‘And that is where we intend to put him.’
‘We?’
There was a pause. Then Cicely said, as nonchalantly as possible, ‘Mr Evington and myself. We are working on the matter together.’
Mrs Lessing gave Cicely a penetrating look. ‘Mr Evington is the new owner of the Manor?’ she asked.
Cicely flushed, much to her annoyance, for her aunt was a perceptive woman and sometimes saw more than was convenient. ‘Yes.’
‘I see. He is young?’ asked Mrs Lessing.
‘Not especially,’ Cicely replied awkwardly.
‘How old is not especially?’ asked Sophie with interest.
‘He is about thirty,’ said Cicely, raising her eyes, and looking frankly at her aunt. Fortunately her flush had subsided, and she was once more in control of herself.
‘Is he married?’ asked Sophie.
Cicely felt in danger of flushing again. ‘No. Though I believe he has an . . . attachment.’
‘What a pity,’ said Sophie. ‘I am in need of a husband, and living at the Manor would be just the thing.’
‘You are in need of nothing of the sort,’ snorted her mother. ‘You are far too young to be married. It is hardly any time since you put up your hair and put down your skirts. Mr Evington is far too old for you. ‘ She gave Cicely another penetrating glance, and the words but not for you, hung unspoken in the air. ‘However, his private life is none of our business, except as it influences the present situation.’ She relaxed her gaze. ‘You have told us that he is to be involved in this venture,’ she said to Cicely, ‘but not why.’
Cicely explained about his sister, and her treatment at Goss’s hands.
‘Mr Evington’s sister is a maid?’ asked Mrs Lessing, startled.
‘Was a maid,’ Cicely corrected her. ‘Mr Evington has only recently made his money, through business, and one of the first things he did was to rescue his sister from service.’
‘Family loyalty,’ said Mrs Lessing, nodding in appreciation of this side of the situation. ‘An estimable quality. Undervalued by the young, but not to be taken lightly nonetheless.’ She was thoughtful. ‘So Mr Evington has a personal interest in catching Goss.’
‘Yes. He has been very helpful with the practical aspects of the plan. In fact I would not be able to carry it out without him.’
‘And now it is time to dress for dinner,’ said Mrs Lessing. ‘And after that, I suggest an early night.’
‘I won’t be able to sleep,’ said Sophie.
‘You had better try,’ said her mother. ‘You will need your wits about you tomorrow, from all I have heard. We all will, it seems.’
* * * *
The following morning the three ladies rose early, and after a breakfast of coffee and hot rolls they set out for the café where Cicely had already arranged to meet Alex. She had promised Sophie she would explain her plan when they were all together and after many grumbles Sophie had at last accepted it.
Marienbad, unlike many fashionable places at half past nine in the morning, was already busy. The guests, who were there for the good of their health, rose early, taking the waters of the Kreuzbrunnen before walking on the promenade. The delightful sound of splashing fountains could be heard, and the cheerful strains of a band.
‘I’d forgotten how lovely it is here,’ said Cicely appreciatively as they strolled along the promenade.
Suddenly she stopped. A distinguished gentleman was walking towards them, flanked by two other gentlemen. Although there was nothing unusual in his dress, which consisted of a dark blue coat, white trousers and a grey felt hat, there was something in his carriage that commanded attention. One glance at his noble face, with its fine eyes, dark moustache and distinctive white beard, told Cicely that she was in the presence of her king. Yet there was nothing ostentatious about him; no pomp and circumstance. He was strolling along the promenade in the most natural way.
‘Ah! You’ve seen him,’ said Cicely’s aunt.
Cicely tried not to show that she was awe-struck, and forced herself to carry on walking, but as they reached the king and he wished her aunt a polite, ‘How do you do?’ she could not help feeling delighted. Even better, he addressed a few words to her, asking her how she was enjoying her visit to Marienbad, before strolling on again.
‘I had hoped I might meet him, but I didn’t really think I would,’ said Cicely. ‘I did not see him on any of my previous visits.’
