‘Morning,’an unfamiliar antipodean voice chirped cheerfully, startling Morton. Heturned to see Guy parading into the room wearing nothing more than a pair ofwhite boxer shorts. Two things sprang into Morton’s mind simultaneously. One, where did he come from? As far as Morton knew Jeremy went to bed atthe same time as him. There were definitely no Australian homosexuals inthe house at that time; surely he would have noticed when he went roundchecking that the windows were shut and the doors were locked? The secondthought that Morton had was how impossibly handsome Guy looked, despite theungodly hour of the day. ‘Jeez, you’re chatty in the mornings,’ Guy said,filling an empty pint glass with water.
‘Sorry,’ Mortonsaid, ‘you made me jump. I’m still half asleep.’
‘What you upto?’ he said, leaning in and looking at the laptop screen. ‘Ah, LadyMaria. You interested in her?’
‘Kind of,’Morton answered dismissively, unsure of how much Jeremy had revealed in pillowtalk. Hopefully nothing.
‘She’s a realfeisty bird but she’s got a soft spot for me so I tend to get the better jobsaround the house. Not that I can complain, decent wages, free apartmentin Charingsby; it’s alright really,’ he said.
Morton wonderedif it was potentially a stroke of luck having an employee of theWindsor-Sackvilles standing half-naked in his kitchen. Someone toquestion about the inner workings of the estate. But what if he’s ontheir side? he thought. Morton decided it was a risk worthtaking. After all, he was there when Jeremy and Guy met. That wouldhave been impossible for the Windsor-Sackvilles to orchestrate inadvance. ‘I expect they have a lot of security and police protection,what with their son being Defence Secretary and all,’ Morton finally said,dropping a giant unsubtle fishing hook into their conversation.
‘I guess so,’Guy answered cryptically. ‘All sorts of people come and go; it’s hard tokeep track of who’s who really. I’ve only been over here for a year soI’m not really familiar with all your politicians.’
‘Is there a mancalled Daniel Dunk that works for them?’ Morton asked, sounding as casual as hecould.
‘Yeah, he’s akind of security bloke, handyman. Bit shady if you ask me, but they ratehim. His wife used to work at Charingsby before I started there and Ithink his dad might have even worked for them way back in the past. Iguess his family are part of the furniture. Why’s that, you know him?’
‘Know of him,’Morton said, touching the memento Dunk had left on the side of his head.
‘Well, I’mgoing back to bed. Night.’
‘Night,’ Mortonreplied, wondering if his life could get any stranger. He returned hisattention to the laptop and clicked on the ‘opening hours’ tab for MoteRidge. Their doors would open in four hours' time and Morton would bethere.
A while later,Morton headed into the bedroom and began to dress by the muted light strainingthrough the curtains.
‘Just say it,Morton,’ Juliette suddenly snapped from the bed, still with her eyes shut,curled into the foetal position.
‘Say what?’Morton said innocently, as he pulled on a clean shirt and pair of jeans.
‘You’re bangingand clattering around the room, which usually means you want me to wakeup. Just say it. What’s happened now?’
‘Nothing,’Morton said indignantly, hating the way Juliette could see through him asthough he were a sheet of glass. He hadn’t consciously been trying towake her up. Well, maybe he had. ‘I just brought you up a cup oftea. But since you’re awake, you’ll never guess who just strode into thekitchen half naked at four this morning?’
‘Guy,’ shesaid. Not so much a guess as a statement. She still hadn’t so muchas twitched a muscle.
‘How do youknow?’
‘I let him inlast night.’
‘Why didn’t youtell me?’
‘Why would I?’
‘Because.’
‘We’re notsniggering fifteen-year-old girls, Morton. Jeremy’s an adult and this ishis house, he doesn’t need our permission to have people to stay over. Now let me get some sleep.’
‘I didn’t sayhe needed our permission, but his usual place of residence is Charingsby afterall. Talk about Trojan Horse.’
Juliette made agrunting sound that spelled the end of the conversation.
When Morton arrived at Mote Ridge itseemed to be under siege from every W.I. platoon in the country. Atleast, that was Morton’s impression as he queued behind a neat single-file lineof pensioners that snaked towards the ticket office, a plain wooden box mannedby two overworked staff. Typical, Morton thought. Of all the dayshe could choose, he picked today. But then again, he wasn’t here for aday out, he was here for research, to find out once and for all if ‘M’, thewoman who gave birth to James Coldrick, was Lady Maria Charlotte.
The trail ofold ladies collected their tickets then beelined for the tearoom and Mortonfinally made it to the small window in the side of the ticket office.
In exchange forthe ten pounds entrance fee, Morton received a brief guide to Mote Ridge, a mapof the extensive grounds and a long hard stare at his ping-pong ball lump fromthe beleaguered young girl behind the window.
Morton pocketedthe map and crossed a dry moat into the heart of a large, rectangular courtyardwith high, flint walls that made the place feel more like a fortress than ahome. It had most probably been both at some time in its chequeredhistory. He couldn’t imagine growing up somewhere so detached andformal. He wondered at the implications of having more servants livingwith you than family. What was it that Guy had called Lady Maria? Afeisty old bird. Translation into English: surly old dragon. Was it really any wonder, though, looking at this place? What kind of anupbringing did she have?
The house itselfwas an eclectic mixture of architectural styles. The main part comprisedof a large stone tower with small lead-framed windows, which reminded Morton ofa classic fourteenth-century church. Fused to the tower was a stunningexample of a typical medieval hall house – iconic black beams and white wattleand daub plaster with tall mullioned windows. Rising up from the rearwere four ornate herringbone brickwork chimneys. Morton stared at thebuilding with a feeling akin to admiration. Such a fine house wouldusually take him a whole day to explore but today he was here for work.
A sign with‘Entrance’ and
