The Quality of Mercy (26 page)

‘Certainly, my lord.’

‘But something upset him?’ Edward tried one last time.

‘I thought I heard a motor . . .’ Jim said hesitantly.

‘When was this?’ Edward asked sharply.

‘When we was running back with the stretcher.’

‘But you said you heard nothing?’ Edward’s voice betrayed his exasperation.

‘I thought nothing of it,’ Jim said, obviously wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

‘You heard a car?’

‘A motorbike, more like. I didn’t take no notice.’

‘You think someone was riding a motorbike through the yard?’

‘I think so. Riding off ’cos he heard us coming.’

The vet – a man by the name of Godfrey Rush – boasted a huge handlebar moustache of which he was clearly inordinately proud. He obviously resented having to answer Edward’s questions but Mountbatten was a power in the land and could not be denied.

‘So there was nothing odd about Button kicking out like that?’

‘No, I . . . it can happen. Something must have disturbed him . . . frightened him. A bird or, indeed, the man himself . . . Dreiser, was that his name? A Jew . . .’

‘What has that to do with it? You think Jews smell bad?’

‘No, of course not! Don’t misunderstand me, Lord Edward. I just thought that, being a foreigner, he might not know . . . about horses.’

‘He didn’t like horses. They frightened him.’

‘There we are then! Button may have smelt his fear. And the blood . . . Horses go wild when they smell blood and can’t get away.’

‘Yes, but there would have been no blood until he started kicking out.’

The vet said nothing but stroked his moustache. Edward tried again.

‘Did you think the pony had been interfered with – drugged?’

‘Drugged? No, it never crossed my mind.’

‘I saw the pony as he came out of the stable. The groom – Johnson – he thought Button had been drugged. His eyes were bulging and he was foaming at the mouth. By the time you got there, he was calmer.’

‘I got there as quick as I could.’

‘I’m not blaming you. I’m merely saying that, when I saw Button, he seemed in distress.’

‘Distress?’

‘Shaking – breathing heavily – sweating . . .’

‘That can be put down to hysteria. The pony had sensed a strange presence – had kicked out – smelt blood and . . .’

‘So you are saying the pony couldn’t have been drugged . . . injected with something?’

‘I don’t say
couldn’t
but there was no evidence that he had been interfered with. The groom had administered a mild sedative, that was all. I don’t know what you are trying to prove but I think you must accept this was a tragic accident. Anything else is pure speculation. No one would believe you . . .’

Edward realized the interview was at an end.

‘No one would believe me,’ he said aloud, as he got into the Lagonda and swept away from the little house with its tiny garden and the man with the handlebar moustache. Rush was right, damn it – no one would believe him and he wasn’t sure he believed it himself. On the other hand, Joan had said that someone had smoked a Camel in or near the stable and Stuart Rose smoked Camels. He remembered when he had first met him in Mountbatten’s drawing-room, he had offered him one. Moreover, whoever it was had lost his cigarette lighter – the kind Camel gave out to advertise their product, the kind with which Rose had lit his cigarette. Had it fallen into the straw during some sort of fight? And then there was the motorbike. Who had been riding a motorbike in the stables around the time Georg had died? He remembered something Verity had mentioned and he had forgotten. She had seen the distinct mark of a car or motorbike tyre in the mud.

Joan, Putzi and Rose had all been to the stables. Was one of them a murderer? He shook his head. He felt he almost knew . . . but not quite . . . soon, but not yet.

Sunita was dressed and sitting in an armchair reading a book when Frank came to visit her. She had been feeling depressed but the sight of him made her spirits soar.

‘Frank! How lovely to see you. How was the party last night?’

Frank looked uncomfortable. ‘Not too bad but, to tell you the truth, I’m getting a bit fed up with that crowd.’

‘You mean Stuart Rose’s crowd?’

‘Yes. They’re fun but . . . but they don’t
think
about anything except pleasure. They’re not serious.’

‘Isn’t Stuart serious?’

‘He’s all right, I suppose. He’s taught me a lot about art,’ he added, as though trying to be fair. ‘The fact of the matter is, I don’t really like the man. I think he’s a fairy for one thing.’

‘A fairy!’ Sunita repressed a smile.

‘You know – not natural.’ Frank sounded embarrassed.

‘You don’t mean he’s . . . you know – at you?’

