“We shall try to keep them off the itinerary,” said Henry Fazeby, wryly. Millie got the impression that he would much rather be locked up in the library with his books than hosting a dinner party.
When the butler brought the port, the women retired to the drawing room. “I know it’s an old-fashioned custom to leave the men to their port,” said Cynthia Fazeby, as she led them through to the drawing room, “but I prefer to chat to other women without men present. The conversation is far more interesting.”
“So,” said Mrs Oakengate when the women were alone. They sat back in comfortable chairs, drinking coffee. “Tell me about Chlomsky. Is he rich?”
“Very,” said Cynthia, her eyes glowing mischievously. “His family were something important in Prussia. Are you thinking of husband number two?”
“Oh, always darling. Though I would much rather Alexander Markham. Millicent, you must tell me all about your godfather.”
Barbara Conrad, sitting in the corner browsing through a magazine, raised her eyebrow, and then winked at Millie.
“He’s a very kind, intelligent man,” said Millie. “When I was growing up, he was like a second father to me. We … I haven’t seen him for a while.”
“He’s a great diplomat,” said Cynthia. “Henry tells me that many a time Alexander has got the country out of trouble abroad. Not quite in the same way as James Haxby but…”
“Now, tell me about Haxby,” said Mrs Oakengate, her mind already having moved on. “He’s quite the adventurer, I hear.”
“Oh yes,” said Cynthia. She related what was known of Haxby’s adventures, all of which seemed incongruous when sitting in a civilised drawing room in the middle of England. Mrs Parker-Trent listened with rapt attention. Much of it Millie already knew from the papers, but there were other hints at dangers not made public. Then the talk moved on to more mundane things. Dresses, hats, and who was seeing whom, and the local area. It was decided that they would visit the Heights of Abraham the following morning and take tea in one of the cafes in Matlock.
“I wonder …” said Millie after a while, “if I might excuse myself.” She looked to Mrs Oakengate for permission.
“My dear child,” said Mrs Oakengate, “you’ll have people thinking I keep you as a slave. You may retire anytime you wish.”
That wasn’t strictly true, and there had been several nights when Mrs Oakengate had insisted on Millie sitting up into the early hours listening to her employer reminisce. Millie supposed it was loneliness.
“Millie, if you would like to read my book,” said Mrs Conrad, “come to my room in half an hour and fetch it.”
“That’s very kind, Mrs Conrad, thank you.”
“Please, call me Barbara.”
Fazeby Hall began to settle down for the night, as Millie made her way to Barbara Conrad’s room on the opposite wing of the building. She had waited to ensure Mrs Oakengate was settled for the night, to prevent being called in for a ‘chat’ which would have meant another night of not getting to bed until three in the morning.
“Come on in, child,” said Barbara. It seemed an odd thing for her to say, since she was only a few years older than Millie. “The maid has left us two cups of cocoa, and some biscuits, so I hope you will stay a while and talk to me.”
Millie smiled her gratitude. Barbara beckoned to a comfortable chair near the window. “I always hate these country house weekends,” she said. “But it is expected of one’s class to attend them occasionally. It’s worse when one is alone.”
“Is your husband busy this weekend?” asked Millie, just to make conversation. A dark cloud passed over Barbara’s face. She sat on the edge of the bed, nursing her cup of cocoa.
“Yes, he’s working. Tell me about Mrs Oakengate. How did you find yourself working for her?”
“She and my mother were on the stage together, before I was born.”
“Your mother is dead, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she died when I was little. I don’t remember much about her. Just vague impressions. Sometimes I’ll hear a song or smell a particular perfume and it reminds me of her…” Millie stopped. “I’m sorry. You’re not interested in all that.”
“Yes, I am, Millie. Did your father never remarry?”
“No, though there was a lady who visited for a while. But papa was married to his work. So it was just the two of us. I used to help him. I hoped that I’d be able to get a job working with another inventor, but sadly my name does not instil them with confidence.”
