Inherit the Skies (29 page)

‘And I suggested your friend Gilbert Morse,' Eric put in. ‘ He is in the business and you told me he is interested in the concept of flying, Sarah.'

‘He certainly is,' Sarah said, glad to be able to contribute something to the conversation. ‘He was in France when Santos-Dumont made his first flight.'

‘Ah – Santos-Dumont!' Adam laid down his fork and again Sarah caught a glimpse of that amusement which she found so disconcerting. ‘The back-to-front pioneer.'

‘What do you mean?' she demanded.

‘Poor old Santos-Dumont's design meant he had to stand up in his box kite and stagger into the air facing backwards,' Adam said with a smile. ‘I must confess I would prefer to look where I am going.'

‘At least he flew,' she returned a little sharply. ‘I hope you will be able to say the same some day.'

Adam raised an eyebrow. ‘ Touché!' His eyes held hers and the challenge in them was unmistakeable. ‘I am sure we will.'

Confused she looked away. She could make no sense of the effect he was having on her; she could not make up her mind whether she liked or detested him. She should not have been tempted into sherry on an empty stomach, she decided.

‘Without a doubt the engine is the problem,' Eric was saying seriously. ‘Everyone says the same – though of course it's one thing we don't have to worry about with balloons!' He laughed a little self-consciously and went on swiftly, ‘Alliott Verdon-Roe solved the problem by borrowing an Antoinette from a friend, I understand.'

‘That's right. But Max is convinced his design is best for our aeroplane and I have implicit faith in his judgement. I shall be only too happy to put my life in his hands, as it were, when the time comes.'

‘
You're
going to fly the aeroplane then are you?' Sarah asked before she could stop herself.

A corner of his mouth lifted. ‘That is the part that really excites me, yes. As I say I am only a mediocre engineer compared to Max but when it comes to trying the thing out then I can provide the brute force and ignorance.'

‘Don't be so modest, man!' Eric chided and Sarah thought scornfully: he's not being modest at all. He'll let his friend do all the brainwork while he takes the glory!

A waiter whisked away the plates of empty oyster shells; another served the main course from gleaming silver platters – roast beef, pink and rare for the men, a tender escalope of veal for Sarah. When their plates were full Eric took up the conversation once more.

‘So – do you think your Mr Morse could help, Sarah?' he asked.

Sarah nodded. ‘ I am certain he could. He would probably be pleased to. Though I am not so sure about Lawrence …'

‘Lawrence?'

‘His son. He's in charge of the works. He's a very conservative soul.'

‘I am sure
you
could persuade him, Sarah,' Eric said, pride in his voice.

Sarah looked down at her plate, remembering the last time she had seen Lawrence – on the day he had tried to intervene between her and Hugh. Like slides in a magic lantern show she caught glimpses of the scene – the two boys fighting, rolling over and over in the straw of the stable, Lawrence, his nose streaming blood, Hugh crowing over him, the victor and the vanquished. ‘How many girls have
you
had?' ‘ Do you know what Sarah calls you? Sobersides and Stick in the Mud. Isn't that true, Sarah?' The ugly words rang in her ears and she cringed inwardly as she had cringed then. Once perhaps she could have influenced Lawrence. They had never been as close as she and Hugh had been but she had liked him well enough even if she had thought him a ‘sobersides'. Now she was uncomfortably sure Lawrence would not wish to see her. She had witnessed his humiliation. He would not readily forgive her that.

‘I don't know …' she said.

‘Come now, Sarah! I have assured Adam you have tremendous influence with the Morses!' Eric's voice was almost pleading; she looked at him and saw anxiety in his light eyes that puzzled her. Why should it matter to Eric whether she talked to Gilbert and Lawrence on Adam's behalf? Surely if he wanted an engine built he could contact them himself? She was about to say as much when Adam spoke.

‘Please don't trouble yourself on my account, Miss Thomas. Eric suggested the approach might come better from you but if you would prefer not to be involved then don't give it a second thought.'

