chapter Nine
Cicely, Sophie and Mrs Lessing rose early the next morning as the two young women felt in need of a visit to the Kurhaus in order to rehearse their plan. Sophie wanted to work out the route she would take with Martin Goss and decide at which point she would swoon, Cicely wanted to find a good spot from which to keep an eye on the proceedings, whilst Mrs Lessing, declaring they could not go unchaperoned, accompanied them.
The morning was fine. Cicely had been blessed with good weather throughout her stay, for sunshine was in no way guaranteed in the spa town. The climate at Marienbad was similar to England’s. It was often cool in the summer and it frequently rained.
The stroll to the Kurhaus was delightful. The band was playing and there was a holiday atmosphere, with many of the great and the good enjoying a brief respite from the pressures of their everyday lives.
The English maintained a strong presence in the town, drawn by the magnet of their king.
There were the Prime Minister and a number of other politicians, as well as Sir Herbert Beerbohm-Tree, the great actor and owner of His Majesty’s Theatre in London.
Then, too, there were a great many English ladies, all discreetly dressed in elegant coats and skirts, sharply contrasting with the Continental ladies, whose lace and frills seemed, to Cicely’s mind, out of place in the early morning, being more suited to evening wear.
Still, they added to the cosmopolitan air of the place, and provided an interesting change from being at home.
Sophie paced out several routes before settling on one that would lead her in the direction of a convenient bench. ‘If I swoon here,’ she said, indicating the spot with her parasol, ‘then Mr Goss can help me to the bench before going to fetch my mother.’
‘Yes,’ said Cicely. ‘It seems to be a good place. How are you coming on with your swoon? Have you been able to make your tiara fall off?’
‘Not yet,’ Sophie admitted. ‘The difficult part is deciding how firmly to attach it to my head. Too firmly, and it won’t fall off. Not firmly enough, and it falls off too soon. But I will practice again when we get home. Don’t forget that, if the worst comes to the worst, I can always pass a hand over my brow and knock it off.’
‘As long as it looks natural,’ said Cicely. ‘The important thing is to make sure it ends up on the ground. It doesn’t really matter how it becomes dislodged.’ She glanced at the spot again thoughtfully, and then glanced at the bench. Looking up, she cast her eyes around for a suitable place in which to hide.
‘How about the doorway over there?’ suggested Sophie.
Cicely’s eyes followed the direction of Sophie’s hand. Across from the spot where Sophie intended to swoon there was a convenient doorway, just around a corner, which was suitably inconspicuous, but at the same time it was near enough for her to be able to witness the scene. With luck, it should be a good place from which to watch the proceedings. But it was best to make sure.
‘Wait here,’ Cicely said. ‘When I get to the corner and take up my position, I want to know whether you can see me.’
She strolled over to the corner and stepped into the doorway, then turned. From her viewpoint she could see both the bench and the spot where Sophie intended to swoon. Yes, it was the very spot. Just one more thing to check.
‘Could you see me?’ she asked as she went back to Sophie.
‘Not when you drew back,’ said Sophie. ‘As long as you don’t stand too far forward you should not be noticed; particularly as it will be dark, and Mr Goss will not be looking for you.’
‘Very well. It’s settled. I suggest we go for a coffee now, in one of the cafés, and then go back to the villa so that you can practice your swooning again.’
Sophie agreed. ‘I won’t rest until I can dislodge the tiara every time.’
‘He’s here.’ Mrs Lessing’s voice held a note of satisfaction the following morning as she returned from a visit to her friend, Mrs Lincoln, who lived close by. ‘I asked Mrs Lincoln casually if there were any new visitors to town today - it is a source of great interest to us in the summertime, and we always ask each other who has arrived, so the question did not seem unusual - and the Honourable Martin Goss was one of the names she mentioned.’
Cicely spoke calmly. ‘Then it is time to put the first part of our plan into operation.’
She suppressed a feeling of being left out as Sophie and Mrs Lessing put on their outdoor things and prepared to leave for a walk on the promenade. She consoled herself with the fact that she would be able to watch the proceedings on the night of the dinner party, and helped Sophie to arrange her hat.
‘You remember what he looks like?’ asked Cicely, wanting to make sure her aunt and cousin would recognise him.
Mrs Lessing nodded. Cicely had given her a full description of the man.
‘Good,’ said Cicely.
