Authors: Sally Quilford
“So what does Markham have in the book?”
“Let’s just say that I’m sure foreign governments will be
fascinated by the possibilities of a new brand of vacuum cleaner,” said Millie.
Chapter Ten
“It was Jim’s idea,” said Hortense Parker-Trent, when they
assembled at Fazeby Hall to share information. She looked different than she
had on the first day Millie met her. Devoid of make-up, Hortense’s face looked younger
and fresher. There was no doubt she was a very pretty woman, and as the heir to
her late husband’s fortune, desirable in more ways than one. There was
something else different about her. She had lost the frightened air she wore
whilst in her husband’s company.
They all sat around the dining table. Jim Haxby, Simon
Brady, Hortense Parker-Trent, Henry and Cynthia Fazeby, Mrs Oakengate, and
Millie, who was doing her best to avoid Mrs Oakengate’s furious stares. She
knew she would have to face her employer’s anger at some point, but the
assembled company’s interest in the revelations was buying her some time.
“When I fell, Jim – Mr Haxby - climbed down, and I told him
about the man who pushed me off, though I didn’t know the man’s name. Jim told
me to play dead, so I did. I did tell him to let my husband know the truth,”
she added hastily. “If only I’d known he was going to be in danger,” said
Hortense, lapsing into silence. No one said anything, allowing her the moments
to compose herself. “Arthur and I had a complicated relationship, but we loved
each other very much. I will miss him dreadfully.”
If Hortense wanted to believe that, then no one in the room
would contradict her. It was Millie’s belief that Hortense had a lucky escape
from Arthur Parker-Trent, but it was fitting that Hortense did not criticise a
dead man.
“Where was I?” said Hortense.
“You were telling us about Jim’s plot,” said Simon Brady,
gently. He looked at Hortense with open admiration.
“Yes, as I said, Jim suggested we pretend I was dead, and I
think he talked the doctor into saying the same. It seemed a very exciting
thing to do,” she said, enthusiastically. “Like in a book. Erm… I don’t know
what happened after that.”
“You fainted,” said Jim, picking up the story. “Hortense was
unconscious for several days,” he told the others. “Not surprising really,
considering her fall. So it was a waiting game, until she came around and was
able to remember more about the man who pushed her off. She also remembered
that it was Markham and Barbara Conrad she’d heard talking about Millie’s
father, Richard Woodridge.”
“Yes,” said Hortense, “I was in the corridor near to Mrs
Conrad’s bedroom, before you came to see her, Millie. Sir Alexander was with
her. She was saying how it was unfair, because you’re such a nice girl and
asking him if there was some way he could undo it. He laughed at her and told
her not to be so sentimental.”
“That’s why I was called away from Haxby Farm,” Jim said to
Millie. “To get Hortense’s statement. Now we can say what we know about
Alexander Markham. Oh, any sign of him yet, Brady?”
Simon took a moment to answer, so obviously enchanted was he
by Hortense. “Oh, no, nothing yet. He seems to have disappeared.”
“Alexander Markham was an arch manipulator,” said Jim.
“People trusted him, and he always ensured that there were others to take the
blame for him.” Millie swallowed hard. “Including your father,” said Jim,
reaching across and covering her hand with his. “In Richard Woodridge’s case,
it was done without his knowledge. Barbara Conrad, however, did the things she
did for Markham because she was in love with him. She’s in custody now, and it
was from her we got most of our information, though I don’t think everything
she said can be taken as gospel. She’s obviously trying to save her own neck by
putting most of the blame on him. They met in Argentina, where she went to
write her first novel. Markham seduced her then married her. We have reason to
believe that the marriage is not legal. In fact there may be several Markham brides
dotted around the globe.” Millie blushed and thanked God she had the sense to
say no to Markham. “The blueprint was one that came through Markham’s office.”
