My True Companion (8 page)

“Will you let me know what happens?” asked Millie, when she
reached her bedroom door. She stopped and turned to face him. Haxby was a few
feet behind her, having fallen into a contemplative silence. “With Vasily, I
mean.”

“Of course. I’ll come and see you when I get back. If you’re
sure I won’t be compromising you.”

“I’m a big girl,” said Millie, not entirely sure that was
true. With him she felt like a silly schoolgirl. He was so self-assured, so
arrogant in many ways. “I can look after myself.”

“Can you, Millie?” he asked, his eyes searching hers. He
pulled her into his arms, the heat from his hands searing through her thin
dress. Then his lips were on hers, and he crushed her to him. All the fight
went out of her as she succumbed to his touch. “Making love to you would be
very easy,” he murmured against her throat. It should have made her come to her
senses. She should have slapped his face and punished him for his arrogance.
Instead she put her head against his shoulder, her lips trying to form an
invitation she could not put into words. Little did she know that the invite
was already written in her body, and the way it yielded to him. She wanted him
to go on kissing her, and for the fingers that stroked her spine to keep working
their magic. “I have to go,” he said, kissing her again, then abruptly pushing
her away. “I’ll come to you later.”

It was only after a few minutes alone in her hotel room that
Millie came to her senses. What had he said? That making love to her would be
easy? Was that what he thought of her? Her face burned with shame over her own
behaviour. For a few moments she had lost her senses, and had he come into her
room with her at that time, she had no doubt she would have given in to his
desires. She felt grateful that he had to leave. It gave her time to regain her
strength.

Feeling she had no choice but to leave before he returned,
Millie quickly changed her clothes and snatched up the simple bag of items she
had brought with her. She hoped that he would take care of paying for the room,
though doubtless he would feel he had a bad return on his investment.

“How can you have behaved so stupidly?” she said to her
reflection in the mirror. “Falling for his line about training women agents!”
It was no doubt the line he gave to all the women he seduced. That and the fact
he did not really require her help in finding Vasily. He had seen an
opportunity and taken it. That was all.

Where to go, that was the problem. She felt too ashamed to
return to Mrs Oakengate at the Fazebys, even if she could get a train. The late
hour at which she arrived back would damn her in their eyes, and even if she
were to stress there had been no untoward behaviour on her part, it was
possible they would believe that Haxby had used her and cast her out straight
away. Respectable girls did not return home in the early hours of the morning.
At the back of her mind lay the truth that respectable girls did not go off to
London with practical strangers, and end up spending the night, so either way
she would have to face their disapproval.

She thought of the little town to the north of London, where
she had lived with her father. They had some friends there, people who, even after
his death, looked upon her kindly. There was a boarding house in the market
square, and she had some money in the bank, not having much cause to spend the
wage Mrs Oakengate paid her. Suddenly the thought of returning home consumed
her. After her father’s death, she had been relieved to move away. Now she
missed her home. She remembered Alex Markham’s offer to help her financially.
Perhaps, she thought, she should not be so proud. Not that she would give in and
marry him.

She knew now that she would never marry. Her heart and soul
were with Haxby, despite the fact that he only saw her as a conquest. Nowhere
on earth would she find a man who excited her as he did, or with whom she would
fall as deeply in love. Better to be alone than settle for second best, either
by being Haxby’s mistress, or by marrying another man.

Not for the first time, Millie missed her father. When they
had each other, life seemed easy. Now she was struck by how completely alone
she was, and she fought to stop the tears that had been building up for several
days. She sighed impatiently, annoyed with herself for acting like such a
weak-willed girl.  She promised herself that when she returned home to her
own town, she would once again find the strength she used to have.  But
first she had to leave the Ritz.

