This story copyright © 2002, 2003, 2004 Mia McCroskey
The characters from The Avengers and Scarecrow and Mrs. King
are the property of those television series' respective owners.
[an error occurred while processing this directive] people have read this story since April 2004
Emma follows her heart
Steed goes for speed
Chapter 2
"Wow," Amanda exclaimed, "Even as someone who's not that interested in cars, I can say that's a pretty sight!"
Lee grinned at her admission as they watched eleven vintage Bentleys speed by the viewing stand in quick succession. Although they had left the inn at 7:30 that morning it had taken them ninety minutes to get to the remote village and they had missed the first five cars to pass this checkpoint on the rally route. Lee hadn't seen Wentworth's number, or Steed's, in the cars that had just gone by, and he hoped they were both in the lead pack and not somewhere behind.
"Let's get going, see if we can overtake the leaders at the next viewing stand," he said as the dust from the last of the eleven cars settled on the crowd nearest the road. He took Amanda's hand as they made their way down the bleachers and through the thinning crowd to their rental car.
"I'm surprised a few cars driving through draws such a crowd," Amanda said as they got underway. Lee drove carefully to compensate for the right hand drive on a left hand road with lots of pedestrians.
"The British have never stopped loving the fine sport of motoring as it existed when these cars were built," he said, "It's sort of like their obsession with fox hunting."
"Now that's one that's gotten a lot less popular."
"For some, but there are still lots of people hunting," he said. "Anyway, these villages take the occasion of a few cars passing through to hold fairs and festivals. Too bad we don't have time to linger, we might find be able to do some Christmas shopping."
Lee smiled to himself. How amazing to think of something like Christmas shopping, and to have family to think of it for. Seeing his expression, Amanda took his left hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.
Using newer highways they reached the second checkpoint in 45 minutes and Lee was please to see that none of the rally cars, routed onto old country lanes, were there yet. He bought two lemonades from a fund-raising stand and they found seats in the temporary bleachers.
Lee was very pleased to see that the first car to come rumbling through the village was Wentworth's, followed fairly closely by Steed's. If he was in the lead, he wasn't making any unscheduled stops, Lee surmised. Wentworth drove with the top down and wore a tweed cap over straight black hair. Beside him in the car was a brunette with a gauzy scarf over her head and a red jacket. Lee was surprised to recognize Mrs. Emma Peel riding along with his quarry. He was sure he had heard that she had "retired" when her long lost husband was rescued after years in the Amazon.
"How far is the next village?" Amanda asked after the first few cars had passed.
Lee consulted the map in the commemorative program he'd paid two pounds for. "For us, it's just nine miles, but for them it's 63," he said, "they have to take this old road around the lake, while we can go almost directly."
"So maybe we could take a look at the craft fair other there?" Amanda asked, pointing across the road at an open field full of tables and awnings. "I mean, we would get a better sense of the rally, mingling among the locals and all . . ."
"Ah huh," Lee sighed, knowing he'd let himself in for this by bringing it up in the first place.
"Right. If we go now we can get across before the next cars -- unless you really want to see them."
"I thought you were impressed with the sight of the cars?"
"Well, I was. Once or twice. But, I mean, really, other than they're being old, it's like watching the traffic on the beltway."
Lee burst into laughter. Only his Amanda!
"Let's go!" he grabbed her hand and led her off the stands and across the road, still chuckling.
An hour and a quarter later they returned to their car with several purchases for Philip and Jamie, Dotty, and Francine. Amanda placed these in the trunk and they set out for the next village.
Lee's estimate of 15 minutes max turned out to be grossly off, as residents of both villages had set up concession stands, games, and all manner of traffic-blocking attractions for most of the nine miles. To Lee's frustration, they reached the next village nearly three quarters of an hour after they started, just in time to see the 14th car go by. Amanda was uncharacteristically quiet as they stood by the car -- it had hardly been worth trying to get into the stands.
"I'm sorry Lee," she finally said.
