by Stuart Woods
“If that wall goes down to the river on both sides of the estate,” Susan said, “it’s a million pounds’ worth of masonry.”
“I’m happy for Lady Curtis,” Stone said.
The house came into view, and it was impressive. “It’s half again as large as Windward Hall,” he said.
“Twice as large,” Susan replied, “perhaps more.”
They pulled to a stop in front of the house and climbed the stairs to the front door and rang the bell. Lady Curtis herself opened the door, and introductions were made.
“I’m sorry I haven’t had the opportunity to meet you sooner, Mr. Barrington,” she said, “but circumstances intervened.”
“I’m very glad to be able to meet you now, Lady Curtis,” he replied.
“Let me give you the ten-shilling tour,” she said, “and then we’ll have some lunch.”
They followed her through a succession of elegant rooms filled with fine paintings and sculptures. The wallpaper was peeling here and there, and the paint could have been better. The style of decorating was heavy for Stone’s taste. There was a huge drawing room, a large library, a conservatory, a billiards room, a writing room, and a music room, with a concert grand piano and a harp. Then they toured the second and third floors; Stone quickly lost count of the number of bedrooms. They also toured the lower level, where there was an Edwardian-era kitchen and servants hall, plus quarters for the help. The utility rooms were clean, and the equipment looked serviceable, if old.
They went back to the conservatory, where a cold lunch was served by uniformed staff. At one point Lady Curtis was called to the phone, and Susan tugged at Stone’s sleeve.
“I told you that I am meeting with a possible client, a hotel group, on Monday.”
“I remember,” Stone said.
“I think I could interest them in this place,” she said, “if it came to them thoroughly renovated. They are known to prefer properties in a move-in condition.”
“How much to renovate the place?” Stone asked.
“A wild guess? Five million pounds, if we don’t have to replace all the bathroom fixtures. I think the old ones could be refinished, and they add charm. Have you visited Cliveden, the former home of the Astors?”
“Yes, a couple of times.”
“A renovation much like that, albeit on a smaller scale.”
“Another good reason not to buy the place,” Stone said.
Felicity had been listening closely. “I like the way you think, Susan. Now, when Glynnis comes back, let me do the talking. You, in particular, Stone, shut up.”
Lady Curtis returned and apologized for her absence. “That was the estate agents,” she said. “They’re pressing for an acceptance.”
“Glynnis,” Felicity said, “I urge you not to be rushed into this deal. The buyers are unsavory people, and I believe that if you can give me a week or so, I might be able to come up with a better buyer, perhaps even a better offer. Have you signed an agreement to be represented by the estate agents?”
“Not yet; they’re pressing for that, too.”
“You would clear more from the sale if you didn’t have to pay their commission.”
Lady Curtis brightened. “A good point, Felicity, yes, I’ll give you a week to see what you can do.”
They thanked her for the tour and lunch, then excused themselves.
“That is an extraordinary property,” Susan said, as soon as they were in the car. “I could make it into the most spectacular country hotel in Europe. What do you think, Stone?”
“I think you could certainly do that, if you can interest your hotelier in the property.”
“Did I mention that the estate is some two hundred acres and that there are at least a dozen cottages on the property?” Felicity asked. “Those could be done up and rented, as well.”
“Thank you, Felicity,” Stone said, “but no dice.”
“I’ll take that as a maybe,” Felicity replied, gunning the Jaguar.
24
They got back to the house, and Stone took Felicity into the library, where the gang awaited, and introduced her to everyone.
“Where have you been?” Peter asked.
“We’ve just seen the most glorious house,” Susan said, “and it’s right next door.” She told him about the place.
“I want to see it,” Peter said.
Stone sat up straight. “Why?”
“It sounds interesting. I might find a way to work it into the script.”
“I’ll take you back right now,” Felicity said. “Let me phone Lady Curtis.”
“But you haven’t even had lunch,” Stone said to Peter.
“Yes, we have, we’d just finished when you arrived. Do you want to come with us?”
“There isn’t room in the car,” Stone said.
Peter and Ben and their girls left with Felicity.
“I don’t like the way this is going,” Stone said to Susan.
“Why ever not? They’ll enjoy seeing it.”
“You’re all going to gang up on me. I can see it coming.”
“Nonsense. Read a magazine or something. There’s a stack of Country Life over there.”
Stone picked up a magazine and found it filled with country estates for sale. “The last thing I want to read,” he said, flinging it across the room.
Billy Barnett spoke up. “Is the lady you just introduced to us, Dame Felicity Devonshire, the head of MI6?”
“She is,” Stone said, “and she missed her calling: she should have been a real estate agent.”
“I know the style of decoration is out of date,” Susan said, “not at all what you like, but when I’m done, you’ll love it.”
“I don’t have to love it—your hotelier prospective client will, no doubt. At least, I hope he does.”
“I’ve had another idea, too,” she said.
