Danger to the Duke Page 4
“Here be the address, sir, of the Solicitors and perhaps they’ll be able to help you better than we have.”
“You have both been extremely helpful,” replied Michael, “and I am very grateful. I am sure the Major will want to thank you himself when he returns.”
“You tell him,” the woman said, “we have kept the house clean and decent for him. Now we knows he be coming home it’ll look just as it used to when we first comes here.”
“I am sure you will do your best,” said Michael. “Will you please tell me your names.”
“There, I should have told you, sir, when you arrived.
I be Turner and you tell the Major we’re still capable of serving him for a few more years.”
He shook hands with both of them and Turner opened the back door for him.
As he climbed up the stone steps he waved to Mrs.
Turner who was standing in the window watching him.
As he walked away he was considering what he should do next.
One thing was quite certain, that there were some strange goings on, as the Turners would have said, at Grangemoore Hall. There had also been a note of fear in the way they spoke to him.
Because of his work in the Great Game, Michael was very perceptive about anyone he came into contact with.
He knew by the way people spoke what they were feeling, even if they did not reveal it in words.
He had been well aware that Mrs. Turner had been chatting away as if she could not help it and that Turner was afraid of what she was saying and certain, if she was indiscreet, it would land them in trouble.
How, he asked himself, could they possibly be so affected by a man who was miles away from them?
A man who, as far as he could ascertain, did not come to London or stay in the house where the Turners were caretakers.
‘There is indeed something very extraordinary going on,’ he pondered, ‘and I must get to the bottom of it.’
As he reached his hotel he decided that he would not yet call on the Solicitors. If it was something they were responsible for, he was unlikely to hear a true account from them of what was happening.
He determined to adopt a strategy that he had often settled on in his undercover forays in India, something he had never dreamed would be necessary in England.
He would visit Grangemoore Hall under a false identity at first, before he would formally arrive as the new Duke.
He was convinced that if he did journey there with all flags flying ready to take his grandfather’s place, anything that was wrong would be brushed quickly under the carpet and it would be extremely difficult for him to obtain a clear picture of the truth.
He turned over in his mind what the visiting Statesman in India had said to him, together with the knowledge he had now gleaned from Mrs. Turner.
Something was happening that was abnormal.
Something was occurring which he would have to deal with firmly.
‘I want to see the situation exactly as it is,’ he told himself, ‘and not what they want me to see when I arrive.’
As he entered his hotel, he saw that his luggage was still lying in the hall.
“You’re back, sir,” called the porter. “I was wondering if you’d be long.”
“Yes, I am back,” replied Michael, “but unfortunately I have to leave immediately for the country.”
“I’m sorry, sir, to hear that.”
“Now I need your help. Tell me where I can hire a chaise I can drive myself with one or two really good horses.”
“That’s not difficult, sir, the Livery stable be just a street away in Piccadilly. It’s the best in London and I’m sure they will accommodate you even though it’s unusual for a gentleman to want to drive their horses.”
“Thank you very much. I will go and see them at once and, of course, I will tell them they have been recommended by you.”
The porter described with much gesticulation of his hands how to reach the Livery stable in Piccadilly.
When Michael arrived he asked to see the owner or manager, whoever was available and as this was one and the same man, he was shown into his office.
Because he was used to dealing with men of all sorts and types, Michael obtained exactly what he wanted in the minimum of time.
He suggested, which the manager accepted, that he should deposit a considerable sum of money with the Livery stable as he wanted to have the opportunity of buying the horses and chaise if they suited him. Alternatively if he had no further use for them, he would pay a larger fee for the time he used them.
Michael fortunately had all the money that was required with him in cash and so there was therefore no need for him to give his real name and he could continue to be Martin Morris.
He signed a number of forms and then went with the manager to inspect his horses. There were two which were outstanding and he was told they had only recently been acquired by the stable.
The manager was in fact reluctant to part with them, but Michael soon managed to persuade him to do so.
He was also allowed to take the most comfortable and best sprung chaise amongst a dozen available and the deal was finally concluded.
Michael then asked if the chaise and the horses could be delivered to the hotel in three quarters of an hour’s time.
“I am going to have luncheon before I start my journey,” he said, “and afterwards I will be setting off for the country.”
“I don’t know how you’ve persuaded me, sir, to part with my best horses and my best chaise,” the manager told him ruefully.
“I promise you it is something you will not regret,”
replied Michael.
He knew that if he used his persuasive powers to obtain something he wanted he was invariably successful and at the moment he was determined to travel to Norfolk in comfort.
After he had eaten an excellent luncheon his new acquisition was waiting for him outside.
