Sea Salt 3 [Divide and Rule]
Title: Fish Out of Water
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Sea Salt #3 (lake/pond)
Toppings/Extras: Brownie + Malt - My Treat - Edward, somehow, gets thrown/pushed/falls into a pond/lake
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5022
Notes: July 1950; Edward Iveson/Julia Graves, Roderick Howe, Margaret Howe, Sylvia Howe, Jane Howe. (fachefaucheux: Edward goes into the lake/pond, as requested. Probably not all that exciting, though!)
Summary: This wasn’t what Edward and Julia had in mind for their first wedding anniversary…
***
“I’m still sorry,” said Edward, as he had about sixty times since the invitation to stay at the Howe’s had arrived. “It’s no way to spend our anniversary.”
Julia bit back a smile. She didn’t think it made much of a first wedding anniversary, either, but she knew Edward would do his best to make it up to her, and in the meantime, she quite liked hearing him complain about how much rather he’d be alone with her. The idea had been to go to the West Country, because she’d said to him about going to school there and how she missed it sometimes - she didn’t remember telling him, but apparently she had. However, Crispin Morley, the Foreign Secretary had wangled this invitation for them and told Edward that he was on no account to refuse and Edward wasn’t in a position to argue with a senior cabinet minister. It was worse for him, though - Julia could cheat by spending as much time as possible with Lord Howe’s daughters, Jane and Sylvia, while Edward had to put up with Lord Howe and a whole collection of other people he seemed to dislike nearly equally.
She checked her hair in the mirror and then turned back to put her arms around him as he sat on the end of the bed, straightening his tie with a frown. He gave a smile and let go of the tie, catching at her hand instead and kissing it before releasing her.
“It’s good for your career,” she reminded him and then gave a small shrug. “Well, wasn’t that always part of the bargain?”
Edward turned. “Julia. Don’t.”
“I know,” she said, and sat beside him, hugging him briefly. “Sorry. But think - sometime soon, we will go away - to Devon, or was it Somerset?”
“Goodness only knows now I’ve had to cancel it,” he said, his irritation surfacing again. “At this point, I don’t know where else we’ll find - it could be anywhere.”
She laughed, giving him a last squeeze before letting go. “Darling, I don’t mind where it is. Besides, is it our proper anniversary anyway? Surely that should be in November, when I finally sat you down and told you the truth?”
“Yes, but the weather’s better on the official date,” said Edward, a spark of amusement in his eyes. “I did try to say to Mr Morley, but he insisted this was more important, which I do think is -”
Julia got up. “Yes, yes. I know. But I’m having a perfectly nice time with the girls. I’m sorry you’re stuck with it, Ned, but we’re nearly halfway through. I’m sure you can make it.” She stopped, looking up at a knock at the door. “Oh, that must be Lady Howe. She said she wanted a word with me before we left.”
“I don’t know why he invited me anyway,” said Edward, half under his breath as Julia crossed over to answer the door. He stood up and pulled on his jacket. “He doesn’t seem to like me. He must have thought I was someone else and only realised the terrible truth when I arrived.”
Opening the door proved Julia’s prediction to be correct, as Lady Howe was standing there. “Oh, Julia, dear,” she said. “I hope I’m not interrupting you?”
“Not at all. I was just going,” said Edward. “I promised to go for a walk with Mr Argyle and some of the others.” He reached them and stopped to give Julia a kiss on the cheek, taking her hand again as he did so, stopping there a little longer than was necessary, unwilling to move away. “See you at lunch time.”
Julia nodded, and watched him go, feeling a little stupidly wistful herself now, but made herself turn back to the waiting Lady Howe. “Oh, yes, of course,” she said, with half an eye on Edward as he made his way down the corridor.
Lady Howe gave a small laugh. “He seems quite besotted with you still, my dear.”
Julia was hard put not to glare in return. Lady Howe meant well, she was sure, but it was too close to the sort of gossip that sometimes went round about the two of them, and it made her angry. It was a stupid comment anyway, she thought. Whatever was one supposed to say in return? To agree would sound egotistical; to disagree would be vaguely insulting to one or both of them. It wasn’t really that such talk mattered, but she always worried that if Edward heard it, it might set him wondering again about Julia’s feelings. He knew the truth by now, but their relationship had started out so oddly and the shadows still lurked.
“Now,” said Lady Howe, evidently not worrying about an answer, “about the girls - you are sure you want to take them? I won’t have them plaguing you.”
Julia laughed more easily. “Of course. I like them both very much.”
“If you could see how difficult Jane can be, you wouldn’t say so,” said Lady Howe with a distracted sigh. “However, yes, now - do feel free to take them in somewhere for tea, but please, tea only for Sylvia.”
Julia smiled again. “Of course. I promise faithfully.”
The walk became delayed - John Graswell hadn’t come down, and Vic Lovell was having a long discussion with Mr Fields who wasn’t going with them and Edward, who was always punctual, was left hanging around and wound up playing billiards with Miles Argyle, who was hopeless at it and spent most of the time talking about the expansion of one of his factories with what seemed to be an interminable amount of detail.
It wasn’t calculated to put him in a better frame of mind, especially when he could hardly help thinking that he should have been somewhere in the middle of Exmoor with Julia instead. The only comfort he had, as they finally set off on their walk, was that the weather was overcast, so they weren’t wasting any sunshine.
Mr Morley might be insistent that a weekend like this was essential for making the right kinds of contacts, but Edward still found this side of things to be distasteful. It was all very well on committees and other such things - meeting others who shared interests in similar issues, that was natural - but being here, courting businessmen, or senior civil servants, or speaking to Mr Fields, who was likely to become the next Conservative leader, was a different matter. It was all very easy and social on the surface, but underneath there was a pressure, if faint as yet, that something was required in return for any friendly overtures and Edward mistrusted the situation.
