Authors: Barbara Cartland
"But what do you plan to do in the meantime?" he asked.
"I will tell you that on the journey home," she said. "We should be leaving very soon."
Monsieur Laforge provided his own carriage to take them to Paris, and everyone turned out to wave them off, with many expressions of good will.
They managed to secure sleeping cars on the night train from Paris to Calais. After eating dinner in the restaurant car, they retired for the night. Now that the first shock had passed, Dorina felt dragged down by grief and was unwilling to talk, or even to think any more tonight.
When her maid had made her comfortable and bade her goodnight, Dorina sat up in bed.
'I have simply got to make a success of this,' she told herself. 'Even though I'm quite certain the men who work for Papa will think I am too young, too pretty and too stupid to take his place.
'Yet I am sure he will help me from Heaven, and I will use the brains he always said I had. Then I will carry on his work and his achievements will not be lost.'
She got out of bed and went to the window, looking out at the darkened countryside that was swiftly passing by.
She looked up at the sky.
'Help me, Papa, help me,' she prayed. 'Wherever you are, tell me what I am to do. Oh, why couldn't you have waited just a little longer and been at home to welcome me? Already I miss you so much.'
*
Next morning she and Mr. Johnson ate a quick breakfast as the train covered the last miles to Calais.
"In many ways your father succeeded by being first in whatever he undertook," he told her. "We are making a train now that will be in advance of anything on the market. And, of course, there is his pet scheme."
Dorina gave a rueful smile.
"You mean the idea of a horseless carriage? Dear Papa, he was so set on that idea. Nothing would convince him that it simply isn't possible."
"He always said that it was the way of the future," said Mr. Johnson, "and that was his strength, that he could see what the future held for engineering."
"You don't mean that he's given his factories over to pursuing this crazy dream?" Dorina asked, startled.
"Oh no, we're still turning out the solid goods that have been the firm's bedrock. The horseless carriage is simply a research project at Birmingham. It's been kept very secret because so many other people are looking into the same thing, and he wanted to be the first."
"But surely it isn't possible?"
"Once people said rail travel was impossible," Mr. Johnson reminded her. "Yet here we are, tearing about the world behind steam engines, going as fast as thirty miles an hour. You will scarcely believe this, but when the first passenger train ran, sixty years ago, there were those who predicted that the human frame could not endure a speed of thirty miles an hour. They said we would explode. But we didn't. Who knows what else is possible?"
"Who knows?" Dorina murmured. "Well, it will certainly surprise a lot of people to see me carrying on Papa's business, because I am a woman."
She laughed as she added,
"Most people, especially the English, think women are pretty little things with no brains."
"And you're going to prove them wrong?" he asked admiringly.
"I am going to have to find out first what I should have done ages ago – that is, how a businessman thinks, plans and makes decisions."
"Won't this turn out to be rather a hard life for you?" he pondered. "You're at the age when a young woman should be enjoying herself, buying beautiful dresses, having young men compete for her."
"I don't feel much like enjoying myself with Papa just dead. Still, I know what you mean. But that life isn't for me. Maybe I'll never marry. Papa has left me a sacred trust, and I won't let him down."
For a moment the softness left her face, replaced by a look of steely determination that startled Mr. Johnson. On the journey across the English Channel he asked,
"What exactly do you plan to do when we reach England?"
"Discover all I can, so that I'm fit to take over."
"Wouldn't it be enough for me to teach you?"
"I shall want you to teach me, but I need to see everything from a different angle first. Who were Papa's greatest rivals? I need to know all about them if I'm going to beat them at their own game."
"The one who matters most is the Earl of Kennington."
"I've heard Papa mention him. It always surprised me that an Earl should be in trade."
"His father was awarded the title as a reward for his services to the country."
"I see. A title for him, but not for Papa?"
"I think he could have had a title if he had wanted one. There were hints that a large donation to a political party might work wonders. He wasn't interested. He said titles were a waste of time, and he had better uses for his money."
She laughed.
"I can just hear him saying it."
"We're nearly there," he said, looking at the white cliffs of Dover that were growing nearer.
"Remember to take no notice of me," she reminded him. "The press know your face and if they see me with you it will start speculation about my father. From here on, we travel apart, you to Birmingham, me to London and Papa's house."
"Your house now," he reminded her. "Remember the servants know nothing about his death. I'll keep things going in Birmingham and wait to hear from you."
"If I am in any trouble I'll contact you," Dorina promised. "Otherwise I'll lie low for a while."
"Trouble?" A frown creased his forehead and there was an uneasy note in his voice as he asked,
"Miss Radford, exactly what are you planning to do?"
An impish smile touched Dorina's lips.
"It's probably best if I don't tell you," she said.
Mr. Johnson felt the hair begin to stand up on the back of his neck. He had seen that look before on the face of his late employer when he had just had a ground breaking idea that would either bankrupt the firm or make everyone's fortune.
*
Dorina woke very early, and for a moment she could not think where she was.
How did she come to be in her own bedroom in London when she should have been in France?
Then it all came rushing back to her – her father's death, the journey home, the decision she had taken.
Now was the time for action.