‘Wish me luck!’ said Sophie as she stuck the hatpin into her hair. Her eyes were shining at the thought of the excitement to come.
‘You may not see him today, remember,’ Cicely cautioned her. ‘He may be tired, and spend the rest of the day in his hotel.’
‘Then we will have to try again tomorrow,’ said Sophie. ‘But the sooner we meet him the better. That way, there is more chance of him accepting our invitation.’
Cicely waved her aunt and cousin goodbye, and then sat down with a book. But for once Mr Wodehouse’s glorious comic characters could not hold her interest. She set aside The Pothunters and strolled over to the window. Somewhere down in Marienbad, her aunt and cousin were seeking to draw Mr Goss into their trap.
Cicely, however, must not be seen, which meant that her movements over the next few days would be necessarily restricted. However, she was too restless to remain in the villa, and putting on her coat she went out into the wonderfully-scented pine forest that surrounded it.
She could not help her thoughts drifting back to her encounter with Alex as she walked through the trees, no matter how hard she had tried to put it out of her mind. She wished she understood him. Why had he objected to her marrying Chuff Chuff? What, indeed, had put the idea into his head? And why had he kissed her, driving all thought of everything else out of her mind?
She recalled the daydreams of her childhood, when she had imagined herself playing on the lawns of the Manor with her children, as Haringays had done for time out of mind. But in those daydreams the face of her husband had been vague. Now it was clear. It was the face of Alex Evington.
How strange it was, to find herself falling in love with Alex Evington. She had been so determined to dislike him. But it had become impossible for her to do so. There was so much about him she admired and valued. But evidently he did not return those feelings, because he thought her so shallow she would marry for position and wealth.
At last she returned to the villa, having rid herself of her restlessness by her walk, and found that Sophie and Mrs Lessing had just returned.
Sophie was in a state of great excitement.
‘We’ve managed it!’ she said as she took off her coat. ‘The Honourable Martin Goss is coming to the dinner party at the Kurhaus! He accepted our invitation!’
‘It couldn’t have been more fortunate,’ said Mrs Lessing. ‘As soon as I saw him I recognised him from your description, but his identity was confirmed by an elderly dowager walking past at that moment and returning his greeting by nodding, and saying shortly, "Goss".’
‘So we were then absolutely certain it was him,’ said Sophie, as the three of them went into the sitting-room. ‘Oh, Cicely, I wish you could have been there! It all went according to plan. I bumped into him, flushed prettily -’
‘Really, Sophie,’ scolded her mother, ‘I don’t like to hear you describing yourself as pretty. It is unbecoming for a young lady to flatter herself.’
‘Well, I did,’ said Sophie unrepentantly, ‘for there would have been no point in flushing unattractively.’ Then, turning back to Cicely, she said, ‘I fluttered my eyelashes and simpered and flirted, and through it all I squeezed out an incoherent apology.
‘He raised his hat and smiled indulgently, and said, "No harm done," and I said he must let me make amends. And then I invited him to dinner. He looked as though he were going to refuse - my heart was in my mouth! - but then he caught sight of mother. He could see she didn’t half like the idea, for she couldn’t disguise her true feelings, however much she tried, and as soon as she bridled I knew he would come. Annoying people is one of his greatest pleasures!’
‘Really, Sophie, you don’t know that,’ reproved her mother.
‘Well, by the look on his face it seemed that way,’ said Sophie. ‘And then he said, ‘"If you are sure I would be welcome," in just such a way that mother couldn’t possibly refuse, so she issued him a stiff invitation.’
‘And he accepted?’ asked Cicely.
‘He did - although as much to spite mother as to spend the evening with me, I am sure!’
Cicely smiled. She could just imagine Martin Goss enjoying the situation, and exploiting it to the full.
‘So he is coming!’ said Sophie. ‘Now all we have to do is make sure he steals the tiara and we have him.’
‘One plan has already failed,’ Cicely reminded her, not wanting her to get her hopes up too much.
‘True,’ said Sophie. Then added mischievously, ‘But you didn’t have me to help you then!’
Cicely laughed.
Mrs Lessing, however, was not amused, wondering aloud how her daughter had grown into such a minx.
Nevertheless, it was a buoyant party who sat down to tea. The first part of the venture had succeeded. Now they must hope for similar success in the second.