‘He did not used to come here so often,’ said Mrs Lessing. ‘But now he comes every year. He is a familiar sight, strolling along the promenade, and he always says a few words in the politest way. He likes to be incognito, as far as possible, when he is here, and does not even use his title, but he is unmistakeable nonetheless.’
‘No, he doesn’t like to use his kingly title,’ said Sophie naughtily, ‘but that doesn’t mean he travels as a nobody. Although he is not King Edward when he is here, he is the "Duke of Lancaster" instead.’
Mrs Lessing looked at her daughter reprovingly. ‘The King is a very busy man, and he is entitled to call himself anything he likes. His visits to Marienbad offer him a brief respite from the pressures of his position, and as to calling himself the Duke of Lancaster, I dare say being a mere Duke is as close to being a normal, everyday person as he will ever get.’
They continued talking about their encounter with King Edward as they made their way to the far end of the promenade, where Alex was waiting for them just outside the café. Cicely’s pulse began to beat more quickly at the sight of him, all thoughts of her meeting with King Edward driven from her mind. But she made sure that her inner turmoil did not show on her face. It was unfortunate they had been thrown together by their desire to catch Martin Goss, as it brought to the surface the very feelings she had been trying to suppress, but nevertheless it must be endured.
Cicely performed the introductions, and after greeting each other politely the four of them strolled to a nearby café. They sat at a table that was set apart from the others as they did not want their conversation to be overheard. They ordered coffee and talked inconsequentially until it arrived, but once the waiter had withdrawn, Sophie said, ‘Now, Cicely, I am absolutely bursting to know. Tell us, how are we going to catch the thief?’
Cicely took a sip of the hot coffee then turned to Alex. ‘I will rely on you to remind me if I forget anything.’
He nodded, and she began.
‘I have already told you that we are hoping to trap the Honourable Martin Goss, and that Mr Evington is going to help us to do it. You also know that Mr Evington has already made an attempt to do so, but that the attempt failed. My plan is to tempt Martin Goss with easy pickings again - this time a valuable tiara - but to do it in such a way that he will feel completely safe about taking it, because it will not appear that he is stealing it.’
Sophie and her mother looked mystified.
Alex said, ‘I think you had better start at the beginning.’
‘Very well. My plan is for you to give a dinner party, aunt, at which you, Sophie, will be wearing an expensive tiara. You will flirt with Goss and you will impress upon him the fact that you are very wealthy and also very dim.’
‘No.’ Mrs Lessing was firm. ‘I will not have a daughter of mine behaving in such a way.’
‘But, mother, it is only a game,’ said Sophie.
‘One which half of Marienbad will see,’ retorted her mother.
‘Not if I am discreet.’ Sophie leant towards her mother and placed a pleading hand on her arm. ‘I promise I will only flirt with him when no one else is watching me, if you are concerned. It is all in a good cause.’
‘As to that,’ said her mother, ‘I don’t see how flirting with Martin Goss is going to make him steal anything.’ She looked at Cicely. ‘What has Sophie’s behaviour to do with anything?’
‘I am just coming to that,’ said Cicely. ‘After dinner, Sophie, having impressed him with how silly she is and having given him plenty of opportunity to see what a valu
able tiara she is wearing, will engage him in conversation. She will then claim she is overheated.’ She turned to Sophie. ‘It will be better if you let him suggest a walk, but if not, you are to gaze longingly out of the window and remark on the pleasures of moonlit strolls, until he offers to take you outside. Once the two of you are alone you must pretend to swoon. Now this is the difficult part, and will require practice. As you swoon, your tiara must fall from your head.’
Sophie looked surprised, but then said thoughtfully, ‘It shouldn’t be too difficult. Not if I practice first. And I suppose if it won’t come off, I can always raise my hand to my overheated brow and knock it off - discreetly, of course.’
Cicely nodded. ‘Once you come out of your swoon,’ she continued, ‘you are to ask him to escort you to a nearby bench. When he deposits you there, you are to ask him to fetch your mother. Thus the scene will be set for the theft.’
