‘Development?’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘Trying to compete with the big boys,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe. ‘Missed our chance in the Grand Prix in France last year, but now we’ve got a circuit of our own at Brooklands, this sport is going to take off, and I mean to be champion.’
‘Good for you,’ she said. ‘And that’s why you have your own circuit?’
‘Just a small one for testing, yes, but it does the job. We build ’em, test ’em, and before you know it, we’ll be racing ’em against the likes of Mercedes, Panhard, Benz, and all that lot.’
‘Aha. I’d heard about the new team, but I hadn’t fully fathomed what that might entail.’
‘All this and more,’ he said, gesturing around the yard. ‘And the official launch is tonight. I’ve invited a few Johnnies from the press, and I’m hoping to win over one of my rivals, see if we can’t join forces to take on the Europeans.’
‘This is all much more exciting than I was given to understand,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Harry, you really are a duffer sometimes. Did you know about all this?’
‘Sort of, sis,’ said Harry. ‘But it’s all a bit over my head. All I really understood was the bit about Fishy getting a few friends together to lark about in motor cars.’
‘There’ll be larking with pals tomorrow,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe. ‘Jake’s coming down with some chums of her own, and we can all have some fun. Come on, I’m dying to show you what we’ve built.’
He set off out of the yard towards what had once been magnificently landscaped parkland and was now a magnificently landscaped racing circuit. It took us nearly two hours to explore the twists and turns, the long straight, and the steep climb to the hairpin bend. It was probably the highest point in the unnaturally flat county, and when I asked about it, Lord Riddlethorpe explained that the original landscaper had used the soil dug from the ornamental lake to build an artificial hill, which he in turn had used to make his racing track more interesting.
By the time we had returned to the little hut at the starting line, I was beginning to feel hungry again. I was hoping we would soon be making our way back to the house so that I might slip down to the kitchen to see what Mrs Ruddle had prepared for lunch. To my dismay, Lord Riddlethorpe led us instead towards the centre of the land bordered by the racing circuit. I had seen glimpses of trees and a tall, Palladian rotunda inside the circuit as we walked round, but I had been too interested in Lord Riddlethorpe’s enthusiastic descriptions of the track’s features to pay too much attention to the gardens. It was, then, something of a pleasant surprise as we crested a small, grassy bank to discover that the racing circuit had been built around the lake. On the near bank stood the rotunda I had seen from the hill, which seemed to be some sort of summer house. As we came closer, I was further surprised to see that a picnic lunch had been laid out on the table inside. I was thoroughly delighted when it transpired that I was invited to eat with the rest of the guests.
Lunchtime passed extremely pleasantly. At first, the conversation had been entirely about the new racing team and Lord Riddlethorpe’s plans to dominate the motor racing world within five years. He seemed determined enough, and there was ample evidence in the form of the three exciting motor cars in his workshop that he was prepared to make an effort to fulfil his ambition. I wanted to learn more about it, to find out about the motors and the ins and outs of running a modern racing team. But I was acutely aware of my position as social interloper and didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself by asking questions, lest Lord Riddlethorpe should suddenly remember that I was just a lady’s maid and politely but firmly invite me to return to the kitchens to eat with the other servants.
I did manage to find out that Lord Riddlethorpe had been interested in motor racing since he had first seen it while on holiday in Ireland in 1903. The Gordon Bennett Cup had been held in County Kildare that year, and the sights and sounds had captured his imagination to such an extent that, on his return to England, he had set about learning everything he could about motor cars and their design and construction. Within four years, he had built and raced (and crashed) several motor cars before he met his current business partner, Montague Waterford. Between them, they designed the Waterford-Codrington ‘Diocles’ (which they named after a charioteer in Ancient Rome), and set about finding the engineers, coachbuilders, and other craftsmen needed to make their plans a reality. The resulting three vehicles, each with subtle differences in mechanical design that I had yet to fully understand, formed the basis of their new team, which they were to officially launch that evening.
From there, talk had turned to reminiscences. Lord Riddlethorpe and Harry talked about their time at Cambridge, rendering each other helpless with laughter as they recalled assorted undergraduate pranks and the disreputable antics of some of their friends, one of whom was now a cabinet minister.
Lady Hardcastle, it seemed, had been a bit of a terror, too. I knew that she had been an able scholar (she had read natural sciences), an excellent musician, and an active member of a number of political societies, but I had no idea she had also joined her brother in several pranks.
‘I say, Emily, do you remember that business with the sheep?’ said Lord Riddlethorpe between mouthfuls of boiled egg.
‘Oh, my word, yes,’ said Harry. ‘You painted them in Girton colours and drove them across the Bridge of Sighs at St John’s.’
‘I painted them?’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘We painted them, brother dearest. I was the one who nearly got herself rusticated over it, though, I’ll give you that.’
‘Someone from one of the colleges stood up for you, though, eh?’ said Lord Riddlethorpe. ‘Old Dr Whatshisface with the glass eye.’
‘Father wrote you a nice letter, too,’ said Harry.
‘They were both extremely helpful,’ she said. ‘You, on the other hand, kept schtum.’
‘Well, it was the university that was ticked off, and Girton’s not part of the university, anyway,’ he said. ‘Not properly. I didn’t think they’d have much chance of getting you kicked out, but me . . . well . . .’
‘I’ve always thought,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe, clearly trying to fend off a family argument, ‘that the university rather liked to see its undergraduates getting up to mischief. I think they make their regular stern threats of temporary expulsion just for the sake of appearances. I mean, look at Byron and his bear. Anyone else would have sent him down or had him thrown in gaol, but Trinity just shrugged and smiled and said, “Students, eh? What are we going to do with the rascals?” Gives them good stories to tell, what? Sets them apart.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘And it made some of the boys take Girton a bit more seriously.’