“So now you’re stuck with Oakengate.”
“Oh, she’s very kind to me,” said Millie. “If not for her I might have to work in a factory.”
“She’s not a kind woman,” said Barbara Conrad, emphatically. “You’re not the first trophy she’s paraded in public. Victoria Oakengate collects people. I’ll say one thing for her, she’s not a snob. She’s probably a better person than me in that sense. She doesn’t mind if people are flat broke, as long as they either come from the right family or come from a family so notorious that she can dine out on their infamy. She should never have brought you here.”
“I realise my presence must be embarrassing…”
“It’s not you, Millie,” said Barbara. “Victoria should never have thrust you into the spotlight like this. Especially with Count Chlomsky attending.”
“What has he got to do with anything?”
“You don’t know? No, I suppose much was kept out of the court case. My husband hears things however, and it’s believed … well some believe that Count Chlomsky was one of the men to whom your father gave secrets.”
“Then why is he not also in prison, charged with spying?” asked Millie, horrified.
“Because by the time they found out, he had become a citizen of a friendly country, and was made a diplomat. They have immunity, as you probably know.” Barbara put her cup on the bedside table. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just that you looked so uncomfortable tonight, and I sensed you felt unwelcome. The fact is that Cynthia Fazeby is more than happy to have you here. It is Count Chlomsky’s presence that is the bugbear.”
Millie decided not to tell Barbara about Cynthia and Henry Fazeby’s discussion. “So why was he invited?”
“He more or less invited himself, I believe. He and Parker-Trent have business dealings. As the Foreign Office want to keep an eye on him, they asked Cynthia and Henry to play along.”
“He is not a nice man.”
“Who, Chlomsky? No I suppose he isn’t.”
“No, sorry, I meant Mr Parker-Trent.” Millie had not made up her mind about Count Chlomsky, not having had much opportunity to speak to him. The fact he might have known her father played on her mind. As Millie had no doubts at all about her father’s innocence, she now wondered exactly what part Chlomsky might have had to play in his downfall.
“I agree. He’s very unkind to that silly wife of his, and she’s a harmless soul really,” said Barbara. “It’s a very common way to behave. But he’s a very common man. With far more common beginnings than his wife, by all accounts. Now he has his eye on a knighthood and other accolades. In fact, it was a surprise to everyone he married Hortense. Everyone expected him to marry above himself, to help him get a leg up into high society.” Barbara smiled with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “I hope we shall be friends, Millie. If you need to talk to anyone whilst we’re here, please consider my door always open.”
Once again, Millie was moved. Cynthia Fazeby and Barbara had shown her the first genuine kindness she had known since her father was arrested. On some occasions, when leaving the court, she had been abused on the street. Others were polite, but distant. Even the few friends they had known, including girls of Millie’s own age, had drifted away, not wanting to be associated with the family. The kind neighbours who gave Millie a home did it out of pity for her, and not because of Millie’s father, whom they thought must be guilty if the court deemed it so.
It was strange how that changed after her father’s
execution. Then people began to see Millie as a tragic victim, and despite her father’s alleged crime, saw him as some sort of anti-hero; to be both admired, due to his assumed forage into espionage, and yet despised at the same time. Barbara Conrad showed Millie no pity. Only kindness and a sense that they were equals.
The two women chatted for a little while longer, before Millie wished Barbara goodnight, clutching a copy of the good lady’s novel in her hand.
As she walked along the corridor, the door to one of the bedrooms opened to reveal Hortense Parker-Trent. Her face was clear of make-up, and she was dressed in a simple nightgown, looking younger, fresher and prettier, apart from dark lines circling her eyes.
“Miss Woodridge,” Hortense whispered, looking up and down the corridor, “I need to speak to you.”
“Hortense…” It was Mr Parker-Trent, calling his wife in a querulous voice. “Come back to bed this instant.”
“Tomorrow,” said Hortense. “When we go to the Heights of Abraham. I’ll speak to you then. It’s really important.”