It did not occur to her, until she was in the lift, how hard
it would be to walk away from Haxby. She had thought that once she was resolved
to go, her decision would make it easier. But every step away from him was like
a dagger in her heart. And not just from him, but from the situation regarding
the Parker-Trents. Her loyalty to her father tore her in two. On the one hand,
she failed him in not clearing his name. On the other hand, if she stayed, then
she might shame his memory in other ways. She would not be the daughter he had
raised; a girl with a sense of dignity and decorum, who would not succumb to
the charms of a roué, no matter how fascinating and handsome he was.

She had walked along several streets, in the night air, before
she realised that there was a third choice. She could return to the hotel, but
refuse Haxby’s advances, insisting he merely tell her what he had found out
about Vasily, and his part in her father’s downfall.  She remembered his
sensual touch, and her resolve failed her briefly. Then she turned and began
walking back to the Ritz. She was a human being, not an animal, prone to baser
instincts. She would face Haxby, as an adult with a mind of her own and not a
silly schoolgirl who ran away at the idea of being seduced. She would clear her
father’s name, whilst still honouring his memory.

Her resolve became a blur as an arm reached out to her from
the darkness, viciously grabbing her around the neck and pressing a sweet,
sickly smelling cloth to her lips. She was vaguely aware of a familiar voice
shouting, at which point everything fell into blackness.

Chapter Eight

The first thing of which Millie became aware was the morning
sun streaming through bright curtains. Her second discovery, on trying to move her
arms, was that she was not restrained in any way. All that covered her was a
soft eiderdown. Finally, when she tried to move the rest of her body, a searing
pain filled her head. It was then she realised that a bandage bound her
forehead.

Still, sleepy, she dozed slightly, opening her eyes when she
heard voices.

“She doesn’t look like the others.”

“She’s not like the others.” She knew the second voice. It
was Haxby. Her mind became a whirl of confusion, and she kept her eyes closed
so he would not realise she could hear him. Had he abducted her? No, that did
not make sense. She had been at his mercy all the time they were on the train,
then again at the Ritz. Why would he need to abduct her from a late night
street? Unless he wanted to be sure no one could connect him to her abduction.
He had an alibi in that he left the hotel at around ten o’clock to go with
Barraclough.

No, none of it made sense, and it hurt her, both physically
and emotionally to think of the consequences of it being true.

“If you’re lying there wondering if I kidnapped you, the
answer is no,” he said. Millie opened her eyes and looked up at him. He seemed
taller than ever, towering above the bed. Next to him stood a woman of
indiscriminate age. Nearly as tall as Haxby and with grey hair coiled on her
head, and wearing an old-fashioned morning dress, she might have been seventy,
yet her eyes held the energy of a twenty year old; bright and intelligent, and,
Millie guessed, missing very little.

Millie tried to get up, only to fall back, as dizziness
overwhelmed her. “Be careful,” Haxby said, gently, sitting on the edge of the
bed. “You hit your head on a pillar box when you fell.”

“What happened?” She tentatively touched her forehead, and
met a large and very painful bump.

“Vasily managed to get out of the house we were watching
without being seen. Luckily I was on my way back to the Ritz when I saw him
attack you.”

“But why?”

“Enough questions for now,” said the woman. “You’ll tire
yourself out, child. James Thomas Haxby, the very least you can after turning
up at my home in the early hours is to introduce me properly.”

“Of course. Where are my manners? Mother, this is Millie …
Miss Millicent Woodridge … Millie, this is my mother, Helen Haxby.”

Millie tried to raise her hand, but once again was overcome
with weakness.

“Don’t worry about the formalities, child,” said Helen,
leaning over and patting Millie’s arm. “I’m very glad to meet you. Now, Jim,
let the girl rest, while you come downstairs and tell me what on earth is going
on.”

“I’d rather like to stay with Millie, mother.”

“I’m sure you would, but I’m still old-fashioned enough to
believe that a young lady should never be alone in her bedroom with a man. You
should certainly not be alone with this particular young lady, anyway.” With
that, she left the room, with Haxby following meekly behind. Millie thought she
heard him mutter something about ‘Why not her?’ Millie could have told him.
Despite Helen’s kindness, which probably came down to no more than good
breeding, she no doubt disapproved of her son being associated with the
daughter of a traitor.

