Chapter 22: The Candidates

Back in London there were four dossiers for him to study, listing possible candidates. Two he discarded without reading much, because the pictures of the women did not appeal to him. The third was a distinct possibility, though the daughter was twenty-one and engaged to be married. Closer inspection showed that the mother had been divorced three times in her forty-eight years and he did not think that augured well for his ideas. Not only did he expect that she would be a real gold-digger, but the fiancé of the daughter might be a nuisance, especially if she loved him.

Picking up the final dossier, he did not expect much, but as he read it, he became more and more interested.

Life had been hard for Mrs. the Honourable Diana Featherstone, and her daughter Susan, after her husband died in the Third Gulf War. His Army pension was scarcely enough to keep up the house and to pay Susan's fees at a decent school; trained for nothing, Diana had no income of her own, and as the younger daughter of the impoverished Earl of Bargoed her family were in no position to help. Her husband's family had never approved of him marrying her, because she was not from an army family, and now they simply ignored both of them, not even sending Christmas cards any more.

She had sold the huge old house on the South Downs that had been Andrew Featherstone's pride and joy, and moved to an unpretentious little bungalow in Hastings. There she managed to live tolerably well, though their capital was dwindling slowly but inexorably. It was a relief to her that Susan was not an academically bright child, and would not need, or even aspire to a university education, though Diana despaired of what might become of her. There was a good deal more information in the dossier, and the Emir arranged for a number of preparations to be put in hand over the next three days.

One of Susan's favourite pastimes was to go to the local riding stables where she helped the owner, a Mrs. Agate, as an unpaid groom in return for free rides. This was actually doubly unfair as the riding school would have had to pay someone to exercise the horses at livery if she had not been avid to ride as much as she could. Her skill, and affinity for horses, was undoubted and she was often asked to ride one or other of the school's own horses in competitions. It was at a gymkhana that she first saw the Emir, though she had no idea then who he was.

He watched her competitive round and she was clearly a natural horse-woman. When she had finished with a very competent clear round on a far from brilliant horse, he moved over to the area where the horse-boxes were parked. Off the horse she was a trim-looking young woman with a burgeoning figure full of promise. She took off her hard hat and shook out shoulder length blonde hair.

He was congratulating her on the clear round when a clear contralto voice behind him said, "Good afternoon?"

Turning the Emir smiled at Diana and said, "Hullo, I'm David Ransome. I just thought I would congratulate your sister on her fine clear round."

As he had seen from the photographs provided, the family likeness was uncanny. She too, wore her hair at shoulder length and her figure was somewhat fuller than Susan's. She looked exactly how he expected Susan would turn out as she matured. What the photographs could not show was the intense vitality of both women; they both seemed somehow more alive than most people.

"She is my daughter, Mr. Ransome, as I'm sure is obvious."

"Surely not? You don't look old enough to have a daughter that age."

"Such outrageous flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Ransome."

"I know. That's why I do it Mrs. Featherstone."

She looked at him suspiciously and asked, "How do you know my name?"

"I assumed that the mother of a rider announced as Susan Featherstone would normally be Mrs. Featherstone? Or am I making a terrible faux pas?" he replied.

"No, no. You are right; I was just being silly and slightly paranoid," she said, looking a little embarrassed.

"I wouldn't wait too long before you rub him down," he remarked to the girl, "and then if you would like to join us. My car is over there and the picnic is ready I see."

He waved to the edge of the show ring where a Rolls-Royce stood with a picnic table set up and laden with food. A bottle of champagne stood in a cooler beside it. Three chairs were set. More surprisingly a very tall man, almost seven feet and broad in proportion stood beside it in Arab dress.

"No, I couldn't intrude, you have company," said Diana.

"Maktum? He's my chauffeur. The two places are for you and for Susan," the Emir took her elbow and started to walk over to the car, "I really would like the pleasure of your company. You see I have two horses coming to the stables where Susan works, and I would like to hire her part-time to exercise them for me. It needs to be someone who knows what they are doing and she was recommended to me by Mrs. Agate."

He chuckled, "So you see, your suspicions were well founded; I was spying after all, and I did have designs on your daughter."

As they walked over to the Rolls they chatted amiably about the gymkhana, and the generally low standard of riding. After they were seated, Diana turned the conversation back to Susan.