He had known the Howe family at least slightly for years. Roderick Howe wasn’t a hereditary peer: he owned several newspapers and had made a name and several fortunes for himself over the years in addition to a title. He was a distant connection on Edward’s father’s side and Edward had been invited to a few dinner parties hosted by the Howes as a result, but that was as far as it went. He disliked everything he knew about the man. What was rather disconcerting was that Edward was now gaining the distinct impression that Lord Howe disliked him just as much, and that was baffling. It wasn’t as if he’d even spoken to him for more than a sentence or two at a time before now or done anything to get himself noticed. He could only think that perhaps Crispin Morley had pressed too hard for this invitation and irritated Lord Howe in the process.
Edward was relieved once everyone else finally turned up and they at last got the chance to set off on their walk through the grounds. He stayed with Argyle, who might be dull but at least he seemed to be simply there for the pleasures of the weekend and nothing more. It was a grey day and there was an unseasonal chill to the wind, but it was immediately better to be outside than trapped in the house.
Walking along, however, something caught his eye: a lone figure off to the side standing by the ornamental lake. Edward turned slightly, pausing on the grass as he watched, before he sped up his pace to rejoin Argyle. “Isn’t that Benson? What is he doing?”
“Didn’t you hear the chap going on about it yesterday?” said Argyle, with a nod back in the direction of the other man. “He’s bird-watching again. Thinks he may be in with a chance to spot the lesser-speckled long-beaked whatsit. He’s always like that.”
Edward stared back across the grounds at Benson. “Is he?” he murmured, and then shook himself. “I think I’ll go and see if he’s had any luck.”
“He won’t thank you,” said Argyle. “Not if you scare the birds.”
Edward nodded, but nevertheless moved cautiously and quietly back towards Benson across the grounds, making full use of the trees to keep out of sight until that was no longer possible and he had to walk over the lawn. Bird-watching was fair enough, but Benson seemed to be directing his glasses back at the house more than he was out at the grounds. What had particularly struck Edward at the moment he’d first happened to glance across was that he seemed to be measuring something out, setting something out in his head - lining up a shot, perhaps. Having been in the security service, old instincts died hard. He was most likely wrong, but there were too many important people here to ignore any threat, however absurd. Lord Howe and Richard Fields were still in the house, for a start, and they were the kind of men who had more enemies than most.
As far as Edward could see, however, Benson didn’t have any weapon, but it didn’t seem like the behaviour of a birdwatcher. Someone there to do some work on the building, possibly, but not someone after the lesser-speckled, long-beaked whatsit. Edward edged nearer, making his way around the small ornamental lake, still unnoticed, although he knew that wouldn’t be true for much longer. Benson crouched down by a stone urn at the edge of the lake, moving aside the overhanging fronds of the plane, and pulling something hidden out from under it.
Edward waited only long enough to see that it could easily be a rifle, and gave a shout, causing Benson to start and stand up, even as Edward launched himself at the man, sending them both over into the water. Despite bracing himself for it, the cold water was a shock, but Edward recovered sooner than the unprepared Benson and hit out at him, pushing him back down as he tried to stand. Benson flailed about wildly, grabbing at Edward, pulling them both under again. Edward kicked out at him, as Benson managed a blow to his shoulder, but they were both struggling under the weight of their clothes. Edward hung on grimly to Benson until, suddenly, someone caught hold of him from above, hauling him up onto his feet in the water as someone else pulled Benson away from him. Edward sagged with relief back against the small stone balustrade; a sodden coughing mess.
His rescuer was one of the security people engaged at the house, Edward registered as the man helped him out of the water. “Sir,” the man said, keeping his hand firmly on Edward’s arm. “Now, what was that about?”
Edward fought to regain control of himself, shivering too much to speak. Argyle was standing to the side, hanging onto Benson, while another member of the outdoor staff was heading towards them at a run.
“Under the thing,” Edward said, his breath uneven. “The p-plant - a rifle.” And if it wasn’t, he thought, he and Julia were unquestionably going home in disgrace.
The security man - Roberts, Edward thought he was called - kept hold of Edward and as the other man joined them, he nodded to him to take a look at the long, wrapped object half visible under the urn. The newcomer did as he was told, and then gave a cut off sound of surprise as he saw what most definitely was a rifle. Roberts released Edward and moved over to join his fellow.
Argyle, however, couldn’t have been keeping a proper grip on Benson, as he lurched forward, despite being in a similar state to Edward, grabbing furiously at Edward and pushing him down. Edward hadn’t been expecting a further attack and fell back, striking his head against the balustrade, hard enough to see stars for a moment. By the time the world had swum back into focus, Argyle and the other man had pulled Benson away again.
Roberts moved over to help Edward sit. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “He’s been here enough times - we’ve never had any trouble before.” His face darkened with momentary wariness. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t,” said Edward, with an effort, leaning against the balustrade for support and wanting only to get into dry clothes - and he seemed to have unnamed things down his back and pondweed in his pocket. “He just - looked suspicious and I - thought it wasn’t w-worth taking the risk that I was wrong.” He had to grit his teeth to keep them from chattering, wishing that the weather had been warmer after all. He could have used a bit of sunshine now.
Roberts gave a nod, glancing back briefly at Benson, but he’d evidently witnessed enough to know that it was Benson who’d been fiddling about with something besides the urn before the fight, not Edward. “Come on, sir,” he said, to Edward’s great relief. “We’d better get you up to the house and out of these wet things.”
Julia arrived back with Jane and Sylvia, only to have an unprecedented wait at the door, before it was finally pulled open by a flustered, young maid. “Sorry,” she said. “There’s been all sorts going on and Lady Howe wanted Mr Hall.”
“All sorts?” said Julia, ushering the two girls back inside. “Have we missed all the excitement?”
The maid shut the door, needing no encouragement to talk about it. “We’ve never had anything like it - one of the guests shot someone!”
“Really?” said Julia, with a quick, worried glance at Jane and Sylvia. “By accident, I trust?”
Jane paused in the middle of pulling off her coat. “Who shot who? Come on, Marjorie, you have to tell us now. Not Father?”
Marjorie gave Julia a rueful look, realising her error. “Oh,” she said, reluctantly losing some of the luridness of the tale. “No, of course not your father, but Annie was watching from the kitchen window and she said that Mr Benson had a gun and he -” She stopped, abruptly, looking at Julia. “Oh,” she said again, looking even guiltier. “Oh, miss. I don’t think anyone was hurt, not really.”
