As they waited around for the race to start, their party moved to the large club windows that overlooked the track to watch their horses being led to the starting gates. Louisa pulled a couple of pairs of binoculars from her bag and handed one set to Wade.
‘Excellent,’ he uttered, as the magnified lenses awarded him a much-improved view of Line Catcher being led into the number eight gate — Cyber Knight was in number three.
Wade turned his binoculars on the crowd and was surprised to note a gentleman down below looking up through binoculars at him. When the gent lowered his glasses, Wade knew he’d seen him somewhere before.
The solicitors’ offices, he recalled.
This man had been on his way out as Wade and the Contessa entered the legal establishment. He had known the young Baron well enough to address him by his then new title. ‘Do you know that guy?’ Wade pointed him out.
Louisa aimed her binoculars where directed. ‘The man looking up here at us?’ she clarified.
‘That’s him.’
‘No, I don’t think so. Why?’
Her question remained unanswered as the starting gates flung open and the horses took to the track.
The next few minutes were spent in a frenzied blur of excitement as they barracked their horses towards the finish line. True to his name Line Catcher made up several places in the home stretch to seize second place behind Cyber Knight in what was a photo finish to the race.
Wade breathed a huge sigh of relief at the result.
‘My word, that was exciting.’ Foxworth turned to pat Wade on the shoulder. ‘Bad luck, son.’
‘Oh, I don’t know?’ Wade held in his hand a ticket for Line Catcher for a place, which would cover his twenty thousand dollar bet with Foxworth. But from his coat pocket Wade pulled another ticket for Cyber Knight to win at five to two odds.’
‘You son of a gun,’ Foxworth chuckled.
‘How much did you bet?’ Louisa inquired, figuring that Wade had been the reason that Cyber Knight’s payback dividend had lessened so dramatically during his supposed trip to the little boys’ room.
‘One and a half million,’ he announced with glee, stunning Louisa speechless as he turned to Foxworth to proposition him. ‘Thus, I now have a spare two million to spend on a racehorse. Do you know anyone who might be interested in selling one?’
The old Baron went quiet as he considered Wade’s offer. ‘Actually,’ Foxworth corrected, after a moment. ‘You’ve got a spare two and a quarter million.’
Louisa’s jaw dropped when she realised Foxworth was actually considering a sale, and even if Wade accepted the higher price Foxworth was asking for the thoroughbred, Cyber Knight would still have cost Ashby nothing!
‘You drive a hard bargain, Barry?’ Wade hesitated to accept. He was enjoying giving Louisa heart failure.
‘Two and a quarter,’ Foxworth posed, knowing the deal that the young Baron was holding out for. ‘And I’ll take a look at your game as well.’
‘Done.’ Wade held out a hand to shake on it, whereby Louisa got so excited she sprang into the air and gave a cheer.
Then, always the business manager, Louisa took Foxworth aside to discuss Ashby’s latest acquisition.
Now that the race was over and his gamble had paid off, Wade raised his binoculars, of a mind to seek and find the mysterious gentleman who kept crossing his path. The young Baron scanned the crowd below, but the seemingly anonymous stranger was nowhere to be seen.
The rest of Ashby’s horses ran well, so the remains of the day found them with much cause to celebrate.
On the way home in the car, Louisa was in finer spirits than Wade had ever seen her; now was the time to venture into Hugh territory. Wade pressed the button that raised the window between the cab of the Rolls and its driver.
Louisa observed Wade curiously as he reached into his pocket and pulled out some papers which he handed to her. She unfolded them to find they were Cyber Knight’s ownership papers — the horse had been signed over to her personally and not Ashby Stables as she’d imagined.
‘He’s all yours,’ Wade clarified, in case there was any confusion.
Tears filled Louisa’s eyes. ‘When you said you’d buy him for me, I thought you meant —’
‘That’s not what I said, though, is it? And you can’t feel guilty about accepting, as it cost me nothing but a little worry. However,’ Wade raised a finger to remind her, ‘you now owe me a favour, as per our other bet.’
Louisa flung her arms around Wade’s neck and gave him a huge hug.
‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ Wade commented, then realised that Louisa had begun to cry. ‘Hey, come on, don’t make a big thing out of this. No tears allowed.’
‘I can’t believe you, Wade.’ She pulled back and smiled. ‘Of course I’ll do you a favour, and you don’t have to give me two and a half million pounds of horse for me to do it either.’
‘Then I’d be very grateful if you’d talk to Hugh.’ Louisa’s elation suddenly dispersed, so Wade expanded on his reasons for asking. ‘I know Hugh feels bad about what happened the other week, but he won’t come to you to apologise, and I hate that the two of you are so —’
‘So what?’ Louisa appeared most curious.
‘So … not getting along,’ Wade resolved finally, to avoid any unpleasantness. ‘I just don’t understand it … Hugh is a great guy and you’re a great gal, so why can’t you both just see that?’
Louisa released a heavy exhalation to confess: ‘It just seems like every time I see Hugh, I have to confront some deep dark part of myself, that I don’t want to know about.’
‘He challenges you.’ Wade considered that that was why he and Hannah worked so well together.
Louisa knew Wade desperately wanted his friends to get along, but she had to wonder if she and Hugh ever truly would. ‘Sometimes when people get off on the wrong footing, the damage is done for good.’
Wade shook his head, not wanting to believe that. ‘Please couldn’t you just —’
‘But as a favour to you …’ Louisa spoke up over Wade’s plea, ‘I shall do my very best to make peace with Mr Prescott … as soon as I work up the courage to spend five minutes alone in his company.’
‘Hearing that is the perfect end to a perfect day.’ Wade gave Louisa a friendly nudge with his shoulder, as they lent back in the seat exhausted from all the excitement. ‘We did good today, Louisa. Grandpa would be proud.’
‘He certainly would have been proud of you,’ Louisa emphasized, before a yawn escaped her lips. ‘I was,’ she mumbled, leaning her head back onto the seat and closing her eyes.
Wade had never felt more proud of himself than he did at that moment, and it wasn’t because of his big payoff today. It was everything: the manor, the business, the school, his teaching position, his beautiful and wonderfully-talented girlfriend. It was actually seeming like he was quite good at this Lord of the Manor gig. Soon he’d be a fine up-standing member of the community, and for the first time in his life the idea didn’t make Wade cringe. God bless my forefather’s. He smiled.
Hugh was cramming for an exam when his roommate entered to inform him that there was a hot-looking redhead in a sports car downstairs asking after him.
‘No.’ Hugh couldn’t believe that Lady Sinclair would drive all the way down here just to see him. Unless, of course, there had been some development with the house mystery at Ashby?
‘Take a look for yourself.’ His room-mate opened the window wide and they both stuck their heads out to view her and her racy vehicle below.
‘Well, I’ll be damned.’ Hugh suppressed his urge to smile. A crowd of young men had already began to surround Louisa; thus Hugh quickly withdrew back into the room.
‘If I were you, I’d get down there quick-smart,’ his room-mate advised.
‘Well, I am me, and I plan to do exactly that.’ Hugh grabbed a coat and headed out to rescue the lady from his colleagues.
‘Hugh!’ Louisa waved to him, and the c
rowd of men expressed their disappointment that the fellow she sought had arrived. Those of the students who recognised Hugh called him ‘an old dog’, ‘a devil’ and suchlike, as he approached to lead Louisa away.
‘I assure you gentlemen that Lady Sinclair and myself are just good friends.’ Hugh played up his innocent plea to look guilty as hell, and wallowed in the speculation as he and Louisa walked across the lawn to escape the onlookers.
‘Are we friends, Hugh?’ Louisa asked in all honesty.
Hugh was taken aback, as Louisa’s questions were usually a little more subtle. ‘I certainly hope so.’ He made light of the moment. ‘I’d hate to think I just lied to everyone back there.’
Louisa smiled; the first time she really needed Hugh to take her seriously and he finally finds his sense of humour. ‘Look, I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your friends —’
‘Embarrass me! You just did my reputation more good than you can possibly realise.’
