Chapter 7

Miss Parradine was in one of the vaults of the County Record Office, where many of the papers of the Earls of Fortescue had been kept since the family had donated them in an uncharacteristic (for them) act of benevolence, some hundred and fifty years ago. It was deep underground and smelt chiefly and displeasingly of mildew and rust. The air conditioning was mediaeval in its antiquity, along with many of the documents. Normally she would have material she wanted to examine brought up to her nice well lit and ventilated office by a porter. This time, though, it was different. She had a bit of very personal and clandestine research in mind. She took down a box full of papers from one of the highest and dustiest shelves. Even her fear of spiders had been suppressed for the moment, such was her determination and fixity of purpose.

Her time at the magnificent banquet, when the poor Girl had been confined to the ancient cage, to the delight of all present, had renewed her interest in the history of Fortescue castle and its long-time former owners. She chuckled malevolently as she re-lived the occasion of the Girl's fresh humiliation and recollected anew the look of shame on that lovely tear-stained face. She had seen the Colonel pinch that naked and tempting backside - still tempting despite its angry redness, the result of yet another chastisement - and knew full well that the poor young creature was totally innocent of any wrong-doing.

"She must be half-witted not to have told us all what really happened and maybe saved herself a lot of grief" muttered the Parradine woman as she drew down an ancient box from one of the dustier shelves. "Only herself to blame for the caging and the mega beating they must have given her later. Stupid Girl! Pity I couldn't have seen the beating, though. That would have been a nice way to round off the evening's entertainment!"

And so she callously dismissed from her mind the events of that night, which had culminated in three people taking turns to deliver the worst thrashing that the long suffering Girl had yet received. Each of the three had been panting and exhausted when they had finished and the Girl's fierce spirit had almost been broken.

The box contained papers relating to the Tenth Earl, reputed to have been poisoned by his cousin who succeeded him to the title and estates. Miss Parradine had often wondered about this episode in the family's long and sometimes scandalous history. Today she found nothing in these dry as dust records to help her discover anything new. There was one last register in the box - records of rents received for the year 1837 and inside this was a loose page on which a great deal had been very closely written on both sides. Sadly, though, it was obviously in some kind of code. She puzzled over it for some minutes but could not make sense of it.

Some instinct - some intuition - told her that this was an important find, though, and she decided to take the paper home with her and see if she could make any progress there. It was getting late and she realised she must call it a day. The door to the vault was very stiff - more so, she thought than when she had come in, and it resisted her attempts to open it for some seconds before finally it gave way and she was out in the stairwell. Making a mental note to have the door's hinges oiled, she went home.

After her supper, she looked again at the encrypted paper. She had little experience of codes and the breaking thereof, but was for some reason reluctant to seek help. If there were any kudos to be gained from some great historical discovery, then she wanted it to be hers and hers alone.

Try as she might, though, she could make no progress and began to despair. Then an idea occurred to her. She would see if there were any books on the subject! This must be an old code and maybe others had used it and the key might be found in some book! She would get onto it the very next day!

"I love you, Amy " said Fred one day a couple of months after the events just described. He had his face buried in his favourite place - between his secretary's warm, ample and enveloping breasts. She patted his head indulgently and bent down to kiss the bald patch on the crown.

"Darling Freddikins!" she said in a cooing voice, at the same time suppressing a yawn. She was fond of the old boy, in a way, but was more used to the attentions of younger and more virile men. After her affair with Fred had lasted a few weeks she had almost forgotten what it was like to sweat till the sheets were wringing wet and feel totally exhausted after being shagged almost senseless.

"Can't I come to your house in Bishop's Avenue some time, Freddy, darling?" she wheedled.

"Not a chance, dear Amy. The servants would be bound to say something to Dorothy. She keeps in touch, you know. And this is a delightful hotel - our special love-nest!"

Amy sighed resignedly and dropped the topic of visiting Fred's home - for the time being. She was determined that she would see it one day - and from the inside!

"Are you going down to the castle soon, sweetie pie?" she asked, changing the subject.

"It has been a while. I suppose I can't put it off for much longer. I had a very nasty experience last time I was there. I really can't talk about it."

"I bet you can't!" thought Amy to herself. "Spineless prat!"

"It must be bad if you can't even tell ME, you poor dear!" was what she actually said.

It was late by now and Amy went home after the couple left the by now familiar hotel once again and bid a polite farewell to the discreet manager. Fred had to go back to the office to make a couple of calls. Amy parted from him, kissing him with a passion and hunger that she was far from feeling. She said that she wanted to walk home, declining his offer of a shared taxi ride.