Julia had assumed from the start that it was chiefly exaggeration, but as she caught the implication of Marjorie’s words, she lost her amusement. She felt everything else turn unreal for a moment and tried to lean back against the wall to cover her weakness, but it wasn’t as near as she thought and Jane had to catch at her, steadying her, as Marjorie hastened to her other side.
“I’m all right,” she tried to say, still feeling half sick and angry at herself. “Oh,” she added, and put her hand to her head.
Marjorie sat her down on the stairs. “There, miss. Nobody’s hurt, I’m sure Annie was letting herself get carried away again.”
“My goodness,” said Lady Howe, coming down the stairs. “Whatever is going on?” Before anyone could answer, her eye fell on Julia, and she stopped as she reached her. “Julia, my dear. Is something wrong? You’re just in time, you know. Edward is bound to need a hand. You’d better hurry up and join him.”
Julia pulled herself up by the banister, still feeling ridiculously shaken. “No, no, nothing’s wrong. He’s upstairs?”
“Yes,” said Lady Howe. “I really don’t know what’s been going on, but it seems that you probably shouldn’t leave him unsupervised!”
Julia hastened up the stairs and along the corridor, into their room, still with only the vaguest idea of what had actually happened, but she was brought up short by the sight of Edward, dripping wet, still fully dressed barring his jacket and shoes.
“What on earth -?” she said, surveying him in shock. He didn’t seem hurt - certainly he hadn’t been shot at all - but he was completely drenched, his fringe plastered down on his forehead, an old towel around his shoulders and his shirt and trousers sodden. He was trying not to shiver, she was hardly surprised to see. “Ned!”
He held up his hands. “Yes, I know, I know. I’ll explain - just let me get out of these things. Urgh,” he added, struggling with his shirt. “You’ve n-no idea how awkward wet things are until s-something like this happens.”
“Something like what?” asked Julia, stepping in to undo the buttons for him. She wrinkled her nose. “Edward, you stink! What is it?”
“Pond water, I’m afraid,” he said. “I d-don’t think the ornamental lake is technically a lake as such. The water’s pretty s-stagnant. I, er, jumped in it.”
Julia helped him off with the shirt. “Would it be too much to ask why? I mean, unless you’ve been having wildly different weather than we were two miles down the round, it’s not been at all hot. Even so, this is a bit wholesale.”
“There were reasons,” said Edward, and then stopped to put his hand to his head. “Ouch.”
He seemed about to sit down and Julia grabbed at him with a somewhat unnecessary shriek. “Ned, not on the bed! On the floor - no, no, the carpet - let me fetch a towel first -”
“Oh, God,” said Edward, and risked leaning back and leaving a damp patch on the wallpaper instead. As she handed him a towel, taking his shirt and trousers in exchange, he added, “You know, in my head you wanting me to take my clothes off on our anniversary was a lot more romantic.”
Julia wasn’t ready to relent yet. She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, well, which of us has been throwing themselves into people’s fish ponds?”
Now that he had stripped down to his underwear, she pushed him towards the bathroom with stern instructions not to come back until he was human again and no longer part frog at which he laughed, and then winced again, before disappearing to wash.
Julia looked down at his clothes in her hands and wrinkled her nose, wondering where to put them. However, with perfect timing, there was a knock at the door and she found another of the maids there. She’d brought a tea tray, and having handed it over to Julia, offered to take the offending articles and put them in the laundry.
“Thank you,” said Julia, glad to make the exchange.
“Oh, and Lady Howe says to tell you that she sent for the doctor just in case,” she added. “Do you need anything else?”
Julia smiled and shook her head. “I think that’s covered everything. You’ve all been very kind.” She had to bite back an urge to ask what exactly had happened; the maid would probably think it odd.
She put down the tray on the dressing table and sat on the bed, finding that she still felt a little sick herself. Fainting was the sort of luxury only a Victorian heroine could afford, she thought, cross at her silliness. Nevertheless, she lay down for a moment, finding herself unsteady and close to pointless tears. She’d begun to feel safe, she thought; that was what it was, and this was an all too pointed reminder that nothing ever was.
“Julia,” said Edward, suddenly standing by the bed in his dressing gown, and she sat up, further annoyed with herself. “It’s all right, you know.”
She glared at him. “Oh, is it? What did you think you were doing?”
“I have a perfectly good explanation,” he said. “You see - oh, wait, is that tea?”
Julia knelt up on the bed and punched him on the arm, half-heartedly, but he stepped back in surprise nonetheless. “No, it’s tomato soup in a teapot! What do you think?”
“Anything hot sounds good to me,” said Edward, giving her a wary glance, taking the cup. “And it’s not as if I did this on purpose, you know. Well, technically, I suppose I did -”
Julia had to laugh, sitting down on the bed again, and patting the mattress for him to sit beside her. “Well, of course you did. What else does one do when staying with people one doesn’t like?” She watched him as he sat beside her. “People were saying downstairs that someone had a gun. Was that true - was that why?”
“Well - yes. More or less,” he said. “I was the only one around and Benson looked as if he was planning to take a shot at someone given the chance, so I made sure he didn’t get it. I wasn’t in any danger.”
She stared ahead, finding it hard to breathe again. “If he had a gun, how could it not be dangerous? You thought that was the way to celebrate our anniversary? Trying to get shot?”
“I could hardly walk on by once I’d realised -”
She only just remembered the tea in time to keep from hitting him again, clenching her fists. “They’ve got security people here! They’ve got maids - tea - everything you want! They didn’t need you to go round being ridiculously heroic and scaring the fish!”
Edward put down the tea and faced her. He put one hand up to his head again, his expression shadowed by weariness. “Julia. He didn’t have the gun to hand - I pushed him in the pond to stop him getting the chance, and by that time the security people had arrived. That was all.” Then, unable to keep a certain amount of petty annoyance down, he added, “And if you think I’m so ridiculous, I don’t know why you should be worried about it!”
“It’s a funny sort of weakness of mine,” said Julia, taking his hand, and leaning against him. “I don’t like to think of anything like that happening to you.”
He gave a tired smile and leant against her in response before turning slightly to kiss her cheek. He winced again as he did so.