Frank blushed. ‘Nothing like that. I just mean he’s amusing enough but I don’t want him to think he’s my friend.’ Sunita felt momentarily sorry for the man Frank was dismissing so brutally. ‘Anyway, why are we talking about him? I want to know about you.’ He sat on a chair next to her and took her hand.

‘The doctor says I’m getting better and it’ll do me good to leave this place. In fact, we’re going soon. I can’t wait! I was worried that my father and mother were outstaying their welcome. Lord Louis has been kindness itself but it’s time to go. I can see Pa is very restless.’

‘Why don’t you all come and stay at Mersham? My mother would be so pleased.’

‘That’s kind of you, Frank, but we’re going to Paris to see some cousins. Then I have to go back to school. I can’t bear the thought of it. I feel I’m grown-up. It’s so babyish having to think about lessons and rules and all that rot.’

‘It’s just one more term and then you’ll be free.’

‘Will we . . . do you think we’ll see anything of each other when . . .?’ Sunita asked timidly.

‘Of course! We love each other, don’t we?’

‘Yes, but . . . they’ll never allow us to . . . they’ll say it’s a schoolgirl crush . . . they’ll say we’re too young.’

‘Darling girl, listen to me. We’re not children. I love you and you love me. Nobody can stop us marrying.’

‘Marrying? Oh, Frank, of course they can stop us marrying. I don’t know, perhaps we are too young. You’ll get bored with me. You’ll meet someone else.’

‘I’m not joking,’ Frank said, uncertain whether he had been or not. ‘I want to marry you, Sunita. You are the only girl for me. I don’t want to meet someone else – not if I have you.’

‘You’re a sweet boy,’ she said with an effort, trying to be mature. She put out a hand – tentatively – and stroked his face. ‘I do love you. I tried not to but . . .’

‘But what?’ He sounded irritable as though, once he had made his declaration, she ought to have accepted it without demur.

‘But I might be a drag on you. They’ll think I set out to trap you.’

Frank got up and strode about the room. ‘You didn’t, did you?’

‘Of course I didn’t!’ She sounded shocked – even insulted.

‘Well then, what does it matter what people say? We love each other. That’s all there is to it. I wish people would stop saying I’m too young.’

‘Don’t be cross! I have to think for both of us. If we got married, what would it be like?’ she said seriously. ‘You’d regret it. In a year or two, you’d fall in love with someone else and I’m not sure I could bear that.’

He came back to sit beside her. ‘Stop telling me I’ll fall in love with someone else or I’ll start believing you. Do you love me?’

‘You know I do but I don’t want to ruin your life – our lives! Can you imagine what your father and mother would say if you told them you were going to marry an Indian girl? They would be horrified. You’ve got to marry someone from your own circle who’ll give the Duke an heir . . .’

‘My father likes you!’

‘He’s very sweet but I can see he views me with suspicion. And rightly so – what would he say if he could hear our conversation?’

‘I don’t care what he says,’ Frank said, getting up again to light a cigarette. ‘I’m not marrying to please him but because I love you.’

‘How many girls have you said that to?’ Sunita said, watching as Frank blushed. ‘There! You are too honest to deny it. I’m not the first girl you’ve asked to marry you and I won’t be the last.’

‘Damn it! Oh sorry, Sunita – I know you hate swearing – but you can’t do it.’ ‘Do what?’ She looked at him, her face pale, her eyes wide with anxiety.

‘Drive me away. I may be young but I’m not an idiot. I know what I have in you. I’d be mad to let you go.’ He knelt down beside her, took her hand and stroked it. ‘Yes, all right, I have thought I’ve been in love before but this is different. You ought not to doubt me.’

‘Sorry. Am I interrupting something?’

‘Oh, Verity, it’s you,’ Frank said, momentarily put out. ‘If you must know, I was asking Sunita to marry me.’

‘Golly, what bad timing! I’ll walk about a bit and come back in ten minutes and congratulate you, shall I?’

‘I told him he practises on all the girls,’ Sunita said, trying to sound light-hearted.

‘Do you, Frank? I wonder if Edward proposes to other women?’

‘I’m following your example, Miss Browne,’ Sunita added with forced gaiety. ‘I’ve told him I’m not planning to get married.’

‘I’m thinking of changing my mind,’ Verity said coolly.