He tipped the porter very generously and thanked him for his excellent service.
His luggage was tied onto the back of the chaise and he set off.
As he drove up Park Lane he looked at Grangemoore House and thought how helpful the Turners had been to him.
‘I will have the house redecorated,’ he told himself.
‘Turner shall go back to being the butler and Mrs. Turner shall have all the help she needs in the kitchen.’
Then it was almost as if there was an inner voice warning him. It would be a mistake to count his chickens before they were hatched and there were many problems for him to confront.
Problems which would have to be solved before he could take his place securely and without difficulties as the Fifth Duke of Grangemoore.
It was a challenge!
As he drove on Michael was thinking that his life ever since he had left England six years ago had been a constant challenge.
Now he was back home and there was another challenge waiting for him.
‘At least,’ he thought to himself, ‘life will not be dull.’
That was what he had been afraid it might be when he had left India so hurriedly. He would have nowhere in particular to go and no one to see.
Now things were very different.
Just as in India when he set off on some wild, mysterious and secret mission, he had not the slightest idea how it would end.
For the moment, however, the sun was shining and the birds were singing.
*
As he emerged from the traffic of London, the buildings on either side of him grew fewer and he was in the country.
Everything was green, lush and beautiful and after the wide open plains of India, the trees, the hedges and the fields held an indescribable appeal.
He realised, although he had not imagined it for a long time, that there would be violets and primroses growing in the hedgerows and there would be bluebells in the woods and daffodils making a golden carpet under the trees.
Michael felt the beauty of the countryside seep into
him and his whole body responded.
After all, the blood in his veins was English and he was home in his own country.
‘How could I possibly be luckier?’ he asked himself as he drove his horses a little faster and he covered quite a number of miles in the next three hours.
He had bought a map at the Livery stables and so he was confident that he was heading in the right direction.
‘In another hour or so,’ he decided, ‘I can stay the night and give the horses a good rest – they make an excellent team and are certainly worth every penny I paid for them.’
The countryside he was now passing through was sparsely inhabited.
There were a great number of woods which he supposed belonged to rich landlords and there were streams running through pasture land where cows and sheep were grazing.
The roads had become narrower and not so well kept as they had been earlier.
It was quiet and pastoral and the sun was very different from the burning sun in India.
Michael was driving down a straight stretch of road that was only a little wider than a lane and then he saw ahead that there was someone standing in the middle of the road.
It was the only person in sight.
As he drove nearer he saw that it was a woman and she was holding up her hands as if to stop him.
There was no question of being able to pass her, so Michael therefore drew in his horses, coming to a stop just in front of the woman who he now saw was young and slim.
When the horses came at a standstill, she ran round the side of the chaise and Michael could see that she was very young and very pretty.
“Please,” she pleaded, “please take me with you.
Please, it is very important!”
The words seemed to tumble out of her lips and Michael looked at her in surprise.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked. “I am afraid I have no time to spare.”
“Anywhere and please let me come with you. It is of the utmost importance to me.”
“But where do you want to go?” Michael enquired again.
“It does not matter I just have to get away or they will catch me.”
There was a note of terror in her voice which Michael knew was genuine.
He had heard many people asking favours or mercy from him and he was never at a loss to know for certainty whether they were genuine or false.
The girl glanced anxiously over her shoulder.
Michael saw a little way ahead there was a pair of large iron gates with a lodge on either side of them.
“Please, please help me,” she begged. “I am desperate.”
“Very well,” Michael replied. “Climb in.”
He saw she was carrying a large bundle and she ran round to the other side of the chaise, threw her bundle on the floor and then jumped in beside it.
As she did so she crouched down on the seat hiding her face, trying, Michael realised, to make herself invisible.
Automatically, because it was something he would have done in similar circumstances, he pulled a rug that was lying on the seat over her.
It made it impossible for anyone looking at the chaise as it passed to notice that there was anyone beside him.
He drove on and as he reached the gates, two men came running out.
One looked at the road to the left and the other man stared at Michael and then as if he was of no particular interest, he ran down the road from which the chaise had just come.
Michael drove on and he did not make the mistake of deliberately forcing his horses to move noticeably faster.
He drove for over half a mile before he said,
“I think you are safe now. There is no one about.”
The girl pushed back the rug.
Now as Michael looked down at her he saw she was one of the loveliest young women he had ever seen.
At the same time there was an expression of terror in her eyes – it was something he had never expected to see once he was home in England.
“Did anyone see me with you?” she asked in a trembling voice.
“As we passed some iron gates,” answered Michael,
“two men came running out. But I am quite sure they had no idea that you were with me.”