‘I’m here to say,’ Louisa endeavoured to stick to the point, ‘that you were right about me, and that I was so terribly wrong about you.’
‘No, I wasn’t.’ Hugh gave half a laugh to argue. ‘I had no right to judge you like that. I was just jealous, as I have been since the day you met Wade.’
Usually Louisa could manipulate her feelings to suit her purpose, but the tears that welled presently she could not suppress. ‘But surely my behavior of late has tarnished your view of me, and rightly so.’
‘No, Louisa.’ Hugh slowly shook his head. ‘And just to prove there’s no ill will,’ he lightened up a little upon noting her tears, ‘I’d truly love to take you to dinner. Just as friends,’ he clarified, in case she got the wrong impression.
Although Louisa appreciated the sentiment, she declined. ‘My whole emotional state is on tenterhooks at present. I’ll be far better company in a couple of weeks.’
Hugh understood this to be her true motive and not an attempt to avoid him for social reasons. ‘The offer is there whenever you need it.’
‘Friends then,’ Louisa stated, holding out her hand to shake Hugh’s.
‘The best of.’ Hugh bypassed the handshake to give her a hug. Louisa felt surprisingly comfortable in the embrace and was sorry when they were forced to bring it to an end — all of Hugh’s college mates had began yelling instructions on how to proceed.
‘Sorry about them,’ Hugh now regretted all the attention they’d drawn.
‘That’s alright.’ Louisa backed away, emotional but steady. ‘I should really go anyway.’
Hugh knew Louisa was still at odds, and the ruckus his colleagues were kicking up wasn’t aiding the situation. ‘I wish you’d let me take you somewhere quiet.’
‘You do, Hugh.’ She gazed at him a moment, committing his sultry expression to memory. Perhaps Wade had been right all along. This foreboding desire Hugh never failed to stir in her was indeed love — mixed with the fear of having to face the complications it might cause to her life plan, so carefully laid out for her by her parents and their peers. Louisa bit down on her lip to keep her emotions in check until she reached her car.
‘No more diving in.’ She assured herself that she was doing the right thing by leaving, once safely concealed inside her transport. There was no room for error where Hugh was concerned. Until she was certain this was love, she must keep her distance.
They looked in every logical and illogical place they could think of in search of the elusive key. Andrew finally decided to review the history of the Ashby family that he’d found in the library. This had been penned by Lawrence Ashby, the eleventh Baron — Wade’s great-grandfather. Andrew looked up John Ashby, and began reading from there.
It was approaching the midnight hour when Grace arrived, bearing a tray of tea and light snacks.
‘What are you still doing up?’ Andrew stubbed out the joint that was smoking away in his hand.
Although Grace was used to retiring early, she’d grown accustomed to the benefits of gas lighting and had become more and more of a night owl as the months passed. ‘I thought you might be hungry.’ She set the tray down on the desk beside him.
‘Now that you mention it, I do have a bit of an appetite.’ Andrew pushed his reading aside and invited her to take a seat.
Grace was happy to join him, and poured tea for them both. She was well aware of how Andrew took his tea. In fact, she’d made it her business to be well aware of all his likes and dislikes. ‘The master told me what you’re trying to do,’ she commented.
Her words were of concern to Andrew, and he hoped that the Baron wasn’t attempting to play matchmaker. For Grace, as attractive as Andrew found her, wasn’t like the headstrong, uninhibited women of this day and age. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’
Grace thought he was being modest, which made her understanding all the harder to voice. ‘I know that you are working on a way to ensure I can stay here in the twentieth century, and I wanted you to know that I am ever so grateful.’
Andrew breathed a sigh of relief, since Wade’s whisper in her ear worked very much to his favour. ‘I want you to stay here, Grace,’ he confessed, placing his hand upon hers. Usually she would have been quick to pull away, but in this instance she did not. ‘I want your future here to be secured, so …’
‘Yes,’ she urged.
Andrew could hardly believe that a marriage proposal had nearly slipped from his lips. ‘Well,’ he gave half a laugh in conclusion, ‘best not get ahead of ourselves.’
