He took it from her, read it and then smiled.
“Thank you, Yolanda. You did that very well and I commend you for bringing me exactly what I required.”
“How can you be sure,” she asked, “that the people who own the ships will not ask Mr. Harpole to pay more and he will still get what he wants?”
“That is an intelligent question, Yolanda, but at the same time there is no reason for me to answer it. But you can be quite sure I shall buy those ships and they will make me a great deal of money.”
He regarded her closely with what she felt was an unpleasant glint in his eyes.
“And, of course, money is what has been paid for the horse you are to ride this morning.”
It was with difficulty that Yolanda managed to say,
“I am looking forward to it, Step-papa, and again thank you very much.”
She left the study thinking how much she had always disliked him, but how difficult it was not to be grateful.
At the stables she found the stallion he had given her was outstanding and easily one of the best looking animals she had ever seen.
She rode him into the paddock on the other side of the stables knowing as she did so that it was, without a single exception, the best horse she had ever mounted.
She took him around the paddock and over one or two jumps.
Then she rode him into the woods – it was always in the woods that she could feel free from the worries and difficulties of the world outside, even when she was young and they were living rather uncomfortably in her father’s country house.
As far back as she could remember her parents had always worried about money and could talk of little else.
It was then that Yolanda had realised that in the woods lay a veritable Fairyland just waiting for her. Once there, under the acid green canopy of the trees, she was lost in a world of her own.
There were no frightened voices, no hidden tears and no unpleasant anticipation. There was no talk of debts or creditors chasing unpaid bills.
There was just the music of the birds and the soft movement of the rabbits in the undergrowth. Yolanda was certain that fairies were hiding in the blossom on the trees, as well as flitting over the flowers round the pool in the centre of the wood.
No one could spoil it and there was no unhappiness.
That is what she wanted to feel now and at the same time she craved forgiveness.
She had played a part in something she knew in her heart was wrong and in a way wicked.
It took her a long time to ride Chestnut, her new horse, through the woods.
Then she galloped him over the fields and finally returned to the house.
It was with an effort she made herself remember that she was to have luncheon with her stepfather.
She decided that today would be a good time to find out what he was planning for the future and she only hoped that, whatever it was, it would not be in London.
In the City there would be visitors coming in for almost every meal, afternoon tea to be taken and endless parties and balls waiting for her in the evening.
She had no wish to be sociable in any way whilst in mourning for her mother, but undoubtedly if it suited her stepfather, she would not be able to refuse.
‘If I can only stay here,’ she thought, ‘at least I can think about Mama in the woods and forget what I had to do last night.’
When she reached the stables she realised that there was just time for her to quickly change before luncheon.
So she ran into the house by the back door and went up the back stairs to her bedroom.
Emily, her new lady’s maid, was waiting to help her change into an afternoon gown.
It was a soft shade of blue and, although she thought it morally wrong to be wearing such a light colour, she did not protest.
Downstairs her stepfather was waiting for her in the drawing room.
As she walked towards him, he pronounced,
“You look very nice, in fact, very beautiful. I am sure that before too long we shall have quite a number of young gentlemen waiting to tell you so.”
“I just had a wonderful ride on Chestnut, Step-papa, and he is the best and finest horse I have ever ridden.”
“I thought you would think so. He cost me a lot of money, but because you are so content, I don’t begrudge a penny of it.”
“I am most grateful,” she managed to say again.
“So am I, so I think we can celebrate with a little champagne for luncheon.”
They walked into the dining room and the butler held a bottle of champagne ready for them.
Yolanda told her stepfather all about her ride and was surprised to find that he was actually really interested.
When the servants had left the room having served the coffee, he said,
“That reminds me, we have another friend of mine coming here tonight for dinner. He’s not a very pleasant man, in fact, I think you will dislike him.”
“Then why is he coming?” enquired Yolanda, amazed that her stepfather should want to spend time with someone he so openly despised.
“Business, my dear, business, which is far more important than our personal feelings.”
Yolanda gave a sigh and then something struck her.
Was this going to be another ‘job’ as her stepfather would say – another ‘job’ for her?
If so, how could she bear it?
CHAPTER THREE
Yolanda did not see her stepfather again until it was teatime.
She had ridden again, this time on one of the other horses, which was a particularly good jumper.
She sailed over all the jumps in the paddock.
Then she had a discussion with the Head Groom asking him to put up some more difficult jumps.
“I’ll ’ave to ask the Master,” he said.
“Of course,” Yolanda replied. “But he did agree with me that we need some more when I spoke with him over luncheon.”
“I’ll get busy on ’em right away, my Lady.”
Yolanda took her horse over the same jumps again.
She could not help thinking it would be exciting if she had someone to ride with her – someone young whom she could race and compete with over the jumps.
