Chapter 11 Ormdale
Chapter eleven
Ormdale
Simon Drake-Forrester rode his horse into the stables of Wormwood Abbey with an effortless grace and authority which spoke of centuries of breeding.
Generally, this caused Janushek to chuckle, for in fact, Simon hadn’t a speck of upper-class blood in him, despite his imposing double-barrelled family name.
But this morning, Janushek was not chuckling.
“He’s gone?” Janushek asked without preamble, his voice hoarse from sleeplessness.
Simon nodded, dismounting. He, too, had passed a disturbed night on the trail of the mystery man. “He was seen getting on a train in Embsay, with a great lump on his forehead.”
Janushek held up a wad of bloodied rags. “I found this in here in the stables.”
The two men considered the object grimly.
“I’m not looking forward to telling my wife we let him get away,” said Janushek wryly. “She was hoping to get a whack at him herself.”
“If it comes to that, mine probably was, too,” Simon admitted, rumpling his dark hair at the thought.
“That does not surprise me,” Janushek commiserated.
Leaving the horse in the stables, they headed into Wormwood Abbey.
“What do you make of all this, Simon?”
“I’m not altogether sure. We’ve had a lot of publicity—more than I feel comfortable with at times, but I suppose we chose that, didn’t we?” He gave Janushek a thoughtful glance. “What do you think of Una’s idea that he was after the relic? Would it be worth someone’s time?”
“Ah, I see you are asking my professional opinion,“ Janushek said.
Though they could not have been more different in upbringing or temperament, the years that had made the two men fathers had also made them intimate friends.
Most (if not all) of Janushek’s chequered past had unfolded over tumblers of port, library firesides, and restive nights waiting for a doctor to arrive or a baby’s fever to break.
“Frankly, it’s an odd thing to attempt to steal,” Janushek admitted after a moment’s reflection on the question of the relic. “The provenance would be impossible to prove. Unless a collector hired him to do it.”
Simon nodded. “Yes, it’s puzzling. If he needed money, a dragon would be easier to sell on the black market, I would think. Tallantire tells me the sky’s the limit on what the wealthy will pay for one these days.”
Janushek took a moment to silently appreciate the generosity of his friend, for Simon was far too gracious to mention that dragon-snatching was the exact scenario that had brought Janushek himself to Yorkshire all those years ago.
“What bothers me is how easy it was for him,” Janushek said. “How did he even know about the relic at all? That wasn’t in the newspapers. Now that Pip is at home—what do you think of him staying here, at the abbey, to keep an eye on things?”
Simon nodded. “Una’s very good friends with him, isn’t she? She might feel safer with him nearby, at least until Sir George returns.”
A bright voice broke into their conference. “Who would make her feel safer until Father returns?”
The two men looked up.
“What mysterious tête-á-tête have I interrupted?” Edith asked, looking from one to the other.
“We were just trying to decide how to tell you that our man got away,” confessed Simon.
“You might have let me get away first,“ protested Janushek, stepping behind Simon.
“How witty you are,” said Edith, slipping her arm through her husband’s and rapping Janushek on the arm with her notebook.
“I’ve just been with Una, who is quite the budding Sherlock, and I’ve got a description, and a drawing from Pip, too.
” She flipped open her notebook to show a lifelike pencil sketch.
“Just look at this textbook villain! Between Una and Pip and Mother’s cousin in London with all his government connections, I’ve some hope we can track him down yet. ”
“You’ll send it to Stephen Fairweather? Excellent,” said Simon. “And it’s Pip we were just speaking of. We thought he might stay here.”
“Hm,” said Edith, and smoothed down Simon’s hair where it stood on end.
“Hm?” repeated Simon.
“Yes. Hm.” Her eyes flicked to Janushek, then back to her husband. “Come into the sitting room. There’s tea for us and coffee for Janushek. I asked Martha to make it extra vile for him.”
Janushek grinned. “You know me so well.”
The three of them sat together comfortably, Janushek with his feet propped up on a chair, Edith resting her head on Simon’s shoulder.
Simon yawned. “I must go before I fall asleep,” he said regretfully. He rose and dropped a kiss on an errant curl springing from his wife’s chignon. “I’m to meet Dugdale about a broken sheep pen, up at Talbot’s farm.”
Edith groaned. “On a Sunday?”
“Which of you shall have an ass or an ox fallen into a pit, and will not straightway pull him out on the sabbath day?“ quoted Simon. “And I’m fairly certain it was a wyvern that did it.”
Edith sighed. “I suppose we can’t really expect wyverns to have any consideration for the Lord’s Day.”
