Inherit the Skies (38 page)

Life in the Morse household had done nothing to make him happier. Money was no longer scarce it was true but once he had come to take the relaxed state of finances for granted he quickly began to find other things that were unsatisfactory. He was no longer the sole object of his mother's attention for one thing. Her new husband was far more demanding of her time than his father had ever been. And there were the Morse children, all older than him with the exception of James, all bursting with a confidence which only exacerbated his own feeling of inferiority, all far better looking than he. Leo had never been an attractive child, with his narrow face, prominent nose and cheekbones and rather thin lips, but he had never been as aware of his own lack of beauty as he was when he looked at the Morses with their good features and clear blue eyes. They disliked him and looked upon him as an interloper he knew and he felt they were united against him, again with the exception of James who attached himself to Leo like a shadow. But far from being grateful to James for his obvious adoration Leo despised him. James was ‘wet', preferring his paint box to any rough and tumble game, always whining, often sickly, and prone to bursting into tears. Alliance with him, Leo felt, would be a reflection on himself yet friendship with the others was impossible. They treated him with thinly veiled resentment and he hated them for their overflowing confidence and for excluding him from all the things they took for granted.

Alicia he hated most of all. Because she was closest to him in age she took her lessons with him and he had thought that since she was a mere girl his position as kingpin was impregnable. But Alicia had had other ideas. Her pride and disdain were apparent in everything she did and the fact that James hero-worshipped him made him a target for her spite also. He did not want James's adoration, yet perversely he was hurt and annoyed when Alicia made it clear that at a snap of her fingers she could take even that from him.

Matters had deteriorated still further when Sarah Thomas came to Chewton Leigh. Again he had felt that now, at least, he would no longer be last in the pecking order, again he had been disillusioned. Gilbert, who had no time for him at all, doted on her and even the tutor, Richard Hartley, seemed to favour her. Briefly he had formed an alliance with Alicia, whose hatred for Sarah was obvious, but he had been unable to capitalise even on this for the defects in his character made him seem more sly than bold, and Alicia was too strong and independent to wish to include him in any of her plans and schemes to disenchant her father with Sarah.

Boarding school had taken Leo away from his enemies the Morses but he had made no lasting friends there either. The chip on his shoulder made him sour and truculent when things went wrong and he crowed unpleasantly over his successes so that not surprisingly no-one ever seemed genuinely pleased for him. But he was a clever boy and with no chums and no schoolboy larks to distract him he produced a set of examination results which would have been the delight of his schoolmasters had they been able to summon up even a cursory liking for him.

Only his mother seemed willing to fight his corner. She championed him to such an extent that it only had the effect of making the others dislike him more and he relied on her encouragement as heavily as he had done as a small child.

‘Go to university, Leo,' she had advised him. ‘ Then you will be in a position to head Morse Motors one day. Lawrence might be Gilbert's eldest son but he is a thick head. You can run rings around him. Hugh will never take the slightest interest in the business and neither will James, unless I am much mistaken. He is talking, believe it or not, of becoming an artist. As for Alicia, she is only a girl. She will marry and spend her time raising a family and entertaining her husband. But you are clever. If you do well Gilbert will come to realise it is to you he must look to carry on the family empire.'

This advice had echoed precisely Leo's own thoughts. He was aware that his intellect was his greatest asset and he had long harboured an ambition to beat the Morses at their own game. How wonderful it would be to take control of the family firm! He could see himself sitting at the head of the long polished oak table in the boardroom, taking the decisions, controlling all their destinies. And oh, how sweet revenge would be! When he was in charge he would make them pay, all of them, for their treatment of him. They would discover then the frustration of having to wait on
his
pleasure, of knowing that it was he, not they, who reigned supreme in this world of theirs. He would do things his way; he would have all the money and power he wanted. And he could do it. His mother was right. There was not one among them fitted for the throne. All he had to do was play his cards correctly, gain the qualifications to impress Gilbert and the experience he would need of the running of the firm, then sit back and reap his rewards.

