First Afternoon
Emma shook her head as she gently placed the phone back on its cradle. Talking with her friend Nancy never ceased to entertain her. She brushed her silk purple pants and matching long sleeved top with four white buttons down the front. After towel drying her glossy hair as much as she could, she exited the room.
As she was heading toward the stairs, a man stepped out of the shadows. "Miss Knight, what a coincidence to see you here!" the man remarked in a monotonous tone.
Emma jumped back in alarm and stifled a scream. She regained her composure in order to say, "Mr. Cunningham, I didn't know you were at Millbury Castle." She eyed the blond man out of the corner of her eye.
"I'm just relaxing for several days until it's time for the conference with you and the rest of the board on Friday."
Emma Knight gazed confusedly at him before replying, "I was not aware of any business meeting this Friday. I was told to take a two-week vacation! Was this meeting going to occur without my being there?"
Cunningham shrugged his soldiers disinterestedly as if it wasn't important if the chairman of the board wasn't present during crucial discussions. "I'm sure there has just been a misunderstanding, and if you wish, I'll have a look into it. Unless, of course, you'd like to settle our little disagreement right this instant?"
It was meant to be a joke, but Emma found it anything but humorous. In a cool voice she answered, "I'd rather wait until I'm finished with this holiday, if it's not all the same to you."
Mr. Cunningham retorted, "I'm a very patient man, but if you continue to put my off proposition, I will not be held responsible for the consequences!" With this last foreboding remark, Cunningham stormed off in his long steady strides.
Despite her normally courageous manner, Emma couldn't stop her shuddering. Suddenly her purple outfit seemed too inadequate for the climate, for chills began to run up her spine and arms. She chafed her arms, trying to warm herself. Just as she was about to descend the staircase, Mr. Steed came down from the next story of the palace.
"It's very civil of you to wait for me, Miss Knight," he commented jovially. Upon noting her distraught countenance, he asked tenderly, "Is anything the matter?"
Emma Knight didn't wish to tell this stranger about the intimidating Mr. Cunningham, so she merely responded breezily, "I just encountered a very rude, young man who insisted on escorting me down to the lobby."
Being the adept spy that he was, Steed immediately knew she was referring to one of Putnam's men even if she didn't admit it to him. He pretended that the answer was adequate enough for him and merely said, "Well, may I escort you downstairs, or will you refuse me as well?" He offered his arm for the lovely woman to rest her own arm upon, and the two trotted down the steps.
"Shall we eat lunch together?" Steed suggested once they were in the lobby.
"I might as well learn your eating habits so I'll be prepared for tonight," Emma joshed.
The two decided on the pub, which served lunch and dinner at the resort. Once they were situated around a crude wooden table, Steed ordered the waiter, "Two brandies please, one straight and," he looked at Emma, "the other with soda." The waiter nodded solemnly before leaving the pair.
Emma was about to make some small talk when she noticed Cunningham and an associate of his enter the bar. She feigned a look of unconcern, but obviously it didn't fool Mr. Steed for a moment. He turned around in his chair in order to see what his companion found so intriguing.
"Is that the young chap who wanted to accompany you down the stairs?" he inquired.
"Yes, but I've never seen his friend with him before." Miss Knight stared intently at Cunningham's friend, as if she was probing his name through the use of telepathy.
Mr. John Steed interrupted Miss Knight from her thoughts with the remark, "When I changed clothes I forgot to put my wallet back in my pocket. If you'll excuse me, I'll just hurry up to my room and get it." He patted his blue polo shirt and his black pants, just in case he had overlooked his wallet but found nothing. He swiftly stood up from the table and exited the pub.
Emma Knight merely continued staring at the two men from behind her menu.
Steed glanced back at the pub entrance and, smiling, retrieved his wallet from his back pant pocket. It had been there all along, but he couldn't let Miss Knight know that the real reason he left so hastily was to have a look at the portfolio Robinson had given him. Steed had briefly skimmed the folder before changing his clothes, and he was almost positive he had seen Cunningham and his associate in the two of the pictures.
Quickly, he climbed the stone stairs, noticing for the first time just how steep they were. There had to be lift somewhere for the less agile. Soon he entered his hotel chamber and was able to examine the portfolio's contents once more. To his satisfaction, he found that the two men down in the restaurant were Hubert Cunningham and Oliver Putnam. He made mental note of their names before quitting the room.
