"The really unexpected affair" Chapter 3 for Picfic Tuesday- August 25th

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Links to: Chapter 1, Chapter 2

The prompt:



"I'm a lover not a fighter."

The Vouchsafe motored into the estuary of the River Ribble, anchoring just off shore. Not far off was a covered pier, the Promenade, Maude called it.

At the moment the many pylons supporting it were exposed, making it resemble an immense centipede that jutted out along the sand.

It had been built during the Victorian era as a pleasure pier, with A Tudor-style entrance added in 1899 along with more addtions that included a Moorish-style pavilion built just after the turn of the century, followed by a Floral Hall in 1910. it was supposed to be a sedate promenading venue for visitors, but attractions were later added on, making it somewhat of a riverside attraction.

“I guess if we’d caught the high tide,” Napoleon said,” we’d have been able to moor there at the pier.

”I’m afraid not,” the captain said.”Changes made to the estuary channels to improve access to Preston Dock up river left the pier on dry land, and in doing so it ended steamer services to Blackpool and Liverpool. I’m afraid you’ll have to go ashore via the dinghy.”

After helping Maude and the others down to the small boat a crewman rowed them to the shore where they were met by a pair of burly looking men, who eyed the UNCLE agents with suspicion.

“Welcome home Missus,” one of them doffed his cap.”The Master be waitin’ for you at the big ‘ouse. Says ‘e wants you to come there right ‘way.”

A shiny copper colored Rolls-Royce was parked nearby, waiting to take them to Kensington manor.

Illya let out a whistle upon seeing the vehicle. “A Drophead Coupé?” He said aloud.

“Oh it’s the newest model, the Silver Cloud II convertible,”Maude laughed. “This is just the everyday car. Charles has a half-dozen more in the garage. Sports Cars, roadsters...I think. I can’t keep track of his toys.”

Kuryakin cocked an eyebrow, casting a glance at his partner who simply shrugged.  Her blaisé attitude was a change to which the both of them were unaccustomed.

The ride through the countryside was quite lovely, and as they approached the Kensington estate, they saw it was surrounded by a tall brick wall.

Large iron gate guarded the entrance but they opened automatically; Napoleon spotted a small camera on the wall above. Someone inside must have controlled the opening and closing of the gate. He wondered why there was need for such security in an area noted for its serenity.

Once inside, the landscaped grounds were even more spectacular, neatly appointed with every kind of shade tree and countless flower gardens.

“Gorgeous isn’t it?” Maude asked. “There’s a fully stocked pond if you feel like doing some fishing. It’s so peaceful there. I just love to sit and listen to the sound of the water and the birds singing happily away.”

“Yes it is quite an idyllic setting,”Illya remarked,” but perhaps a bit tranquil for my tastes.”

“Oh we have stables if you’d care to go riding. I believe we even have one of those Russian Cossack horses... what are they called again?”

“Don? You have a Don horse?”

“Yes, that’s it. He’s a stallion, a bit on the wild side though.” She could see the Russian perk up upon hearing that.

“I would very much like to see him.”

That’s a promise,” Maude smiled. “Well we’re here.”

The rolls pulled up along the gravelled roundabout in front of a large stone house. Mansion seemed inadequate as it looked more like a small castle.

A mustachioed man dressed in a tweed jacket with suede shoulder pads, breeches and a pair of Wellingtons stepped out. Draped over his arm was an open shotgun.

Napoleon eyed the weapon, but being a clotheshorse; he admired the man’s taste, noting the shirt was a darker tattersall pattern, loosely cut to prevent restricting movement. No doubt he was wearing braces to ensure  the breeks stayed up.

The man doffed his matching tweet cap revealing a dark head of hair while flashing a handsome smile.

“Darling, welcome home,” he eyed the men accompanying her,”and who might I ask are your companions? You should have told me you were bringing company my sweet?”

Maude dashed to him, letting him kiss her on the cheek. She turned, gesturing towards the agents. “Charles dearest, these are friends of my Uncle Alexander. I’d like to introduce Mr. Napoleon Solo and Mr. Illya Kuryakin...this is my husband, Charles Kensington III.”