“Ned, darling,” she said. “Is something wrong?”
He laughed slightly, and rubbed his head. “Oh, nothing much, but I gave my head quite a whack down there and it rather aches now.”
“Hardly surprising, then,” she said, and kissed him. “Poor you! But Lady Howe says she’s sent for the doctor, so he can make sure it’s nothing worse. In the meantime, you’ve already used up your share of the excitement for one day - why don’t you get into your pyjamas and lie down until he gets here? No one will mind, if you’re the hero of the hour.”
“I wonder,” said Edward, picking his tea cup up again, as Julia fished out his night things from under the covers and threw them over to him. “Am I?”
The doctor turned up about forty minutes later and, after giving Edward a brief examination, agreed that he was unlikely to be suffering from a concussion, but said that he should keep quiet for the next couple of days, just to be on the safe side.
“Hmm,” said Julia. “Then I think I should take him home. Would that be all right, do you think?”
The doctor hesitated. “Well -”
“It isn’t very far - north London.”
He smiled. “Oh, well, I suppose in that case, I don’t see why not.”
“There,” said Julia, turning back to Edward once she’d closed the door behind the doctor. “The doctor says you must go home, after all. You can have your wish.”
Edward laughed, even though it made him wince again. “Honestly, Julia.”
“Darling,” Julia said, “if your heroics haven’t already impressed all the VIPs, then I don’t suppose anything else will, no matter how long we stay.”
Edward leaned forward, catching at her hand and pulling her in to sit beside him on the bed, and then he kissed her.
“Lie down,” she said, putting her hand to his cheek. “I’ll go and sort everything out with Lady Howe, and then pack. You stay there and don’t do anything silly.”
Edward slumped back against the pillows. “Julia! It’s not as if I make a habit of this kind of thing.”
“No,” said Julia, with a quick, impish smile, “so I need to make the most of this opportunity, don’t I?”
Someone knocked briefly and then pushed the door open. Edward looked up, pulling himself back into a sitting position. He’d been expecting Julia, but something in the movements didn’t sound right; they’d been too brisk, too formal - certainly not like Julia. “Lord Howe,” he said, in surprise, as he realised who it was.
“No, no, don’t disturb yourself, Iveson,” said Lord Howe, walking across to the window and looking out over the grounds, his hands behind his back. He paused there for a few moments before turning back. “If I wasn’t altogether gracious to you downstairs, you must forgive me. I thought at first it was some sort of practical joke.”
Edward had noticed his coldness, even in the middle of trying to make it back to the house in sodden clothing. He had wondered why; even asking himself if there had been some more sinister reason, but he supposed that this made sense. It must have seemed improbable to Lord Howe when someone had tried to explain. He merely gave a smile. “Well, you’re not obliged to be grateful, I suppose.”
“No,” said Lord Howe. “And, of course, as things stand - well, your father, you know, naturally I thought -” He stopped and gave a contained shrug.
Edward was confused, but keen to bring an awkward conversation to a close. “I suppose it must have seemed rather odd - but I would certainly never drag another guest, or anyone, into the water for a joke.”
“And your wife,” Lord Howe continued, as if he hadn’t taken note of anything Edward had said. “She’s Harold Graves’s daughter, isn’t she? I hadn’t realised until now. So, you see - it was inevitable that I should be wary.”
Edward tried not to let his bafflement show. “I wouldn’t worry over it, sir. I was too busy concentrating on getting dry again to take offence, I assure you.”
Lord Howe gave a brief nod. “Yes. We don’t know yet what Benson was doing, but Special Branch will be onto it, I’m sure. Roberts has his own ideas, though, but nothing to confirm them yet - he imagines the man was going to try and take a shot at me, not Fields.” He looked directly across at Edward for the first time, a gleam of distant amusement in his eyes. “Sometimes life is bloody ironic, wouldn’t you say, Iveson?”
“I can’t argue with that,” said Edward. Particularly not right now, he added to himself, still bemused by what seemed to be some sort of family feud no one had bothered to inform him about. He hadn’t been very old when his father had died, but from what he did remember, he was the last person to have gone around holding violent grudges against anyone.
Lord Howe didn’t reply; Julia returned at that moment, hurrying in, and they both stopped, looking at her.
“Oh, Lord Howe,” said Julia, halting just inside the door in surprise. “I’ve just been speaking to your wife - the doctor seemed to think it would be better to take Edward home and she’s been kind enough to say she’ll provide a car, so I should thank you both. I’ve told her we’ll be going as soon as possible after lunch.”
Lord Howe gave a nod. “Yes,” he said. “Well, yes - good. I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Julia shut the door behind him and then crossed to Edward. “Well, that seemed rather awkward.”
“Downright peculiar,” said Edward, putting a hand to his head again. “Julia, did your father know Lord Howe?”
She sat down on the bed. “I don’t know. I think so. I think he didn’t care for him much - but that was just business. Why?”
“He said something,” said Edward. “Almost as if he’d suspected us of getting together purposely to plot revenge against him.”
Julia laughed. “How bad is your head? Should I get the doctor to come back and give a second opinion?”
“You didn’t hear him,” Edward said. “I knew he was a connection of father’s - and nobody in the family has ever liked him much, but that’s all. I don’t know what must have gone on for him to assume I’d try to spoil his country weekend just because he didn’t much like your father or mine.”
She gave a rueful smile. “And we can’t ask them, can we? It seems unfair that we can’t produce one surviving parent between us.”
“I suppose I could try Aunt Daisy,” said Edward. “I suspect it’s not the sort of thing she’d have taken much interest in, though.”
Julia watched him. “Whatever did he say?”
“Nothing much,” Edward said. “It was only - well - so damned strange, I suppose. Like something out of a novel.”
Julia leant over and kissed him. “History, then; that’s all. We’ve got enough to worry about - I need to pack, and you need to be more careful about what you do on political weekends away - and we still have to find a better way to celebrate our anniversary. Because, as you said, this really isn’t ideal, is it?”
“I love you,” said Edward, taking himself by surprise more than her, and had to laugh.
She kissed him again, ruffling his hair before moving away. “So you should,” she said with a grin, as she set about packing.