His eyes held hers and she saw the unmistakeable challenge in them. It was almost as if he was looking inside her, she thought, seeing that she had a deep and secret reason for she wanting to approach the Morses and even knowing what it was. Briefly she felt naked, vulnerable. No-one had ever made her feel quite that way before. She did not like it but at the same time it aroused an instinct to fight. She did not relish the thought of contacting Lawrence but it was preferable to allowing this man to read and dismiss her so lightly. And besides …

Ever since the day Gilbert had sought her out she had longed for an excuse to see him – and perhaps Chewton Leigh – again. Eric and Adam had just provided her with that excuse – if she had the courage to use it.

Adam's eyes were still holding hers; a tiny pulse that was half excitement, half determination, throbbed within her.

‘It's all right,' she said, taking up the gauntlet he had thrown down to her. ‘ Leave it to me. I will write to Mr Morse. If I ask I am sure they will build your aeroplane engine for you, Mr Bailey.'

A faint smile lifted one corner of his mouth but he had one more challenge to make. ‘Please call me Adam,' he said.

In the breakfast room at Chewton Leigh House Lawrence Morse ladled a good sized portion of scrambled eggs onto his plate and carried it to the table. The years had done nothing to change the family custom of eating the meal together. Blanche was already in her place picking delicately at a wafer thin slice of toast while Alicia, her eyes dark shadowed from yet another night spent partying with her friends of the county set poured herself another cup of strong coffee and avoided the disapproving glances of her stepmother.

Lawrence took his place and began on his eggs without speaking to either of them beyond the briefest of ‘good mornings'. His mind was busy with the problems of Morse Motors and he preferred to spend the hour before leaving for Bristol in preparing himself for the rigours of the day ahead.

Lawrence took his responsibility for the running of the works with the utmost seriousness and though his diligence was regarded by many as a natural extension of the steady-going and unadventurous traits of his nature, in reality it was more than that. Deep down, well hidden by the suet-duff exterior, Lawrence suffered from a basic insecurity and a lack of confidence in his own abilities. He was well aware that compared to his brother Hugh he was a dull fish. As a child, although he was the elder, he had always felt himself to be in Hugh's shadow, obliged to gain the approval of adults by good behaviour and sensible attitudes rather than by a winning personality. He had envied Hugh, who had been able to be outrageously mischievous and sometimes downright wicked and yet still be universally liked, and longed for some of that easy charm to rub off on him. But as they had grown to manhood nothing had changed. It was Hugh who excelled at sport and achieved better results with schoolwork without even trying, Hugh who attracted the attention of young ladies – and their match-making mamas – in spite of the fact that he treated them disgracefully, and Hugh who was the apple of his father's eye.

It was perhaps the knowledge that Hugh was Gilbert's favourite which hurt Lawrence most. He hero-worshipped his father and craved his approval. When he left his public school, having failed to distinguish himself in any way, and Gilbert had suggested that the best place for him to carve out a future career would be in the family business he had seen his chance. If only he could do well enough perhaps at last he would be able to please and even impress his father. Lawrence threw himself wholeheartedly into learning the business. For the first time in his life Hugh was not on his heels offering direct competition and soon his hard work was paying off. Gilbert, busy with his city concerns, came to the works less and less and nominally at least control passed into Lawrence's hands. He was under no illusion about the completeness of his power, of course. Behind him, rock solid, stood Frank Raisey, the Works Manager, who had been with Morses man and boy for close on forty years. But Lawrence was determined that in this field at least he could be a success. By the time Frank hung up his keys for the last time and collected the gold watch which Morses presented to all long serving employees he would be ready, having gradually shouldered the great decisions along with the day to day responsibilities. Even more important, his father would know he was ready.

But success had never come easily to Lawrence and it did not come easily now. Maintaining and improving on his position was a constant struggle with countless facts to be assimilated and strategies to be decided upon. And he was uncomfortably aware of another threat to his position hovering on the horizon and growing larger with each passing year – a threat in the shape of Leo de Vere.