Cicely regarded herself in the glass. Swathed in an old black mourning dress of her aunt’s, she gave the impression of being an elderly dowager instead of a young lady. Her dark hair was hidden by a wide brimmed black hat and her face was covered with a thick veil. All in all, she was pleased with her disguise. Now all she needed to do was put on her coat when the time came for her to leave the villa and she would be ready to go.
She glanced at the clock. It was only half past nine. It was still too soon for her to set out.
It had been agreed that Sophie would swoon at half-past ten, and Cicely meant to be in place just before then. From her vantage point in the doorway she would be able to see everything that happened, and go to Sophie’s aid if the situation should turn unexpectedly ugly.
Alex, too, would be there, hidden across the road from Cicely, ready to lend his assistance if it should be required. But if all went well then neither he nor Cicely would need to take a hand. Mr Goss would take the tiara and head for his fence, where the two private detectives would apprehend him in the act of trying to sell it.
Cicely went over to the window and looked out at the night. To her relief it was fine and clear. Rain would have spoilt their plan completely - Sophie could hardly have suggested a walk if it had been pouring down! But fortune had favoured them, and soon she would be on her way.
Cicely tried to read, but she could not keep her attention on the novel, no matter how entertaining, because she was engaged in a far more entertaining enterprise of her own.
At last it was time to go. Slipping into one of her aunt’s coats she lowered her veil then left the villa, setting out on foot for the Kurhaus.
Half an hour later, she was safely ensconced in the doorway, waiting for Sophie to appear.
The time passed slowly. She was cramped in the confines of the doorway but dare not leave it in case Sophie and Mr Goss, coming out of the Kurhaus, should see her. She stamped her feet and blew into her hands to ward off the cold.
Five minutes passed, then ten, and Cicely began to grow anxious. Sophie should have made an appearance by now. Try as she might, Cicely could not prevent herself from imagining the various things that could have gone wrong. The Honourable Martin Goss might have failed to appear at the dinner party; he might have been impervious to Sophie’s charms; or he might have seen a piece of jewellery that was more to his thief’s liking and decided to ignore the tiara.
The latter was a problem Cicely had always known they would face. Her aunt’s guests were wealthy people, and the ladies would inevitably be wearing their jewels. If Goss saw something he felt would make a better target for his light fingers -
But wait. What was that? The sound of a woman’s voice? It was Sophie’s laughter, borne to her on the wind.
Hastily she pressed herself back into the doorway. By angling herself in exactly the right position she was able to see what was happening without being seen.
Yes. Sophie had managed to get Martin Goss to escort her outside. The two of them were approaching the place where Sophie had arranged to swoon. Sophie was looking beautiful in an off-the-shoulder evening gown. It was no surprise that Mr Goss, resplendent in evening dress, should have been delighted with the idea of escorting her outside, even had she not been wearing a magnificent tiara.
But the tiara was there, glinting in the moon-and-starlight. Cicely held her breath. They reached the spot where Sophie intended to swoon - and now Sophie was swooning, and the tiara, just as they had practised it, was slipping from her head. Their plan was working.
Even so, Cicely was anxious as Mr Goss helped Sophie to the bench, where she gracefully sank down in an attitude of complete helplessness. He evidently said a few words to her - he is promising to fetch her mother, thought Cicely with satisfaction - and then Sophie fell back again in a most convincing fashion, whilst Goss left her side.
Cicely watched him head back towards the Kurhaus. She was on tenterhooks, wondering whether he would take the tiara. She hardly dare look as she saw him approach it. He stopped, looked back to make sure that Sophie was indeed unconscious - or at least appeared to be so - then, with a furtive look round, he bent and picked up the tiara, which he slipped into his pocket.
Cicely let out her breath. So far so good.
She continued to watch as he hurried on, past the Kurhaus and up the street that led to his contact. She felt a surge of jubilation rising inside of her. They had done it!
A minute later she sobered. There were still a number of things that could go wrong. Martin Goss might have a different contact in Marienbad, one they knew nothing about. Or he might decide to go to Karlsbad, or another of the neighbouring towns, to get rid of the tiara.
Sophie, still in character, was draped beautifully across the bench in case Goss should return. Cicely could not help admiring her style. Lillie Langtry, who had been the darling of Edward VII before she had become a notable actress, could not have done it better!
Even so, the next fifteen minutes were tense. Cicely longed to leave the doorway and stretch her legs, but she dare not move. If anything went wrong and Goss returned she did not want to rouse his suspicions. So she must wait until Alex, who was to discreetly follow Goss to his contact, returned to tell her that it had all gone according to plan.