***
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Sea Salt #3 (lake/pond)
Toppings/Extras: Brownie + Malt - My Treat - Edward, somehow, gets thrown/pushed/falls into a pond/lake
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5022
Notes: July 1950; Edward Iveson/Julia Graves, Roderick Howe, Margaret Howe, Sylvia Howe, Jane Howe. (fachefaucheux: Edward goes into the lake/pond, as requested. Probably not all that exciting, though!)
Summary: This wasn’t what Edward and Julia had in mind for their first wedding anniversary…
***
“I’m still sorry,” said Edward, as he had about sixty times since the invitation to stay at the Howe’s had arrived. “It’s no way to spend our anniversary.”
Julia bit back a smile. She didn’t think it made much of a first wedding anniversary, either, but she knew Edward would do his best to make it up to her, and in the meantime, she quite liked hearing him complain about how much rather he’d be alone with her. The idea had been to go to the West Country, because she’d said to him about going to school there and how she missed it sometimes - she didn’t remember telling him, but apparently she had. However, Crispin Morley, the Foreign Secretary had wangled this invitation for them and told Edward that he was on no account to refuse and Edward wasn’t in a position to argue with a senior cabinet minister. It was worse for him, though - Julia could cheat by spending as much time as possible with Lord Howe’s daughters, Jane and Sylvia, while Edward had to put up with Lord Howe and a whole collection of other people he seemed to dislike nearly equally.
She checked her hair in the mirror and then turned back to put her arms around him as he sat on the end of the bed, straightening his tie with a frown. He gave a smile and let go of the tie, catching at her hand instead and kissing it before releasing her.
“It’s good for your career,” she reminded him and then gave a small shrug. “Well, wasn’t that always part of the bargain?”
Edward turned. “Julia. Don’t.”
“I know,” she said, and sat beside him, hugging him briefly. “Sorry. But think - sometime soon, we will go away - to Devon, or was it Somerset?”
“Goodness only knows now I’ve had to cancel it,” he said, his irritation surfacing again. “At this point, I don’t know where else we’ll find - it could be anywhere.”
She laughed, giving him a last squeeze before letting go. “Darling, I don’t mind where it is. Besides, is it our proper anniversary anyway? Surely that should be in November, when I finally sat you down and told you the truth?”
“Yes, but the weather’s better on the official date,” said Edward, a spark of amusement in his eyes. “I did try to say to Mr Morley, but he insisted this was more important, which I do think is -”
Julia got up. “Yes, yes. I know. But I’m having a perfectly nice time with the girls. I’m sorry you’re stuck with it, Ned, but we’re nearly halfway through. I’m sure you can make it.” She stopped, looking up at a knock at the door. “Oh, that must be Lady Howe. She said she wanted a word with me before we left.”
“I don’t know why he invited me anyway,” said Edward, half under his breath as Julia crossed over to answer the door. He stood up and pulled on his jacket. “He doesn’t seem to like me. He must have thought I was someone else and only realised the terrible truth when I arrived.”
Opening the door proved Julia’s prediction to be correct, as Lady Howe was standing there. “Oh, Julia, dear,” she said. “I hope I’m not interrupting you?”
“Not at all. I was just going,” said Edward. “I promised to go for a walk with Mr Argyle and some of the others.” He reached them and stopped to give Julia a kiss on the cheek, taking her hand again as he did so, stopping there a little longer than was necessary, unwilling to move away. “See you at lunch time.”
Julia nodded, and watched him go, feeling a little stupidly wistful herself now, but made herself turn back to the waiting Lady Howe. “Oh, yes, of course,” she said, with half an eye on Edward as he made his way down the corridor.
Lady Howe gave a small laugh. “He seems quite besotted with you still, my dear.”
Julia was hard put not to glare in return. Lady Howe meant well, she was sure, but it was too close to the sort of gossip that sometimes went round about the two of them, and it made her angry. It was a stupid comment anyway, she thought. Whatever was one supposed to say in return? To agree would sound egotistical; to disagree would be vaguely insulting to one or both of them. It wasn’t really that such talk mattered, but she always worried that if Edward heard it, it might set him wondering again about Julia’s feelings. He knew the truth by now, but their relationship had started out so oddly and the shadows still lurked.
“Now,” said Lady Howe, evidently not worrying about an answer, “about the girls - you are sure you want to take them? I won’t have them plaguing you.”
Julia laughed more easily. “Of course. I like them both very much.”
“If you could see how difficult Jane can be, you wouldn’t say so,” said Lady Howe with a distracted sigh. “However, yes, now - do feel free to take them in somewhere for tea, but please, tea only for Sylvia.”
Julia smiled again. “Of course. I promise faithfully.”
The walk became delayed - John Graswell hadn’t come down, and Vic Lovell was having a long discussion with Mr Fields who wasn’t going with them and Edward, who was always punctual, was left hanging around and wound up playing billiards with Miles Argyle, who was hopeless at it and spent most of the time talking about the expansion of one of his factories with what seemed to be an interminable amount of detail.
It wasn’t calculated to put him in a better frame of mind, especially when he could hardly help thinking that he should have been somewhere in the middle of Exmoor with Julia instead. The only comfort he had, as they finally set off on their walk, was that the weather was overcast, so they weren’t wasting any sunshine.
Mr Morley might be insistent that a weekend like this was essential for making the right kinds of contacts, but Edward still found this side of things to be distasteful. It was all very well on committees and other such things - meeting others who shared interests in similar issues, that was natural - but being here, courting businessmen, or senior civil servants, or speaking to Mr Fields, who was likely to become the next Conservative leader, was a different matter. It was all very easy and social on the surface, but underneath there was a pressure, if faint as yet, that something was required in return for any friendly overtures and Edward mistrusted the situation.
He had known the Howe family at least slightly for years. Roderick Howe wasn’t a hereditary peer: he owned several newspapers and had made a name and several fortunes for himself over the years in addition to a title. He was a distant connection on Edward’s father’s side and Edward had been invited to a few dinner parties hosted by the Howes as a result, but that was as far as it went. He disliked everything he knew about the man. What was rather disconcerting was that Edward was now gaining the distinct impression that Lord Howe disliked him just as much, and that was baffling. It wasn’t as if he’d even spoken to him for more than a sentence or two at a time before now or done anything to get himself noticed. He could only think that perhaps Crispin Morley had pressed too hard for this invitation and irritated Lord Howe in the process.
