Page 113 of Fire Must Burn

‘As I said, English,’ replied Danielli calmly. ‘Royal Army.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Supplies,’ said Danielli.

‘Oh, very brave, very brave,’ sneered Cater.

‘Necessary,’ said Danielli. ‘I did my part.’

‘While better men than you died on the front lines.’

‘No doubt,’ said Danielli. ‘I honour their valour and their loss.’

‘Hmph,’ said Cater. He turned to Mrs Bainbridge. ‘I will be brief. There is to be no mention of my son in any broadcast or story. You may leave. Now.’

‘But Lord Cater,’ she began.

He turned and walked away. His wife looked after him mournfully.

‘I’m afraid he took Bruce’s death rather badly,’ she said. ‘The first son and heir, you see. They were quite close. I apologise for his behaviour, but I’m afraid I have no choice in the matter now.’

‘No apology necessary,’ said Mrs Bainbridge. ‘We’re sorry to have caused any upset. May I use the loo before we leave? It’s a long drive back.’

‘Certainly. I will have my maid show you.’

Mrs Bainbridge followed the maid down a hallway to a door. She went through, hiding her frustration.

She was close, she thought. Only she had no more time to learn anything. Lord Cater’s anger, combined with his immediate lowering of the family portcullis, made him a prime candidate for further investigation. She wondered if she could manage to break into the Cater house later and search for something informative, the problem there being the massive size of the place.

She washed her hands, then opened the door.

‘Mrs Bainbridge, a word with you. In private.’

She turned, startled, to see Lord Cater standing by a door down the hall. He turned without saying anything else and disappeared into a room.

Is this going to be an apology? she wondered.

Somehow, she doubted it.

The room turned out to be a small study. Lord Cater closed the door after she entered, then sat behind a walnut Italianate desk with a wine-red leather insert on top and legs covered with gilded carvings, ending in four brass lion’s paws. There was a matching work cabinet behind him with a collection of photographs on top, mostly of earlier versions of Lord Cater standing proudly with a younger man at various stages of his life. Bruce, she thought. The scenes were largely of hunting expeditions or visits to various European capitals. The latter for the most part included Lady Cater and the two other children. The younger brother resembled Lady Cater. The sister, smallest of the three, was a combination of both parents. She clung to Bruce’s hand in several of the pictures, looking up at him with adoration.

‘That’s Bruce in most of those hunting shots,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘So you did know him.’

‘I can’t say I knew him,’ she said. ‘Only that I remembered meeting him at Kimbolton Castle.’

‘Sit, Mrs Bainbridge,’ he said, indicating a leather-covered chair in front of the desk.

She took her seat and waited.

‘You are Lord Harold Bainbridge’s daughter-in-law, if I’m not mistaken,’ he said.

‘I am.’

‘I’m surprised that you would bother with such a mundane job, given your status.’

‘It interests me,’ she said.