The guests got their food and arrayed themselves around the drawing room and the library, and a good time was had by all.
Toward the end of the evening Stone and Susan were nestled on the big sofa in the library, before the fireplace. The last of the party guests finally left the room.
“Finally,” Susan said, sipping her brandy.
Then the door opened and someone came in. Stone and Susan scrunched down so as not to be seen.
“Thank you for inviting my sister and me,” a man said.
“I thought it the decent thing to do,” Charles replied.
“I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time, and given how little time you’ve got left, according to my sources, I want to know about my father and how this horrible mess came about.”
“It’s quite simple,” Charles said: “Our marriage had hardly begun when your mother began sleeping with a man I thought was a very good friend of mine. I became suspicious when the sex tapered off until nothing, then on two occasions she seduced me, much to my surprise, and a month or so after each occasion, she turned up pregnant, first with you, then with your sister. I still didn’t twig until that time you cut your arm when we were out sailing. Do you remember?”
“I remember — it was a horrible experience.”
“All the more so for me. We got a tourniquet on you, then docked and took you to the casualty ward at the hospital, where the doctor informed me that you needed an immediate transfusion but that your blood group was a rare one. There were half a dozen of us there, but only one had the correct blood group. Your mother had arrived, and she didn’t have the correct group, either, but you were transfused and your life saved. You and your sister had the same blood group, and neither your mother nor I had it, but this one chap, my friend, did.”
“I’ve asked her many times who our father was, because it was so obvious that you were not. Who is he?”
“He’s dead these many years, and if your mother didn’t want you to know, I certainly don’t. Now, there’s an end to it. By the way, if you haven’t already heard, I’ve sold the house and land to an American gentleman, along with the contents and the livestock, so you and your sister may put any thought of inheriting out of your minds.”
“It’s like you to leave us with nothing,” the younger man said.
“Your mother took very good care of you both in her will, so I feel no such obligation. Now, I bid you good night and farewell. We shan’t be speaking again.”
The door opened again and slammed behind them.
“My goodness,” Susan said.
“Your goodness, indeed. I’m sorry we heard that — it was more than I wanted to know.”
“Then you’re a great deal less curious than I.”
They went upstairs, and he did what she had invited him to do earlier. When they were sated with each other Susan asked, “What is the plan for tomorrow?”
“We leave the house at nine AM and make the short trip to Southampton International Airport. Our flight planning has already been done and filed by a service in New York, so we only have to stow our luggage, hop in, and fly. We’ll be in Paris in about forty minutes, where we will refuel and take off for Horta, in the Azores, where we will refuel again and perhaps stay the night. If the winds are more unfavorable than forecast, we’ll land at Santa Maria, which is closer. I had thought we’d overnight in Horta, but what with the time difference and the forecast winds, we can continue to St. John’s, in Newfoundland, where we refuel yet again, then continue to Teterboro, New Jersey, which is just across the Hudson from New York City. None of our legs is more than about three hours, and we should be at my house in the late afternoon, tired and sleepy. We’ll have a good dinner at home, then I will ravish you, and we will sleep like puppies. How does that sound for a day?”
“It sounds just perfect,” she said.
13
Stone was barely awake at dawn, when Susan crept out of bed and went to the Lilac Room to order her breakfast. He had his eggs alone, then showered, shaved, dressed, and closed his suitcases. He and Susan met Sir Charles and Lady Bourne, as arranged, at the car, and Stan came with them to the airport to drive the car home.
Their flight to Le Bourget was short and uneventful, and they said goodbye there.
“Thank you very much for the offer of your house,” Charles said. “It is very kind of you.”
“Thank you for a very fine property and the opportunity to meet so many of your friends last evening,” Stone said.
Their car arrived, and the driver took their luggage. Stone gave Charles the address of the house, and they said goodbye, knowing that they probably would not meet again.
Then, with the airplane refueled, they took off in clear skies for Horta, in the Azores. Half an hour later they were at flight level 410 — forty-one thousand feet — with a true airspeed of 430 knots and a ground speed of 410. Stone pointed to a dotted circle on the center screen of the panel. “This is the range ring,” he said to Susan. “It shows us how far we can fly and still have forty-five minutes of fuel left. As you can see, Horta is well within our range.”
“Wonderful. Is it possible to make calls on my cell from the airplane?”
“No, but we have a satellite phone.”
“May I make some business calls?”
“Of course. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the right rear seat. A table is built into the wall — pull up and out. The phone is across the aisle, built into the bulkhead. It’s just as if you were calling from another country.”
“I know all about that,” she said, taking off her seat belt.
Five minutes later he looked back and saw her talking on the phone and making notes on a pad resting on the foldout table.
He flew on, checking the range ring every few minutes, happy that his new airplane had the range to fly this route, rather than going north through Iceland, where there was the constant threat of bad weather outside the summer months.
They refueled at Horta, then continued on to St. John’s and, after refueling, to Teterboro, New Jersey, where the airplane was based at Jet Aviation. They were met by U.S. Customs and cleared, then their luggage was taken on a cart to the front door of the FBO, where Stone’s factotum, Fred Flicker, awaited them with the car. Forty minutes later they were at home, then they got a good night’s sleep.
The following morning, Stone gave Susan a tour of the house, pointing out his mother’s paintings, then took her down to his office and introduced her to Joan, who had piled his mail and messages on his desk.
“I’d like to unpack, now,” Susan said, “and you seem to have enough to keep you busy here.”
“Phone down to the kitchen, and Helene will bring you some lunch, then meet me in my study for drinks at six,” he said, “and we’ll have dinner there.” She left, and Stone called Dino.
“You’re still alive?” Dino asked.
“You always ask me that, as if you expect a different outcome.”
“One of these days,” Dino said. “I hope your flight was uneventful.”
“We had a little weather at St. John’s and had to fly the instrument approach, but the rest was severe clear.”
“We still on for dinner tomorrow night?”
“We are: seven-thirty at Patroon?”
“See you then.”
Stone hung up and tackled his mail. Additional copies of the closing documents on the house had been sent from the London office, and he instructed Joan: “File these under Windward Hall.” There was a note from Arthur Steele, confirming his wish to pay the reward Stone had offered for the rescue of his stepdaughter, Hedy. “File this under ‘Thank God,’” he told Joan.