Gilbert might have slighted him in the past but this time he would not be able to afford to do so. Not if he wanted to keep Morse Motors successful – and in the hands of the family.

These thoughts had spun a strong skein of ambition in Leo de Vere. It became his driving force and sustained him through all his depressions and moments of self-doubt. Each real or imagined slight only served to strengthen it until it became an obsession with him. Revenge – the revenge of being all powerful whilst they were forced to be as puppets in his hands. Day by day he had seen his goal coming closer. He would be going to university soon – three more years and he could begin to insinuate himself into a striking position at the works. Lawrence was not fit to take the reins, he had spent time there during the vacation and seen with his own eyes how slow and indecisive Gilbert's eldest son was. His mother was right, just as she always was. With her help it would be easy.

And now, just when it seemed he was moving inexorably towards his goal, someone had appeared on the horizon whom he recognised as a threat.

At first he had not taken undue notice of Adam Bailey, dismissing him as something of a crackpot who, as a friend of the upstart Sarah, was barely worthy of consideration. The first seeds of disquiet had been sown when he had recognised Gilbert's enthusiasm for the young man and his outlandish project but he still had not fully understood why he experienced concern. Adam was nothing more than a customer to whom Gilbert had given a certain amount of backing. He was not, and never would be, a member of the Morse dynasty.

But this morning he had had a conversation with James which had caused him to think again.

Relations between James and Leo had never changed much since their childhood days – Leo still disliked the quiet artistic young man and his airy-fairy notions; James still seemed totally unaware of that dislike. This morning both of them had been late for breakfast, Leo because he had been working late into the night at the books he thought would stand him in good stead when he started at Cambridge, James because he had been drinking and playing cards with some of his wilder friends. As they helped themselves to kidneys and bacon from the silver chafing dishes on the sideboard Leo had attempted to avoid conversation but James had had other ideas.

‘I say, I do believe Alicia is in love at last,' he remarked cheerfully.

‘Really?' Leo said discouragingly, opening the copy of the day's
Times
which Gilbert had left on the breakfast table. Alicia's affairs of the heart were not of the slightest interest to him.

‘Haven't you noticed?' James enquired, pouring himself black coffee from the silver coffee pot. ‘She has taken a great shine to this Adam Bailey fellow. In fact I have never seen Alicia set her cap at anyone with such determination.'

Leo grunted, his eyes still roving over the columns of financial news.

‘He's a clever fellow,' James continued unabashed. ‘Father is impressed with him I know. But I don't think it's his cleverness Alicia is interested in. She's fallen for the chap, not a doubt of it.'

Leo was aware of the first niggle of disquiet. ‘He's shown no interest in her has he?' he said, his tone surly. ‘I thought he was Sarah's friend.'

James grinned. ‘That is hardly likely to stop Alicia, is it? You know as well as I do what Alicia is like when her heart is set on something. She invariably gets what she wants. And she wants Adam Bailey – I'd wager a month's allowance on it. As for Adam – well he'd be a fool to upset her, wouldn't he? He and that friend of his with the withered arm have scarcely two half-pennies to rub together from what I hear of it. They're scraping the barrel to finance this project of theirs. Think what a difference it would make to them if he was to take up with Alicia! It would ensure father's backing. He wouldn't want Alicia married to a penniless adventurer. He'd pull out all the stops to make sure Adam had whatever he needed to be successful. Even take him into partnership if they were to get married, I shouldn't wonder. Oh yes, Adam would be a fool to ignore Alicia's interest – and he is no fool. There will be wedding bells before the year is out, mark my words, unless Alicia changes her mind. And somehow I don't think she will.'

Leo swallowed hard. The succulent kidney seemed to have turned to cardboard in his dry mouth. Alicia and Adam. If James was right and she wooed him with the promise of Morse backing for his project it could be the undoing of all Leo's carefully laid plans. There was no Morse fitted to take over the family empire – but supposing Adam became Alicia's husband? Then things could be very different. Of course, as yet it was nothing but mere hypothesis. But as James said, Alicia was a very determined young woman. What she wanted she invariably got.

