Daughters Of Eden: The Eden Series Book 1 (25 page)

‘I'm sorry,' Poppy interrupted. ‘But what do you mean by
us
, I wonder?'

Jack took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at her carefully.

‘Hmmm,' he said, shifting his unlit pipe to the other side of his mouth. ‘Whatever they might have thought about you before last night, since then you are – I'm afraid – most definitely not one of them. You fled with me. They don't actually know it was me, but sure as eggs is eggs they know about you. They know you bolted with the diary, Lady Tetherington, and they know the safe has been robbed. So they will be coming after you, I'm sorry to say.'

For the first time since her flight from Mellerfont Poppy now faced the reality of her situation. She scolded herself for being so dim as to think her
adventure of the night before could simply be enjoyed in retrospect, before being brushed away under the carpet. She knew how dangerous Basil must have been, so as a consequence she should have realised that the people with whom he had involved himself were equally lethal. As a consequence of not taking Jack Ward's advice to go back to bed and forget about it all, she was now a target for their guns.

‘I see,' she said quietly, after a short silence. ‘Yes, of course.'

Jack glanced at her again, in an effort to read her state of mind.

‘We can take you out of their sights, you know,' he said. ‘We can give you a new identity, a new appearance, a new way of life, and the chances are no one will find you until after the war, when it won't matter any more. If that's what you want.'

‘I don't think so,' Poppy replied. ‘I don't think I'd like that at all as it happens. I could go to America, couldn't I? I could join my parents, except I wouldn't want to put them in any danger.'

‘You might well. Unfortunately the way these people work is very much like the underworld everywhere, Lady Tetherington. Just when you think you're all right, strolling down the street for a newspaper, going to the beach, taking a taxi ride, they strike. They love the power of it, you must understand, the power of knowing what you don't know – in other words, the sadistic power of control. You never knowing, your mother and father never knowing, when, or if, they might strike. It is wisely said that revenge is a dish better
eaten cold, and that is how they will think of what they might plan to do, as a revenge killing, as totally justified. That is what bigotry is – blind faith in what you think, blind faith in how you think the world should be ordered. But, of course …' He paused. ‘It's a big step, and it has to be your decision, naturally.'

‘That's not quite true, is it?' Poppy smiled at him. ‘I mean I don't have an awful lot of say in the matter. I can't just ask you to stop the car, and get out, and go back to normal life now, can I? The die is sort of cast, at least by my reckoning'.

They both fell to silence, Jack for once feeling regret that he had somehow involved an innocent young person in his world, a person who in a way didn't deserve to be in this position, although the other part of him, the larger part in fact, could not help but be secretly pleased that he might well have found an entirely suitable agent, someone who could be of great use, most of all because she was modest. He had always found the bigheads were useless for his particular work. All right for others perhaps, but not for him. He had also always believed that women made the best agents not just because they were modest, but because by and large they did not seem to succumb to flattery in the same way that men so often did. They seemed to always have that other voice running through their heads, the one that told them that honeyed words concealed black motives, that what a man said with his lips was often belied by what his eyes were saying.

‘If you know who all these people are …' Poppy
began again, frowning at the road ahead as she tried to work everything out. ‘If you know who all these people are why don't you—'

‘Yes,' Jack interrupted. ‘I think I know what you are about to say. Why don't we simply round 'em all up and throw them in jug? I'll tell you why. Because they're far too useful where they are. It's sometimes better to leave people like this – never losing sight of them, naturally – so as we know what they're up to – as well as the fact that we learn from 'em all the while. It's all to the good, believe me. You learn to think like them. Some have to learn to become not just like them, but actually one of their number.'

‘Go underground?'

‘Join their ranks, Lady Tetherington. Dangerous stuff, I assure you.'

‘Yes,' Poppy said quietly. ‘But
interesting
.'

Jack gave her another look. This time she caught it, and gave him a suddenly brilliant smile.

