A European Queen Ch 09

June 16th 1946.

Lord Winston Dresden, the Viscount of Conteville, was snoozing in his sunroom when his butler of the household, Rodgers entered the room and cleared his throat quietly to wake the old Lord. He opened one eye and looked at the young man who had been his Valet come Butler these past ten years.

"You have a communication my Lord," he was told.

"Do I indeed?" He held out his hand expecting a letter or note to be given to him. But Rodgers just stood there looking down at his Lord and Master.

"Well, where is it?" The grumpy old man asked.

"It is in your study my Lord," He was told.

"In my study, what on earth do you mean?" As he looked a little bewildered. It was then that the proverbial penny dropped.

"Oh, a communication. Well, why didn't you say so Rodgers," As he got up he gathered his senses. "Bring me a whisky dear boy," and he patted his Butler's backside as he walked past him.

He made his way to his study and picked up the four sheets of paper on his desk. He went to his diary and flicked through the large heavy book, most pages were empty these days. Since the war ended his services with MI5 were no longer needed. He found the page he was looking for and felt along the top of the page, there hidden from sight, was a single braille character. It gave him the direction on what he had to do next.

It was the Braille character for the letter T.

The letter T is the twentieth letter in the alphabet, but that meant nothing. It referred to a book. The twentieth book from the bottom corner of his bookshelf in his cellar. The cellar was two floors down, beneath the main floor. Unless you knew where to look you would never find the narrow hidden passageway. This old library of books had laid undisturbed for close to forty years now. He waited until Rodgers knocked on his door and brought a small glass of whisky for his Master.

He neatly folded the four sheets of blank paper into thirds and put them into his inside jacket pocket. "I'm going down to the library, Rodgers. Best bring a strong lamp dear boy, I'm not certain if the lights still work down there,"

"Yes my Lord,"

When the butler returned he carried with him a torch, it was over twelve inches long and when turned on it would light up a whole room. It was a good, strong torch that could be used as a club if ever the occasion arose.

They went into the drawing room which, with the curtains drawn was dark and dank. Rodgers closed the door behind them and then turned the key in the lock. He then pushed the barrel bolt up into the doorframe. Ensuring the bolt was latched and locked into the right of the bolt. He nodded to the old Lord. Turning on the light, he found a hidden loose brick in over the fireplace. The fake fire slid backwards and turned on its axis. The two men entered the landing of a spiral staircase and before they moved they waited for the fireplace to close. Rodgers then pushed the loose brick back into place. They then descended the two flights into the dark silence. At the bottom of the staircase was a reading table adorned with a simple single lamp hanging over the table, the butler pulled on the cord and a weak, warm yellow light lit up a small patch around on the table.

After turning on the reading light he turned the torch on and it did in fact light up most of the room. The room itself was large, cavernous, it was larger than the whole footprint of the stately home. The unused room held rows upon rows of book shelves. The exact number of books was lost to Lord Dresden. It wasn't the number of books and documents that were important but what some of them contained.

The Viscount of Conteville took the papers from his jacket and opened them up, taking the first sheet, he ran his thumb and forefinger along the edges until he found the number.

He folded the papers and returned them to his pocket and told Rodgers. "17 T, Rodgers," was all he said.

The butler walked along the ends on the bookcases until he found the one numbered XVII. He wiped away the dirt and dust of more than four decades, he doubled check the numerals. They shelves were not in numerical order. "Here my Lord," he stated.

He waited to be joined by the old man, when he arrived, he just said, "Book 20, bottom right,"

Rodgers walked down between the bookcases until he was halfway along and then started scraping away at the dust on the floor, looking for a symbol, he found it, a simple arrowhead pointing towards the bookcase opposite number 17. He turned and knelt down and started counting from the bottom right-hand end of the bookcase, when he had counted 19 books he stopped and eased the twentieth book from the case. He didn't clean it, read the title nor did he open it. He just handed the book to his Lord and Master.

