We had risen early on Sunday as usual and Lady Hardcastle was trying to decide how most profitably to spend the day, when my pestering about the circus finally overcame her. We could hear the roaring of the lions even from as far away as our house and so, of course, I was desperate to investigate. Breakfast plans were abandoned and we had dressed in walking clothes and set off to be nosy.
With Lady Hardcastle’s customary casual disregard for the rules of polite conduct, we had slipped under the rope cordon and were just beginning to explore the site when an athletic, dark-haired, handsome but decidedly angry-looking man in khaki shirt, riding trousers and boots came striding towards us to intercept us and, presumably, to eject us from the camp. It was only as he drew closer and recognized Lady Hardcastle that his expression had changed to one of surprise and pleasure and he had greeted her with the warmth of an old friend.
‘What an absolute delight,’ said Lady Hardcastle, holding both his hands in hers and looking appraisingly at him. ‘You’re looking frightfully well, George dear.’
‘You too, old girl, you too. But what are you doing here? I say, you’re not staying with the Farley-Strouds are you? You poor thing.’
‘No, silly, I live here. Just up the road. Jasper Laxton’s house. You remember Jasper? Manages a tea plantation in Assam. Got stuck out there another year and let me have the house.’
‘Well I never. Last I saw you, you were in London. That was, what, four years ago? And the time before that... must have been Calcutta.’
‘Good lord,’ she said. ‘Do we really only see each other every four years?’
‘The fates seem determined to keep us apart,’ he said, holding the back of his hand to his forehead theatrically. ‘And is that the lovely Florence I see there, trying her damnedest to remain invisible?’ He stepped over and hugged me.
‘Lovely to see you again, Major,’ I said.
‘Major no longer, my dear girl,’ he said. ‘I attained the dizzy height of Lieutenant Colonel before I finally managed to retire. Still officially on the strength, too, don’t you know. So just you be careful and salute when I pass by.’
I offered him my best impression of a military salute and he rolled his eyes.
‘But what,’ asked Lady Hardcastle, ‘are you doing here?’
‘I, my dear Emily, am the manager of this spectacular entertainment,’ he said, gesturing expansively to indicate the sprawling chaos of the circus camp.
She laughed delightedly. ‘A circus manager? How enchanting. But what of Messrs Bradley and Stoke? The posters promise that this is their circus, not yours.’
‘The Walrus and The Carpet Bag? They’re more by way of being producers, directors and figureheads, really. Someone has to get on with all the day-to-day drilling and marshalling, and that pleasant duty falls to yours truly.’
‘The who and the what?’ said Lady Hardcastle, laughing again.
‘Mr Aloysius Bradley is an immensely fat man with simply gigantic moustaches who takes care of the business side of things, while his business partner Mr Philbert Stoke is the flamboyant showman, given to dressing in garish suits that look as though they’re cut from Persian rugs, and he looks after artistic matters. Together they are The Walrus and The Carpet Bag.’
‘But not to their faces.’
‘Crikey, no, I should say not. But I’m so thrilled to see a familiar face so far from home. And that it should be yours of all the most welcome faces...’
‘It’s wonderful to see you, too, George, darling. But are we interrupting? I do hope we’re not keeping you from your work.’
‘My work at the moment seems to consist mainly of keeping inquisitive townies off the camp until the fence goes up.’
‘Sorry,’ she said, sheepishly.
‘Ah, but for you there’s always an exception. But you’re right, I should be getting on. The lion tamer says his cages are too close to the fence, the trapeze artists are complaining that their costumes have gone missing, one of the Chinese acrobats has an upset stomach, and you don’t even want to know about the matrimonial dispute between the fat lady and the dwarf. And I need all that sorted out in time to get the parade ready for Chipping Bevington this afternoon. Can’t have a circus without a parade through the local big town.’
Lady Hardcastle laughed again. ‘You’ve more than got your hands full, then, poppet; we’d better go. I say, would you care to join me for lunch? We could have a proper chat. Flo cooks a devilishly good ham pie.’
‘No can do I’m afraid, old girl,’ he said, sadly. ‘Got to stay on the site today; lots to do before we open tomorrow night. But perhaps you could both join me for dinner instead. It’ll be plain fare, served at benches in our mess tent, but the company will be convivial and the beer plentiful.’
‘That sounds absolutely marvellous. Thank you, George, we’d be delighted. How does one dress for dinner in the circus?’
He laughed. ‘Nothing fancy, old thing. Riding togs would be least conspicuous, but anything other than an evening frock will be fine.’
‘Riding togs it is, then, dear boy. When shall we arrive?’
‘Dinner is served prompt at nine. We should have the perimeter fence up by then – keep trespassing townies like you out – so I’ll leave word with the box office that you’re expected. Come about eight and I can show you round before it gets too dark.’
‘Eight o’clock then, darling. We’ll see you then.’ They kissed their goodbyes and we sneaked back under the rope and went home for breakfast.
Back at the house I prepared a lavish morning feast which we ate together at the kitchen table. Lady Hardcastle was the brightest I’d seen her for a while; she had been anxious and subdued since the news of Ehrlichmann’s apparent resurrection a few weeks before. Her brother Harry had said nothing more since the alarming telegram, but she had convinced herself that it was only a matter of time before he tracked her down again. He was a deadly figure from the past, involved in the murder of her husband, Sir Roderick, and until he was safely locked away, or properly dead, she knew she would always be in danger.
‘Fancy dear George working for the circus,’ she said, helping herself to another poached egg.
‘It does seem rather an eccentric career move,’ I said.
‘Oh, he was always wild and impetuous like that. I always imagined him running off to join the circus.’
‘Wild, impetuous and devilishly handsome.’
‘All of those. I had quite a crush on him when we were younger. Dashing young army officer and all that.’
‘I find out new things about you every day,’ I said. ‘Did nothing come of it?’
‘Sadly not. I’m not his type.’
‘You, my lady? Surely not.’
‘How shall I put this delicately? My, ahh... my coat buttons up the wrong way.’
‘Gracious me, I would never have guessed. He keeps it well hidden.’
‘It’s the safest way. But alas it meant that my passions were unrequited.’
‘You poor old soul.’
‘Cheeky wench. But he’s been a loyal friend despite not desiring me as he should have. I feel simply awful that I see him so infrequently.’
‘I’ve always liked him,’ I said. ‘And I’m not sure what we’d have done without him in Calcutta.’
‘Indeed.’
‘And now we get dinner at the circus,’ I said.