The Night of the Absentee Agent
Chapter 12
Return to Stonehurst
Artie mounted the mare awkwardly, first leaning his body into the saddle and then throwing his good leg over as he straightened up and settled himself, as comfortably as was possible, into the saddle. He was glad that the plaster cast had been removed at last and he had been given permission, by the doctor, to go for a short ride.
The groom, who had been holding the mare's bridle, stood back and Artie set off across the field at a trot. He then turned in the direction of Stonehurst land, to the spot where he had arranged to meet up with Cat. He'd never seen her on horseback before and, as she approached, he thought she looked splendid in her riding habit of dark blue. She was riding a chestnut mare, a little smaller than Artie's. It had good lines and a gleaming coat.
"Good morning, Artemus," she greeted him. "Are you sure you're sufficiently recovered for this?"
"Hello, Cat. Yes, I'm more than ready for some exercise."
"I heard the doctor say you should take it easy to start with, so we're not going faster than a canter this morning," she warned him.
Artie sighed. "Alright, shall we start?"
Cat smiled at his impatience, tempted to delay their ride a little longer, just to tease him. But sympathy for him overcame her, when she remembered what it was like to be penned in and denied your freedom. She had been married for four years, after all.
She turned the mare's head toward the open countryside and coaxed her to a trot. Artie brought his mount up beside hers and set his gaze on the distant hills.
"We'll go as far as the base of the first hill," Cat said. "That should be enough for your first day, and please let me know straight away if your legs hurts you."
"Yes, ma'am, sure thing," Artie said, over-politely. Then he pushed his mare into a gallop, leaving Cat in his wake.
"Artemus!" she called, then shrugged and followed after him.
Cat was relieved to find he had stopped at the bottom of the hill. At least he had the sense not to attempt the climb. It would take more knee work than his leg was capable of at present. He had foolishly come out without a hat and his hair had become dishevelled, making his look rather raffish. She took in the ease with which he controlled his mount and the strength in his thighs, despite his injury. Then she returned her gaze to his face. He looked very handsome but she was annoyed with him for taking such a risk.
"I'm not a complete idiot," he said, as he saw the look on her face.
"Oh, you admit that you are an idiot then," she replied.
Artie smiled. "I couldn't help it; I needed that feeling you get of speed and the wind in your face."
Cat nodded her understanding and they sat in companionable silence for a moment. There was a wistful look on Artie's face.
"I suppose you must be longing to return home, after all this time," Cat said, breaking into his thoughts, "to America, I mean," she added.
Artie turned to look at her. "I was thinking of home," he admitted. "I need to get back to my job and my friends; that's not to say I won't miss the friends I've made here."
"I always knew you'd have to return but I'll miss you too."
Artie smiled. "You've certainly brightened up my days," he said.
"I'm glad. Have you heard anything from Washington?"
"Yes, I received a letter yesterday, forwarded to me by the embassy."
Oh, you didn't say anything."
"No, I had a lot to think about. The situation is a little complicated."
Artie wasn't exaggerating. Colonel Richmond had received his initial report, in which he had been careful to leave out any mention of Marshall North, and had confirmed that they had 'The Magpie' in custody. Artie had realised they had Morgan North but was undecided as to whether he would let them know they had the wrong man or allow things to take their course. He had come to know and like Marshall and was unhappy at the thought of making him go back to the U.S. to face charges. After all, Marsh had helped to apprehend Morgan, a forger and a man who had arranged the murder of his own brother and a Secret Service agent.
"Complicated?" Cat queried.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you all the facts," Artie replied. Why involve Cat in all this, he thought.
"I understand," she said. "By the way, father asked me to invite you to dinner this evening. He says he'd like to get to know you better."
Artie was surprised at that. Mr Oakley hadn't visited him once, since he'd left Stonehurst, so he wondered what his real motive could be.
"I'd be happy to accept," Artie said, "as long as you'll be there."
"I'm seldom from home in the evenings. The meeting of the Parish Knitting Circle is this afternoon, by the way. How are you getting on?"
"I should have another two squares finished by lunchtime," Artie said.
"Good, I'll collect them on my way to the meeting. You can stop now you're back on you feet, you know. I've heard how Marshall has been teasing you about it."
Artie winced. "He has been most amused lately, over my unusual occupation," he admitted, remembering the first evening Marsh had caught him tussling with the needles and cursing every few seconds.
"Well, I think it's fine of you to have carried on under those circumstances," Cat remarked. "You will make many old ladies very happy this winter."
"I'm just happy that my efforts have made one charming young woman happy," Artie said gallantly. "It makes me feel that all the ridicule has been worth it. Shall we head back now?"