Lord Dresden just gave a weak smile and nodded to the younger man. He turned and walked towards the reading table at the bottom of the staircase. He took the book to the table and put it under the light. He again consulted his blank sheets of paper in his pocket. Finding what he was looking for, a set of random numbers. 172 -- p4 -- w6.

He first opened the book to page 172 and smiled at the hand painted fading coloured image, hand drawn he suspected. He opened a small drawer and found a circular piece of glass; it brought the details of the image much closer to him. He studied the image until he found what he was looking for. The image was that of a medieval monk, reading a book. He looked closer at the book and found the fourth paragraph and then the sixth word. But it wasn't a word but a date.

vicesimo quarto die Octobris (October 2024.)

He closed the book and turned off the reading lamp. He looked at his butler and indicated it was time to ascend the staircase. He went ahead of his young butler and wearily climbed the steps of the cast iron staircase. He had some tasks to complete before he would go down to the lake running through his lands and do a spot of fishing.

When they reached the top, Rodgers held the torch steady as the Viscount of Conteville felt for the loose brick, it took him several minutes until he came upon it and pushing it, he stepped back as the fireplace opened up for them. They walked back into the old drawing room and closed the hidden passageway. The old man started to brush the dust from his jacket as he looked around the room. He sensed something was out of place, but nothing came to his notice. He didn't say anything and went over to the cabinet in the corner, opened it and took out a cantor of whiskey. He poured both himself and Rodgers a healthy amount of the fine liquid and toasted the King. They both finished their glass in one swift gulp.

The old man smiled at his man servant and went to go to the door. Rodgers was there first and put his hand up to undo the barrel bolt and stopped. His face went white. The barrel both wasn't as he had left it, locked away to the right but now on the opposite side. His sudden stop alerted his Lordship who put his hand on his shoulder, indicating that he shouldn't move. The older man then went about mumbling as he went to his writing bureau.

He opened the top and searched for a small key that would unlock the drawer. He found it on a shelf behind some books where he had hidden it. He unlocked the drawer and slowly opened it, the Smith and Wesson Hand Ejector, 2nd Model.455 Webley was where he had left it. He picked it up knowing it was cleaned, serviced, and loaded. His hand wrapped around the ornate handle, the gun had been a gift from General George Patton, for services rendered. His hand was steady and sure. He was alert, he knew that if the barrel bolt was still fastened, then whomever was there, was still there. His mind raced, where would the culprit be hiding. There were only two places he thought, behind the furniture in the opposite corner of the room or next to the bookcase. He positioned himself so he could cover both places then spoke.

"Show yourself or I will start shooting," His voice was loud and assertive. There was no response, he continued. "You have ten seconds,"

Next to the bookcase a slim figure appeared, short, an unfamiliar person, a female. She began to raise her hands when Lord Dresden shot her between the eyes. The distance between them was less than 12 feet. Her head was thrown backwards as it exploded before her body quickly fell to the floor. Blood was splattered not only over the wall but on some first editions in the bookcase. Rodgers jumped, startled before letting out a short sigh.

"My word, did you have to shoot her, look at the mess I have to clean up,"

The cold hard look in the old man's eyes said, 'yes I did'.

He put the handgun down on the writing desk and reloaded it. Then instructed Rodgers to clean it before we report anything.

"Report what sir?" came the question from the butler.

Lord Dresden nodded before replying. "The message told me I am going away," He handed over the almost blank papers from his jacket, "Burn these in the kitchen oven, there's a good boy,"

Rodgers had a sad look about him, but the old man had a look of relief on his face.

"I am going to my study to talk to her ladyship, I expect she and her companion to return in a day or so. Make certain their room is ready for them,"

Rodgers looked again at the body on the floor before turning and pulling the barrel bolt down and he unlocked the door. He opened it and bowed his head as the Viscount of Conteville walked past him on his way to his study.

The old man sat in his study, sitting back looking through the window out onto the English countryside. He opened a box of cigars on his desk and bite off the end, not spitting it out but removed it from his mouth and put in the ashtray. He took hold of the old lighter on his desk and had to flick it twice before it burst into flame, then almost touching the end of the expensive Cuban Cigar he drew on it, bringing it to life. He took the smoke back into his mouth and savored it before easing it out past his lips into the small room.