"For what?" he asked, wondering if something else had gone wrong that he'd missed.
"Well, if I hadn't dragged you to the craft fair, we would have gotten here sooner," she said.
"Amanda, don't be silly. We would have gotten here in plenty of time if it weren't for the traffic, we had no idea. Besides, we can see Wentworth and Steed are both still in it. Look at the score posting," he pointed at a hand-chalked sign across the road from the stands. Wentworth was now in second place with Steed in fourth. "Look, there's only one more checkpoint with a viewing stand, and it's near the end of the course. In between they're driving all over the countryside. Let's get some lunch and if it gets too late we'll just head back to the inn for today's finish. It's not as if seeing them during the race will allow us to do anything, we just came out to see the race." And with Emma Peel in his car, Wentworth can't very well meet for an exchange. Unless . . . Lee forced himself to drop that line of thought. Emma had been to Steed what Amanda was to him.
* * *
"Blasted geese!" Steed growled as yet another fowl dodged the Bentley's wheels. Although he kept reminding himself that the birds had to take care of themselves, instinct made him swerve to avoid them, losing time. He knew Wentworth was only a short distance ahead of him, but it was an affront to his competitive nature that he had to stay behind. And then there was Emma. He had very mixed feelings about her riding with Wentworth, but there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't tell her he was here to watch Wentworth, not after he'd denied working. Of course it was probably futile -- he had to make contact with the Americans, and Emma would probably be around to see it. He hoped she would understand that he couldn't discuss a case.
He inhaled and released a deep breath as he braked the Bentley beyond the finish line for leg three. He was in sixth place. Glancing at the scoreboard he saw that Wentworth had finished a fast second. He couldn't have taken any detours today.
Steed parked the car and climbed out, stretching his limbs. Since he didn't have the luxury of a mechanic, he spent the next three quarters of an hour checking over the car's antique systems, topping off fluids, and changing one tire that looked a little worn. While he worked other finishers came up and parked, a few drivers going to work like himself. There was the same air of sporting camaraderie that any such event generated. Steed found himself in a cheerful mood by the time he was finished.
Unfortunately, he did not have a room in the sponsoring Inn here, but rather at a modern motel out near the highway. Still, he was sure he could find a place to wash up a bit before making contact with Stetson and King in the pub down the road. He'd find his way out to his motel later, if necessary.
* * *
"Thanks you for a lovely ride today, Sir Roald," Emma said, one hand on his sleeve to prevent him from trying to get closer. "And for the drinks. I really must go freshen up."
They'd been in the pub for nearly two hours sipping inferior champagne as the other racers trickled in. Thirty minutes ago she'd seen Steed come in looking in need of a wash, and signaled her room number to him from across the room. He'd disappeared up the stairs. She'd listened all day to Wentworth's self aggrandizing tales of adventure, using the ruse of taking notes so she didn't have to listen closely. He'd repeated some of the stories during the day, and all of his pub tales were repeats. She needed a break, and a change of company.
The door to her room swung open with a creak and she stepped inside. As promised, Wentworth's aid had driven her car here, checked her in, and delivered her bag. As the wife of a national hero she was accustomed to such service, but she was still impressed that Wentworth's instructions had been followed so closely. Paying little attention to the room, she stepped to her small bag to find her toiletries.
"Welcome, Emma."
She stiffened at the sound of the voice behind her, pulling in a deep breath. Thank heaven's she hadn't called out to Steed as she entered. Releasing the breath she turned to face the intruder.
Peter Peel lay stretched out on the bed, legs crossed at the ankles, hands behind his head.
"Peter," she said crisply, refusing to add the expected, What are you doing here?
With quick, smooth movements he rose and crossed the room to stand very
close to her. She met his sharp gaze with one of her own. There was no
affection left between them.
"I decided you should come with me to Madrid," he said. It was neither a question nor an invitation.
"No thank you," she said, equally matter of factly.
He smiled thinly.
"It isn't an invitation. Collect your things. I had Anna pack you an appropriate bag for Spain. It's in the car. We're flying from the local airstrip this evening."