She would have liked to go downstairs with them, to learn
for herself what was happening, and why Vasily had tried to snatch her, but
finding herself once again thrown into despair about her status, she preferred
to pull the eiderdown over her head and shut the cruel world out.

Millie eventually joined them downstairs in the evening.
Whatever Helen Haxby’s private misgivings might have been, she hid them well,
treating Millie like an honoured guest.

“Are you comfortable, child? Would you prefer a chair nearer
to the fire?”

“I’m quite well, thank you,” said Millie, lost in the corner
of a large overstuffed sofa. Haxby sat next to her, closer than her fevered
emotions could cope with.

For some reason, Millie had imagined Helen Haxby’s home to
be a smallholding, with geese and chickens in the back yard. The reality was a
Georgian manor of immense proportions. She had been given a quick tour of the
house and grounds. The land that James described as a ‘farm’ probably ran to
several hundred acres.

“Will you tell me what happened now?” she said to Haxby, as
she sipped a cup of tea and nibbled on the slice of buttered toast that Helen had
insisted on making for her. “Why did Vasily try to abduct me?”

“I was hoping that you could tell me that,” said Haxby. “I
thought it might be because he thought Hortense Parker Trent had managed to
tell you something, but you’ve had plenty of opportunities to impart that
information to others since her death.”

“Was there anything your father ever said to you?” asked
Helen. “Any work that he shared with you?”

“He shared all his work with me,” said Millie. “But I
wouldn’t tell the enemy. Neither would my father.”

“No, of course not, child,” said Helen. “Unfortunately the
enemy have ways of getting such information. It’s lucky that Jim happened along
when he did.”

“Where is Vasily now?” asked Millie. Haxby and his mother
exchanged glances.

“He’s dead,” said Haxby.

“You killed him?”

“I would have liked to, for what he tried to do to you, but
sadly he took that pleasure from me. We had him in our grasp, but he took a
cyanide pill before we could get any information from him. Then I brought you
here, to Mother.”

“Why here? Why not Fazeby Hall? Not that I’m ungrateful for
your hospitality Mrs Haxby,” Millie added hastily.

“There’s something going on there,” said Haxby. “I don’t
want you in anymore danger than you have been already. I thought I made a
mistake taking you to London. Now I realise it was probably safer in the long
run. At least until Vasily found out you were there. And the only way he could
have known that was if someone at Fazeby Hall told him.”

“But how did he know I was leaving the Ritz?” asked Millie.

“He probably had someone watching the place, waiting for an
opportunity. Which reminds me. Why did you leave?” He turned to look at her. To
make matters worse, Helen Haxby also appeared to be awaiting her answer.

“I just wanted some fresh air.”

“At that time of night? It was very foolish. For God’s sake,
Millie, who knows what might have happened to you?”

“I’m guessing that Millie thought it safer to leave,” said
Helen Haxby, her eyes exuding owl-like wisdom.

“Oh. I see.” Haxby got up and left the room, his face
gripped by an emotion Millie could not identify. She stared into the fire, not
knowing what to say.

“Don’t mind Jim’s bad mood,” said Helen. “For a man who
believes he always says what he really thinks, my son can be rather obtuse when
it matters. In my experience, most men are the same. The truth is that he was
worried sick about you. I’d never seen him as upset as when he arrived here
this morning.”

“You …” Millie paused, choosing her words carefully. “You
said I’m not like the others. What did you mean?”

“I don’t know how much Jim has told you about his work for
the government. He … actually we … train young women for the secret service.
Unfortunately most of the women who have the intelligence and courage to do the
work often lack the social graces that would allow them to fit into any
society. Those who do have the social graces are often complete airheads. So
the intelligent but less graceful girls come and live here for a while, and I
teach them the basics.”

“Like Pygmalion?”

“Like Pygmalion,” said Helen, nodding.

“Then Haxby … Jim … takes them to The Ritz to try out their
new skills?” Millie said.