‘Oh.’ She sat back, seemingly disappointed by his response.
Andrew picked up on this, and had to figure that she might finally be ready to broach the subject of a relationship. ‘I’m sorry, Grace —’
‘No, don’t be,’ she was quick to interject. If Andrew didn’t feel as she hoped he did, she didn’t want to know.
‘I don’t want to seem too forward,’ he added awkwardly. ‘I don’t want to rush you —’
‘You’re not.’ She encouraged him to continue, sitting forward in her chair and taking hold of his hand again.
‘Well, it’s just that I —’ He was lost for words. How far should he go with his confession?
‘Can’t stop thinking about you,’ Grace suggested to aid him along.
‘Yes,’ he confirmed wholeheartedly.
‘More and more each day,’ she added, leaning closer, ‘until it has reached the point where I can think of little else.’
‘You’re reading my mind,’ he uttered, lost in her pale blue eyes that glistened with delight.
‘I feel the same,’ she whispered, before surprising Andrew with a kiss — a long, sweet kiss, that they both became lost in for some time.
When their lips parted, the couple found themselves standing with their bodies pressed hard against each other. They could do little more than stare at one another as they panted in the wake of their sudden arousal. Her eyes never leaving his, Grace began to unbutton her shirt.
‘No, Grace.’ Andrew grabbed her hand to stop her undressing. ‘Not out of gratitude.’
‘This is not gratitude,’ she vowed as tears of desire filled her eyes. ‘This is self-preservation. I want it to be you.’
‘It will be me,’ Andrew assured.
Grace held a finger to his lips, to silence his resistance, shaking her head as she did. ‘But what if something goes wrong, and I was to find myself back in my rightful place in time. I couldn’t bear that you’d never held me, that we’d never …’ She went silent, afraid of sounding wanton, and looked to the ground in the shame of how much she felt for him.
‘I just want to do right by you,’ Andrew told her.
Summoning her courage, she again looked him in the eye. ‘This feels right to me.’
Andrew held her face in both his hands. He could not argue against her wish, as it was, indeed, his own. ‘For love then,’ he told her, and drawing her closer he kissed her again.
Long after Grace had fallen asleep, Andrew was still buzzing
. Hence, he left a few flowers, picked from the garden, beside his new lover, and returned to the library to resume his research.
Andrew re-lit the large roach in the ashtray, and after a few deep drags settled down to read.
He’d covered the text on Ernest’s early life and was just getting to the part where his eldest son, Simon, the ninth Baron, had his father deemed insane.
Ernest Ashby, the eighth Baron, was declared mad in 1822, at the age of 54 years. The tower at Ashby manor became the madman’s prison for the rest of his days — some twenty years in all.
‘The tower. That’s it!’ The smoke dropped from his mouth, and Andrew was quick to save the antique desk from being scorched. He discarded what was left of the joint into the ashtray, and scampered up the timber ladder that gave access to the mezzanine and tower beyond.
At dawn’s first light Andrew was startled when the door leading from the long gallery creaked open. He stood, paused with bated breath, until Wade wandered into the tower room.
‘Jesus, you scared the life out of me!’ Andrew leant against the wall to recover from the fright. ‘I thought you were the damned cat.’
‘Sorry,’ Wade yawned. ‘But I was mulling over what you said about Ernest being locked up in this tower for twenty years and —’
‘So you figured he’d probably hidden his treasure in here somewhere.’ Andrew finished the sentence for him. ‘I had exactly the same thought.’
‘What’s with the sword?’ Wade noted the long metal object Andrew held.
‘Well …’ Andrew raised it and began butting the sandstone bricks with the metal hilt. ‘If Ernest had hidden the key in a piece a furniture, it would have been too easy to find. The brickwork is the only long-standing feature in here.’
‘Good call.’ Wade was impressed. ‘Is there another sword somewhere? I’ll give you a hand.’
‘A decent-sized coin will do, as long as it’s metal.’
As Andrew was looking around the upstairs area, Wade began checking the brickwork where the door to the outside was located, halfway down the stairwell.
The Alchemist's Key Page 15