Millie nodded in agreement, before Hortense quickly slammed the door. Millie could hear Mr Parker-Trent’s harsh voice from inside, and Hortense’s softer tones, placating him. Realising she was in danger of eavesdropping on intimate marital discussions, Millie continued towards her room.
At first, Millie only saw long shadows, cast along the hallway by the faint electric lamps. Then a man appeared at the top of the stairs. He was tall and muscular, with rugged features, and hair thick and dark, devoid of the oils and potion many men used. It was also slightly longer than the norm, his fringe falling over his eyes, which were hazel brown. He looked like a man only just in touch with civilisation, like an animal that had only recently been tamed and might easily revert to a savage state at any moment.
“I heard that Fazeby Hall had a ghost called The Grey Lady, but I hardly expected to meet her on my first night,” he said in deep tones, his piercing gaze searching Millie’s face. There was an old roof supporting beam across the ceiling, on which he rested his hand, towering above her, making her feel even smaller and insignificant than usual. “Or that she would be so lovely … and sad.”
“I am not a ghost, sir,” she said, trying to sound braver than she felt. “I’m a guest. Millicent Woodridge.” She held out her hand.
“Richard’s girl?” he said, his eyes widening. “Dear God, why are you here?” He took her hand, but did not let go as Millie expected him to.
Her cheeks felt hot. “I am a companion to Mrs Oakengate. But if you object to my being here…” She pulled her hand away.
“No, certainly not. Forgive me,” he said, his voice softening. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you. This makes things more interesting. Very interesting indeed. Are you brave, Millicent?”
“Not very,” she admitted.
“I don’t believe you. Your father was brave. Right to the end. You have something of him in you. The way you meet my gaze head on. I like that.”
It was news to Millie. What she really wanted to do was look down, run, to get as far away from this disconcerting man as she could. “You are Mr Haxby, I presume,” she said.
“That’s me. Adventurer and all round good egg.”
“Are you, sir?”
“Stop calling me sir. I’m not your schoolmaster. This is nineteen-twenty-one, you know. My name is James. Or Jim when you get to know me better.” He said the latter with a degree of intimacy that made Millie blush even more.
“I doubt we will become that well acquainted,” she said, smiling shyly.
“What a pity,” he said, looking at her with those deep hazel eyes. “I shall just have to be haunted by you for the rest of my life.”
“It may be safer that way,” said Millie. For whom she didn’t know. “Goodnight, Mr Haxby.” She slipped past him and ran to the safety of her room, where despite her best efforts to forget, she spent the rest of the night remembering his piercing eyes.
Chapter Three
Victoria Oakengate cried off from visiting The Heights of Abraham, preferring to remain in the comfort of Fazeby Hall. Henry Fazeby announced that he had too much to do on the estate. James Haxby was nowhere to be seen at breakfast, and his batman informed Cynthia that Mr Haxby had slept in but would join them later.
The party travelling in several cars to Matlock on the bright spring morning consisted of Millie, Cynthia Fazeby, Count Chlomsky, Alex Markham, Mr and Mrs Parker-Trent and Barbara Conrad. Millie travelled with her god-father.
Millie would never have admitted it publicly but it felt good for her to get out from under the shadow of Mrs Oakengate. She felt light-hearted for the first time in a long time.
“It is good to see you, Millie,” said Alex, who had engineered things so that he and Millie had a car to themselves. “Especially now we’re rid of that dreadful woman. Really, child, what possessed you to become her companion?”
“The need to eat and have a roof over my head,” said Millie, quietly. “You know that Papa’s pension was stopped. I spent all our savings on his legal defence and renting a room.”
“I will ask around Whitehall,” said Alex. “There’s bound to be a job you can do there.”
“I can’t imagine they’ll take me on, under the circumstances. I had thought of attending secretarial school. Unfortunately that too costs money, and I’d need somewhere to live.”
“Why didn’t you say, dear girl? I could …”
“Thank you, Uncle Alex, but I can’t take your charity.” Millie stuck her chin out proudly.
