Ring of Terror Read Free Page A

‘but think of it this way. Sir George is giving employment, from his own pocket, mark you, to thirty men and women. It stands to his credit, not to his discredit.’
    In truth, it was a style of living that was already becoming uncommon. In Sir George’s case, the money needed to keep it up did not come from the farms on the estate. As Sir George pointed out to his cronies, the miserable rents which the farms paid scarcely met the repairs which, as landlord, he was bound to carry out.
    The real money came from Sir George’s share in the silk- and cotton-spinning industry brought over by Huguenot refugees from France two centuries before. One of Sir George’s ancestors, when leasing them the site near Lavenham for the factories they wanted to build, had stipulated that, instead of a rent, they should allow him a share of the profits. This had proved to be a very lucrative investment.
    Mrs Parham welcomed Luke warmly and he rewarded her with a smile which, had he known it, was already beginning to flutter the hearts of the local girls.
    She said, ‘What good wind blows you here? Don’t tell me you’ve come to see an old woman, because I shan’t believe you.’
    ‘Then you’d be wrong, Mrs P,’ said Luke. ‘Because I did come to see you. Though it’s true I had a second reason.’
    ‘I knew it. Something you want out of me. In the old days it would have been my home-made fudge. But I guess you’re too old for sweets now.’
    ‘Never too old for your home-bake. But the thing I really wanted was a piece of information.’
    ‘Indeed. About what, might I ask?’
    ‘About Sir George. I need to know how his gout is.’
    ‘At the moment, thank the Lord, it isn’t troubling him.’
    ‘And he’s at home?’
    ‘When I saw him about half an hour ago he was in his study, writing letters.’
    ‘Then I’d better go straight up.’
    ‘Before his gout comes back, is that it?’
    Luke knew that she was longing to be told what it was all about; and although in the past he had confided many of his secrets to her as a surrogate mother, his own being dead, he felt that in this case he had to keep his counsel.
    He departed, up a second flight of steps, emerging through a baize-lined door into the front hall of the house. Here he paused to collect himself.
    He had crossed Sir George’s path many times, at shoots and on other outdoor occasions and had observed him in church, trying not to go to sleep as the Rector plunged more and more deeply into Hebrew history and philosophy, but he had never contemplated a face-to-face encounter. How was he going to manage it? Should he stump in, say, ‘I’m sorry for what happened yesterday,’ and stump out again?
    By now the simplest words seemed to be sticking in his throat and his hands were clammy. It was determination which took him along the passage and pride which knocked at the study door.
    Sir George looked up from his writing and said, ‘Come in, boy. Shut the door. What can I do for you?’
    ‘There’s something I wanted to say, sir.’
    ‘Wouldn’t it be easier if you sat down?’
    ‘No, sir. I’d rather stand. The fact is—well, my father and Reverend Millbanke both thought I should come along and apologise—’
    ‘I’m not interested in what other people thought. What I’d like to know is what you thought.’
    ‘I thought the same. It was silly of me. I should have realised that Oliver – that your son – would have told you what he meant to do and got your permission.’
    ‘My son told me nothing. He knew he could go anywhere he liked on my property and he only told me this morning about his rabbiting. He should not have used illegal snares, but that was for me to tell him, not you.’
    ‘No, sir. I realise that now.’ Luke drew a deep breath. ‘If it would make up for it, I’d be glad to set some of our dead-fall traps where he set his. And I’d let him have any rabbits they caught.’
    ‘Handsome,’ said Sir George. ‘But not