The girl gave a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, thank you. If you had not been so kind to me, they would have taken me back with them.”
The way she spoke told Michael all too clearly how terrified she was.
“You are safe for the moment,” he told her quietly.
“So suppose you arrange yourself more comfortably and tell me what this is all about.”
“It was very clever of you”, she murmured in a small voice, “to pull the rug over me. They could not see me through it.”
“Not unless they were clairvoyant,” admitted Michael.
She gave a little sound which was almost a laugh.
Then she put her legs down on the floor and covered them with the rug. He saw her hands were clasped together in her lap.
Because she was silent he looked at her enquiringly.
“I am just saying a little prayer,” she said, “and thanking God that you saved me.”
CHAPTER THREE
Michael drove on for a little while in silence.
“I am still waiting to hear why you have run away.”
He felt the girl beside him give a little shiver and she mumbled in the same small frightened voice,
“I had to go – there was nothing else to do. I prayed and prayed something would save me and I am sure it was Papa who told me – the only thing I could do was to run away.”
“Is your father dead?”
The girl nodded.
“Yes, he died nearly a year ago and I was left with just my stepmother.”
The way she said the last two words told Michael that this was the root of the trouble.
Stepmothers were traditionally cruel and unkind and hers was obviously no exception.
“What is she doing to you?”
For a moment he thought the girl beside him was not going to answer, but then she replied,
“She has told me I have to marry a man who is old and horrible. He is cruel to his horses and his dogs and I cannot bear him near me.”
There was no doubt of the terror that lurked behind her words.
Again Michael drove on a little before he commented,
“Surely you have some relatives who would help you, if that is how you feel.”
“Step-mama is my Guardian by law. She keeps telling me I have to do whatever she wishes me to do.”
“I see your problem,” said Michael, “but now you have run away, where are you going and who will hide you?”
Now there was a definite pause and it lasted until he wondered if the girl was going to refuse to answer him.
At last she said very slowly,
“Papa has a sister who lives in Northumberland.
Perhaps I could reach her, but I have no money with me.”
“No money!” ejaculated Michael. “How do you think you are going to manage?”
“I do not know,” she answered. “I just flew into a panic when Step-mama said he was coming over this afternoon and I had to be nice to him and let him kiss me.”
There was an unmistakable note of horror in her voice.
Michael knew from long experience that what she was telling him was genuinely upsetting her and he would have known at once if she was pretending or putting on a theatrical act.
He was aware that, like a child, she was petrified and he could quite understand why she had run away.
As if she was thinking of what she had already said, after a moment she murmured,
“I have some of Mama’s jewellery with me and of course I can sell it.”
“If you are wandering about alone,” Michael cautioned her, “it is very likely to be stolen from you. You must understand that it would be very dangerous for you to try and travel to Northumberland on your own.”
“Suppose I turn back and talk to your stepmother and ask her to take better care of you.”
“No! No! You cannot do that, she would not listen to you and I think the man she wants me to marry has come to an arrangement with her.”
“An arrangement?”
“She was very angry when Papa’s will was read,” the girl continued, “because he has left me his house and all his money. I think after he married Step-mama he realised how wicked she really is.”
“Now suppose you start at the beginning,” proposed Michael, “and tell me who you are and the whole story so that I can help you. I am supposed to be rather good at solving other people’s problems and I feel sure I can find a solution to yours.”
“I wish you could,” said the girl. “I have thought and thought and there is no way I can escape from Step-mama except by running away.”
She drew in her breath and looked at him gratefully.
“I am thanking God over and over again that you were outside the gates otherwise the servants would have dragged me back as she had ordered them to do.”
Now there was a little break in her voice and Michael recognised that she was not far from tears.
He manipulated his horses carefully round a bend in the road before he said,
“Now tell me your story from the beginning and let us start with your name.”
“It is Adela,” said the girl, “and I think it would be wise not to tell you my surname just in case someone asks if you have seen me and you can quite honestly say you do not know who I am.”
Michael considered that she had made a good case for being anonymous and anyway there was no point in arguing about it.
“My name is Martin and now we are introduced.”
“It seems a funny way of meeting, but I feel as if you were sent down from Heaven at exactly the right moment for me.”
Michael laughed.
“I have never been thought of as an Archangel before, but of course I take it as a compliment.”
“You might have said ‘no’ and that you would not take me. Then they would have dragged be back and unless I killed myself I would have had to marry that horrible beastly man.”
“Well, he cannot approach you for the time being,”
Michael told her in a practical tone, “so do go on with your story.”