Her maid came in with the tea.
"Thank you, Bertha. Please lay out my plainest clothing."
Bertha stared. She was used to her mistress looking glamorous and elegant. The skirt and jacket that Dorina put on was dull and not very becoming.
Then she sat down at the dressing-table and brushed back her hair until it was away from her forehead and her cheeks. She pinned it securely at the back of her head.
"Whatever are you going to do, miss?" Bertha breathed.
"I'm going to get a job," Dorina said firmly.
As the butler served her breakfast Dorina said,
"Hastings, you know everything that's happening in London. Please tell me where the Earl of Kennington lives."
"You mean your father's competitor, miss?" he asked in tones of arctic disapproval.
"That's right. It's time I discovered a little more about him."
"He lives in Grosvenor Square, miss."
Plans were forming in her head. Bertha had just finished the unpacking, and gaped when Dorina instructed her to pack up again.
"Not very much, this time," she said. "And no fine clothes. The plainest things I have. I want to look businesslike.
'If I arrive with my luggage,' she thought to herself, 'I can say that I reached England early this morning and my friend in France had told me to go straight to the Earl of Kennington.'
"Will I be coming with you?" Bertha asked.
"Not this time. I want you to ask Hastings to fetch me a cab."
"Shall I tell him where it's going, miss?"
"No, I don't think so."
The Earl of Kennington's house was one of the largest in Grosvenor Square. She thought when she rang the bell that even the door looked rather grand and impressive.
It was opened by a footman, wearing a very smart uniform. Behind him stood the butler.
"I would like to see Lord Kennington," Dorina said, trying to sound firm and confident. "It is very important."
The butler frowned.
"Are you, by any chance, another secretary?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Ever since his Lordship's secretary was taken ill, we've had a stream of applicants coming to this door." He added gloomily, "none of them any use."
Dorina suppressed the urge to smile broadly. So the Earl actually needed a secretary. This was better than she could have hoped.
"I think you will find that I am of some use," she asserted confidently.
"Then please come in."
He stared when he realised that she had two large bags with her, but indicated for the footman to help her.
"I arrived in England only this morning and came straight here," she explained hastily.
"Be so good as to wait in here while I speak to his Lordship. Your name, if you please."
"I am Miss Martin," she told him.
He opened the door of a small room near the hall, and when Dorina went in he closed the door behind her.
She had a look round the room thinking it looked richly furnished.
Clearly Lord Kennington was very rich, which meant that his business was profitable. But while her father had ploughed his profits back into the business, the Earl's father had expended some of his on a title.
She wondered which of them had been wiser.
She moved over to the fireplace and regarded herself in the mirror which hung above it.
She looked, she thought, very sensibly dressed, just right for a secretary.
But her hair had slipped forward a little and was very golden against her skin. She pushed it back and put on the glasses which she had brought with her.
They were actually her father's, but she thought they gave her the impression of being older than she was. Also, she hoped, more intelligent.
The butler opened the door.
"His Lordship will see you now, Miss Martin."
This was it, the moment she had planned for.
She had a feeling that her prayer had reached her father, wherever he might be and he was somehow helping her.
Whatever happened, she must not let him down.
They walked down a passage on a very soft and expensive carpet.
She thought the pictures on either side of her were beautiful, while the furniture was outstanding.
The butler opened a door halfway down the corridor.
Then he said,
"Miss Martin to see you, my Lord."
Dorina realised, as she walked in, that it was his Lordship's study. A man was sitting at a very large writing desk near the window.
The sun was glinting on a gold ink-pot.
As he put down the pen he was holding, it too glinted for a moment in the sunshine.
He rose and to Dorina's surprise, he was rather younger than she had expected him to be.
Somehow when she heard her father and other men talking about him, she had imagined he was at least forty five and would have an aggressive manner.
But the man in front of her was, she thought, only thirty and surprisingly good-looking.
He had dark brown hair with a slight curl. His eyes were deep blue and had a brilliance that caught her attention. It was as though a light glowed from within him.
His figure was tall and broad shouldered and his legs very long. He seemed to radiate power, and cast everything else in the room into shadow.
He shook her by the hand saying,
"It is very kind of you to come and see me, and I need someone very badly at the moment."
He indicated a chair on one side of the fireplace and he sat down near it on a sofa.
"I'm in a rather difficult position as you have doubtless been told," the Earl began. "My secretary who has looked after me for several years and who, I may say, is completely indispensable, has been taken seriously ill.
"The doctor tells me it will be a long time before she can work again. I desperately need help, but so far none of the applicants has been suitable. I wonder if you're the person I'm looking for."
"I am certain of it," she replied with conviction. "I've just arrived in London from France. I have some knowledge of business, and I speak five languages fluently."
"Five languages!" the Earl exclaimed. Then he added in German, "Do tell me which they are."
Dorina realised that this was a test.
She replied immediately in German, and for a moment they conversed. She soon realised that his German was limited to the basics.
So was his French, she discovered, when they switched to that language.
She ended up by saying in Dutch,
"I hope that is what you wanted to hear."
The Earl stared at her in astonishment. Then he laughed.
"What was that?"
"Dutch."