Ashenden by Elizabeth Wilhide

Author:Elizabeth Wilhide
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster

7

The Boating Party: 1909

Every farm for miles around now belongs to the estate. Land makes money, as it always does, and the greater the number of acres, the larger the income. New cottages, almshouses, and a pumping station have been paid for out of its earnings. But there are other uses for revenue and that is to fund tastes acquired in more exotic locations, in casinos, for example, and the grand hotels that face the sea on sunny esplanades, or to maintain discreet furnished apartments in the better districts of European capitals.

* * *

Jimmy Henderson was so rarely at Ashenden these days that he had forgotten how agreeable it could be, in its own staid and oldfashioned way. He preferred life to be more vivid, on the whole, and since his parents’ deaths he had spent most of his time on the Continent, for Jimmy was of the opinion that there was no need to endure gray skies and rain when sunshine was reliably on offer. Weather, of course, was not the sole attraction of foreign climes. If other temptations—horse racing, cards, certain liaisons and entanglements—had led to his divorce three years ago, he could not say he particularly regretted succumbing to them, merely the money they had cost. Divorce was shockingly expensive.

That day of reckoning, which was continuing to drain his pockets long after the lawyers had finished their business—schooling for the child, a London town house for his erstwhile wife, Matilda, didn’t come cheap—was the principal reason for his visit to the estate and the weekend party he had assembled here. Jimmy had plans. These centered on one of his guests, Mrs. Carrington, even if she was not as yet fully aware of them. He was conscious of time ticking past; a recent communication from the Banque de Paris had rather focused his mind.

Saturday morning, Jimmy had risen early and was nursing a thick head with the aid of sweet black coffee. It had been a cool, wet summer and he was glad of the fire that was burning in the drawing room, where breakfast was laid out on a sideboard. The previous evening had gone well, he thought. Much laughter, much gaiety around the piano, significant glances by the score, and the warmest good-night kiss at the end of it all. In fact, everything had gone so swimmingly, he had been rather disappointed to hear no patter of feet making their way to his bedroom door in the middle of the night. Still, all boded well for today’s diversion, a little boating trip he had organized. Nothing like a river trip for dalliance: there was a spot he knew, shaded by willows, that would be just the ticket.

Half an hour later, most of his guests had come downstairs and were helping themselves to kedgeree, sausages, eggs, and kippers. They were rather an odd party, he had to admit. To encourage Mrs. Carrington to accept his invitation for the weekend, he had cordially extended it to her own

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