“He saw the potential immediately,” Jim continued. “He had
no intentions of holding the facsimile himself, so he talked Barbara into
hiding it in one of her novels. She was to be the one who did the trade off
with Vasily. Now, either because she wanted to hold Markham to ransom, or get
more money for both of them out of Vasily, she gave the novel to Millie. She
refuses to elaborate on that point. But whatever happened, if the facsimile was
found, all suspicion would fall upon Barbara Conrad, and Markham would have no
part in it whatsoever. We believe that had Barbara Conrad not found out that
Markham proposed to Millie, she would have happily taken the blame for him.”
Jim’s eyes darkened slightly.
“But what about Chlomsky?” asked Millie. “What was his part
in all this?”
“Chlomsky was, and is, entirely innocent,” said Jim.
“Markham just used him as another scapegoat by planting Vasily as his valet.
Believe me when I say that Markham was a man who knew how to cover his tracks.
If he couldn’t have framed Barbara Conrad, he’d have framed Chlomsky. No one in
Britain trusts a foreigner. Particularly if you place him alongside a pillar of
the community such as Markham. As it is, Chlomsky is a good man, and has been
helping us piece together the facts about Vasily. Vasily was an intermediary
for a foreign government intent on getting their hands on the weapon.”
“What went wrong this time?” asked Simon Brady. “Why did
Markham get so careless?”
“He was getting desperate for the manuscript,” said Jim.
“According to Barbara Conrad the buyers were threatening to pull out and
Markham was running short of money. So when Millie told him she had it, he
believed she would hand it over quite readily, trusting him to do the right
thing. I must say he was surprisingly careless.”
“That’s because he underestimated me,” said Millie. “Many
people do.”
“I’m sure that’s not true, dear girl,” said Henry Fazeby,
kindly.
“The important thing, Millie,” said Jim, sounding impatient,
“is that your father is innocent. Barbara Conrad has given us the evidence we
need to prove that. Believe it or not, despite everything, I think she actually
likes you. She said that one of the best things about it being all over was
that you’d know for sure your father was innocent.”
“I’ve always known that,” said Millie, her voice catching in
her throat. “Only it’s too late now, isn’t it?” She wanted to leave the room,
but it came to her with a startling and painful realisation that she had
nowhere to go. She was no longer a staying guest at the Fazeby’s, so could not
run to the room they had given to her the first time, and she had no other home
to which she could run. If only she could think straight, she would know what
to do. But the revelations had shaken her to the core. How could the man whom
her father had called his best friend have sent Richard Woodridge to the
gallows? Millie had trusted him too, until the truth of the note on the back of
the manuscript had taught her otherwise. How could she ever trust her instincts
about people again?
“Well of course, I’ve always known dear Richard was
innocent,” said Mrs Oakengate. “And given the events, Millie, I am quite
willing to forgive you for your gallivanting and take you back as my
companion.”
“I’m very grateful, Mrs Oakengate,” said Millie, “but I have
decided that I’m not cut out to be a paid companion. Well, I’m not cut out to
be your paid companion.”
“Really,” said Mrs Oakengate. “Well, what do you think of
that, Cynthia? I give the girl my charity and this is how she repays me.”
“Perhaps Millie would prefer friendship and equality to
charity,” said Cynthia Fazeby.
“Millie,” said Hortense, sounding shy, “I’m going to be
running Arthur’s businesses from now on. That probably means a lot of old men
in suits will bully me. Is it possible, if you’ve got nothing else planned,
that you could work for me? As a personal assistant? You’re much braver than I
am. And don’t worry about not knowing anything about the business. Neither do
I, but we could learn together.”
Millie looked up in amazement. “Yes, yes, of course. That
would be wonderful. Thank you. But you really mustn’t put yourself down,
Hortense. It took a lot of courage to do what you did.”
“Hear hear,” said Simon Brady.
“Hear hear,” said Jim Haxby, with rather less enthusiasm.
Chapter Eleven
“Millie?”
She turned from her contemplation of the Fazeby Hall gardens. It was getting
dark and drizzling with rain outside, but her bedroom was warm and cosy. When
she had made to leave the house – to go she knew not where - Cynthia Fazeby had
insisted she stay as a guest in her own right. As soon as she could do so
without being ill-mannered, she went to her room to escape Mrs Oakengate’s
fury. Odd, she thought to herself that she could stand up to her godfather, yet
facing Mrs Oakengate still filled her with abject terror. She had to remind
herself who was the most deadly of the two, but in truth, she was not so sure.