“How many Christmas and birthday presents have I bought you over the years? How many times have I taken you out to lunch?”
“I can’t remember.”
“That’s because I’ve hardly ever done it. I’m the worst godfather in the world. I am sure I owe you rather a lot in terms of gifts and lunches. I’ll give you the money you need to go to secretarial school and enough for living expenses.”
“I will have to think about it,” she said. “It’s just … well people might think there was something improper going on, now that Papa isn’t here.”
Alex looked shocked. “Dear girl, I hope you don’t think that I was suggesting …”
“No, no, of course not.” Millie reached out and touched his arm. “Only that, well, you know how people talk.”
“Of course,” said Alex, keeping his eyes firmly on the road ahead, “we could get over all that if you were to marry me.”
“What?” Millie was shocked. Her godfather’s proposal had come from nowhere, and even though they weren’t related in any sense of the world, it somehow felt wrong. “I … Uncle Alex …”
“That was rather silly of me, wasn’t it?” he said, laughing, as though the idea really meant nothing to him. But Millie sensed it did, and that the proposal had come from the heart. It was both flattering and disturbing. “Let’s pretend I never said it. However, if you do ever find yourself in dire straits, I hope you will at least consider my offer, rather than starve to death.”
“Thank you,” said Millie, gazing out of the window, trying to quell the unease in her heart.
They could have taken the tram up Masson Hill, but as it was a beautiful morning, they decided a stroll would be more pleasant. Halfway up, Millie sensed that more than one of the party regretted turning down the tram. Count Chlomsky and Arthur Parker-Trent, neither in the peak of physical fitness, struggled with the climb. Hortense strode up the hill as if it were all flat, whilst Cynthia, Barbara and Millie tried hard to keep up with her. Alex Markham, though not struggling as much as Chlomsky and Parker-Trent, brought up the rear. When Millie looked back at him, he was deep in thought.
“Is your godfather well this morning, Millie?” asked Barbara Conrad. Cynthia and Hortense had gone on a little further.
“Yes, he’s … I think I might have offended him,” said Millie.
“I find that hard to believe? What did you do?”
Millie hesitated, feeling she did not reall
y know Barbara well enough to tell all her secrets. Yet the lady had shown nothing but kindness to her. “He asked me to marry him, and I refused,” said Millie.
Barbara looked taken aback. “Well … yes, it’s rather a surprise isn’t it? I don’t mean it’s a surprise that anyone would want to marry you, dear child. Only…well …” She floundered and stared ahead.
“I know. He’s much older than I am, and I almost think of him as a second father,” said Millie. “So I was rather disturbed by the proposal. Not that I think anything untoward. I’m sure Uncle Alex only means to try and care for me, now that Papa is gone, and it was his clumsy way of doing that. He’s not in love with me, nor I with him.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” said Barbara. She turned her head to Millie and smiled. “Be careful, Millie. With that lovely face, you’ll be a target for many men in the future.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Millie said, blushing. Before her father was arrested a few young men had called to their house, and one of them had even taken Millie out to see a moving picture. He disappeared from their lives the moment her father was sent to trial, and the last Millie heard he had married an American heiress and emigrated to New York.
“Don’t listen to Mrs Oakengate,” Barbara said. “You’re a very pretty girl. Quite beautiful even.” There was some reserve in the way she said it, her lips tightening at the corners. Millie supposed she was just being kind.
The ascent was worth it for the magnificent views over the Peak District, and down to the pretty spa town beneath them. Finally assembled together, the group stood together, looking out and catching their breath.
The Heights of Abraham were named after the battlefield in Quebec where General Wolfe lost his life fighting against the French in seventeen-fifty-nine. The peaceful sight below them seemed at odds with the heat of war.
“It is not as beautiful as Prussia,” said Count Chlomsky. “But sometimes the British countryside has its own peculiar charm.”
“No better place on earth,” said Alex Markham.
My True Companion Page 2