Eden Falls by Jane Sanderson Read Free Book Online Page B

but it seemed rude to discard it when the chap had taken the trouble to pick it up, so Tobias took it, thinking all the while what a frightful hash they were making of things, the Earl of Netherwood and Gordon Carruthers, master boat builder. They shook hands.
    ‘Had a good look about?’ asked Mr Carruthers brightly. He was a spruce little man in a jaunty nautical get-up: all navy blue serge and brass buttons.
    ‘Not really,’ said Tobias. ‘Not at all, actually. Not entirely my thing, boats.’
    Only after he’d spoken did he realise the insensitivity of his remark, but Carruthers turned out to be one of those fellows who asked a question but didn’t hear the answer. He smiled broadly and said, ‘Splendid. HMS
Warrior
across the water there, poor old thing; not what she used to be. Top of the range warship middle of last century, then obsolete before ten years was up, y’know.’
    He set off at almost a canter as he talked, and Tobias sauntered behind him, smoking the damp cigarette and looking – he hoped – moderately interested.
    ‘That’s the trouble with shipbuilding. Advancements all the time. Not so bad for us, but the poor old Royal Navy’s always on the hop, keeping one step ahead of the kaiser.’ He looked round at Tobias. ‘Have you seen
Dreadnought
?’
    Tobias looked at him, baffled.
    ‘I beg your pardon?’ he said.
    ‘HMS
Dreadnought
. Battleship. Fastest in the world on account of her steam turbines. Have you seen her?’
    ‘No, why – have you lost her?’ Tobias said, and laughed.
    ‘Ha!’ said Mr Carruthers, a little uncertainly. He fell silent for a moment, and Tobias said, ‘Do you drive a motorcar, Mr Carruthers? I used to favour a Daimler, but the new one’s a Rolls-Royce. Silver Ghost. Best car in the world, bar none.’
    He smiled. A taste of his own medicine, he thought. Then Mr Carruthers stopped by the long, sleek navy blue hull of a two-hundred-foot yacht whose masts towered majestically in the blue Portsmouth sky and said, ‘Here we are. Isn’t she a beauty?’ and Tobias was silenced. Silenced, and humbled.
    Tobias was spending that night at Denbigh Court, and he desperately underestimated the length of the journey, turning up so late that there was a sense of crisis about his arrival, like a doctor called in the night or an intruder caught red-handed. He had pulled on the bell rope fully five hours after the time he had given them; everyone had long retired, assuming that his plans had changed. His mother’s husband, the Duke of Plymouth, received him in pyjamas and a paisley dressing gown, but the duchess had been hastily buttoned back into her gown by Flytton – the maid having been dragged, herself, from deep sleep – and was now torn between joy at seeing her best beloved eldest son and profound irritation at the disruption. Tobias was characteristically oblivious. He was all animation as he drank his glass of claret and wolfed his Welsh rarebit, and all he could talk of was his new yacht.
    ‘You should have sailed here, darling,’ said his mother. She stifled a yawn, conspicuously. ‘Perhaps, then, you might have arrived at a more sociable hour.’
    He grinned at her. ‘Sail? Not I,’ he said. ‘Don’t know my anchor from my elbow.’
    ‘Can’t trust the water if you haven’t grown up by it,’ said the duke. He wagged a knowing forefinger at Tobias. ‘Can’t always trust the damn crew, either. I come from a long line of naval men, of course, but I’m a cavalryman myself. Put me in the saddle and I’ll give anyone a run for their money.’
    ‘Once upon a time, perhaps, Archie,’ said the duchess. He was older than her by fifteen years and she never let him forget it. ‘Now, I should say you’re more of a steady plodder.’
    He smiled vaguely, but Tobias thought the old boy looked a little sad.
    ‘Egypt, wasn’t it, Archie? The last campaign?’
    The duke’s face brightened. ‘Tel-el-Kebir,’ he said, sitting up in his wing chair. ‘Dawn