“What is it, Mr Haxby?”
Jim paused a moment, and she sensed her sudden return to formality had
perplexed him. It felt safer for her to think of him in formal terms,
protecting her heart from further pain. “I just wanted to say what a wonderful
thing you did today. It was very resourceful of you. I’d never have thought of
that.”
She searched his face for signs that he was patronising her, but he seemed to
be speaking honestly. “If you knew the conversation I had to endure with the
vacuum cleaner salesmen just to get his brochures, you’d be saying I deserved a
medal.” She smiled mischievously. “I know more about their inner workings than
I ever wanted to.”
“Believe me, I’ve met a few salesmen on my travels. I’ll write to the king and
demand you get a Victoria Cross.” He smiled, and the icy barrier she had put
around her heart melted. They were right back where they began, with no
awkwardness between them. It lifted an immense weight from Millie’s shoulders.
“Look, Millie, all the things I said about you not being an agent. You know,
forbidding you and all that …”
Millie held up her hand and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I was being
silly.”
“I don’t think it’s at all silly to want to help your country.”
“No, what I meant was … well, it was all tied up in wanting to impress you.
Because you’re … well you’re the adventurer, James Haxby. A man one wants to
impress. I behaved like a schoolgirl meeting a matinee idol. Then London
happened and my emotions got the better of me. About… about you… I know you’ll
think me foolish. I mean, the women you work with, they’re so self-assured and
...”
She did not have to say anymore. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
“You must know how I feel about you,” he said when he reluctantly stopped. “You
don’t have to try to impress me. You’ve impressed me right from the very
beginning, my darling Grey Lady. When Markham had that gun to your head…” He
took a deep breath, as if the pain of the memory were too much for him. “I
never want to see you in that danger again, my darling. And I’m sorry if I gave
you the impression I thought you incapable. I knew you were brave the moment I
saw you at the top of the stairs. But I didn’t want you to have to be brave.
You looked so vulnerable, with those big sad eyes, and I had this immediate
need to protect you and keep you from harm. You realise, don’t you, that no
other woman on Earth has made me behave like such a caveman.”
“Caveman or not, I love you,” she whispered against his chest, her whole body
tingling from his touch and the wonderful things he was saying to her. He
kissed her head, her face, her nose, and her lips.
“It would scandalise everyone if I stayed in your room any longer,” he murmured
against her throat. He traced kisses around her neck and gently sucked her
earlobe, sending a million tiny electric shocks down her spine.
“It would devastate me if you left.”
They lay on the bed together, talking and kissing and caressing far into the
night. He promised her that he would go to London the next day to set in motion
the clearing of her father’s name. It made her cry again, but he gently wiped the
tears away. “One day, I swear you’ll be happy again,” he vowed.
“Believe it or not, I’m happy now,” she said before another tear rolled down
her cheek. His lips caught it before it fell to the pillow.
When she awoke in the morning, he had left her side.
Although she suspected he had left early to spare her reputation, she still
felt the ache of his absence. She assured herself he would return. He had
promised, had he not?
Despite her lack of sleep, Millie agreed to go with Hortense
and Simon Brady on a trip to The Heights of Abraham, in the hopes that the
fresh air would revive her. Well that and the fact that Mrs Oakengate cast dark
looks at her all through breakfast, muttering something about ‘needing to have
a good talk to some people’.
“Victoria, my dear,” said Henry Fazeby from behind his
paper. “There’s a young girl here in need of your patronage. Her father has
just been convicted of murdering her mother.”
“Spousal murder is such a common crime,” said Mrs Oakengate.
“The murderer is the youngest son of a duke.”
“Really? Of course, murder among the upper classes is a much
more civilised affair. You must give me the details, Henry. I’m sure she can’t
turn out worse than my last companion.”
“Cynthia and I rather like her,” said Henry. “Almost part of
the family, in fact.”