He set down his knife and fork with a clatter and pushed back his plate. He was no longer hungry.

‘I'm going to the works,' he said. ‘I'll see you at dinner, James.'

‘Oh!' James looked disappointed. He had been enjoying Leo's company, oblivious as ever of the other's impatience with him. ‘In that case I think I shall take my easel and go out to do a spot of painting. It's a nice day. The light is just right.'

Leo left the room without replying. He got himself ready and drove into Bristol and all the while the thoughts which their conversation had stirred up rankled in him like the sour taste left in the mouth after a night's hard drinking. It would be just his luck if Alicia were to upset the applecart now. Why was it that things always went wrong for him?

At the works he chatted with Frank Raisey, the general manager, and nothing that was said did anything to improve his humour. Raisey was raving about Adam and Max and their flying machine and the progress in powered flight in general. Since Bleriot had crossed the Channel in July, skimming a few feet above the water, losing his way for lack of a compass and finally landing in a meadow behind Dover Castle things had moved apace. A revolutionary new aero-engine had been designed in France and Raisey felt sure it would not be long before the £10000 prize for linking London and Manchester would also be won. And he believed Adam and Max with their home-grown version would not be far behind.

‘And with an engine made here at Morse Motors,' he said, swelling with pride. ‘ Makes you proud to be a part of it, eh lad?'

Leo turned away. He did not feel proud. He felt bitter and envious. Reflected glory meant nothing to him. It was his own success he was interested in.

When Raisey mentioned that Sarah had left the works early today to go riding with Alicia Leo was puzzled – and suspicious. The girls despised one another. They would never have sought one another's company unless they had very good reason to. The arrangement seemed to smack of a conspiracy of some kind and Leo did not like it one bit.

He left the works in a foul temper. Never the most sympathetic of drivers, today he drove fast and badly, crashing gears and swearing when he hit a pothole or bump in the road. Damn the Morses. Damn all of them. He'd show them yet!

He was almost back at Chewton Leigh when he rounded a bend in the lane and saw the two horses ahead of him – Alicia on Baron, Sarah on Sweet Lass. Another wave of fury roared in his ears. He put his foot down hard and rocketed towards them. Why the hell should he slow down for them? They could just get out of his way. As he approached them Baron sidestepped nervously and he honked raucously on his horn. Stupid animals. Stupid girls. He honked again, pulling out to pass them and roaring off down the lane. Faintly, above the noise of the engine, he was aware of Baron's frightened whinny and the raised voice of one of the girls. Just ahead of him the road forked obtusely – left to Chewton Leigh House, right to the farms in the valley bottom. With a smile of grim satisfaction curling his lips Leo took the left fork and did not look back.

To lose control of the horse you are riding is a frightening thing. When sixteen hands of solid horseflesh and corded muscle decides to take fright and go its own way there is virtually nothing you can do about it. The very size of the animal, previously comforting, now works against you and you know you have no more chance of stopping it than Canute did of holding back the tide.

It was the highly strung Baron who was most upset by Leo's thoughtless behaviour. For a few moments Alicia fought to steady him without success. Eyes wild, nostrils flaring, he took off, galloping madly along the road as if the devil himself were after him. And Sweet Lass went with him. Already upset by Leo, her foal's panic communicated itself to her and she raced with him, shoulder to shoulder while Sarah vainly tried to stop her.

At the fork in the road the terrified horses veered to the right. Soon the lane narrowed, sloping steeply, but they galloped on. At the bottom it curved sharply, ahead of them was a hedge, six feet high and thick with the brambles of autumn. Baron leapt it like a cat, Sweet Lass attempted to follow, but her stride was all wrong. Her flailing front legs crashed into the branches and she fell back into the ditch. Her scream was one with Sarah's and then she was still. In the quiet of the September afternoon the thunder of Baron's galloping hooves echoed for a few minutes more before his panic began to subside and Alicia was able to bring him under control. Then the only sound was the distant phutter of Leo's motor heading up the hill to Chewton Leigh.