Lawrence did not like his stepmother's son any better than the other Morses did and he was fairly certain that Gilbert did not care for him either. But Leo was clever and ambitious – and he had the backing of his mother. As yet he was only eighteen years old and still at boarding school but he would be leaving at the end of the school year. The talk was that he would win a place at University, perhaps even Oxford or Cambridge, and if he did Lawrence would be granted a stay of execution before Leo came snapping at his heels, eager to make his mark on the family firm. But it would also mean that he would eventually arrive in a blaze of glory, the undisputed brains of the family, with all the vigour of a young man confident of himself and his ability. In nightmares Lawrence saw himself usurped by Leo, waking he was determined to make his position impregnable before the time came to face the assault.

His obsession with Morse Motors and his position there became complete. What outside interests he had had were forgotten and he had no time for forming friendships or even courting a girl. Time enough for that when his future was secure. As for the trivialities of family life, he dismissed them as intrusions on the all-important business matters and this morning was no different. Blanche and Alicia, used to his withdrawn silences, made no attempt to engage him in conversation as he tucked into his eggs. But as the breakfast room door opened and Gilbert entered he raised his eyes eagerly.

‘Good morning, Father!'

‘Ah Lawrence! Just the man I want to see!' Gilbert's tone was jaunty. He laid his
Times
and something else – a letter – beside his place and crossed to the sideboard to serve himself with kidneys and bacon.

‘Anyone would think you were not in the habit of seeing Lawrence at breakfast,' Blanche observed acidly. ‘I hope that remark does not mean we have to endure a long discussion on business affairs.'

Gilbert raised a quizzical eyebrow at her but his good humour remained intact. ‘ Yes and no.'

‘What is that supposed to mean?' Blanche snapped.

‘Exactly that, my dear. Yes – there is a business matter I want to discuss with Lawrence. But it does not end there. What I have to say concerns all of us.' He looked from one to the other of them, gathering their attention. ‘I received a letter in my morning mail. From Sarah.'

There was a moment's total shocked silence at the table, then Alicia set down her cup abruptly so that it clattered on its saucer. Lawrence made a small choking sound as he swallowed a mouthful of egg too quickly. Only Blanche's expression remained inscrutable.

‘The nerve of the girl! Why should she write to you?'

Gilbert removed the letter from beneath the copy of
The Times
, laying it where he could see it though after reading it several times he was already familiar with every word.

‘You are aware I went to visit Sarah some weeks ago?' he began.

‘Yes indeed,' Blanche snapped, giving no hint of the disquiet she was feeling. She had spent a few uncomfortable days when Gilbert had announced his intention of seeing Sarah for she had been sure the girl would tell him at least something of the circumstances of her leaving and she had decided the best way to deal with it was to pretend utter shock and outrage and counter with a direct denial if Gilbert came home demanding an explanation. But that had not happened. It seemed that Sarah had said nothing. But her silence had puzzled Blanche and now she found herself wondering whether the storm had not been averted but merely postponed. ‘ What of it?' she demanded in an effort to retain at least part of the initiative.

Gilbert was demolishing his bacon and eggs; he did not look like a man about to launch into an accusation.

‘You remember I told you she is with the ballooning fraternity?' he said equably. ‘Well, it seems one of her friends is also a pioneer of powered flight. He is designing and building an aeroplane. Sarah has written to ask if we would be prepared to fulfil an order for the engine.'

‘Good heavens – an aeroplane engine!' Lawrence said.

‘There's no reason to sound quite so startled, Lawrence,' Gilbert said. ‘I have talked to you before about the possibility of Morse Motors entering the field. We have to move with the times, you know.'

‘So you say, Father,' Lawrence said, torn between his natural conservatism and the desire to please his father. ‘But
Sarah
! It is hard to believe she could be involved with something like this.'

‘Why?' Alicia asked. Her eyes were glittering. Just the mention of Sarah's name had evoked old animosities. ‘It is just the sort of thing I can imagine her being involved with. She was always ambitious.'

‘And dreadfully ungrateful,' Blanche said, taking the opportunity to press home her version of Sarah's leaving. ‘I must confess to a total disgust with the girl.'