‘Ah. I am beginning to see,’ said Mrs Lessing. ‘By presenting him with a valuable tiara lying on the ground you present him with an irresistible temptation -’
‘And the perfect excuse if he is caught,’ said Sophie triumphantly. ‘If he is discovered with the tiara in his possession, he will not need to plant it on anyone else, he will only need to claim that he was retrieving it for me, as it fell from my head when I swooned.’
‘Exactly,’ said Cicely. ‘And he can do so safe in the knowledge that you will agree with him.’
‘Once he has retrieved it, however, we think he will take it to a fence here in Marienbad, a man who buys jewels with no questions asked,’ said Alex, entering the conversation. ‘I have made some enquiries and discovered that Goss has done business with this man before, and so I have hired a couple of private detectives to follow him once he has taken the tiara. When he tries to sell it, we will catch him red-handed.’
‘And the names of everyone who has ever been framed by him will be completely cleared,’ said Cicely.
‘An excellent plan,’ declared Mrs Lessing roundly. ‘And so you want me to arrange a dinner party at the villa?’
‘Not at the villa,’ said Cicely. ‘We would like you to hold it at the Kurhaus instead.’
‘It is a popular venue for dinners, certainly, but why?’
‘Because your villa is outside town. If Goss steals the tiara there, then he might wait until the following day to dispose of the tiara, or even take it elsewhere to sell, making it far more difficult for us to catch him in the act of selling it. Whereas if he steals it outside the Kurhaus, he will be so close to the fence’s apartment that he will think he can have the whole transaction - the theft and the sale - over with in a matter of fifteen minutes, which will surely prove an irresistible temptation to him, and make it easier for us to catch him.’
‘Let us hope so. Now, to details,’ said Mrs Lessing practically. ‘When is this dinner party to take place?’
‘A week on Friday.’
‘A week on Friday?’ asked Mrs Lessing, horrified. ‘Cicely, it’s impossible. I can’t arrange a dinner party at such short notice.’
‘I realize it’s difficult,’ said Cicely, ‘but you know all the local dignitaries here, aunt, and I am sure you can manage to arrange things. And as for the invitations, well, the Season in Marienbad is so short that no one can give much warning of their festivities, so people are used to attending events at short notice.’
‘I will be providing the tiara,’ said Alex. ‘I will bring it to the villa tomorrow, if I may.’
‘You will be welcome at any time,’ said Mrs Lessing graciously.
‘And when does the Honourable Martin Goss arrive?’ asked Sophie.
‘On Monday,’ said Cicely. ‘Which means we have a few days to perfect our plan, and after that Al - Mr Evington and I must not be seen. Mr Evington will remain in Karlsbad, and I will remain at the villa. We don’t want Goss to see us and scent a trap.’
‘Very well.’
Mrs Lessing finished her coffee and stood up. Alex rose politely, and the two young ladies rose as well.
‘We will expect you at the villa tomorrow, Mr Evington. I hope you will come to lunch. It will give us a chance to finalise the details of our plan.’ By now, Mrs Lessing was as involved as the rest of them. ‘And in the meantime, I have a lot of arrangements to make.’
They made their farewells. Alex returned to the neighbouring town of Karlsbad, and Cicely, together with her cousin and her aunt, returned to the villa.
* * * *
Cicely felt uncomfortable as she walked through the pine forests surrounding her aunt’s villa on the following morning. She had slept badly, her mind a whirl of dinners and tiaras, but most of all it had been full of Alex. No matter how hard she tried, she could not put him out of her mind.
She turned her attention to the forest, breathing in the heady scent of pine and rejoicing in the beauty of the trees. Beneath their needled branches the path was cool. Blue shadows fell across the undergrowth, pierced here and there by a brilliant shaft of sunlight that lanced into the forest’s cool depths.
She began to feel her spirit calm. Her pace gradually slowed, until she was doing nothing more than strolling along the path. It would soon be over. Martin Goss would be caught. She would return to England. Alex would leave the Manor. And everything would be as it had been before.