Stone threw up his hands. “Can we change the subject, please? I’ve already heard too much about that house.”
“As you wish,” she said frostily. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do. Let me know when it’s dinnertime.” She walked briskly out of the room.
“Now I’ve done it,” Stone groaned. “She won’t speak to me for the rest of the weekend.”
—
Peter came back, raving about Curtis House. “It’s incredible! I wouldn’t want to live there, but wow! What a property! Did you see the cottages?”
“No,” Stone said, “and I don’t think the house would be a good investment for your trust.”
“No? I think Susan could do it up, and we could sell it at a very nice profit.”
“That would be a very large bet.”
“One I could afford to lose,” Peter pointed out.
“That’s not a good investment attitude, it’s a roll of the dice.”
“I like the fact that it’s available right away.”
“Take a few deep breaths, Peter.”
Felicity came into the room. “I’ve just spoken with the Home Secretary,” she said, “and told him about this Calhoun person. He’d already heard about him from MI5, who have reported to him that the man is on his way to London as we speak. He’s agreed to declare him an undesirable person and have him stopped at the airport and sent back on the next flight. Both Heathrow and Gatwick have been alerted.”
“Now that is very good news,” Stone said. “I’ll bet he was coming to look at Curtis House.”
“That could very well be—he’d be mad to buy the place sight unseen.”
“The bad news is, he is mad,” Stone said. “Or, at least, he sounds that way. Did I tell you I saw the FBI file on the man? I’ll have it sent to you, if you like.”
“Oh, yes, please,” Felicity said. “I’ll need all the ammunition I can get to persuade the secretary to ban him permanently.�
�
Stone called Joan and asked her to copy the file and FedEx it to Felicity. “You’ll have it Monday morning,” he told her.
“I can’t wait to read it. Where’s Susan gone?”
“She said she had some work to do.”
“You annoyed her with your attitude about the house, didn’t you?”
“Probably. You two have got Peter on my back about it now.”
“Oh, he loved it, and Lady Curtis loved him. A match made in heaven.”
“I’m not sure you’ve got your geography right,” Stone said.
Susan came into the library. “I’ve just spoken with my assistant and there’s some work I have to do in London before my meeting on Monday. Could you ask Stan to drive me? My bags are all packed.”
“Of course,” Stone said, and nothing else he could say to her made a difference.
25
Stone, knowing he had gone too far, e-mailed Susan:
My Dear Susan, I want to apologize for making such an argument about Curtis House. I overreacted, and I did not mean to make you the brunt of that. The next time I refuse to buy it, I will be kinder.
He got an e-mail back, saying:
I am at fault for harrying you about the house. The next time I urge you to buy it I will use fewer words.
—
Stone had breakfast in bed, as usual, and read the Sunday papers. He was going to have to find out how to get the New York Times delivered in England, even if it was a day late.
There was a knock on his bedroom door. “Come in!”
Peter came into the room. “Ben had a thought last night that might play into your decision about whether to buy Curtis House.”
Stone almost yelled, but caught himself. “Yes?”
“If I use the big house in my film, Ben thinks we can charge a substantial part of the renovations to my budget, without raising the studio’s hackles.”
“That’s certainly an attractive idea,” Stone said, “but, speaking as a board member, I think you should be frank with Centurion about what you’re doing and get specific approvals in advance of building that into your budget. It might also help to have Susan prepare a room-by-room budget. You certainly won’t be using the whole house. Also, you shouldn’t plunge ahead on your script until you know who is going to own the house. I don’t think Dr. Don would be open to your using it.”
“Good point, Dad. Are you getting out of bed today?”
“I’m considering it.”
“Why don’t you and I take a ride after lunch?”
“Horse or Porsche?”
“I was thinking horse. Nobody else seems much interested. Hattie has discovered your Steinway, and she wants to work on some ideas she has for the score of the film, and I think Ben plans to spend the afternoon screwing his girl.”
“You’re on, kiddo.”
—
They rode across the meadow in front of the house and into the woods, along a well-beaten trail. It was cool under the trees, and they slowed to a walk to better enjoy the air.
“Dad, what’s that?” Peter asked. He was pointing at a small structure.
“That,” Stone said, “is the hermitage, where the hermit lived.”
“Hermit?”
Stone turned his horse and rode slowly toward the little house, while he told Peter about the killing of Sir Richard Curtis and the confession and suicide of the hermit, Wilfred Burns. He gave him all the background on the service in the Royal Marines of Burns, Curtis, and Sir Charles Bourne.
“That’s fascinating,” Peter said as he dismounted and tied his reins to a bush. “I think I can use that story.”
Stone tied his horse, and they tried the door to the house. It was unlocked, and they walked in. Stone had expected a hovel, and he was surprised to see how well the space was used and how neat the place was. It was, essentially, one room; there was a kitchenette in a corner, a woodstove, a small desk, and a single comfortable chair. There were built-in bookcases holding volumes that seemed mostly about military history. There was a tiny cupboard that held some military uniforms and a Squadron mess kit, along with some rougher clothing, and a sleeping loft had been built at one end, with a small bathroom underneath.