The minutes ticked by. She saw Sophie stir once or twice before sitting up, though in a pose which still suggested a recent swoon. If all went well, Goss would not return. But until they were sure he had been apprehended Sophie must continue to play her part.
The church clock chimed eleven. Surely it would not be much longer?
But no! There was Alex, hurrying towards her along the empty street.
‘We’ve got him!’ he exclaimed as he joined her in the doorway.
‘At last!’ Cicely was delighted.
She lifted her veil, which was beginning to stifle her, and threw it back over her hat. It caught on the hat pin. She raised her hands to free it, only to find them brushing Alex’s strong fingers, as he too moved to release her veil. She stilled, her mouth a round ‘o’ as she looked up into his face.
His expression was penetrating. He was looking down at her with the light of passion burning in his eyes. She felt his fingers close round her hands. Then he drew them to his lips. A tingling sensation spread over her skin, despite her gloves: the electricity that coursed through her whenever he touched her could not be stopped by mere lace. He turned her hands over and kissed her palms. She shuddered, the power of his touch sending waves of desire through her.
‘Well? Did we get him?’
Sophie’s voice broke into their private moment, and Cicely quickly withdrew her hands, so that by the time Sophie reached them there was nothing untoward for her to see. Fortunately, Alex’s back had blocked her view of what had just happened, for innocent though the gesture had been in one way, in another it had been full of forbidden passion.
‘Yes.’ Alex replied to Sophie’s question. ‘He went to see his contact, as we hoped he would, and was in the process of negotiating a price for the tiara when the two private detectives I’d hired took him in charge.’
‘Do we have him? Really have him?’ asked Cicely. ‘Will the police be able to make the charges stick?’
Alex nodded. ‘They will have sworn statements from us saying what took place here tonight - leaving out the part about it being a trap, of course - and the testimony of the private detectives. The Honourable Martin Goss will be going away for a very long time.’
‘Hooray!’ said Sophie. ‘Then I had better be getting back to the dinner party. It will be finishing soon. All of Mother’s guests are at the spa for the good of their health, and the evening will end at an early hour. Wait for us in an inconspicuous corner of the Kurhaus. I know Mother wants to invite you back to the villa for coffee,’ she said to Alex. ‘She wants to hear all about it.’
Cicely and Alex escorted Sophie back to the Kurhaus, where the dinner party was already breaking up. They stayed in the background whilst Sophie and her mother said goodbye to all their guests, and then the four of them returned to the villa, where they set about talking over the night’s events over a cup of coffee.
‘I am so relieved it all went well,’ said Mrs Lessing, who had not liked the scheme and had doubted the wisdom of going along with it, despite her agreement.
She had been particularly anxious when Sophie had walked out of the Kurhaus with Mr Goss, and had almost called a halt to the proceedings there and then. Even the knowledge that Alex and Cicely would be keeping an eye on Sophie had not completely stilled her maternal worries. But it was over now, and successfully so. Martin Goss had been caught.
‘Your sister will at last be vindicated,’ said Sophie, who had heard all about Katie’s ordeal at the hands of Martin Goss.
‘Yes.’ A look of satisfaction crossed his face. ‘She is no longer in service, so in one way it no longer matters, but she will still be delighted to know that no one will now believe she stole that wretched bracelet.’
‘And Gladys, too, will be vindicated,’ said Cicely. ‘I will make sure that news of Goss’s arrest reaches everyone who attended the ball at Oakleigh Manor, so that no one will be left with any suspicions about her honesty.’
‘A very satisfying evening,’ said Mrs Lessing, relaxing now that it had come to a close.
The servants came in to remove the tray and Alex rose.
‘Very satisfying,’ he agreed. ‘But now, it’s late. I must be getting back to Karlsbad.’
‘Must you go so soon?’ asked Sophie.
He gave her a tolerant smile. ‘It is almost two o’clock. Good night,’ he said to Mrs Lessing. He turned to Cicely. His eyes lingered on hers. ‘Good night,’ he said softly.
‘Good night,’ she returned.
And then he was gone.
Alone in her room some half an hour later, Cicely began to tidy away her things. She had dropped her aunt’s black coat and hat on the bed when she had returned from the Kurhaus and, as the maid had not been into her room since then, she knew she must put them away before she could settle down to sleep. She arranged her aunt’s coat over the back of the chair that stood in front of the dressing table and then picked up the matching hat.