‘Interesting, yes,' he agreed. ‘But are
you
interested?'

‘I might be,' Poppy said. ‘And there again I might not be,' she countered, playing for time. She began again after a short pause which Jack Ward was careful not to fill. ‘I am just thinking from your point of view I am really rather suitable, aren't I? First, strangely enough, because I am not British. I have no relations over here who will worry about my going missing, so that makes me quite suitable. Second I have parents who know I have been unhappily married, but I would imagine certainly do not want me round their necks again – and third, being an only child, and educated at home,
I have made few friends in England. But, you know, despite all that, what would happen if I say no?'

‘Nothing would happen.'

‘Oh, I think it would, Mr Ward. I think something really might happen, for all that you say it wouldn't. I mean, looked at again from your point of view, I already know enough, first about you, and then about Julia, and then about the leather book, and all that – quite enough to make me a bit of a liability, wouldn't you say? I would, if I were you. I would say, by refusing to leave the room when you told me, I have found out too much to be altogether quite nice. No, you're not just going to let me go. You can't. I might prove to be the famous millstone around your neck, and that would never do. After all, I know when I faced you in Basil's study, you were quite prepared to shoot me. Perhaps not dead, but shoot me none the less, which shows that when faced with someone who is getting in the way, you will act quite aggressively. Because I actually find shooting someone quite aggressive.'

‘Quite so. And yes I would have done, if I'd had to. If you'd tried to raise the alarm I would have shot you, but not through the heart or the head. However, that must not influence your decision. Believe me I want you to join my side, of course I do, but it must be your decision, made in cold blood.'

‘I have to decide?'

‘Of course. This is something that is entirely up to you. If you don't wish to join my side I can make arrangements with the authorities for you to go to
Canada, or America, as you suggested earlier, but finally it's up to you.'

‘Yes,' Poppy slowly agreed. ‘Yes, it is, isn't it? After all, up until now, all the decisions in my life have been made for me. So now is a turning point. And that
is
interesting.'

Chapter Ten

Marjorie and Billy's journey to Eden Park was much easier and less eventful than the one that Marjorie had originally taken, her first trip having been as complex as those of her as yet unknown colleagues, setting off for somewhere she thought was in Gloucester, only to find herself being picked up at the railway station by none other than the mysterious guest at the funeral tea – Mr Jack Ward.

He had met her at a small and remote country station before driving her all the way to Eden Park, explaining as they went that it was a matter of security that she should not know the precise location of her future place of employment.

Marjorie was both pleased and surprised at the mention of employment, although she was careful not to say so to Mr Ward, imagining that if she showed too much enthusiasm he might change his mind.

‘But if I don't know where Eden Park is,' she had wondered, ‘how will I bring Billy down there – that is if everything's all right and it all goes – er – ahead?'

‘Leave me to handle that,' Mr Ward told her firmly but kindly. ‘That's not your worry. I shall fix
up all the transport. After all it's for everyone's good that we maintain maximum security. Until everyone is sworn in, that is.'

Marjorie had no idea of what he could possibly have meant by
sworn in
, although she was soon to find out. She was, however, amazed by the sight that greeted her when she had been driven in through the grand carriage gates that stood at the entrance of Eden Park, as obviously Billy now was, to judge from the expression on his pale face as the taxi, having taken them across country for what seemed the larger part of a day, dropped them both off at the gates, and they began their long walk up the drive.

‘Blimey,' he whispered, staring at the acres of cultivated parkland that stood on either side of the long drive. ‘Look – look at them deer, Marge. And them stags.'

He pointed to the herd of red deer peacefully grazing beneath huge and ancient oak trees. And it was not just the deer that took his breath away after his urban upbringing, but the sight of the river that meandered through lush meadows, and the green lawns that swept gently down from the great house.

‘There's a lake, too,' Marjorie pointed out. ‘With any amount of fish. I'm sure if you're good they might allow you to fish it.'

