Page 15 of The Gathering Storm (Morland Dynasty #36)

‘I’m Basil Compton,’ said Basil. He knew who Lord Elphinstone – ‘Stuffy’ to his close friends – was: a newly wealthy man who was being persuaded to invest in Dolphin Books.

Elphinstone looked hopeful. ‘Oh, you’re Charlotte’s – Miss Howard’s – um, brother?’ The mention of Charlotte’s name made him turn a shade pinker.

‘Cousin,’ said Basil, using the shorthand for their more distant and complicated relationship. ‘She’s a grand girl,’ he added provocatively.

Elphinstone now seemed both embarrassed and ecstatic.

‘Oh, she is! That is – I wouldn’t presume – she’s quite – very – not that I—’ He pulled out a handkerchief to mop his brow – more, Basil thought, to hide behind it than because his brow needed it – and the muffled words wonderful and tremendous could just about be heard.

Basil grinned to himself. He now had a fair idea of why Lord Elphinstone had sunk his money into Dolphin Books, and it hadn’t much to do with the hope of a financial return – or a romantic one, since Charlotte was engaged to another. Namely, Milo Tavey, who happened also to be the Earl of Launde.

‘We’re all dashed grateful to you,’ Basil said, allowing Elphinstone to re-emerge from his eclipse.

‘Oh, glad to be of service. Fact is, one has to put it somewhere, one’s fortune, I mean – and one might as well do some good with it.

Books, you know, they’re a jolly good thing, aren’t they?

Everyone ought to read books. Education, and so forth.

Expanding the mind.’ Basil smiled and looked receptive, and Elphinstone was obliged to continue.

‘Read one myself recently. The ABC Murders . Rather a jolly ’tec novel. ’

‘Oh yes, I enjoyed that one myself. Agatha Christie. Did you guess the ending?’

Elphinstone blushed and his eyes slid away. ‘Oh. No. Well, when I say read , I’ve started it. Haven’t got all the way to the end yet. But it’s jolly – awfully—’

‘Good,’ Basil helped, and decided to stop teasing him. ‘It was Milo Tavey brought you and Vivian Blake together, wasn’t it?’

‘Tavey? Oh, yes, Launde. Frightfully good fellow, known him since school. Fearfully bright upstairs. Always up to some scheme or other.’

‘Rather an elusive character, would you say?’ Basil was fond of Charlotte, and wondered how much she knew about her fiancé, who had appeared out of nowhere, if her tale of how they had met was true.

Slippery , was what Basil had thought when he heard it.

As one who aspired to be slippery himself, he thought he could spot an eel when he saw one.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ said Elphinstone, vaguely. ‘Good fellow. Same house as me.’

‘And you’ve been in touch with him ever since?’ Basil probed.

‘Well. Not entirely.’ Elphinstone frowned.

‘Fact is, I didn’t expect to. Come from different parts of the country.

Soon as school finished he disappeared off home to Ireland and it was Hampshire for me.

Didn’t see him again until last year, when the pater went to grass.

Wrote to me. Condolences. Very decent of him. ’

‘Reminded you of what great chums you’d been at Eton, eh?’

‘Well …’ said Elphinstone, again. He looked as though he suspected he was being made fun of in some obscure way, and Basil changed tack.

‘Where is he now, by the way? I must say, if I was engaged to Charlotte, I wouldn’t want to leave her side for a moment.’

The troubled brow cleared. This was a concept Stuffy could agree with.

‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘She’s a grand girl.

If it was me, couldn’t tear myself away.

’ Loyalty kicked in. ‘But – business, you know. Chap has to attend to it. Needs must, and all that. Launde wouldn’t go away unless he had to, I’m sure. ’

‘Go away where, actually?’ Basil asked. ‘I’m not sure I heard where he went, except that it was abroad somewhere.’

‘Oh, yes, it’s abroad all right,’ Elphinstone said, pleased to be able to help. ‘India. Or China. One or the other. Or was it Africa? No, India, I think. Yes, because when I heard, I remember thinking—’ He stalled, unable to articulate what he had thought.

‘What business does he have in India, I wonder?’ Basil said.

‘Well, his usual, I suppose,’ Elphinstone said vaguely.

‘As I understand it, he brings people together: those who want to buy with those who want to sell.’

Elphinstone looked relieved. ‘Nutshell. Useful sort of chappie. Well, somebody’s got to do it, or how would we all get on?’

At that moment, the office door opened and Charlotte looked out. ‘What’s all the talkage and chattery—? Oh, Lord Elphinstone. How nice. And Basil. What are you doing here?’