Emma smiled when Mr. Steed returned to the room. "Did you find your wallet?"
Steed stared at her blankly for an interminable minute and then sputtered, "Yes, it appears it was in my pocket the whole time." He let out an uneasy and embarrassed laugh. "Did you order your meal yet?"
"No, I thought I would be nice and wait for you." Miss Knight tried to read the thoughts behind Mr. Steed's light eyes but it was futile. Whatever was bothering him, he hid it well under a veneer of utter complacency. Something about his secrecy irked her, but she quickly remembered that she was holding back information from him as well.
The waiter came over to their table, jarring them from their meditations. They each ordered the fish and chips meal and ice tea. Steed really wanted another hard drink, but Miss Knight might not approve of such indulgences. And he wanted to remain in her good favor, so that he could be with her and protect her from Cunningham and Putnam. He needn't have worried if he had known what a cultured palate Miss Knight had, especially where wine and champagne were concerned.
Since their tea was ready before their meal, the waiter brought it out. As Steed tried to put a straw in his drink, the plastic straw went sailing under the table. He bent to retrieve it, and as he did, he caught a glimpse of Putnam and Cunningham advancing toward them. "Don't look now, but you're charming friend is coming over here," he whispered to Emma. He placed the soiled straw next to his drink and decided just to sip the tea without the confounded thing.
Mr. Cunningham was standing right over them now. "We keep bumping into each other, don't we, Miss Knight?"
Emma chose to ignore his statement and queried, "Who is that gentlemen with you, Mr. Cunningham?"
Hubert Cunningham made several reprimanding noises deep in his throat before replying, "You really should recognise Mr. Oliver Putnam, the man who's trying to buy your company."
"You're not by any chance the Oliver Putnam of Putnam's Plastic Co.?" Steed questioned, pretending to be completely astonished.
"You seem to know everybody," Emma Knight observed dryly.
"I make it my business to know," Steed answered pertly.
"My, this man certainly is well-informed," noted Mr. Putnam. "We could use men like you in our business, Mr. . . ."
"The name is Steed, John Steed, and thanks for the offer, but I have a wonderful position that I wouldn't give up for the world."
"Just what would you consider as being the 'world'?" Putnam asked temptingly.
Steed knew Oliver Putnam was trying to find his price, but he answered flippantly, "When speaking of the 'world' one usually includes the continents and the oceans."
Putnam ignored Steed and addressed Emma. "Since we're all residing at this hotel, maybe we could conduct that business transaction one of these days."
Miss Knight was becoming quite peeved with Mr. Cunningham's and now Mr. Putnam's persistence. "As I told Cunningham, I am on a holiday and mean to enjoy it."
The two men sagely left the table after that declaration. Miss Knight found Mr. Steed gazing expectantly at her. "All right, so Mr. Cunningham didn't try to escort me down to the lobby. He happens to be a unyielding businessman who can't seem to get into his head that I don't wish to sell."
"If you want to have your secrets, that is perfectly fine with me," Steed assured her.
"Do you have your deadly secrets that nobody is aware of?" Emma inquired teasingly.
Mr. Steed's eyes became alert and even frantic at this sentence. Miss Knight was only joking, but the startled look in his eyes frightened her. Was he one of Putnam's men, trying to get on her good side so she'd be more willing to sell? It was a diabolical idea, but it might be true.
Miss Knight tried in vain to start any interesting conversation, but her mouth had gone dry. After gulping her tea, she attempted once again to begin a worthwhile discussion. It seemed a discomfiting silence had settled over the twosome, each eager to speak but not sure what to talk about. Emma liked the quiet, but this stillness was something that occurred between two estranged people, not the friendly quiet that she had experienced with her father, or the type she shared with Miss Young.
Steed stared at her, wondering what she was thinking, if he should tell her he was a spy. Whenever he was ready to speak, something checked him, as if subconsciously his mind would not let him tell this stranger the truth.
Just when Emma thought she was going to flee from the pub, the waiter came with their food. Somehow Steed managed to thank the waiter in his courteous voice, but once done with civilities, he lapsed into that same silence.