Cat blushed delightfully as they turned their horses and headed back the way they had come.
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That evening, Artie put on the dinner jacket he had borrowed from Mayberry, checked his appearance in the mirror and then walked across to Stonehurst. He was greeted by Mr Oakley, after being let into the house.
"Dear boy," I'm so glad you could come," Oakley said. "We seem to have lost touch since you left here. Though Cat has told me much of what you have been up to," he added, smiling.
"I've appreciated Mrs Master's visits," Artie said.
"Please feel free to call her Cat," Oakley said. "I know you do when you are alone. You shouldn't have let her force you into knitting those ridiculous blankets, you know."
"I don't mind. It gave me something useful to do while I was laid up and I'm assured the blankets will be appreciated by the old ladies of the parish."
"Pah! Damned women's work," was Oakley's opinion, and he didn't look likely to change it. "But enough on that subject, my daughter will be down in a moment, can't think what's keeping the girl. Fillies eh? Always want to look their best and impress the gentlemen."
Artie supposed this was the way English gentlemen talked about their daughters. He didn't like it particularly.
"To my eyes, Cat could never look anything but lovely," he said, gallantly.
"Yes of course," Oakley replied, with a snide smile. He quickly turned the conversation toward Artie and quizzed him on his outlook on life, his prospects and his health. Artie answered all his questions but was glad when Oakley said,
"Ah, here my daughter is now."
"Hello Artemus," Cat said, walking over to take his hands in hers. "I'm so glad you could come and I'm sorry I wasn't here to welcome you. My bedroom door became inexplicably locked and I had to wait until my maid came to let me out."
"Don't worry, my dear," Oakley said, "Artemus and I have had the opportunity for a little talk.
"I hope your leg is not undergoing too much strain," Cat said.
"No, I need to exercise it."
"Nothing could keep Mr Gordon from visiting you, my dear," Oakley chimed in. "Perhaps you would like a drink before dinner. Would a small sherry suit you?"
This question was addressed to Artie, who nodded in agreement. He couldn't help thinking that sherry sales in England must be quite lucrative.
Cat also accepted a glass of sherry and they sat and made small talk until a servant entered and announced that dinner was served.
"You may take my daughter into dinner," Oakley said placing Cat's hand on Artie's arm. "I think you'll find the food to your liking."
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Dinner was a simple but delicious meal of oxtail soup, followed by leg of lamb with new potatoes, garden peas and mint sauce. For dessert there was queen of puddings after which the cheese board appeared. When they had eaten, they retired to the sitting room once more, where Mr Oakley took charge of the tray with the coffee on it. He poured a cup for both Cat and Artie. Cat was enjoying hers, laced with cream and sugar but Artie took one sip of his and couldn't hide an expression of distaste.
"Is there something wrong, Artemus?" Oakley asked.
"Just that there's sugar in my coffee," Artie replied.
"I'm so sorry; I don't know how that could have happened. Allow me to pour you another one."
"No, this will be fine," Artie said, not wanting to cause a fuss. The way the English made coffee wasn't particularly to his liking anyway. It reminded him of Jim's dreadful efforts. He took another sip but, after a couple more, he abandoned the cup and saucer on the table and sat back in his chair to watch Cat.
Mr Oakley smiled benignly at his daughter as she finally put down her cup and stifled a yawn.
The next hour was spent happily listening to the more interesting of Artie's assignments. Eventually Cat could hide her tiredness no longer and, standing up, asked the two men to excuse her as she felt the need to retire.
Both men rose to wish her goodnight and Artie noticed he was unsteady on his feet. He had supplemented the pre-dinner sherry with a glass or two of wine during the meal but he hadn't drunk near enough to render him tipsy so he couldn't understand it.
After Cat had left Artie became increasingly aware of his own tiredness. He put his extreme feeling of fatigue down to the exertions of the day, after being laid up for so long. He really must get himself fit before he returned to duty.
Mr Oakley looked at him with concern. "You're not looking quite the thing," he said. "Are you sure you're up to walking back to Mayberry's?"
"I'll be fine," Artie said but, when he tried to stand, he found his legs were now like lead and his head was fuzzy.
Mr Oakley grabbed him by the arm "My dear Artemus," he said, "you don't appear very well. You have overdone it today and I can't, in all conscience, allow you to walk back to Mayberry's."
Artie looked at his host blankly for a second and then nodded. "You're probably right," he said.
"I'll help you to your old room; you'll be quite comfortable there."
Artie stumbled up the stairs, with Mr Oakley's assistance, and was glad to see the comfortable bed that awaited him. After that he was aware of nothing until the following morning.
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