm down, Gerald. Yes, I did have an accident. Trying to avoid a hay wagon idiotically I went into a ditch and broke the axle but I’m not hurt – just knocked my knee a bit. Say hello to Miss Browne, my guardian angel, who rescued me, don’t you know. Miss Browne, the Duke of Mersham.’
‘Good evening, Miss Browne. What has my brother been doing to need rescuing?’
Connie opened the drawing-room door with Honoria, Blanche and Celia Larmore just behind. ‘Ned, is that you? Goodness me, where have you been? We were becoming alarmed.’ Then, seeing her brother-in-law’s grimed face and the way he was leaning on his stick, she said anxiously, ‘Has there been an accident? Are you hurt?’
‘No, Connie, don’t be alarmed. I’m not injured – or only my knee. I’m afraid the Lagonda went off the road. It was either that or colliding with a haywain, and this kind lady, Miss Verity Browne, rescued me.’
‘Ah, Miss Browne – do come in,’ said Connie coming forward. ‘We obviously have a lot to be grateful to you for. Ned, give me a kiss. On second thoughts,’ she said, backing away, ‘I will wait to kiss you until you are cleaned up. Why don’t you go and wash off the worst of the . . . whatever it is you are covered with, Ned . . . and then come into the dining-room and tell us your adventures while you eat. Did you say there was cold ham, Bates?’
‘Yes, your Grace, and salad – and shall I bring in the claret too, your Grace?’
‘Yes, please do, Bates,’ said the Duke.
‘Miss Browne,’ said the Duchess, putting out her hand, ‘you have obviously been very kind.’ She hesitated. ‘You are not by any chance Verity Browne who I was expecting tomorrow?’
‘Yes, Duchess, but now I must go and clean up at the hotel.’
‘Certainly not!’ said the Duchess. ‘We would not hear of it, would we, Gerald? You must be our guest. Bates will show you where to wash and then come into the dining-room and have something to eat while we get a room made up for you. We all want to hear what has been happening so we will sit and watch you eat if that does not sound too like the zoo.’
‘Talking of animals,’ Edward said, ‘Miss Browne has with her an Aberdeen terrier.’
‘Shall I take it to the kitchen, miss?’ inquired Bates. ‘Cook will feed the animal and find a place for it to sleep.’
‘That’s very kind,’ said Verity, beaming at the butler. ‘I would be grateful if you could feed and water Max – that’s his name, by the way – but if the Duchess does not mind, he can sleep in my room. He’s very clean and he’ll curl up on the floor in the corner and not make any mess.’
‘Very good, miss,’ said the butler. To Edward’s amazement, Bates lifted the dog out of the Morgan and carried it off, the dog making no protest whatsoever.
Ten minutes later everyone forgathered in the dining-room – even Hermione Weaver – anxious to hear Edward’s tale and take a good look at the strange girl who had succoured him. Edward, who had had a long and eventful day, was quite happy to leave most of the story-telling to Verity, who seemed quite unawed by the company in which she now found herself; she might regularly have burst in on dinner-parties in ducal mansions for all the effect it appeared to have upon her and yet there was nothing brash or vulgar in her evident pleasure at being the centre of attention. Edward, despite the pain in his leg, enjoyed watching this petite, tousle-haired girl, bright-eyed and pink in the face with excitement, digging into ham and salad while, between mouthfuls, she regaled the assembled company with the story of his brush with death as though she had actually been a witness of
the accident. Where Edward might have played down the danger, she exaggerated the damage done to the car and the nearness with which the driver had avoided being seriously injured. Connie kept on glancing at her brother-in-law as if to gauge how much of the story was true, but Edward steadfastly refused to meet her eye. He was in considerable discomfort but he wanted to disguise this from her until the next day. It was unthinkable that he should get Dr Best out of bed, an elderly man on the point of retirement, who in any case would probably be able to do nothing but prescribe rest.
Surprisingly, it was Hermione Weaver who seemed most excited by the new arrivals. It seemed to her mother that, after all, she was not as violently hostile to Edward as she had claimed. When she spoke to him directly it was almost shyly and she seemed even a little jealous that it had been Verity Browne’s good fortune to have come across the motorcar accident and not herself. She also seemed abashed that Verity should have a real job. In Hermione’s circle not many women had paid jobs. It was unthinkable if you were married, of course, and if you were rich and single as she was, there was so much to do that the idea of spending the day as secretary to some businessman or politician was not attractive. However, Blanche did wonder as she looked at her daughter’s animated face if her problems did not stem from sheer boredom. Was she just tired of the empty round of dances, dinner-parties and night-clubs with which she filled her waking hours? Maybe, if Joe could get her a job on one of his papers she might be happier: if Verity Browne could be a journalist why should not Hermione? She decided she would ask her husband when they got to bed that night and see if he thought there was anything in the idea.
Sweet Poison Page 5