He picked up the telephone but before dialling he checked his fob watch; the antique hands on the antique face told him it was twenty to five. He thought to himself, 'they should be out of bed by now'.

He dialled the 6-digit number and heard it ringing at the other end. It rang from what seemed like an eternity and soon a woman's voice answered the phone.

"Hello," The voice was soft and not one he immediately recognised.

"Hello, Lord Dresden here, would you put her ladyship on the phone please,"

"Yes sir, right away sir," Came her answer. The old man smiled to himself. He couldn't see the attraction that his wife found in these young women she gets attached to. Her Ladyship was Lady Emily Naughton. She was his second wife and some twenty years younger than the Viscount. The marriage suited both of them, she lived in London, except during the blitz of course, and he in the family country estate, apart from the war years when he served King and country. They both enjoyed being married on certain regal occasions but enjoyed their freedom from the constraints of what a traditional relationship expected of them.

"Winnie Darling, what a surprise. Is everything alright my love?" She was bright and cheerful. The Viscount just listened to her voice.

"It is good to hear your voice Emmy my love, it has been a short while. Yes everything is alright, couldn't be better," He replied, his voice giving away that all was not well. "I am going fishing later today, Emily. I think you should have everything tidy where you are," He told her. The fishing story was their code for the long-awaited plan, that had been generations in the making and was about to commence. Her husband was no longer required, that she now had to do her part and run the family estate.

The silence between them was profound. He had heard her gasp then a hint of a sniffle.

"When Winston?"

"Earlier this afternoon, do you know what you have to do?"

"Yes, I think so. When will they contact me?" She asked.

"I don't know, make certain there are no silly little things running around half naked when they come calling, it wouldn't look right. You understand," He told her.

"No one is ever half naked with me, they are either dressed or naked," She giggled before composing herself. "But yes, I do understand. I know how important it is," Her voice was lowered, barely a whisper, a hushed tone.

"There is something else Emily, we had an uninvited guest to go with everything, so be careful. Someone is watching,"

"Do you know who they are?" She asked quietly.

"I didn't give her an opportunity to explain herself,"

"A she! Oh dear," Lady Naughton replied. "Much of a mess?"

"Don't worry, young Rodgers is arranging for everything to be cleaned up before anyone turns up,"

"I just wanted to let you know. Speak to you one last time, tell you myself. I do still love you in my own way," he told her.

"Yes I know you do, and I you, but we are built differently to others," She hesitated before saying. "Winston I am going to miss you terribly and grieve for you desperately. It won't be a performance my love," She told him.

He smiled over the phone. "Good bye Emily," He put the phone down and found his cigar had gone out. He relit it.

On the other end of the phone, Lady Naughton, sighed a deep sigh and sat down. Her latest conquest came into the room and sat on her lap. True to her word the young thing was naked.

Rodgers knocked on the study door before entering, he brought his Lordship's finest whisky and poured him an ample glass. Part of what was to happen needed his Lordship to consume a tidy quantity of whisky. There must be no hint of foul play or of suicide, just an accident. A drunk old man who fell into a lake while fishing and drowned. Nothing suspicious at all.

Rodgers helped Lord Dresden with his fishing gear and set him up on a small wooden gangway used for boating in his younger days, now it was rickety, in disrepair and dangerous. He would sit on the end of the gangway, with his heavy clothing and boots, a large hip flask and his fishing rod and basket.

The sun would set around nine o'clock that evening. It was agreed that Rodgers would notify the local constabulary around midnight of the missing Lord Dresden, Viscount of Conteville.

The Lords body was found just after dawn the following morning.

Rodgers handed a detective inspector a slip of paper with Lady Naughton's London address and phone number. An appointment was made to see Lady Emily Naughton. Scotland Yard sent two senior offices they knocked on her door at 10 am precisely. They gave the new widow the unfortunate news of Lord Dresden's accident and his subsequent passing.