When the two of them were alone, Janushek sat quietly drinking his coffee while Edith contemplated a tea leaf in the bottom of her cup.
“Janushek, do be careful with Una, won’t you?” she said suddenly.
Janushek looked up from his coffee in surprise.
“I have been careful with Una since she first began music lessons and I realised—what she is.”
“And what is that?” Edith asked quickly.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But she is something.”
Edith nodded, and got a faraway look in her eyes. “I didn’t see it before.”
“Ha!” he pounced. “You admit I am years ahead of you!”
“But of course,” Edith said mildly, pausing before the masterstroke: “You are so much older than me, after all.”
Janushek choked on his coffee.
“But whatever else she turns out to be,” Edith mused, “she’s very protective of you.”
This did not help Janushek regain his composure.
“Protective?” he repeated when his coughing fit ended.
“Yes, it surprised me, too. She’s quite…intense, isn’t she? She used to follow Mother around like a saint with an acolyte. And now there’s you, and someone else, too, perhaps.” Edith propped her chin on her hand and looked at him, unblinking.
“I am sure Una knows I am no saint, at least,“ Janushek said with a nervous laugh.
“Whatever she thinks you are, do try to live up to it, Janushek,” Edith said.
“Other people have let her down badly in the past—very badly indeed. If our prayers are answered and Violet shows up again one day, I shall certainly have words to say to her! But about Pip coming to stay—I confess I’m worried he might be the next person to let her down.
Then again, he might not. What do you think about it? ”
Janushek’s jaw tightened. “I think it would do my stepson good to think about someone other than himself for more than two minutes together.”
“Has Lily told him?” asked Edith quietly. “About his father?”
Janushek rubbed his head. “Not everything. I’d do it myself, but—Pip and I are not quite the friends we used to be. It would not come well from me.”
“Growing pains?”
“I hope it is only that.”
“Is there anything I—“
“No, Mrs Drake-Forrester, as magical as you are, I think it is beyond even your power to make a British gentleman of me.” His crooked smile unfolded.
“My friend,” Edith said gravely, “I wouldn’t make you that if I could.” She looked at the sketch in front of her. “I’ve been chased across mountains and drugged and menaced by such men. Why do you think I married the butler’s son? Just for his handsome face?”
Janushek put his coffee cup down and grinned. “I always liked Drake, even when I thought he was a blue-blood. Have I ever told you how much I approve of your choice?”
“No need. I can see how much you like each other. I’ve almost felt jealous once or twice.”
This startled a laugh out of Janushek. “I might have enjoyed making you jealous once.”
“Dear me!” Edith shook her head. “That wouldn’t have done at all. Everything turned out for the best.“ She looked at him, and hesitated. “Perhaps I ought to thank you for that.”
Janushek shrugged. “I might thank you just as much. Lily and I are—unbelievably happy.”
“Oh, I find it entirely believable! But all those years ago—Simon was stuck in Wales and nothing had been settled between us, and you hadn’t thought of Lily yet.
You might have taken advantage of all that when you came to my rescue.
” She cleared her throat and put the teacup down, not looking at him.
“You were rather sweet about it, really.”
Janushek winced and shifted in his seat. “If you keep reminding me how old I am, I will thank you no more, and I will not be sweet at all—I will be the crabbed and bitter old man you apparently consider me to be.”
Edith laughed a long, golden laugh. “You have no idea how much I look forward to seeing you in your rocking chair by the fire, surrounded by your descendants. Admitting at last that I’m right.”
He looked a question at her.
“That the heart that holds the universe together beats with love,” she said, looking straight at him.
“Now, now, Mrs Drake-Forrester,” he warned, holding up a chiding finger and using an old name for her. “Is that orthodox?”
Edith lifted her chin. “Need I remind you that I was raised a clergyman’s daughter, and that I can recite the articles of faith of the Church of England from memory?”
He winced. “I believe you’ve done it at least once before. I think it was while my daughter was taking so very long to be born.”
“Then you know it’s not an idle threat!”
“It happened only once that I assumed a threat of yours was idle, and I have never made that mistake again,” said Janushek, rising from his chair to go on his way.
Edith’s forehead wrinkled. “When was that?”
“The day we met. I tried to steal your dragon eggs and you threatened me—first with a large knife and then with an even larger river dragon.”
“Ah, yes,” Edith said. “Halcyon days.”
He turned back at the doorway.
“I’ll send Pip over, then?”
Edith nodded. “Why not? The villain won’t dare to show his face here again. And if Una feels safer with Pip about, it would be a kindness.”