‘Blimey,' Billy said. ‘Stripe me pink.'

‘Not a bad house either.'

Marjorie turned his attention to the building that stood bathed in warm sunshine, a gentle light that turned the colour of its mellow stone into honey.

To the far side was a smaller house with another exquisitely domed roof and more long, graceful sash windows that one could step from when raised straight on to the grass. Beyond that house stood a classic stable yard, complete with a clock, at that moment in time festooned with a host of white doves sunning themselves in the warmth of the late afternoon sun. As they finally found themselves in front of the perfect colonnaded entrance, a large loose-limbed grey horse ridden by a handsome, shaggy-haired man accompanied by a large dog that loped along beside him clattered out of the stable yard and disappeared at a sharp canter up the hill to the far side of the lake.

Billy stood staring, taking everything in,
drinking
it in, for once silenced while Marjorie thankfully put their suitcases down on the bottom of the flight of steps.

Entering the house between a set of graceful Corinthian columns at the top of the shallow steps, Marjorie, with Billy in distant tow, walked across the fine marble-floored hall, past ancient marble busts set on plinths and then to the foot of the magnificent gold and white cantilevered staircase rising in flights of twenty steps, illuminated from above by light streaming through the magnificent glass dome.

‘Blimey,' Billy said yet again, turning round and round in circles to stare at all the extravagant beauty surrounding him. ‘I never seen the like.'

‘I should think you haven't, young man.' Marjorie laughed. ‘If you had, I'd be wondering what you'd been up to. Told you that you'd like it. Now – we have to find the pass door, because
this bit's nothing to do with us, alas, and I must find Mrs Alderman the housekeeper, who's meant to be expecting us. I was told to report to her on arrival. There's a pass door somewhere round here.'

‘Before you go looking for any pass door, miss,' a male voice said from behind her, ‘I think it best if we first establish who we are. Pass, please? Or letter of conduct.'

Marjorie turned to see two soldiers standing in the hall, both with rifles slung over their shoulders. Taking a closer look Marjorie thought they looked friendly enough, but they were soldiers none the less.

‘What are you—' Billy demanded.

‘What do we look like, son? We're soldiers.'

‘I know, I can see that,' Billy insisted. ‘But what are you doing here? You're on our side, aren't you? You won't want to shoot us, will yer?'

The soldiers looked at each other and grinned, and then at Billy.

‘I know, son,' the first one replied. ‘But we're doing our job, see? We're sentries.'

‘There weren't no sentries at the gate.'

‘That's right, son, there weren't no sentries at the gate. That's 'cos they don't want no sentries seen at the gate, see? It would give the game away, wouldn't it? If folk walk past and see sentries at the gate they're going to get clued up, see?'

‘No I don't,' Billy said stubbornly, while surreptitiously examining the rifle of his questioner. He was allowed to go no further by Marjorie, who finally took over.

‘It's all right, Billy,' she said. ‘They are only doing
their duty. They have a perfect right to know what we're doing here.' She handed them the official letter of introduction, which Jack Ward had given her.

‘Thank you, miss,' the second sentry said, consulting his list. ‘That's right – you're expected, miss. You too, son.' He smiled at Billy and ruffled his already tousled head. ‘You want to see my rifle?'

‘Yes please!'

Billy went silent, pale with excitement, as the soldier showed him the workings of his rifle.

‘Is it loaded?' he finally asked.

‘Course it's loaded. We're on sentry duty.'

‘Blimey,' said Billy. ‘Stripe me.'

He sighed with huge contentment, before following Marjorie down to the lower ground floor of the great house.

Mrs Alderman was seated at the kitchen table when Marjorie and Billy were shown in by their escorts, a small, round-figured woman with a fuzz of grey hair and wearing a long old-fashioned dress. She was holding a handkerchief to her forehead as she tried to make sense of the billeting plan she had laid out in front of her on the table.