Edward was relieved once everyone else finally turned up and they at last got the chance to set off on their walk through the grounds. He stayed with Argyle, who might be dull but at least he seemed to be simply there for the pleasures of the weekend and nothing more. It was a grey day and there was an unseasonal chill to the wind, but it was immediately better to be outside than trapped in the house.
Walking along, however, something caught his eye: a lone figure off to the side standing by the ornamental lake. Edward turned slightly, pausing on the grass as he watched, before he sped up his pace to rejoin Argyle. “Isn’t that Benson? What is he doing?”
“Didn’t you hear the chap going on about it yesterday?” said Argyle, with a nod back in the direction of the other man. “He’s bird-watching again. Thinks he may be in with a chance to spot the lesser-speckled long-beaked whatsit. He’s always like that.”
Edward stared back across the grounds at Benson. “Is he?” he murmured, and then shook himself. “I think I’ll go and see if he’s had any luck.”
“He won’t thank you,” said Argyle. “Not if you scare the birds.”
Edward nodded, but nevertheless moved cautiously and quietly back towards Benson across the grounds, making full use of the trees to keep out of sight until that was no longer possible and he had to walk over the lawn. Bird-watching was fair enough, but Benson seemed to be directing his glasses back at the house more than he was out at the grounds. What had particularly struck Edward at the moment he’d first happened to glance across was that he seemed to be measuring something out, setting something out in his head - lining up a shot, perhaps. Having been in the security service, old instincts died hard. He was most likely wrong, but there were too many important people here to ignore any threat, however absurd. Lord Howe and Richard Fields were still in the house, for a start, and they were the kind of men who had more enemies than most.
As far as Edward could see, however, Benson didn’t have any weapon, but it didn’t seem like the behaviour of a birdwatcher. Someone there to do some work on the building, possibly, but not someone after the lesser-speckled, long-beaked whatsit. Edward edged nearer, making his way around the small ornamental lake, still unnoticed, although he knew that wouldn’t be true for much longer. Benson crouched down by a stone urn at the edge of the lake, moving aside the overhanging fronds of the plane, and pulling something hidden out from under it.
Edward waited only long enough to see that it could easily be a rifle, and gave a shout, causing Benson to start and stand up, even as Edward launched himself at the man, sending them both over into the water. Despite bracing himself for it, the cold water was a shock, but Edward recovered sooner than the unprepared Benson and hit out at him, pushing him back down as he tried to stand. Benson flailed about wildly, grabbing at Edward, pulling them both under again. Edward kicked out at him, as Benson managed a blow to his shoulder, but they were both struggling under the weight of their clothes. Edward hung on grimly to Benson until, suddenly, someone caught hold of him from above, hauling him up onto his feet in the water as someone else pulled Benson away from him. Edward sagged with relief back against the small stone balustrade; a sodden coughing mess.
His rescuer was one of the security people engaged at the house, Edward registered as the man helped him out of the water. “Sir,” the man said, keeping his hand firmly on Edward’s arm. “Now, what was that about?”
Edward fought to regain control of himself, shivering too much to speak. Argyle was standing to the side, hanging onto Benson, while another member of the outdoor staff was heading towards them at a run.
“Under the thing,” Edward said, his breath uneven. “The p-plant - a rifle.” And if it wasn’t, he thought, he and Julia were unquestionably going home in disgrace.
The security man - Roberts, Edward thought he was called - kept hold of Edward and as the other man joined them, he nodded to him to take a look at the long, wrapped object half visible under the urn. The newcomer did as he was told, and then gave a cut off sound of surprise as he saw what most definitely was a rifle. Roberts released Edward and moved over to join his fellow.
Argyle, however, couldn’t have been keeping a proper grip on Benson, as he lurched forward, despite being in a similar state to Edward, grabbing furiously at Edward and pushing him down. Edward hadn’t been expecting a further attack and fell back, striking his head against the balustrade, hard enough to see stars for a moment. By the time the world had swum back into focus, Argyle and the other man had pulled Benson away again.
Roberts moved over to help Edward sit. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “He’s been here enough times - we’ve never had any trouble before.” His face darkened with momentary wariness. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t,” said Edward, with an effort, leaning against the balustrade for support and wanting only to get into dry clothes - and he seemed to have unnamed things down his back and pondweed in his pocket. “He just - looked suspicious and I - thought it wasn’t w-worth taking the risk that I was wrong.” He had to grit his teeth to keep them from chattering, wishing that the weather had been warmer after all. He could have used a bit of sunshine now.
Roberts gave a nod, glancing back briefly at Benson, but he’d evidently witnessed enough to know that it was Benson who’d been fiddling about with something besides the urn before the fight, not Edward. “Come on, sir,” he said, to Edward’s great relief. “We’d better get you up to the house and out of these wet things.”
Julia arrived back with Jane and Sylvia, only to have an unprecedented wait at the door, before it was finally pulled open by a flustered, young maid. “Sorry,” she said. “There’s been all sorts going on and Lady Howe wanted Mr Hall.”
“All sorts?” said Julia, ushering the two girls back inside. “Have we missed all the excitement?”
The maid shut the door, needing no encouragement to talk about it. “We’ve never had anything like it - one of the guests shot someone!”
“Really?” said Julia, with a quick, worried glance at Jane and Sylvia. “By accident, I trust?”
Jane paused in the middle of pulling off her coat. “Who shot who? Come on, Marjorie, you have to tell us now. Not Father?”
Marjorie gave Julia a rueful look, realising her error. “Oh,” she said, reluctantly losing some of the luridness of the tale. “No, of course not your father, but Annie was watching from the kitchen window and she said that Mr Benson had a gun and he -” She stopped, abruptly, looking at Julia. “Oh,” she said again, looking even guiltier. “Oh, miss. I don’t think anyone was hurt, not really.”