‘You are?’ Frank was amazed and failed to disguise it. ‘Good show! I say, won’t the old boy be flummoxed when Uncle Ned says he’s marrying you and I tell him I’m marrying Sunita!’

‘What larks, indeed,’ Verity said acidly. ‘You mean neither of us is suited to joining the famous Mersham clan?’

‘No, I didn’t mean that!’ He saw with horror how his words might be interpreted.

‘We know what you mean,’ Sunita said, coming to his rescue. ‘I think you had better leave us now, Frank, so we can have a girls’ talk. I think I need Miss Browne to advise me.’

Frank opened his mouth to speak but Verity stopped him. ‘Go!’ she commanded.

‘I’m going. I’ll just say this, Verity, I leave my future in your hands and you’d better not let me down!’

Sunita waved her plaster cast at him threateningly and he left with as much dignity as he could muster.

12

Verity and Edward had driven down with Basil to Mersham to go through with Connie and Gerald the preparations to receive the Jewish children who would be housed and cared for there until they could be found families prepared to take them in. To Verity’s surprise, the Duke was whole-heartedly behind the venture. He had felt so useless in the face of so much suffering that it was a positive pleasure to have, at last, something to do – to make a difference, however small, to the dispossessed. It was what his brother would have done had he been alive and the sense of inferiority he had felt after a lifetime in the shadow of the dead hero was made a little easier to bear.

When they left for Croydon to catch a flight to Zurich Connie had surprised Verity by hugging her almost as if she was apologizing for any unkind thoughts she had harboured.

Edward had tried to get permission from the authorities in Vienna to accompany the train on its journey through Austria but the Nazis refused. The idea of an English lord witnessing this shabby act of mercy was not one they could contemplate. They also sought to hide what they were doing from the ordinary Viennese. They rightly believed that the solid citizenry of that great city had no wish to be disturbed by scenes of extravagant and often noisy grief. Why should they have to witness distraught parents parting from their children – probably for ever? It wasn’t their fault or, if it was, there was nothing they could do about it and it was better to pretend it wasn’t happening. So it was decreed that the train would leave Vienna at three in the morning and would reach the border about seven o’clock.

On the Swiss side of the border, Verity and Edward, along with a reception committee of refugee agencies and Swiss welfare bodies, huddled in the cold and talked quietly of the arrangements which had been made to feed and reassure three hundred terrified children – many of whom could not speak a word of French or English. The Swiss and French governments had declined to take any more refugees from
Grossdeutschland
. The Swiss wanted to preserve their neutrality and the French were unwilling to give the German authorities any excuse for taking action against French passport holders in the new Reich.

The children were to be whisked to the coast across two countries with the minimum of delay and offloaded on to ferries to take them to their new home. It was a lot to ask of children who had already suffered so much but it had to be done. Verity and Edward chatted with British representatives of the Movement for the Care of Children from Germany and the British Committee for the Jews of Germany about the urgency of the situation. This was to be the first of many trains from Vienna and Berlin and they agreed there would be lessons to be learnt. They would have their work cut out if their escort duty was to be judged a success.

When the children reached England, two hundred were to go to reception centres – holiday camps in the summer months – where they would be looked after until homes could be found for them. Mersham was to take the remaining hundred and Connie had marshalled the neighbourhood to help look after them. Nothing like this had ever been attempted before and only time would tell if the preparations were adequate. At Verity’s urging, the
New Gazette
had started a fund for the children and Lord Weaver had personally promised ten thousand pounds.

The stationmaster informed them that the train had arrived at Feldkirch, the last station inside Austria, and was waiting there – he didn’t know why. An hour passed and still no train appeared. Someone said the train was being searched. Somebody else said it had broken down. Another hour passed before there was a faint sound of wheels on metal track and smoke was seen.

It was one of the most distressing sights Verity could remember witnessing – and she had seen a few – when, at last, the train came to a halt. The children – aged from five to fifteen – were almost all in tears. Each had a label tied round their neck bearing a number which corresponded to their permit to leave the country. When asked what had caused the delay at the border, one of the older girls said that every child had been made to open the one pathetic suitcase the Viennese authorities had allowed them to take with them and anything new or of any value had been stolen by the border guards. The children had not been given anything to eat or drink and, as the lavatories were already overflowing, many of the smaller children had wet themselves or worse.