Warriors

CHAPTER 49

Sabrina bade farewell to her young charge next morning, kissing him twice and giving him a hug. She’d taken her employer’s advice and, on a whim, she’d booked a small single room for one night at the Lygon Arms. It was a dreamy spot and only a stone’s throw from Hawkesmoor in the event of an emergency.

Suddenly she was excited about her weekend prospects. Over the years she’d made friends with many of the pub staff at the lovely old inn, as well as not a few of the regular patrons. Happy memories, for the most part. Many other young single women had, like herself, frequented the pub on weekends, hoping to meet attractive, well-bred, available men. In her time there, some had, some had not. So it goes.

Her favorite female chum during that period of her young life, someone with whom she’d lost touch when she’d moved to London, had been the beautiful Lorelei Li. A free spirit and a brilliant student of political science at Cambridge back in those days, she was always up for anything.

She’d texted Lorelei from London when she’d learned she’d be taking on a new position in the country and had immediately heard back from her. Still down in Cambridge, Lorelei said, a part-time newspaper job in London but also still frequenting their old haunts on weekends and holidays, especially the Lygon Arms.

Sabrina had had the silly fantasy she might actually see Lorelei sitting at the bar when she arrived. Such fun that would be! Before she put Alexei to bed and turned in herself, she checked to see if she’d had any messages. She found one and it was from Lorelei! Was she psychic or what? She dialed back, and Lorelei said she wanted to get together. She was in the neighborhood and wanted to meet her for lunch the next day. Where would be fun? Sabrina reminded her about the Lygon Arms and it was a done deal!

Another good thing had happened. She remembered that the bartender in those halcyon days was a handsome young man named Jeremy — she wondered if he still remembered her. And whether or not she might catch sight of him, too.

Sabrina stopped by the butler’s pantry to say good-bye to dear old Pelham. He assured her for the tenth time that Alexei would be safe and sound while she was away. In the event of an emergency, he had her mobile number. She was taking her iPad as an e-mail backup. She made sure he had Alexei’s meal schedule and cough medicine on hand, then carried her bulging needlepoint Union Jack bag out to the former stables, now Lord Hawke’s row of garages. His lordship had an amazing collection of vintage race cars and other exotic automobiles behind those doors — including the particularly smashing bright red “le Ferrari” roadster.

She blushed to remember how he’d picked her up in the sports car at the rail station one afternoon, tossing her bag behind the soft leather seats. She’d been in Hawke’s employ for only a short time and had been to London to visit her doctor in Baker Street. She was feeling full of confidence and hope for the future. She’d pretended the dashing Lord Hawke was her beau all the way home!

And what a home it was, too. Hawkesmoor. It was all so lovely, enchanted like a young girl’s dream. Sabrina had felt a stirring in her heart and knew it for what it was, her life beginning at last.

Her own car was waiting for her, fueled up and freshly washed by the very handsome Young Ian, Hawke’s cheerful Irish mechanic and occasional chauffeur. Her little racing green MINI Cooper was sparkling in the morning sun, positively gleaming atop the wet bricks. The blond-haired Irishman had even lowered the top for her in deference to the sunny warmth and promise of the day.

“Thanks so much,” she said as he handed her the keys.

“Not at all, Miss Churchill,” he said, smiling. “It’s my pleasure.”

Had he winked at her?

She was suddenly suffused with happiness. One must always count one’s blessings. She’d promised Pelham she’d be home on Sunday evening to feed Alexei his supper around six o’clock, which meant she had a whole day and a half all to herself to do exactly as she pleased.

How lovely!

So now a delicious lunch with an old friend would kick things off. She waved good-bye to the smiling Irishman and began Hawkesmoor’s long winding drive down to the small two-lane country road. She soon came to the main gates. Her heart quickened as she accelerated steadily out of the drive and began the long climb through the forests to the top of the hill and her destination. She loved these quaint little Cotswolds villages with their omnipresent pubs.

The quaint hamlet of Broadway is one of the most popular tourist destinations in the Cotswolds. After the Norman conquest, Sabrina recalled, six new market towns were founded, including Broadway, Chipping Campden, Moreton-in-Marsh, and Stow-on-the-Wold. Farms had sprung up everywhere, and, as farms became larger, employing more laborers, new gentry arrived. Their gabled stone houses became an important legacy in these hills.

The Lygon Arms, formerly known as the White Hart, was steeped in history, dating to 1532. King Charles I conferred with his confidants there and Oliver Cromwell actually slept beneath the eaves the night before the decisive civil war Battle of Worcester in 1651.

Sabrina saw the familiar LYGON ARMS sign and turned into the drive. The old inn stood on three acres of parklike grounds that included lawns, flower gardens, and croquet. There was still a whiff of pre-Victorian elegance and luxury about the place that she loved.

She turned into the car park, found a spot, and locked her car. It was lovely out, and she decided to have a quick look round. Checking her watch, she saw that she had a good twenty minutes.

Sabrina wandered around the various public rooms, and from there stepped out into the sunlight of the beautifully manicured gardens. She found herself remembering all the good times spent within these garden walls. Strolling about, she simply lost track of time.

Hurrying back inside, she realized she’d have to postpone checking into her room before her lunch with Lorelei.

