My True Companion (3 page)

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 really 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.

“That’s true,” said Barbara Conrad. “The beauty of the
British countryside cannot be beaten, I don’t care what you say, Count Chlomsky.”

“Ah, Madam, we all love our own country best.”

“And yet you left your country,” Millie said, hoping to
gauge the Count’s reaction.

“That is true, young lady, I did. But loving one’s country
and approving of one’s leaders is a very different thing.”

“It was for love that General Wolfe died in Canada,” said
Barbara.

“That and to get a British foothold in Canada,” said the
Count. For a man who had changed sides during the war, he sounded less than
flattering about the country he had aided.

“I can see why you love it here,” Millie said to Hortense.

“Yes, it’s my favourite place,” said Hortense. She seemed
subdued. Millie didn’t like to think of Mr Parker-Trent being cruel to his
wife, but his tone of voice the night before suggested he was more than capable
of brutality.

“You said you wanted to speak to me,” said Millie. “Last
night?”

“She’s changed her mind,” said Mr Parker-Trent, cutting in
before Hortense could speak. “I’ve told her not to poke her nose into matters
that don’t concern her.”

“It was probably nothing,” said Hortense, in a voice that
suggested fear and resignation all in one.

“Well, isn’t this a wonderful sight?” a voice said behind
them. “A tribute to a man who promised to leave Canada to famine and
desolation, and yet accused the enemy of not behaving in a gentleman-like
manner.” It was James Haxby and he looked to be completely unfazed by the climb
up the hill. He was also looking directly at Millie. “Ah, I see the ghost of
Fazeby Hall has escaped her bonds. Good morning, Millicent.”

“Good morning, Mr Haxby,” said Millie.

“Oh,” said Hortense. “You’re the adventurer.” Her sullen
face changed, her ruby red lips turning up at the corners. “I’m Hortense
Parker-Trent.” She held out her hand.

“And I am her husband,” said Mr Parker-Trent, casting a
furious glance at his wife.

“You have my deepest sympathy, Mrs Parker-Trent,” said
Haxby, ignoring Mr Parker-Trent’s obvious fury. “Cynthia, how are you?”

Cynthia Fazeby stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek.
“I’m very well, you naughty boy. Let me introduce you to the rest of the
party.”

“It’s alright, I know Mr Markham. How are you Markham? And
Mrs Conrad. I believe we met in Argentina not long ago.”

“Yes, that’s right I was there with my husband,” said
Barbara. She said it as if Haxby had challenged her, yet his statement had
sounded innocent enough.

“I’m afraid he and I didn’t get to meet,” Haxby said. “Away
on business, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Count Chlomsky.” Haxby held out his hand but there was
something in his eyes when he looked at the Count that perplexed Millie. Was it
open hostility? Or wariness? Haxby did not appear to be a man who hid his
emotions.

Millie was used to people who behaved with great politeness,
regardless of their true feelings. In Haxby she saw a man who had no intentions
of holding anything back. It both impressed and unnerved her. Even more so when
he stood next to her, looking out over the Peak District. “I must admit the
name suits the place,” he said. “The view is almost biblical in its outlook,
taking in all of God’s beauty.”

“We were just saying that there were few finer places,” said
Barbara Conrad

“I have seen finer,” said Haxby, “but none that stir the
heart quite so well as the Peak District.”

“Goodness, Jim, you could have waited for me.” Mrs Oakengate
gasped from somewhere below them. She was struggling up the hill, wearing
inappropriate footwear. It irked Millie, for reasons she did not quite
understand, that Mrs Oakengate was already calling Haxby by a name that he
himself had said was saved for his more intimate friends. “He refused to use
the tram, so I had no choice but to walk up too. Whatever happened to helping a
lady?”

“You need a gentleman for that,” said Haxby. “And I’m no
gentleman. Besides, women over thirty have the vote now. You can climb your own
hills by all accounts.”

“He is such a tease,” gasped Mrs Oakengate, finally reaching
the top. “He talks like a socialist at times.”

“Do you not believe that women should have the vote, Mr
Haxby?” asked Millie.

“Only those who know what to do with it.” He cast a glance
at Hortense and Mrs Oakengate.

“Do all men know what to do with their votes?” asked Millie,
smiling.

“Millicent! I will not have a companion of mine speaking in
such reactionary terms,” said Mrs Oakengate. “Do forgive her, Jim. You are
aware, I’m sure that Millicent has suffered a great loss recently. Her father
was…”

“Richard Woodridge. Yes, I know. I’m sure that if any of us
dared to forget, you would soon remind us, Mrs Oakengate,” said Haxby, quietly.
“After all, what other claim to fame have you nowadays?” That latter was said
in even quieter tones, and Millie suspected that if Mrs Oakengate heard it, she
pretended not to.

“Now we’ve climbed that blessed hill, shall we go back
down?” Mrs Oakengate asked. “I saw a tea room at the bottom. Had Jim not told
me the hill was not as steep as it looked, I’d have stayed there.”

Haxby looked directly at Millie with amusement in his eyes.
She hid her laughter in a discreet cough.

As Mrs Oakengate decreed, the group began to descend the
hill, heading towards the tea room.

Later Millie would try hard to remember the order in which
everyone went down the hill, but Haxby’s presence by her side for the entire
journey downhill cleared her mind of all else. There had been several people
climbing the hill, but she had not taken much notice of them either. She was
too intent on looking ahead, so that she would not catch his eye. At one point
she nearly slipped, and felt Haxby’s warm hand on her waist, preventing her
from going flying.  Another man – middle aged and with pock-marked skin
that showed the ravages of acne - who was walking up the hill had also reached
out, but on seeing Haxby had control of the situation, backed off.