Julia had assumed from the start that it was chiefly exaggeration, but as she caught the implication of Marjorie’s words, she lost her amusement. She felt everything else turn unreal for a moment and tried to lean back against the wall to cover her weakness, but it wasn’t as near as she thought and Jane had to catch at her, steadying her, as Marjorie hastened to her other side.
“I’m all right,” she tried to say, still feeling half sick and angry at herself. “Oh,” she added, and put her hand to her head.
Marjorie sat her down on the stairs. “There, miss. Nobody’s hurt, I’m sure Annie was letting herself get carried away again.”
“My goodness,” said Lady Howe, coming down the stairs. “Whatever is going on?” Before anyone could answer, her eye fell on Julia, and she stopped as she reached her. “Julia, my dear. Is something wrong? You’re just in time, you know. Edward is bound to need a hand. You’d better hurry up and join him.”
Julia pulled herself up by the banister, still feeling ridiculously shaken. “No, no, nothing’s wrong. He’s upstairs?”
“Yes,” said Lady Howe. “I really don’t know what’s been going on, but it seems that you probably shouldn’t leave him unsupervised!”
Julia hastened up the stairs and along the corridor, into their room, still with only the vaguest idea of what had actually happened, but she was brought up short by the sight of Edward, dripping wet, still fully dressed barring his jacket and shoes.
“What on earth -?” she said, surveying him in shock. He didn’t seem hurt - certainly he hadn’t been shot at all - but he was completely drenched, his fringe plastered down on his forehead, an old towel around his shoulders and his shirt and trousers sodden. He was trying not to shiver, she was hardly surprised to see. “Ned!”
He held up his hands. “Yes, I know, I know. I’ll explain - just let me get out of these things. Urgh,” he added, struggling with his shirt. “You’ve n-no idea how awkward wet things are until s-something like this happens.”
“Something like what?” asked Julia, stepping in to undo the buttons for him. She wrinkled her nose. “Edward, you stink! What is it?”
“Pond water, I’m afraid,” he said. “I d-don’t think the ornamental lake is technically a lake as such. The water’s pretty s-stagnant. I, er, jumped in it.”
Julia helped him off with the shirt. “Would it be too much to ask why? I mean, unless you’ve been having wildly different weather than we were two miles down the round, it’s not been at all hot. Even so, this is a bit wholesale.”
“There were reasons,” said Edward, and then stopped to put his hand to his head. “Ouch.”
He seemed about to sit down and Julia grabbed at him with a somewhat unnecessary shriek. “Ned, not on the bed! On the floor - no, no, the carpet - let me fetch a towel first -”
“Oh, God,” said Edward, and risked leaning back and leaving a damp patch on the wallpaper instead. As she handed him a towel, taking his shirt and trousers in exchange, he added, “You know, in my head you wanting me to take my clothes off on our anniversary was a lot more romantic.”
Julia wasn’t ready to relent yet. She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, well, which of us has been throwing themselves into people’s fish ponds?”
Now that he had stripped down to his underwear, she pushed him towards the bathroom with stern instructions not to come back until he was human again and no longer part frog at which he laughed, and then winced again, before disappearing to wash.
Julia looked down at his clothes in her hands and wrinkled her nose, wondering where to put them. However, with perfect timing, there was a knock at the door and she found another of the maids there. She’d brought a tea tray, and having handed it over to Julia, offered to take the offending articles and put them in the laundry.
“Thank you,” said Julia, glad to make the exchange.
“Oh, and Lady Howe says to tell you that she sent for the doctor just in case,” she added. “Do you need anything else?”
Julia smiled and shook her head. “I think that’s covered everything. You’ve all been very kind.” She had to bite back an urge to ask what exactly had happened; the maid would probably think it odd.
She put down the tray on the dressing table and sat on the bed, finding that she still felt a little sick herself. Fainting was the sort of luxury only a Victorian heroine could afford, she thought, cross at her silliness. Nevertheless, she lay down for a moment, finding herself unsteady and close to pointless tears. She’d begun to feel safe, she thought; that was what it was, and this was an all too pointed reminder that nothing ever was.
“Julia,” said Edward, suddenly standing by the bed in his dressing gown, and she sat up, further annoyed with herself. “It’s all right, you know.”
She glared at him. “Oh, is it? What did you think you were doing?”
“I have a perfectly good explanation,” he said. “You see - oh, wait, is that tea?”
Julia knelt up on the bed and punched him on the arm, half-heartedly, but he stepped back in surprise nonetheless. “No, it’s tomato soup in a teapot! What do you think?”
“Anything hot sounds good to me,” said Edward, giving her a wary glance, taking the cup. “And it’s not as if I did this on purpose, you know. Well, technically, I suppose I did -”
Julia had to laugh, sitting down on the bed again, and patting the mattress for him to sit beside her. “Well, of course you did. What else does one do when staying with people one doesn’t like?” She watched him as he sat beside her. “People were saying downstairs that someone had a gun. Was that true - was that why?”
“Well - yes. More or less,” he said. “I was the only one around and Benson looked as if he was planning to take a shot at someone given the chance, so I made sure he didn’t get it. I wasn’t in any danger.”
She stared ahead, finding it hard to breathe again. “If he had a gun, how could it not be dangerous? You thought that was the way to celebrate our anniversary? Trying to get shot?”
“I could hardly walk on by once I’d realised -”
She only just remembered the tea in time to keep from hitting him again, clenching her fists. “They’ve got security people here! They’ve got maids - tea - everything you want! They didn’t need you to go round being ridiculously heroic and scaring the fish!”
Edward put down the tea and faced her. He put one hand up to his head again, his expression shadowed by weariness. “Julia. He didn’t have the gun to hand - I pushed him in the pond to stop him getting the chance, and by that time the security people had arrived. That was all.” Then, unable to keep a certain amount of petty annoyance down, he added, “And if you think I’m so ridiculous, I don’t know why you should be worried about it!”
“It’s a funny sort of weakness of mine,” said Julia, taking his hand, and leaning against him. “I don’t like to think of anything like that happening to you.”
He gave a tired smile and leant against her in response before turning slightly to kiss her cheek. He winced again as he did so.