The question was meant for Basil, but Elphinstone’s inbuilt shyness made him answer guiltily. ‘Oh, just popping in – see how everything’s going. No reason really. Anything I can do to help, that sort of thing.’

‘You,’ Charlotte said warmly, ‘are always welcome. Please come in, and I’ll make some coffee. Basil – why are you here?’

‘Message for Mr Blake from Alf,’ Basil said, trying to sound brisk and businesslike. Perhaps he’d be invited for coffee, too. He hadn’t had a thing since breakfast.

‘You can give it me, and then you’d better get back to work, hadn’t you?’ Charlotte said, dashing his hopes.

The work in the crypt was mostly physical, and his always overactive mind had little to do.

It wanted exercise, something to chew over, and its tendency at first was to chew over the whole Gloria business.

He missed Gloria, he longed for her, and he still felt hard-done-by.

Why had she not given him another chance?

How could the Veronica woman be so spiteful?

How could he have been so stupid as to get mixed up with her?

He replayed in his mind again and again the meeting by Green Park, and had himself leaving her politely but firmly at the door of the Ritz after lunch.

He imagined again and again a successful rapprochement with Gloria, his heartfelt but manly apology and her melting forgiveness, followed by a blissful reunion at all levels.

But reality remained stubbornly uncooperative.

He wrote to her, but his letters went unanswered.

He telephoned, but her servants had orders not put him through.

He hung about outside Sotheby’s when he saw a sale advertised that she might be interested in, but she did not appear.

He even borrowed half a crown from a gullible fellow employee and sent her flowers, but they elicited no response.

Gradually he came to the conclusion that it really was over, and he was surprised (and secretly a little impressed) by how upset he was.

He needed something new to think about, and he found himself replaying the conversation he’d had with Lord Elphinstone about Launde.

He badly wanted there to be a mystery about him, and Launde did seem a somewhat shadowy and unsatisfactory character.

For instance, why had he not given Charlotte the full account of who he was when they first met?

He had ‘bumped into her’ in a Lyons restaurant – fortuitous, surely, when her mother had recently presented her with a rich stepfather – but only told her that he was Milo Tavey, not mentioning his title.

Having inherited a bankrupt estate, he had made his own way in the world, which might be admirable, but how exactly did he make his money?

No-one seemed to know. Elphinstone didn’t even know which country he had gone to.

To be fair, Elphinstone was not the sharpest blade in the knife-box, but still …

He felt there was something shady about this Tavey fellow.

Someone ought to be looking after Charlotte’s interests and asking questions, and since her mother and stepfather were too unworldly, and Molly and Vivian Blake too grateful for the Elphinstone introduction, he decided it would have to be him.

He introduced the subject casually with his colleagues in the Underworld.

None of them seemed to know anything about him; they had no idea where he was at present or what business had taken him away, and didn’t seem to be interested, either, which he chose to see as significant.

These preoccupations lasted until Thursday, when Charlotte came to Molly and Vivian’s flat for dinner, and mentioned that she had been invited down at the weekend to Tunstead Hall in Derbyshire, the home of her mother Violet and her stepfather Avis, Lord Belmont.

‘Oh, is it a house party?’ Molly asked. ‘How exciting. Who else is going?’

‘It’s just a family party,’ said Charlotte, ‘to meet Richard’s fiancée and her parents.’

‘That will be nice,’ Molly said dutifully.

‘Or embarrassing,’ Basil suggested.

Charlotte scowled. ‘Why should it be?’

‘Because they’re not exactly out of the top drawer, are they?’

‘You’re a beastly snob, Basil!’ Charlotte exclaimed.

‘Not at all,’ he said in his most reasonable voice, which only annoyed her more. ‘They may be the most worthy people in the land, but it’s no kindness to put them in a position where they won’t know how to behave.’

‘You’re forgetting we were all poor after Papa died,’ Charlotte retorted. ‘We lived in a little house with no servants and did our own shopping and cleaning and everything.’

‘Doesn’t matter. Being poor didn’t change who you were. Just as being rich wouldn’t change who they are. Are they rich?’

‘I wouldn’t be so impertinent as to ask,’ Charlotte said loftily.

‘Basil, don’t be provoking,’ Molly said. ‘You don’t know anything about these people, so don’t judge.’

‘We know he sells motor-cars,’ Basil said.

‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Charlotte said.

‘No, there’s nothing intrinsically wrong with buying or selling – or being a go-between for the two,’ he added, to see if she would bite. She flung him a scorching glance, and looked away. ‘But I gather they’ve lived in Earls Court for a very long time.’