They each took several bites of their food, each noting how bland the fish and potatoes seemed to taste to them. Finally Steed managed to say, "Look, I know I probably alarmed you when I didn't answer your silly question, but there are instances in my life that I can't tell anyone. I'm not a criminal, if that's what you're concerned about. I'm just a thirty-seven year old man who's lived like most people have done." He pounded the table, and his fork with flying up into the air before crashing onto his plate. He added in a gentler tone, "I don't like to sit in an uncomfortable silence, and I'm fairly certain that you don't either. Why should we let such superficial comments put an end to a relationship that could blossom into an endearing friendship?"
"You put my thoughts into words," Emma proclaimed. She laughed merrily, all her tenseness disappearing as she realised the foolishness of her worrying.
"And if you don't want to continue this friendship, at least tolerate me for the remainder of the day," Steed entreated. "It would be a boring and terrible evening if we didn't talk to each other during our whole supper."
"I solemnly vow to enjoy your company for at least the rest of today," Emma Knight declared lightly.
"Thanks, that's very kind of you," Steed replied in an equally playful manner. He sipped his tea and tried to refrain from making a disgusted face. It was fruitless, though, for Emma Knight saw him and burst into a new round of giggles.
"Something tells me that you prefer liquor to iced tea," she remarked. "To be perfectly honest, so do I."
"Why don't we buy a bottle of champagne to go with our meal," suggested John Steed. He surveyed his plate of fried food and announced, "Never mind, champagne does not go well with fish and chips, unless it is a very poor vintage."
"There is a wine cellar at this castle, so maybe we can sample wine and a bit of bubbly after our meal." Emma Knight said.
"Ah, a bottle of 1934 Chateau de Leteur wine would be perfect for an aperitif tonight," Steed announced, reveling in the thought of drinking the alcohol.
"1946 isn't so bad either, if you like a mellower claret," Miss Knight added.
The two smiled at each other, amused that they both knew so much about wine. As their gazes interlocked with each other, something seemed to click. Suddenly it became clear to Emma and John that they were each other's counterparts. It surprised and pleased them, and they both wondered what was going to become of this friendship . . .
To Be Continued!
Emma shook her head as she gently placed the phone back on its cradle. Talking with her friend Nancy never ceased to entertain her. She brushed her silk purple pants and matching long sleeved top with four white buttons down the front. After towel drying her glossy hair as much as she could, she exited the room.
As she was heading toward the stairs, a man stepped out of the shadows. "Miss Knight, what a coincidence to see you here!" the man remarked in a monotonous tone.
Emma jumped back in alarm and stifled a scream. She regained her composure in order to say, "Mr. Cunningham, I didn't know you were at Millbury Castle." She eyed the blond man out of the corner of her eye.
"I'm just relaxing for several days until it's time for the conference with you and the rest of the board on Friday."
Emma Knight gazed confusedly at him before replying, "I was not aware of any business meeting this Friday. I was told to take a two-week vacation! Was this meeting going to occur without my being there?"
Cunningham shrugged his soldiers disinterestedly as if it wasn't important if the chairman of the board wasn't present during crucial discussions. "I'm sure there has just been a misunderstanding, and if you wish, I'll have a look into it. Unless, of course, you'd like to settle our little disagreement right this instant?"
It was meant to be a joke, but Emma found it anything but humorous. In a cool voice she answered, "I'd rather wait until I'm finished with this holiday, if it's not all the same to you."
Mr. Cunningham retorted, "I'm a very patient man, but if you continue to put my off proposition, I will not be held responsible for the consequences!" With this last foreboding remark, Cunningham stormed off in his long steady strides.
Despite her normally courageous manner, Emma couldn't stop her shuddering. Suddenly her purple outfit seemed too inadequate for the climate, for chills began to run up her spine and arms. She chafed her arms, trying to warm herself. Just as she was about to descend the staircase, Mr. Steed came down from the next story of the palace.
"It's very civil of you to wait for me, Miss Knight," he commented jovially. Upon noting her distraught countenance, he asked tenderly, "Is anything the matter?"
Emma Knight didn't wish to tell this stranger about the intimidating Mr. Cunningham, so she merely responded breezily, "I just encountered a very rude, young man who insisted on escorting me down to the lobby."