“Ned, darling,” she said. “Is something wrong?”
He laughed slightly, and rubbed his head. “Oh, nothing much, but I gave my head quite a whack down there and it rather aches now.”
“Hardly surprising, then,” she said, and kissed him. “Poor you! But Lady Howe says she’s sent for the doctor, so he can make sure it’s nothing worse. In the meantime, you’ve already used up your share of the excitement for one day - why don’t you get into your pyjamas and lie down until he gets here? No one will mind, if you’re the hero of the hour.”
“I wonder,” said Edward, picking his tea cup up again, as Julia fished out his night things from under the covers and threw them over to him. “Am I?”
The doctor turned up about forty minutes later and, after giving Edward a brief examination, agreed that he was unlikely to be suffering from a concussion, but said that he should keep quiet for the next couple of days, just to be on the safe side.
“Hmm,” said Julia. “Then I think I should take him home. Would that be all right, do you think?”
The doctor hesitated. “Well -”
“It isn’t very far - north London.”
He smiled. “Oh, well, I suppose in that case, I don’t see why not.”
“There,” said Julia, turning back to Edward once she’d closed the door behind the doctor. “The doctor says you must go home, after all. You can have your wish.”
Edward laughed, even though it made him wince again. “Honestly, Julia.”
“Darling,” Julia said, “if your heroics haven’t already impressed all the VIPs, then I don’t suppose anything else will, no matter how long we stay.”
Edward leaned forward, catching at her hand and pulling her in to sit beside him on the bed, and then he kissed her.
“Lie down,” she said, putting her hand to his cheek. “I’ll go and sort everything out with Lady Howe, and then pack. You stay there and don’t do anything silly.”
Edward slumped back against the pillows. “Julia! It’s not as if I make a habit of this kind of thing.”
“No,” said Julia, with a quick, impish smile, “so I need to make the most of this opportunity, don’t I?”
Someone knocked briefly and then pushed the door open. Edward looked up, pulling himself back into a sitting position. He’d been expecting Julia, but something in the movements didn’t sound right; they’d been too brisk, too formal - certainly not like Julia. “Lord Howe,” he said, in surprise, as he realised who it was.
“No, no, don’t disturb yourself, Iveson,” said Lord Howe, walking across to the window and looking out over the grounds, his hands behind his back. He paused there for a few moments before turning back. “If I wasn’t altogether gracious to you downstairs, you must forgive me. I thought at first it was some sort of practical joke.”
Edward had noticed his coldness, even in the middle of trying to make it back to the house in sodden clothing. He had wondered why; even asking himself if there had been some more sinister reason, but he supposed that this made sense. It must have seemed improbable to Lord Howe when someone had tried to explain. He merely gave a smile. “Well, you’re not obliged to be grateful, I suppose.”
“No,” said Lord Howe. “And, of course, as things stand - well, your father, you know, naturally I thought -” He stopped and gave a contained shrug.
Edward was confused, but keen to bring an awkward conversation to a close. “I suppose it must have seemed rather odd - but I would certainly never drag another guest, or anyone, into the water for a joke.”
“And your wife,” Lord Howe continued, as if he hadn’t taken note of anything Edward had said. “She’s Harold Graves’s daughter, isn’t she? I hadn’t realised until now. So, you see - it was inevitable that I should be wary.”
Edward tried not to let his bafflement show. “I wouldn’t worry over it, sir. I was too busy concentrating on getting dry again to take offence, I assure you.”
Lord Howe gave a brief nod. “Yes. We don’t know yet what Benson was doing, but Special Branch will be onto it, I’m sure. Roberts has his own ideas, though, but nothing to confirm them yet - he imagines the man was going to try and take a shot at me, not Fields.” He looked directly across at Edward for the first time, a gleam of distant amusement in his eyes. “Sometimes life is bloody ironic, wouldn’t you say, Iveson?”
“I can’t argue with that,” said Edward. Particularly not right now, he added to himself, still bemused by what seemed to be some sort of family feud no one had bothered to inform him about. He hadn’t been very old when his father had died, but from what he did remember, he was the last person to have gone around holding violent grudges against anyone.
Lord Howe didn’t reply; Julia returned at that moment, hurrying in, and they both stopped, looking at her.
“Oh, Lord Howe,” said Julia, halting just inside the door in surprise. “I’ve just been speaking to your wife - the doctor seemed to think it would be better to take Edward home and she’s been kind enough to say she’ll provide a car, so I should thank you both. I’ve told her we’ll be going as soon as possible after lunch.”
Lord Howe gave a nod. “Yes,” he said. “Well, yes - good. I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Julia shut the door behind him and then crossed to Edward. “Well, that seemed rather awkward.”
“Downright peculiar,” said Edward, putting a hand to his head again. “Julia, did your father know Lord Howe?”
She sat down on the bed. “I don’t know. I think so. I think he didn’t care for him much - but that was just business. Why?”
“He said something,” said Edward. “Almost as if he’d suspected us of getting together purposely to plot revenge against him.”
Julia laughed. “How bad is your head? Should I get the doctor to come back and give a second opinion?”
“You didn’t hear him,” Edward said. “I knew he was a connection of father’s - and nobody in the family has ever liked him much, but that’s all. I don’t know what must have gone on for him to assume I’d try to spoil his country weekend just because he didn’t much like your father or mine.”
She gave a rueful smile. “And we can’t ask them, can we? It seems unfair that we can’t produce one surviving parent between us.”
“I suppose I could try Aunt Daisy,” said Edward. “I suspect it’s not the sort of thing she’d have taken much interest in, though.”
Julia watched him. “Whatever did he say?”
“Nothing much,” Edward said. “It was only - well - so damned strange, I suppose. Like something out of a novel.”
Julia leant over and kissed him. “History, then; that’s all. We’ve got enough to worry about - I need to pack, and you need to be more careful about what you do on political weekends away - and we still have to find a better way to celebrate our anniversary. Because, as you said, this really isn’t ideal, is it?”
“I love you,” said Edward, taking himself by surprise more than her, and had to laugh.
She kissed him again, ruffling his hair before moving away. “So you should,” she said with a grin, as she set about packing.
***