Sweet Poison (6 page)

It rather pleased him that he could remember so much. ‘The Troyan walls,’ he mused. They would have been real battlements complete with curtain walls, parapets, corbels, watch towers, bartizans and all the rest of it. Mersham had nothing so warlike. Who of her people would consider withstanding the will of the Virgin Queen, unless it be some rugged Irish kerns who knew no better. Mersham, whose every cubit he knew as well as the palm of his right hand, he loved more than he knew. It was his enchanted childhood playground until he went to school and even then there were long holidays in which to reacquaint himself with each dusty corner. In childhood his rooms – the nursery and his old nanny’s rooms – were at the top of the house with only the servants’ rooms above them. In winter they could be very cold – the only heating was supplied by inadequate grates. Edward’s father had not approved of mollycoddling his children so he had not permitted fires to be lit in the castle between Easter and October. How Nanny had prayed for late Easters as though God might alter the church calendar for her. During the war, the Duke, grieving for his son, took a masochistic pleasure in making himself – and therefore his family – as uncomfortable as possible in solidarity with the soldiers at the front. The old Duke had never been interested in what he ate and by 1915 the food served in the castle was so inadequate the local doctor had been moved to protest that the Duke was endangering his child’s health. Thereafter, Edward had been allowed unlimited milk and vegetables but meat was only served on Saturdays and cold on Sundays.

But for all this Edward looked back to those days as a blessed period in his life and when he was in Africa trying to sleep in blistering heat, worried by mosquitoes and sweating pints into the single sheet that covered him, he would summon up images of those winter nights at Mersham when the frost on the
inside
of the windows was as thick as his fingernail.

Behind Edward a mountain of hay threatened a golden avalanche as the cart bumped over each rut in the road and dived into every pot-hole. He pulled at a straw and sucked it pensively. The old carter had said that the nearest public house was four miles back the way he had come and from there he could telephone Mersham for assistance. At this rate it would be an hour before they reached it. He began to wonder if he would even get to the castle that night. Edward and his mercifully unloquacious companion had been trundling over the landscape for three-quarters of an hour without seeing a single soul let alone a motor car when a hooting noise penetrated the creaking and rumbling that gave evidence that the haywain was actually in motion. There was no way of discovering what this hooting signified without bringing the wagon to a halt, which took a full four minutes to achieve. Edward clambered down into the road, his damaged knee making him wince, to see what the matter was.

‘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. He 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.’