Being the adept spy that he was, Steed immediately knew she was referring to one of Putnam's men even if she didn't admit it to him. He pretended that the answer was adequate enough for him and merely said, "Well, may I escort you downstairs, or will you refuse me as well?" He offered his arm for the lovely woman to rest her own arm upon, and the two trotted down the steps.
"Shall we eat lunch together?" Steed suggested once they were in the lobby.
"I might as well learn your eating habits so I'll be prepared for tonight," Emma joshed.
The two decided on the pub, which served lunch and dinner at the resort. Once they were situated around a crude wooden table, Steed ordered the waiter, "Two brandies please, one straight and," he looked at Emma, "the other with soda." The waiter nodded solemnly before leaving the pair.
Emma was about to make some small talk when she noticed Cunningham and an associate of his enter the bar. She feigned a look of unconcern, but obviously it didn't fool Mr. Steed for a moment. He turned around in his chair in order to see what his companion found so intriguing.
"Is that the young chap who wanted to accompany you down the stairs?" he inquired.
"Yes, but I've never seen his friend with him before." Miss Knight stared intently at Cunningham's friend, as if she was probing his name through the use of telepathy.
Mr. John Steed interrupted Miss Knight from her thoughts with the remark, "When I changed clothes I forgot to put my wallet back in my pocket. If you'll excuse me, I'll just hurry up to my room and get it." He patted his blue polo shirt and his black pants, just in case he had overlooked his wallet but found nothing. He swiftly stood up from the table and exited the pub.
Emma Knight merely continued staring at the two men from behind her menu.
Steed glanced back at the pub entrance and, smiling, retrieved his wallet from his back pant pocket. It had been there all along, but he couldn't let Miss Knight know that the real reason he left so hastily was to have a look at the portfolio Robinson had given him. Steed had briefly skimmed the folder before changing his clothes, and he was almost positive he had seen Cunningham and his associate in the two of the pictures.
Quickly, he climbed the stone stairs, noticing for the first time just how steep they were. There had to be lift somewhere for the less agile. Soon he entered his hotel chamber and was able to examine the portfolio's contents once more. To his satisfaction, he found that the two men down in the restaurant were Hubert Cunningham and Oliver Putnam. He made mental note of their names before quitting the room.
Emma smiled when Mr. Steed returned to the room. "Did you find your wallet?"
Steed stared at her blankly for an interminable minute and then sputtered, "Yes, it appears it was in my pocket the whole time." He let out an uneasy and embarrassed laugh. "Did you order your meal yet?"
"No, I thought I would be nice and wait for you." Miss Knight tried to read the thoughts behind Mr. Steed's light eyes but it was futile. Whatever was bothering him, he hid it well under a veneer of utter complacency. Something about his secrecy irked her, but she quickly remembered that she was holding back information from him as well.
The waiter came over to their table, jarring them from their meditations. They each ordered the fish and chips meal and ice tea. Steed really wanted another hard drink, but Miss Knight might not approve of such indulgences. And he wanted to remain in her good favor, so that he could be with her and protect her from Cunningham and Putnam. He needn't have worried if he had known what a cultured palate Miss Knight had, especially where wine and champagne were concerned.
Since their tea was ready before their meal, the waiter brought it out. As Steed tried to put a straw in his drink, the plastic straw went sailing under the table. He bent to retrieve it, and as he did, he caught a glimpse of Putnam and Cunningham advancing toward them. "Don't look now, but you're charming friend is coming over here," he whispered to Emma. He placed the soiled straw next to his drink and decided just to sip the tea without the confounded thing.
Mr. Cunningham was standing right over them now. "We keep bumping into each other, don't we, Miss Knight?"
Emma chose to ignore his statement and queried, "Who is that gentlemen with you, Mr. Cunningham?"
Hubert Cunningham made several reprimanding noises deep in his throat before replying, "You really should recognise Mr. Oliver Putnam, the man who's trying to buy your company."
"You're not by any chance the Oliver Putnam of Putnam's Plastic Co.?" Steed questioned, pretending to be completely astonished.
"You seem to know everybody," Emma Knight observed dryly.
"I make it my business to know," Steed answered pertly.
"My, this man certainly is well-informed," noted Mr. Putnam. "We could use men like you in our business, Mr. . . ."