“This is what I call simple living,” Peter said. “I don’t think I could ever get along with so few possessions.”
“Nor I,” Stone said, “but I admire him for doing it. I think it must be part of his penance for the behavior that ruined his career.”
“What did the police think was the brigadier’s motive for killing Richard Curtis?” Peter asked.
“I don’t know, and the police inspector never mentioned one. His suicide seemed to bring the investigation to a screeching halt, and when I last spoke to Inspector Holmes, I thought I detected a note of relief in his voice.”
“Are you going to seek out a new hermit for the place?”
“No, I think I’ll wait and see if one comes to me.”
They had a look around the exterior and found a shed containing a couple of chain saws and some hand tools.
“He earned his keep here as a woodcutter,” Stone explained to Peter.
They went back to their horses and mounted up, then rode on. As they passed within sight of the airfield, a twin-engine Piper Navajo came in and touched down, and Sir Charles and the new Lady Bourne got out, as Stan arrived with the Land Rover.
Stone rode over to meet them and introduced Peter. “I hope the honeymoon went well,” he said. Charles, he thought, looked a little tired and perhaps a bit thinner, but then, the groom was supposed to be worn out after the honeymoon.
“We had a wonderful time, Stone,” Elizabeth said, “and Marie was very kind to us, as well. We can’t thank you enough.”
They got into the Land Rover and drove toward Charles’s cottage, and the airplane started up, took off, and headed south, toward France.
Stone and Peter rode on, passing the cemetery and the Norman church beyond. They had a good view of Curtis Hall from there.
“Why don’t we jump that wall and ride around the Curtis estate?” Peter asked.
“I think it would be more neighborly to ask permission first,” Stone said, and as they watched, Lady Curtis came out the front door with four people who, somehow, looked American. She waved at Stone and Peter, and they waved back, then she beckoned to them and waved her arm in a sweep, as if to say, “Come ride on my property.”
They jumped the horses over the wall and walked on, as the group got into a limousine and drove away, passing a few yards ahead of their path.
“They looked American,” Peter said.
“I thought so, too,” Stone replied, “and the tall one looked like pictures I’ve seen of Dr. Don Beverly Calhoun.”
“Oh, shit,” Peter said.
26
They spent a good two hours covering the whole of the Curtis estate, which was indeed larger than Stone’s property, and then they rode along the Beaulieu River toward the dock of Windward Hall. Stone’s cell phone vibrated.
“Hello?”
“It’s Felicity.”
“I know what you’re going to tell me.”
“Okay, what?”
“That Dr. Don Beverly Calhoun somehow got into the country.”
“How could you know that?”
“Because I just saw him leaving Curtis Hall.”
“He flew private, into Biggin Hill.”
“I figured.”
“We didn’t cover private airfields; there are too many.”
“I figured. Why don’t you get your friend the Home Secretary to throw him out of the country?”
“Oh, no, it’s easy to block someone from entering, and that way, you deny him the media, but arresting and deporting him is much more complicated and could even be appealed, and we’d have the papers and TV all over us.”<
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“I see your point.”
“Did you actually see Calhoun and Glynnis together?”
“I saw her saying goodbye to him and three others, then they got into a limo and passed within a few yards of us.”
“Did they look as though they had concluded a deal?”
“Oh, come on, Felicity, what sort of look is that?”
“Oh, all right, I’ll call her. Goodbye.”
Stone hung up. “The river runs down to the Solent,” he said to Peter. “Very convenient for boating.”
“Are you going to get a boat?”
“I don’t have a crew—maybe a powerboat.”
“Another Hinckley?”
“That’s a good thought—it could be shipped to Southampton. I’m not really in the mood to research British boats. I’d know what I’m getting with a Hinckley.”
“Good. The next time we visit, I’ll expect a Hinckley ride.”
“It sounds to me as though you’re going to be spending the rest of the year here, and why not? You can finish your script, do a deal with a British production house for a crew and equipment, and get your casting done. What sort of schedule are you thinking about?”
“I’ll have to work it up. We’ll need to finish the script, do production drawings, and run it by the studio. Then preproduction and a few weeks of shooting. We’d want to do postproduction at home, since we have all the equipment in our offices. I think we could be ready for release in December, in time for Academy Awards qualification and screenings.”
“Sounds like you’ve given it a lot of thought.”
“I’ve hardly thought about anything else. It would be a new experience, having a film go from inspiration to completion so quickly.”
“Maybe I’ll figure out a way to get my New York work done over here. I’d love to watch your film happen. I’d promise not to get in the way.”
“Nonsense, you’ve been nothing but helpful. This film wouldn’t have happened but for you.”
“You sound as if it’s already made.”