Napoleon shook the man’s hand, while Illya simply nodded. “Apologies. We were, umm...stranded in Ireland and Maude was kind enough to offer us a lift here to England.”

“Yes Charles. I’ve invited them to stay for a few days, before they’re off to London on business.”

“And what business is that may I ask?

Solo went right into cover-mode. “Mr. Kuryakin and I are in the import-export business. I’m the American representative and he’s the Dutch representative for a company that specializes in novelty items. Perhaps you’ve heard of us, Acme novelty?”

Kensington didn’t hesitate to look down his nose at that. “Not exactly my cup of tea old man. Well, ahem...yes. We all have to have something to do, don’t we?”

Napoleon bristled at that, taking exception to his remark but bit his tongue, saying nothing but Illya, known for mouthing off, was about to say something.

Sensing he would say something a bit uncouth; Maude quickly interrupted, “Charles, the men meeting the dinghy said you wanted me back here immediately. Is there a problem?”

“Problem? None what so ever, I merely wanted to greet you before I left for the hunt. I won’t be back for a few days, as I’m heading north with the lads.  Do you stalk Mr. Solo?

“Only the gorgeous female kind sir, and usually for a date.

“Ahh but there’s the skill involved and the thrill of the hunt in the field, quite different I must say.

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” Napoleon smiled.

Hmm,why doesn't that surprise me? Well I’m off. Ta!” Kensington bounded down the steps as a covered jeep arrived and he climbed into the passenger seat, not even giving Maude a second glance.”

“I wonder why he did not ask me?” Illya leaned over, whispering to Solo.

“Sorry about that Napoleon,” Maude said.” Charles is rather single-minded when it comes to his hunting and he’s accustomed to dealing with people who are involved in high powered corporations. I don’t think he meant to be snobbish. Now please come on inside. I’ll have Cavendish show you to your rooms.”

“Welcome home Mum,” the grey-haired butler greeted her at the door, giving her a slight bow.

“Hello Cavendish. We have two guests. This is Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin. They’ll be staying with us for a few days.”

“Gentlemen this way if you please,” he spoke in a deep monotone voice, direct and to the point, like so many others in his profession.

Cavendish snapped his fingers and a young man quickly appeared, picking up Napoleon and Illya’s duffle bags that had been brought in by the driver, along with Maude’s trunk. “Please show our guests to their rooms William. The rooms in the West wing.

“Yes sir Mr. Cavendish, right ‘way,” a fresh-faced young man, appeared out of no where, looking to be around the age of seventeen or so.

Their rooms were opulent, filled with antique furnishings and Persian rugs. The four-poster bed in Napoleon’s room was replete with a canopy, all watched over by a suit of armor standing guard just inside the doorway.

He changed from his traveling clothes to a sports jacket and tie and was looking at himself in the mirror checking his hair, when he heard Illya’s knock at the door.

Kuryakin stepped in, he too having changed to his usual black suit, but with a dark grey polo shirt; a bit more casual look than his partner.

“I never would have thought Maude Waverly capable of embracing such a bourgeois lifestyle. Look at these wealthy trappings. The money spent here could feed several families for years.”

“Careful tovarisch your Socialism slip is showing again.”

“What?”

“Nevermind. Illya don’t you think us coming here is rather suspicious. Why would Mr. Waverly have sent us for no good reason, really. To have us babysit Maude and her crew, who had no problem crossing the Irish Sea was a bit odd, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps we should contact him to let him know his niece has safely arrived, at which time he might enlighten us as to what might be going on, if anything.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Napoleon picked up his communicator from the dresser.

“Open Channel D-overseas relay. Solo.”

“Good evening, or rather should I say good afternoon Mr. Solo. Have you arrived at Lytham St. Anne?

“Yes sir we are at the Kensington manor house as we speak.”

“And the trip was uneventful I take it?”

“So far, yes.”

