‘But who’s supporting you? You can’t manage without a man in the house. Surely …?’
‘Our sons are on their way. They’ve been at sea on a training ship all summer. Once John and Billy get here I can let go the reins. John’s seventeen now … man of the house … But no, you’re right, Joe,’ she said, replying to his unspoken thoughts, ‘the boys are very young still. I’ve alerted their older cousin Sebastian – Oliver’s nephew. Do you remember meeting him? Royal Flying Corps? He’ll rally round.’
Joe nodded, reassured by the mention of the friendly young airman he’d met in the admiral’s house the month before. ‘I do indeed. He fits the bill. Glad to hear he’s invited aboard. Where is he – down in Sussex?’
‘Yes. I phoned him as soon as I could. Dreadful thing to throw at the feet of a young fellow but I couldn’t think of anyone else. He’s completely au fait with Oliver’s affairs and that’s useful … I haven’t a clue. He offered at once to set off at the crack of dawn and drive down to Devon to pick up the boys and they’ll be here this afternoon. But until they all get here I shall have to manage. And I can. Truly, Joe.’
‘Nonsense!’ The commander glanced around him and squared his shoulders. He suddenly seemed to fill the hallway with his large masculine presence. A decision followed at once. ‘I shall stay and take over until the boys arrive.’
He decided he didn’t quite like the swift exchange of looks he intercepted between the two women on hearing his pronouncement. Understanding? Amusement even?
‘Joe! I knew you would. You’re an angel – a godsend.’ Cassandra grasped his hands again in her emotion. ‘And I battle to stop myself swooning at your feet, whimpering my gratitude. But you know what I’m going to say – yes, I could do with some help, but not from the one man who can bring this foul matter to a conclusion. That’s where you’re needed – out there running the investigation.’ Cassandra’s eyes flashed with spirit and she pointed to the door. ‘Go out and get them, Joe.’
‘And return with my shield or on it, you’re about to add?’ he suggested, amused by the deft way she’d deflected his attention.
‘Yes. Rout out this noxious growth or other victims will follow,’ Cassandra went on, her expression serious. ‘Others will suffer as I’m suffering if you fail. Find them and bring them in. That’s what Oliver would have wanted. “You’re a bloodhound, man, not a lapdog!” Can’t you hear him saying it?’
‘I can indeed. But I could wish you’d thought of wolfhound,’ he suggested with a teasing smile.
‘For the teeth and the killer instinct.’ Cassandra appeared pleased with the image. ‘I know you have them.’
‘Though I accept your reprimand. I’ll get about my business, then. But look, Cassandra, why don’t you let me and Miss Wentworth mount guard here for half an hour? We’re rather good at that. Give you a chance to go up and …’ he waved a hand in the direction of her skirt, ‘do what you have to do. Mustn’t frighten the horses, must we?’
Cassandra looked down at her dress. ‘I know – I look like a survivor of the massacre of Cawnpore! And I’m not going to pretend I hadn’t noticed. I could have sneaked off and changed. If I’m honest, I’ve rather been hanging on to the evening, devastating as it was. My last evening with Oliver.’ She smoothed down the chiffon folds and touched her cheek. ‘Every bit of him was precious to me, even his spilled blood. I’ve been keeping the last traces of him close about me for as long as I could. But then,’ her head went up, ‘there’s a limit. Oliver couldn’t bear slackness. I’m letting him down. I’ll disappear upstairs and do something about all this.’
The telephone on the hall table began to ring.
‘You’ll have to be butler for now, Joe,’ Cassandra said. ‘It’s probably the Prince of Wales. His aide left a message earlier saying His Royal Highness would ring back. But I really don’t feel up to a conversation. I can hardly get my words out. And he’s so sweet and always says the right thing and I know I shall just dissolve into tears and hiccups. You’ll have to think of something.’
As Joe went towards the telephone he heard her whisper to Lily, ‘The prince and Oliver were close, you know. “Matloes” both, as they like to call themselves. Oliver was his mentor at one point in his training days at Dartmouth.’