She remembered the moment when he veil had caught on her hat pin outside the Kurhaus and the way in which Alex’s hand had brushed hers as they had both tried to free it. The memory of it was so strong that she could almost feel the touch of his fingers even now.
She longed for things to be different; for Alex to believe in her as she believed in him; and Eugenie to be nothing to him. But it would not be wise to encourage such wishful thinking.
She brought her thoughts back to the present and carried the hat over to the wardrobe - and then stopped suddenly, her heart pounding in her chest. For there, in the corner, almost hidden by the shadows next to the wardrobe, was a dark figure, unfolding itself from its hiding place. She stood still, frozen, and then backed away, even as her eyes widened in fear. For there, pushing himself out of the shadows was . . . Martin Goss.
‘No,’ she gasped. ‘It can’t be.’
‘Can’t be what?’ he asked menacingly, stepping forward into the candlelight.
His appearance was immaculate. His double-breasted jacket with its long tails, wing-collared shirt, tailored trousers and flat pumps, were the hallmark of a civilised gentleman. But his blue eyes held an evil gleam.
Cicely’s eyes dropped to his hands. He was holding something between them. It was the sash from one of her evening dresses. As she watched, he stretched it between his hands, wrapping one end round each hand in a menacing manner before snapping it in the most alarming way.
There was no doubting his purpose. He was no longer content with theft. He meant to strangle her. But how had he known she was involved? And how had he known where to find her? And how had he escaped from the detectives? She wanted to know the answers to those questions, but even more she wanted to make him talk to her so that she would have time to try and think of a way out of the terrible situation.
‘How did you find me?’ she asked.
He gave a crooked smile. ‘Find you? I didn’t find you - that was just a lucky chance. I found - or wanted to find - Miss Lessing.’ His voice became hard. ‘Because the charming Miss Lessing set a trap for me.’
‘How . . . ’ Cicely’s voice was quavering. ‘How did you know?’ she asked, wondering where their plan had gone wrong.
‘As soon as the detectives revealed themselves I knew I’d been had, and it didn’t take me long to work out who’d had me. The oh-so-charming Miss Lessing, who just happened to bump into me on the promenade and just happened to invite me to her mother’s dinner party, before inducing me to take her outside, where she conveniently lost her tiara whilst appearing to swoon. It was a good set-up. It’s just a pity - for you - the detectives weren’t up to the job. They thought they’d got me, but once outside I gave them the slip. And then I wanted revenge.’
‘But how did you find the villa?’ demanded Cicely. ‘You had no way of knowing where Miss Lessing lived.’
‘Hadn’t I, though? I had already made it my business to find out - although I must admit, it was originally for different purposes. I’m in low water, and Miss Lessing is a pretty young heiress; moreover, a pretty young heiress who’d taken a fancy to me - or at least, that’s how it seemed when she bumped into me on the promenade. I thought she was the answer to my prayers.
‘So as soon as I’d accepted her invitation to the dinner party I made it my business to discover where she lived. In fact, I found out all about her. Where she went, what she did, what she liked and disliked, and - oh, yes - what kind of dowry she was likely to have.’
‘So you intended to marry her,’ said Cicely, realizing that this was why Goss had made so many enquiries.
‘I did.’ His eyes hardened. ‘Until she played me for a fool, and nearly put me in prison. Whereupon I intended to extract my revenge. I sneaked into the house - not difficult, as you were all out and only a handful of old servants were left behind - and found the young lady’s room, intending to pay her back for what she had tried to do to me. It wasn’t hard to tell which one was hers. It had a lot of pretty clothes in the wardrobe, the sort a young lady would wear - only at the time I didn’t realize there were two young ladies in the house.
‘Until you walked into the room. And then, in a blinding flash, I saw the whole thing. That you were behind it, and Miss Lessing was just doing what she was told. I should have seen it coming. Miss Lessing had no reason to trap me. She didn’t even know me. But you did. You were there at the Manor, and you knew who was really behind the theft of the necklace. So you decided to set a trap.’
‘You deserved it,’ said Cicely recklessly. ‘You caused an innocent young girl to be accused of your crime.’
He made a derogatory exclamation. ‘Innocent young girl? She was a maid. What did it matter? You of all people should know that servants don’t count.’
‘They count every bit as much as you and I,’ said Cicely hotly, realizing that Alex had had some reason to take against the landed classes. Goss was everything that was corrupt and disgraceful.