Nothing had changed inside the old Duck & Grouse, despite the passage of the years. It still felt good and cozy.

She was all smiles as she entered the familiar room. An abundance of padded wine-red leather with brass studs and mahogany. Framed hunting prints. And the sign above the low-hanging ceiling leading to the loo still read mind your head! just as it had in the days when she, Lorelei, and Nell Spooner had enjoyed so many happy times.

She looked around the crowded tables for Lorelei, didn’t see her, and paused for a moment at the bar. The barman, a lean, jovial sort, ambled over, wiping down a glass.

“Hullo. I beg your pardon. I wonder if you could tell me… does Jeremy Somersham still work here?”

“Jeremy! He does indeed, if you want to call it work!” the old fellow said. “Doesn’t work Saturdays, I’m afraid. But he’ll be here for luncheon tomorrow, that’s a dead cert. Shall I tell him you asked, miss?”

“No… no, it’s not necessary. Thanks so much. Perhaps I’ll stop by again and—”

“Sabrina! Sabrina, over here!” She turned, saw her old friend waving from a table beneath the frosted window, and rushed over.

“Why, Lorelei Li!” Sabrina cried happily. “How dear of you to call.”

Lorelei reached up, held her arms out, and the two women embraced warmly, kissing each other’s cheeks before breaking the clench, then just staring at each other through happy eyes.

“How wonderful to see you again!” Sabrina said. And it was, too. Lorelei was pretty, clever, and rich. She was part of an ancient and powerful Chinese family with connections at the very highest levels at her home in Beijing. She’d attended boarding schools in Switzerland before coming to Cambridge and her French, German, and English were pitch-perfect.

Lorelei always did just as she pleased, highly esteeming the judgments of those older and wiser, but directed chiefly by her own. If there was a bad side to Sabrina’s friend, it was the innate power of having rather too much her own way. And a disposition toward thinking a little too well of herself. But for all that, you could put the word fun all in caps in her plus column.

“And you as well, darling! Now, let’s have a look at you,” Lorelei said, “and then have some lunch as I’m starving. My treat. I don’t really care who invited whom, so sit down and I’ll go grab us each a pint of the best. The waitstaff had a private party here last night and they’re all too hungover to work, apparently.”

“Just tea for me,” Sabrina said.

“You’re not on duty, darling. Have some fun.”

“In the Royal Protection Service, one is always on duty, darling.”

Sabrina watched Lorelei weave her way expertly through the crowded bar, her hips swaying beneath the very short silk print skirt. A moment later, Sabrina saw the barman pulling a fresh pint of frothy Guinness for her friend and serving up a steaming cuppa for herself. And then Lorelei was back, her face alight, with the sloshing schooner of lager and the tea.

Lorelei raised the mug and laughed. In a perfect parody of a German accent, she said, “Zo, if I only had zose big pink German bosoms like you und a very small dirndl, I could put my hair up und look like zose pretty barmaids at Oktoberfest biergartens in Munich! Ja? Nein? Noch ein bier, bitte!”

She sat down and took a sip.

Sabrina joined her, beaming at her good fortune. Old friends were best friends, her mother’d always said.

Two hours later, they were still at the table, chatting like mad. Lunch had come and gone, and they were just getting warmed up. Discussing men, of course, but also some of their youthful adventures beneath this very roof. Sabrina was having so much fun she hardly noticed when Lorelei suddenly laughed and said, “I have the most marvelous idea!”

“What’s new?”

“Precisely my sentiments, Sabrina.”

“I’m sure it’s marvelous, but is it a good idea, this idea of yours, or a bad idea, that is the obvious question.”

“This one’s a corker. I believe you said you haven’t checked in yet, have you? Your room upstairs, I mean?”

“Definitely did not. I was running late. Here’s my overnight bag. So. What’s the idea?”

“You’ve got two whole days of holiday, right?”

“Right.”

“Cannot afford to waste them.”

“Cannot.”

“So, drumroll, you and I, are driving down to Cornwall.”

“Cornwall.”

“Yes. To an exquisitely beautiful cottage on a stony bluff overlooking the sea. Too picture-perfectly lovely to be imagined. We’ll walk along the shore. We’ll picnic, we’ll ride horses, stroll the beaches, troll the pubs… all too marvelous for words, darling.”

“I’m in.”

“Damn right, you’re in. Let’s go. Frightfully noisy in here now, have you noticed?”

“What about my car?”

“We’re leaving it here in the hotel car park. It will be fine overnight, don’t worry. We’ll tip the attendant a quid to mind it.”

“If you say so.”

“I say so.”

“I don’t know about this, Lorelei.”

“Trust me, Sabrina. We’ll have a swell time. Have I ever led you astray?”

“I won’t answer that, thank you.”

Sabrina pulled her mobile out of her purse and punched in a number.

“Just give me a minute. I’m going to call my friend Pelham and let him know my plans have changed. It’s ringing now. Oh, by the way. What’s the name of the cottage in Cornwall?”

“Nevermore,” Lorelei said. “Like the raven quoth in the poem.”

“Did you say ‘quoth’?” Sabrina said, laughing, and after she’d told Pelham her plans, they were off to the races.