But would it? Whilst a part of her hoped that would be the case, another part of her knew that, for her, nothing would ever be the same again.
She forced herself to turn her thoughts into less dangerous channels and began to take greater notice of her surroundings. She took in the ferns and brackens that grew beneath the trees, and stopped every now and again to let her eyes wander down over the glimpses of the spa town, which was just visible through their heavily-needled branches.
By and by she began to feel better, and decided that, on reaching the next bend, she would turn back to the villa. It was already eleven o’clock, and she would have to change for luncheon at twelve.
She had almost reached the bend, and was preparing to turn, when she saw someone round it from the other direction. She stopped dead. It was Alex!
He too, stopped. By the look on his face it was obvious he was surprised to see her.
She took a deep breath to calm her pulse, which had become uncomfortably rapid, and then managed to say a few words. ‘I . . . was just taking a stroll before luncheon,’ she began, suddenly feeling acutely aware of the fact that she had ventured out on her own and was now alone with him in the cool and inviting depths of the forest.
His eyes wandered over her face and she felt him taking in the softness of her hair and the delicate flush that had sprung to her cheek.
‘I arrived early,’ he said, by way of explanation. ‘I didn’t know how long it would take me to find the villa, and so I left in plenty of time. I didn’t want to disturb your aunt before half-past twelve and so I decided to take a walk.’
They stood looking at each other, an indefinable awkwardness hanging between them. It should not have been there. Cicely was merely taking a stroll, and Alex was doing the same. They had simply met on the way. After expressing their surprise at seeing each other, they should have turned and walked back to the villa. Nothing would have been more natural. Instead of which they stood facing each other, neither one of them moving or speaking, as though in the grip of some invisible spell which held them rigid, afraid to move or speak for fear of losing control of what they might do or say.
‘Cicely -’
‘Alex -’
They spoke at last in an effort to break the tension that rippled through the forest air, but they spoke at the same time and it unnerved them, making them relapse into silence again. And it was just as well, for Cicely had the sudden feeling that if they succeeded in breaking the tension the storm would break with it; not a storm of thunder and lightning, but of feelings and passions that would be impossible to control.
There was only one thing to do. She must go back to the villa, and leave this highly char
ged atmosphere behind. She tried to turn around but it was beyond her power to do it. She made a determined attempt, and this time she managed.
It made things easier. She was no longer looking at Alex, and she began to walk away from him.
He watched her take the first few steps, and then said, ‘I can’t let you do it.’
She stopped. She knew she must keep on walking, but almost against her will she turned, and when she did so she caught her breath. There was an air of such intensity about him it seemed he was more alive than anything else in the forest. Against the suddenly-dimmed background he stood out, his attitude one of tightly-leashed power, as though he were a predator about to pounce. But it was not just his body that held her motionless, causing her heart to skip a beat. His face, a collection of sharp angles and planes, held her rigid, and his eyes burned.
She felt alarmed, not because of what he might do, but because of what they might do together. Yet despite this she was unable to move; unable to take the steps that would let her walk away.
Then she must say something. If she could not move she must at least utter a few words. The situation was becoming so charged with pent-up energy that she knew she must do something to give it release, for if it continued it would become unbearable. ‘I . . . I don’t know what . . . ’ She started to speak, but it was impossible for her to continue because her throat and mouth were parched.
His eyes continued to bore into her own, holding her and drinking her in.
She began to tingle.
And then he spoke. ‘I can’t let you marry Chuffington,’ he said.
‘Marry . . . ?’ She couldn’t think what he was talking about. Had she heard him correctly? There was such a rushing in her ears that she could not be sure. Her mind was no more help than her ears, for it was filled with heart-wrenching memories, and she was finding it difficult to think. She was in the forest, with Alex, and his eyes were full of an intense emotion that she could not begin to understand; her legs were turning to water; but beyond that her mind could not go.
‘It isn’t worth it,’ he said. His eyes still held her. ‘I know life has been difficult for you, and I know he can give you a beautiful home, but -’
Marriage at the Manor Page 14