Then she thought that she was asking too much.
It was just a miracle that she should have so many wonderful horses to ride.
She knew her father would have loved to have them if he could afford it, and it seemed sad that there were so many horses in the stables and so few people to ride them.
At the same time all her stepfather’s friends might be like Mr. Harpole and if they were, she had no wish to meet them.
She was feeking a little apprehensive after what he had said about the man who was coming this afternoon.
Several hours later Mr. Garrack came into the drawing room for tea.
It was arranged in front of the sofa and he immediately asked Yolanda,
“Did you have a good ride this afternoon?”
“It was fabulous, thank you, Step-papa. By the way, I hope you don’t mind, but I told the Head Groom that you agreed to some more jumps in the paddock.”
“No, of course not and you were quite right to do so. I had forgotten all about it as a matter of fact, but when the new horses arrive we must keep them well exercised.”
“I think that means that you will have to ride more frequently than you do already,” suggested Yolanda.
“I am too busy to spare the time.”
“I am certain that Mama would say that you should take more exercise than you do at the moment. She always thought that you spent too much time at your desk and not enough in the saddle.”
Her stepfather laughed as she meant him to do.
“I will follow your mother’s wishes – as I always have and I will ride with you tomorrow morning.”
“Perhaps they will have some more jumps up by that time,” Yolanda added optimistically.
She passed him various plates of food, but h
e shook his head.
“If I take more exercise, as you suggest, I shall be able to eat more. As it is I am getting fat.”
He was actually a very slim man.
Yolanda could not imagine that however much he ate, he would put on much weight.
“I think you are exaggerating. Therefore as I cannot eat all this tea myself, the chef will be disappointed if every plate goes back untouched. We will have to buy a dog.”
Her stepfather laughed.
“I suppose the excuse that the dog has eaten the tea is better than nothing. I have often thought that we lack dogs here and I will see about it the next time I am in London.”
“That will be marvellous,” enthused Yolanda.
There was a slight pause and she looked at him nervously.
“My friend, the one I told you about,” Mr. Garrack began, “is called Cecil Watson. He is an uncouth man for whom I have no liking, but he is an extremely astute businessman.”
“If you do not like him, why do you have him down here? Can you not see him at your office in London?”
“That is a very sensible question,” he replied, “and I will tell you the answer. When I have people here they are impressed, so I manage to manipulate them far better than if I am sitting in an office which is what they expect.”
Yolanda could see his reasoning and nodded slightly.
She was aware that the house with all its beautiful furnishings and stupendous pictures was certainly not to be expected of the ordinary businessman.
Nor was the garden with its masses of flowers and broad acres of land stretching out as far as the eye could see.
After a moment she enquired,
“When the people who visit you are impressed, do you obtain a far better bargain out of them than you would otherwise?”
“Exactly, Yolanda, and Cecil Watson is what one might call a ‘prime bargainer’ when it comes to business.”
There was silence and then Yolanda asked him in a rather small voice,
“What do you want me to do?”
“Very much the same as you did the other night,” he replied. “But actually you need not take any notes. Just look quickly at what is written either on a letter or a notebook for the name and address of the man he is negotiating with in Germany.”
“In Germany!” exclaimed Yolanda.
“I know German is one of the lessons you had at the Convent. Therefore it will not be too difficult for you to remember it.”
“No, of course not. I can read German very well.”
“Watson is having a room with a boudoir, so it will therefore be easier for you to find what I need than if you had to go to his bedroom.”
Yolanda wanted to say that wherever she had to go, it was unpleasant and something she hated having to do.
However, she realised that it was useless to ask her stepfather to find out what he required in a different way.
“Now be a good girl,” he said, rising from the table, “and I’ll try to think of an even better present for you than Chestnut.”
He left the drawing room before she could reply.
She jumped up from the table and walked slowly to the window.
She thought once again how degrading it was to be paid for spying on his behalf – there was no other way to put it.
She knew that both her father and mother would be shocked at what she was doing.
But what was the alternative?
To try to find herself a job without the slightest idea of how she could begin to do so?
She stood looking blindly at the trees, the flowers and the fountain.
And then gradually their beauty seemed to seep into her soul.
The feeling of revolt and disgust faded away.
‘Surely,’ she asked herself, ‘it is worth anything to stay in a place as beautiful as this? Although I am shocked at myself, no one will ever know that I am doing something which puts me on a par with a pick-pocket!’
When she climbed upstairs to dress for dinner, Mr. Watson had just arrived.
He was talking with her stepfather in his study.
She did not meet him and had no wish to.
She saw to her surprise he had brought his valet – a strange servant she had never seen before was assisting the footmen.