He sneered. ‘Every bit as much as you, perhaps,’ he said, flexing the scarf between his hands again. ‘But no one matters as much as me.’
He took a step towards her and Cicely shrank back. Her hand went instinctively to her neck.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said with an evil sneer. ‘It won’t hurt - much.’
He lunged towards her and she held up the hat in a useless gesture of defence . . . and then saw the candlelight gleaming on the head of the hat pin. She was saved! If only she could pull it out in time . . .
He closed the distance between them, throwing the scarf round her neck and pulling it tight. She fought down an impulse to raise her hands to her throat and instead focused all her energies on drawing the wicked long pin out of the hat. It flashed momentarily in the candlelight as she pulled it free, and then she brought it down with all the strength she could muster, driving it into his hand.
He let out an exclamation of pain and she felt the pressure go from her neck as he dropped the scarf and clutched his injured hand, which was dripping with blood.
‘You little . . . !’ he shouted.
Eyes watering, coughing and wheezing as she gasped in lungfuls of air, Cicely nevertheless braced herself for a renewed attack. She held the hat pin aloft, ready to defend herself.
Martin looked at the wicked pin and then at Cicely’s determined face. His eyes went beyond her, over her shoulder to the door.
For one moment, Cicely was tempted to step out of the way. If his route to the door was clear she felt he would make his escape. She nearly moved aside. But then she remembered that Sophie and Mrs Lessing were in the villa. If Goss should come upon them, there was no telling what he would do. She raised the pin still higher and stood her ground.
His eyes blazed with rage. Then, darting suddenly over to the window he threw it open and climbed out.
Cicely willed herself to follow him but she felt dizzy and weak, and knew she would never be able to climb out of the window in her present condition. She was still not breathing properly, her throat being bruised and sore, and without proper lungfuls of air she could do no more than collapse onto the bed.
But at least he had been foiled. He had not managed to harm her. Nor would he be able to harm Sophie or her aunt. She must content herself with that thought, she realized, as the pin dropped out of her nerveless fingers and fell to the floor.
Outside in the drive, Alex was finishing his cigar. He had not smoked inside as he knew Mrs Lessing did not like it, but he had lit a cigar on leaving the villa. He was making it last as long as possible because he was loth to go. He did not want to leave Cicely. He wanted to stride back into the villa, take the stairs three at a time to her room, throw open her door and demand that she give up the idea of marrying Lord Chuffington.
His cigar finished, he threw the butt down onto the drive and ground it beneath his foot, as he wanted to grind anyone who threatened to take Cicely away from him.
The strength of his feelings took him by surprise. He had never felt so strongly about anyone before, but Cicely provoked in him all manner of new emotions. She was the most surprising, perplexing yet adorable woman he had ever met, and she drove him to distraction.
If only he could go back into the villa . . . But he knew he could not. Even though his cigar was now finished, he could not bring himself to leave. He walked round to the side of the villa, looking up at the windows.
He was behaving like a lovesick boy, he thought uncomfortably. And yet he could not help himself.
He wondered which room was hers.
A moment later he had his answer, as he could see her graceful figure silhouetted against the blind at the last window. Her hand was raised. She must be about to unpin her hair. How long was it? he wondered. Strands of her hair had come loose on several occasions, and he had revelled in the sensuous feel of them beneath his hand as he had pushed them back into place, but he did not know exactly how long her tresses were. Would they fall to her shoulders when her hair was unpinned? he wondered longingly. Halfway down her back? Or to her waist?
But no. She was not unpinning her hair, he realized with a frown. What, then, was she doing? She was standing in a most unnatural attitude, leaning backwards as though she were in fear of being attacked. He was immediately alert. Something was wrong. His instinct was confirmed a moment later when he saw a second figure outlined at the window, the figure of a man.
He began to run towards the window, covering the ground with long strides. Then the window was thrown open and the man, whoever he was, climbed out.
Alex froze for a second as he recognised the gleaming blond hair of Martin Goss in the moonlight.
Goss? Here? But how?
There was no time for further thought. In one fluid movement he moved to intercept him, tackling him as he dropped to the ground. There was a scuffle, and then Alex ended it with a well-placed blow.
As he did so, the two detectives came running up.
‘What is going on?’ demanded Alex furiously as he handed Goss over to them.