“Hmmm, yes.”

“Yes? Sir is there something you want to tell me?”

“Mr. Solo, I’m afraid I’ve sent you to England under false pretenses. Did my niece happen to mention anything to you that seemed odd or out of place?”

“Only after I prompted her. I had a feeling about you sending us to babysit her more than it appeared to be.”

“Well, ahem,” Waverly cleared his throat,”and I had a feeling you would, question her that is. There seems to be something afoot in the village of Lytham St. Annes. One of the locals contacted our London office about a concern.  What exactly did my niece say?”

It was obvious the Old Man was dancing around the subject, which was unlike him. It was rare that he would mince words, but perhaps because of Maude, he was holding back.

“She did say something about the townies suddenly becoming less friendly towards her, and she also mentioned there seemed to be rather odd that she no longer saw any children. It’s as if they just disappeared from the sounds of it. Though I still need to investigate and verify that fact. The villager who contacted London...is there a name?”

“The person wishes to remain anonymous, however, the  information they gave is correct according to what you’ve just told me. I didn’t want to speak to my niece directly regarding it and arouse any suspicions.  I have since discovered that her new husband may, the truth of which it isn’t confirmed yet, has had dealings with THRUSH. For what purposes, I do not know. That coupled with the mysterious disappearances of the local children is more than enough to warrant our investigation...discreet of course, as I do not want my niece dragged into this if at all possible. We do know how she likes to jump into the fray so to speak. I want her to remain completely innocent and out of danger in this affair. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir,” Illya answered this time.”We will be the model of discretion.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of Mr. Kuryakin. Gentlemen, report to me as soon as you have uncovered anything of interest. Waverly out.”

“What did he mean by that?” Illya asked.

“Well you do have a tendency to leap before looking.”

Illya’s face flushed pink, before he smiled. “I guess I do, but I usually do it with good reason. He is most assuredly aware that by you questioning Maude has already gotten her involved, his liking it or not.

“Well, just be a bit more careful Illya. Waverly is right; the last thing we need is Maude trying to play spy especially if her husband is, shall we say, sleeping with the enemy.”

“That might explain a few things, his dealings with THRUSH, that is.”

“What do you mean?” Solo asked.

“The opulent home, the yacht, cars and servants; I suspect might be just a bit much for a man living off a family inheritance, do you not think?”

“Hmm, given his supposed dealings with our feathered friends, he must have something he’s been able to offer them. Let’s do a background check on him, business wise.”

Napoleon opened a channel to the London office; the Intelligence Section.

“Hello Napoleon, Maisy here. How’ve you been ducks? When am I going to see you again?”

“It might be some time as I’m not sure how this current assignment will play out. I need some information if you please.”

“Sure, how can I help you luv?”

“I need the background on Charles Kensington III of Lytham St. Annes, specifically his business holdings, and companies with which he may be involved.”

“Just a tic.”

He could hear the computers whirring in the background, pulling up the information for him.

“Charles Kensington was born and raised in Lytham St. Annes. His grandfather once worked at the Preston Docks. where he managed parlayed a small steamship business into a quite a successful operation.  The family made their fortune until the steamship business foundered with the changes made to the estuary of River Ribble. The Kensington family seems to have been in financial decline for years."

“Any business holdings by Charles the third?” Illya asked.

“None that I can see. His name doesn’t come up anywhere, not even an employment history.”

“Thanks Maisy, I’ll be in touch. Solo out. “Me thinks Kensington’s dealings with THRUSH just might be the cash cow that’s been keeping his lavish lifestyle a float.”

“Napoleon, there a remote possibility that Maude might be involved somehow. Granted she is by far an intelligent woman but how could she not be aware of what her husband is or is not doing?” Illya asked.

“They say love is blind Illya, and let’s hope that’s the case with her.”

Chapter 4

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

No bother at all. I appreciate the heads up, and can fix the mistake. Thanks for letting me know! :D Though it's true I've notice words that get dropped when I post to FF.net. Never noticed on LJ though.