Dundridge received the news with mixed emotions. On the one hand here was his golden opportunity to teach that bitch Lady Maud a lesson. On the other the knowledge that he had accepted a bribe from Sir Giles bothered him. He looked forward to Lady Maud’s misery when she learnt that Handyman Hall was going to be demolished after all but he didn’t relish the thought of her husband’s reaction. He need not have worried. Sir Giles, anxious to be out of the way when the storm broke, had taken the precaution of being tied up in London in advance of the announcement. In any case Hoskins was reassuring.
“You don’t have to worry about Giles,” he told Dundridge. “It’s Maud who’ll be out for blood.”
Dundridge knew exactly what he meant. “If she calls I’m not in,” he told the girl on the switchboard. “Remember that. I am never in to Lady Maud.”
While Hoskins concentrated on the actual details of the new route and arranged for the posting of advance notices of compulsory purchase, Dundridge spent much of his time on field work, which meant in fact sitting in his flat and not answering the telephone. To occupy his mind and to lend some sort of credence to his title of Controller Motorways Midlands, he set about devising a strategy for dealing with the campaign to stop construction which he was convinced Lady Maud would initiate.
“Surprise is of the essence,” he explained to Hoskins.
“She’s had that already,” Hoskins pointed out. He had in his time supervised the eviction of too many obstinate householders to be daunted by the threat of Lady Maud, and besides he was relying on Sir Giles to undermine her efforts. “She’s not going to give us any trouble. You’ll see. When it comes to the push she’ll go. They all do. It’s the law.” Dundridge wasn’t convinced. From his personal experience he knew how little the law meant to Lady Maud.
“The thing is to move quickly,” he explained.
“Move quickly?” said Hoskins. “You can’t move quickly when you’re building a motorway. It’s a slow process.”
Dundridge waved his objections aside. “We must hit at key objectives. Seize the commanding heights. Maintain the initiative,” he said grandly.
Hoskins looked at him doubtfully. He wasn’t used to this sort of military language. “Look, old boy, I know how you feel and all that but…”
“You don’t,” said Dundridge vehemently.
“But what I was going to say was that there’s no need to go in for anything complicated. Just let things take their natural course and you’ll find people will get used to the idea. It’s amazing how adaptable people are.”
“That’s precisely what’s worrying me,” said Dundridge. “Now then the essence of my plan is to make random sorties.”
“Random sorties?” said Hoskins. “What on earth with?”
“Bulldozers,” said Dundridge and spread out a map of the district.
“Bulldozers? You can’t have bulldozers roaming the countryside making random sorties,” said Hoskins, now thoroughly alarmed. “What the hell are they going to randomly sort?”
“Vital areas of control,” said Dundridge, “lines of communication. Bridgeheads.”
“Bridgeheads? But -”
“As I see it,” Dundridge continued implacably, “the main centre of resistance is going to be here.” He pointed to the Cleene Gorge. “Strategically this is the vital area. Seize that and we’ve won.”
“Seize it? You can’t suddenly go in and seize the Cleene Gorge!” shouted Hoskins. “The motorway has to proceed by deliberate stages. Contractors work according to a schedule and we have to keep to that.”
“That is precisely the mistake you’re making,” said Dundridge. “Our tactics must be to alter the schedule just when the enemy least expects it.”
“But that’s impossible,” Hoskins insisted. “You can’t go about knocking people’s houses down without giving them fair warning.”
“Who said anything about knocking houses down?” said Dundridge indignantly. “I certainly didn’t. What I have in mind is something entirely different. Now then what we’ll do is this.”
For the next half hour he outlined his grand strategy while Hoskins listened. When he had finished Hoskins was impressed in spite of himself. He had been quite wrong to call Dundridge a nincompoop. In his own peculiar way the man had flair.
“All the same I just hope it doesn’t have to come to that,” he said finally.
“You’ll see,” said Dundridge. “That bitch isn’t going to sit back and let us put a motorway through her wretched house without putting up a struggle. She’s going to fight to the bitter end.”
Hoskins went back to his office thoughtfully. There was nothing illegal about Dundridge’s plan in spite of the military jargon. In a way it was extremely shrewd.
The Committee for the Preservation of the Cleene Gorge met under the Presidency of General Burnett at Handyman Hall. Lady Maud was the first speaker.
“I intend to fight this project to the bitter end,” she said, fulfilling Dundridge’s prediction. “I have no intention of being driven from my own home simply because a lot of bureaucratic dunderheads in London take it into their thick skulls to ignore the recommendations of a properly constituted Enquiry. It’s outrageous.”
“It’s so unfair,” said Mrs Bullett-Finch, “particularly after what Lord Leakham said about preserving the wildlife of the area. What I can’t understand is why they changed their minds so suddenly.”
“As I see it,” said General Burnett, “the change is a direct consequence of Puckerington’s resignation. I have it on the highest authority that the Government felt that the new candidate was bound to lose the bye-election if they went ahead with the route through Ottertown.”
“Why did Puckerington resign?” asked Miss Percival.
“Ill-health,” said Colonel Chapman. “He’s got a dicky heart.”
Lady Maud said nothing. What she had just heard explained a great many things and suggested more. She knew now why Sir Giles had smiled so secretively at her and why he had had that air of expectation. Everything suddenly fell into place in her mind. She understood why he had been so alarmed about the possibility of a tunnel, why he had insisted on Ottertown, why he had been so pleased at Lord Leakham’s decision. Above all, she realized for the first time the full enormity of his betrayal. Colonel Chapman put her thoughts into numbers.
“I suppose there is this to be said for it. I’ve heard a rumour that we are going to get increased compensation,” he said. “The figure mentioned was twenty per cent. That makes your sum, Lady Maud, something in the region of three hundred thousand pounds.”
Lady Maud sat rigid in her chair. Three hundred thousand pounds. It was not her share. Sir Giles owned the Hall. Owned it and had put it up for sale in the only way legally available to him. Faced with such treachery there was nothing left for her to say. She shook her head wearily and while the discussion continued round her she stared out of the window to where Blott was mowing the lawn.
The meeting broke up without any decision being taken on the next move.
“Poor old Maud seems quite broken up about this dreadful business,” General Burnett said to Mrs Bullett-Finch as they walked across the drive to their cars. “It’s knocked all the spirit out of her. Bad business.”
“One does feel so terribly sorry for her,” Mrs Bullett-Finch agreed.
Lady Maud watched them leave and then went back into the house to think. Committees would achieve nothing now. They would talk and pass resolutions but when the time for taking action came they would still be talking. Colonel Chapman had given the game away by talking about money. They would settle.
She went down the passage to the study and stood there looking round the room. It was here that Giles had thought the whole thing out, in this sanctum, at this desk where her father and grandfather had sat, and it was here that she would sit and think until she had planned some way of stopping the motorway and of destroying him. In her mind the two things were inextricably linked. Giles had conceived the idea of the motorway, he would be broken by it. There was no compunction left in her. She had been outwitted and betrayed by a man she had always despised. She had sold herself to him to preserve the house and the family and the knowledge of her own guilt added force to her determination. If need be she would sell herself to the devil to stop him now. Lady Maud sat down behind the desk and stared at the filigree of her grandfather’s silver inkstand for inspiration. It was shaped like a lion’s head. An hour later she had found the solution she was looking for. She reached for the phone and was about to pick it up when it rang. It was Sir Giles calling from London.