‘He gave us the slip,’ said the first man, shifting his feet, whilst the second one looked sheepish.
‘Your excuses will have to wait. I haven’t got time for this now,’ he said, knowing Cicely was in the villa, possibly frightened or hurt. ‘Later,’ he said commandingly before rushing into the villa.
Pushing aside the startled butler who opened the door, he was about to climb the stairs to Cicely’s room when he saw her coming down. She was white and shaken but appeared to be unhurt.
‘Are you all right?’ he demanded. His body flooded with relief at the sight of her, for he had feared the worst.
‘Goss.’ The word came out as a hoarse whisper.
‘It’s all right. He won’t bother you any more. He’s outside now, in the charge of the detectives. They won’t let him escape again.’ He was about to go on, but she had by now reached the bottom of the stairs and he could see by the glare of the gaslight that she was far from well. ‘What is it?’ he asked in concern. Then saw the bruises which were beginning to rise round her neck and throat, showing up darkly against the high neck of her dress. ‘In here.’ He lifted her from her feet, one arm under her knees and the other one round her shoulders, and carried her into the drawing-room, where he set her down gently on the sofa.
She lay back, relieved that she could give in to her weakness now that Alex was there. She had struggled against it, but she had to admit defeat. Her throat and neck were sore, and she wanted nothing more than to rest until she should have regained her strength.
‘What happened?’ he asked in concern.
‘Goss -’ The word, again, was no more than a hoarse whisper.
‘Don’t speak,’ he said. ‘I can guess. From the look of it he tried to strangle you.’
He felt his rage rising as he said it. It was a good thing that Goss was not there, but was safely in the custody of the detectives, otherwise he would not have been responsible for his actions.
Gently he began to undo the top few buttons of her dress, which had a high neck reaching to her ears. As he pushed the black fabric aside he saw the full extent of her injuries. Then heard an outraged cry from the doorway.
‘Take your hands from my niece.’
He looked up to see Mrs Lessing framed in the doorway.
‘I thought better of you,’ she said, eyes flaring. ‘I thought you were a gentleman.’
‘Cicely’s been attacked,’ he said shortly. ‘Goss gave the detectives the slip and ended up at the villa. He must have been waiting for her in her room - though how he knew she was here, I don’t know. But that’s beside the point. She has been strangled. Her neck and throat are badly bruised. She needs a doctor at once.’
Quickly grasping the situation Mrs Lessing’s anger towards Alex subsided, for she could see by Cicely’s swollen and discoloured neck that what he said was true. She left the room for a minute and then returned, saying, ‘I have sent one of the servants for Dr Ott, and told them not to come back without him.’
‘He’s a good man?’ demanded Alex.
‘The best. Doctor Ott attends the King,’ said Mrs Lessing.
Alex nodded. ‘Good.’
‘Gracious, Cicely,’ said Sophie’s voice from the doorway. The commotion had reached her bedroom and she had come downstairs to see what was going on. ‘What happened to you?
Cicely tried to speak again, but her throat was too sore and she sank back onto the sofa, exhausted.
‘Not another word,’ said her aunt. ‘Sophie, you sit with Cicely. I will go and speak to the servants, they are beginning to wonder what is going on. And you,’ she said to Alex, ‘had better go with those detectives of yours and make sure they don’t let Goss escape again.’
‘I’m not going anywhere until I know Cicely’s going to be all right,’ he growled.
‘If you think I am going to let you remain in the room whilst the doctor examines my niece you are very much mistaken,’ she said with asperity.
‘I will be . . . all right.’ Cicely’s words came out as a croak, but they were comprehensible. She put her hand on Alex’s arm reassuringly.
Reluctantly he rose from her side. Realising that she would be well looked after by her aunt and cousin, and knowing he could do no more to help her at present, Alex gave a curt nod. There was something in what Mrs Lessing said. He would be wise to make sure that the detectives did their job properly this time. After what had just occurred, he would not rest easily until Goss was under lock and key.
‘Very well. But I will return first thing in the morning,’ he said.
With a last look at Cicely, as if to reassure himself that she would indeed be all right, he departed, and Cicely gave herself over to the ministrations of her cousin and her aunt.
‘What a shocking to-do,’ said Mrs Lessing. ‘Imagine that odious man escaping and attacking you, here in the villa, of all places. I would very much like to know how it came about.’ She waved her hand as Cicely tried to speak. ‘No, not now. It can wait until you are well again, my dear.’