"The name is Steed, John Steed, and thanks for the offer, but I have a wonderful position that I wouldn't give up for the world."
"Just what would you consider as being the 'world'?" Putnam asked temptingly.
Steed knew Oliver Putnam was trying to find his price, but he answered flippantly, "When speaking of the 'world' one usually includes the continents and the oceans."
Putnam ignored Steed and addressed Emma. "Since we're all residing at this hotel, maybe we could conduct that business transaction one of these days."
Miss Knight was becoming quite peeved with Mr. Cunningham's and now Mr. Putnam's persistence. "As I told Cunningham, I am on a holiday and mean to enjoy it."
The two men sagely left the table after that declaration. Miss Knight found Mr. Steed gazing expectantly at her. "All right, so Mr. Cunningham didn't try to escort me down to the lobby. He happens to be a unyielding businessman who can't seem to get into his head that I don't wish to sell."
"If you want to have your secrets, that is perfectly fine with me," Steed assured her.
"Do you have your deadly secrets that nobody is aware of?" Emma inquired teasingly.
Mr. Steed's eyes became alert and even frantic at this sentence. Miss Knight was only joking, but the startled look in his eyes frightened her. Was he one of Putnam's men, trying to get on her good side so she'd be more willing to sell? It was a diabolical idea, but it might be true.
Miss Knight tried in vain to start any interesting conversation, but her mouth had gone dry. After gulping her tea, she attempted once again to begin a worthwhile discussion. It seemed a discomfiting silence had settled over the twosome, each eager to speak but not sure what to talk about. Emma liked the quiet, but this stillness was something that occurred between two estranged people, not the friendly quiet that she had experienced with her father, or the type she shared with Miss Young.
Steed stared at her, wondering what she was thinking, if he should tell her he was a spy. Whenever he was ready to speak, something checked him, as if subconsciously his mind would not let him tell this stranger the truth.
Just when Emma thought she was going to flee from the pub, the waiter came with their food. Somehow Steed managed to thank the waiter in his courteous voice, but once done with civilities, he lapsed into that same silence.
They each took several bites of their food, each noting how bland the fish and potatoes seemed to taste to them. Finally Steed managed to say, "Look, I know I probably alarmed you when I didn't answer your silly question, but there are instances in my life that I can't tell anyone. I'm not a criminal, if that's what you're concerned about. I'm just a thirty-seven year old man who's lived like most people have done." He pounded the table, and his fork with flying up into the air before crashing onto his plate. He added in a gentler tone, "I don't like to sit in an uncomfortable silence, and I'm fairly certain that you don't either. Why should we let such superficial comments put an end to a relationship that could blossom into an endearing friendship?"
"You put my thoughts into words," Emma proclaimed. She laughed merrily, all her tenseness disappearing as she realised the foolishness of her worrying.
"And if you don't want to continue this friendship, at least tolerate me for the remainder of the day," Steed entreated. "It would be a boring and terrible evening if we didn't talk to each other during our whole supper."
"I solemnly vow to enjoy your company for at least the rest of today," Emma Knight declared lightly.
"Thanks, that's very kind of you," Steed replied in an equally playful manner. He sipped his tea and tried to refrain from making a disgusted face. It was fruitless, though, for Emma Knight saw him and burst into a new round of giggles.
"Something tells me that you prefer liquor to iced tea," she remarked. "To be perfectly honest, so do I."
"Why don't we buy a bottle of champagne to go with our meal," suggested John Steed. He surveyed his plate of fried food and announced, "Never mind, champagne does not go well with fish and chips, unless it is a very poor vintage."
"There is a wine cellar at this castle, so maybe we can sample wine and a bit of bubbly after our meal." Emma Knight said.
"Ah, a bottle of 1934 Chateau de Leteur wine would be perfect for an aperitif tonight," Steed announced, reveling in the thought of drinking the alcohol.
"1946 isn't so bad either, if you like a mellower claret," Miss Knight added.
The two smiled at each other, amused that they both knew so much about wine. As their gazes interlocked with each other, something seemed to click. Suddenly it became clear to Emma and John that they were each other's counterparts. It surprised and pleased them, and they both wondered what was going to become of this friendship . . .
To Be Continued!