He turned back to his open Bible.
Ben took the map and went through to the drawing room. He spread the map on a low table and looked at it again. Then he opened the little notebook he carried in his breast pocket and took out his fountain pen. Oast-house people? He wrote. Check village for newcomers. Then map for Mortimer’s Cross and Towton. Although how two ancient battles could possibly be connected to a modern war, he found hard to imagine. Maybe something else happened in 1461—a smaller battle, a critical turning of the tide in the Wars of the Roses. He’d need to go to the library or to his old school in Tonbridge and see if they had any books on the subject. He realised he was rather looking forward to the research aspect. Rather like a puzzle.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Farleigh Place, Kent
May 1941
The Rolls-Royce crunched over the gravel drive as it approached Farleigh Place. Pamela was glad she had accepted Sir William’s offer to run her home. She realised she was out of practice for the long walks that country living entailed. Also, she had to admit that she was glad when Jeremy’s parents came in to interrupt them. His sudden fierce passion had alarmed her. She certainly could understand it, after being locked up all that time, but she had found his advances overwhelming. She was not completely naïve. She had repelled young men’s advances at debutante balls. She’d had to fight off a couple in taxis. But she had always been conscious that she was waiting for Jeremy—saving herself for him. Now his frank admission that he wanted to take her to bed had unsettled her. Of course, she wanted him to make love to her. But her fantasy had always pictured the long white dress, the flowing veil, and then the honeymoon at a lovely villa in Italy, where he’d take her into his arms and whisper, “Alone at last, my darling.”
“How did you get here?” Sir William had asked when they pulled out of Nethercote’s driveway onto the country lane.
“I walked with Ben,” she said. “Can you believe it? We came down from London on the same train. Pure coincidence.”
“Good chap, young Cresswell,” Sir William said. “I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for him. Stuck being a pen-pusher and missing all the fun.”
“Do you really think it is fun?” Pamela asked. “For those who are actually fighting?”
“At least they know they are doing something worthwhile. Defending their country. What could be more valuable than that? A chance to prove you’ve got what it takes. And my son robbed him of that chance. Showing off as usual. Taking risks. It’s in his nature, I’m afraid. Let’s hope this latest escapade has knocked some sense into him.”
They had reached the tall brick wall that enclosed the Farleigh estate; they turned in at the gateway between the stone pillars topped with lions. Pamela looked out the window at the dear, familiar surroundings. The chestnuts were in full flower with their white candles. The flower beds had been allowed to run wild, however. The lawns were certainly not as well manicured as at Nethercote. She leaned forward in her seat, anxious to get her first glimpse of the house. But as they approached, they were met by a procession of army lorries driving toward them, the convoy cutting off her view of Farleigh and reminding her abruptly that it didn’t really belong to the Sutton family at the moment.
“I hope these blighters aren’t messing up the place too badly,” Sir William said, as the first of the lorries passed them.
“Pah hasn’t complained, so I suppose it must be all right so far.”
“One hears horror stories,” Sir William said. “Using the ancestors’ portraits for target practice, peeing on the tapestries—wanton vandalism, you know.”
“Golly, I hope not,” Pamma said. “Pah would kill anyone with his bare hands who damaged anything at Farleigh. But, luckily, all the good stuff was packed away when we heard that the West Kents were coming.”
The forecourt was filled with lines of army vehicles, and Sir William had to manoeuvre around them. “I can’t get close to the front door, I’m afraid,” he said.
“Oh, please, just drop me off here. I can walk,” she said.
Sir William stopped the car beside the lake. “You’ll be all right, then?”
“Absolutely. Thank you for the ride. I really appreciate it. I’ll have to dig out my old bicycle if I want to get around. I’m sure there’s no petrol for the motorcar.”
“Only for people like myself.” Sir William gave a self-satisfied smile.
He got out and came around to open Pamela’s door for her. “I’m glad you’re here, my dear,” he said. “If anyone can speed up Jeremy’s road to recovery, it’s you. He carried a picture of you all the time in that prison camp, you know. He was so upset when he lost it somewhere in that river during the escape.”
Pamela nodded, not knowing what to say.
“Between you and me,” he said in a low voice, “his mother is rather hoping that they won’t let him fly again. Of course, he’s dying to get back to it, but you know Jeremy. He’ll be chasing Messerschmitts and Junkers into Germany the moment he’s back in that bally plane.”
Pamela had to smile. “I expect so. He does love it.”
“He likes living on the edge. Always has.” He took Pamela’s hand. “Come and see us often while you’re home, won’t you?”
“Of course. Thank you again for the ride.”
He released her hand, and she hurried up the front steps and into the house.
She heard voices from what had been the morning room but had now become the drawing room. It faced the front of the house and had a good view over the lake and the drive. She entered to find the whole family at tea. They were seated in a semicircle, and the low table now held a tea tray with a silver service on it, a plate of small sandwiches, a plate of biscuits, a hunk of fruitcake, and some other type of food hidden under a silver dome. Livvy held her baby, bouncing him on her knee while the nanny hovered nervously in the doorway. The two dogs lay sprawled at Lord Westerham’s feet. Missie, always alert, pricked up her ears when she heard Pamela’s footsteps, then stood up, her tail wagging.
“Pamma’s here!” Phoebe noticed her first and gave her sister a beaming smile that warmed Pamela’s heart.
“Hello, my dear. Welcome home.” Lord Westerham also beamed at the sight of his daughter, holding out his hands to her.
Pamela went over and kissed his cheek. “Hello, Pah.” She looked around the assembly. “Hello, Feebs. Mah. Livvy. I’ve already said hello to you, Dido.”
“And greeted me so warmly, if I remember correctly,” Diana said. She was wearing trousers again, royal blue this time, and a white cotton blouse knotted at the waist, looking like a rather sophisticated land girl.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I was surprised to see you at Jeremy’s house. I didn’t realise you even knew Jeremy.”
“I was doing the charitable thing and visiting a neighbour in distress,” Diana said with a smirk.
“He’s very grateful. He said what a nice kid you were,” Pamela said sweetly.
She went over to the low table and poured herself a cup of tea.
“Pamma, guess what, there are crumpets,” Phoebe said. “Mrs. Mortlock is an absolute angel.”
Pamela smiled at her sister. Phoebe had grown a lot since she’d seen her last. She was clearly at that awkward stage, poised between childhood and womanhood, but Pamela could see that she might well turn out to be a beauty. And her face was alight with refreshing enthusiasm. Pamela turned her gaze to the plate on which now only one crumpet reposed.