They were carrying Mr. Watson’s luggage into one of the rooms in the same corridor where she slept.
She thought uncomfortably that now there was one more person she would have to avoid.
She wondered if her stepfather was aware that Mr. Watson had brought a valet with him – he might say that it was too dangerous for her to go into the boudoir, where his despatch case would obviously be placed.
It was then she remembered something.
Unlike the first job she had done, her stepfather had not, this time, given her a key.
Yolanda wondered if he had omitted it.
Alternatively he might not have known till his guest arrived what type of despatch case he would be using.
Then, almost as if she had spoken her thoughts out loud, there was a knock on the door just as Emily was helping her out of her gown.
Emily opened the door.
“I wish to speak with her Ladyship for a moment,” Yolanda heard her stepfather say. “Please wait outside, I shall not be long.”
He entered the room closing the door behind him, but Yolanda did not move until he was close beside her.
Then he held out his hand and she saw there was a key resting in his palm.
“This is what you will require,” he told her.
“He has brought a valet with him, Step-papa.”
“So I have just realised, but he will be sleeping on the top floor with the other men servants. If he is hanging around before Watson goes to bed, you will have to wait until he is asleep.”
Yolanda stared at him.
When he was talking business, he spoke in a sharp hard voice – very different to the way he spoke when he was being pleasant and sociable. Before she could protest, he added quickly,
“You will be quite safe in the boudoir. I will see to it that he goes to bed and instantly falls asleep.”
Yolanda wanted to say that he had set her an impossible task, but in her heart she knew the answer.
However, before she could say anything, he walked across the room and pulled open the door.
“Don’t be late for dinner, Yolanda.”
Then as Emily came in, he had gone.
Yolanda recognised that even if she tried to protest, he would not listen.
Quickly, Yolanda put the key away in the drawer.
Then she was silent as Emily helped her undress.
She climbed into her bath arranged as usual in front of the fireplace. It was delightfully scented with the oil of white violets that Yolanda always enjoyed.
But tonight she was feeling too anxious and afraid of what she had to do later to relax and enjoy the warm, scented water.
When she had finished dressing in a very pretty gown, she walked to the window.
Looking out at the clear night sky, it seemed as though the stars were coming out just to help her.
She wanted them to ease away her strong feelings of resentment and fear, which were still with her, just like a physical pain in her chest.
“You looks lovely, my Lady, and that’s the truth,” Emily exclaimed behind her. “It seems a real pity there be no handsome young men here as you could dance with.”
Yolanda laughed.
“I expect all the young men you are thinking about have work to do or else they are in the Army and have no time to visit the country.”
“Then you, my Lady, should be in London. There be parties there every night and I expects all the debutantes as they call ’em, who be your age are havin’ a good time.”
“I am really quite happy here with the horses.”
She thought, as she walked downstairs, how true that sentiment was.
What she was not content about was meeting Mr. Watson.
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As the footman pulled open the door of the drawing room for her, she could hear a voice, rather uneducated and too loud.
Him.
When she went in, her stepfather and his guest were standing together at the far end of the room with a glass of champagne in their hands.
“Well, I says to him,” Mr. Watson said as if he was finishing a story, “that’s all you’re going to get and you’re damned lucky to get that!”
Yolanda walked slowly towards them.
Her stepfather saw her.
“Oh, Cecil, here is my stepdaughter, Lady Yolanda Wood, who I don’t think you have met.”
The man standing beside him turned round.
Yolanda saw, as she had already anticipated, that Cecil Watson was undoubtedly a very ugly man with heavy features and sharp eyes.
He was rather bigger than she had expected. In fact he was far taller than her stepfather whom she had always thought of as quite a large man.
They shook hands and she realised then that he was undoubtedly an unpleasant character.
There was something about him that she not only disliked but wanted to avoid.
“You didn’t tell me,” Mr. Watson was saying, “that I was to have the pleasure and privilege of meeting anyone as beautiful as this young lady tonight. Where have you been hiding her?”
“She has just come back from Paris where she was being educated,” explained Mr. Garrack.
Mr. Watson sniggered.
“That might be said of us too,” he blurted out.
“There’s always a lot to learn when you goes to Paris and trust you, Oliver, not to miss the prettiest of them all!”
He dug his host in the ribs as he spoke and both men guffawed with ribald laughter. Yolanda looked away in hardly concealed disgust.
Next, the butler announced dinner and all three of them walked into the dining room.
It was quite obvious from the way Mr. Watson ate and drank that he intended to enjoy himself at his friend’s expense.
In fact Yolanda had never seen any man drink so much so quickly. A footman filled up his glass as soon as he put it down.
Much of the men’s conversation contained innuendos. Fortunately Yolanda did not understand – not that she wanted to.
A Battle of Brains Page 5