"No."
"Come, Emma dear, don't be willful. It isn't fitting. I've gotten bullfight tickets. Do you know how difficult it is to get seats in the shade?"
"You can't bribe me, Peter. I have committed to cover this rally and that is what I intend to do. And I've been to bullfights," with Steed, she didn't add. And where is Steed, anyway?
Peter's reflexes were so quick she didn't see it coming. He'd grabbed
her left arm and spun her around, forcing her to face the mirror on the
bathroom door with him behind her. She winced at the discomfort his grip caused
as he twisted her arm up behind her.
"Emma dear, we're the perfect couple. I need you in Madrid this trip," he said, studying his own reflection in the mirror.
Without hesitating, Emma lifted her right foot and ground the solid heel of her boot into his arch. As he instinctively loosened his grip she wrenched her arm free, spun around, and delivered a solid punch to his stomach. She followed that with a chop to the base of his neck, then backed away to see what he'd do.
"You'll regret this," he growled, glancing at her with pure malice in his eyes, then stumbling toward the door. She followed him, closing and locking the door after him, then leaning against it to catch her breath. A movement caught her eye -- the drapes shifted and first one leg, then another, entered through the window.
"Steed?" she asked tentatively.
"He's gone?" the agent asked as he straightened.
"Yes. Does this room have a balcony?" Emma pushed away from the door and walked to the window that Steed had just come through.
"No," he said, walking toward the bedside phone.
Emma looked out, noting the narrow ledge outside.
"Albert? Right. I've just found that out. Yes. He's just been here in Frome. He had a row with his wife. He mentioned flying out from a local airstrip this evening. Right. Good," Steed hung up the phone and watched Emma pacing at the foot of the bed.
"He's gone too far," she said.
"I'd say so," Steed replied.
"He's up to something. Why did he want me in Spain?"
"Maybe just to make you go," Steed suggested.
"Maybe. I don't know. I just want to be free of this."
"Well, the best thing right now is a bite to eat and some pleasant company. I'm meeting someone at the pub down the road. Why don't you join me?"
Emma nodded absently, noticing her open bag with her toiletry bag beside it.
"I'll just freshen up," she said, disappearing into the washroom.
* * *
"I'm sorry to say that what they say about English food is true," Amanda said as she surveyed the pub menu written on a chalkboard. Lee smiled and sipped his pint of bitter.
"Just order the sausage," he said.
"Lee, do you know what they put in sausage?"
"Not here. Here it's all happy farm animals . . ."
"It's what parts of the happy farm animals that bothers me."
Lee grinned at her and she couldn't help smiling back.
"I'll just have the lamb chops," she said. "At least I know what part that is."
She noticed Lee's gaze aim toward the door then follow someone across the room.
"Is that John Steed?" she asked, looking at the man Lee was watching. Lee nodded. Amanda noticed that the man was accompanied by a tall, slender brunette. As the couple made their way through the crowded pub she couldn't help but notice how well they moved together, like they knew one another very well.
Lee made a small wave that the man noticed. He guided his companion to their table.
Lee rose.
"Lee Stetson, good to see you," Steed said, shaking Lee's outstretched hand.
"Steed," Lee replied. "This is my partner, Mrs. Amanda King."
"It is a pleasure, Mrs. King," Steed shook Amanda's hand. "Lee, you may remember Mrs. -- ah, Lady Emma Peel," Steed presented Emma.
"Yes, Lady Emma -- I remember reading of your husband's return," Lee took Emma's offered hand.
"Mr. Stetson," Emma turned to Amanda, "and Mrs. King."
Emma had allowed herself to mentally rehash the encounter with Peter Peel while walking with Steed to the pub. Steed had guided her to the table where Lee and Amanda were seated before she'd had time to think about why they were there. Steed had said he was meeting these people who were, she was certain, American agents. Which meant he was, in fact, working this weekend. He had lied to her.
Steed pulled out a chair for her and she sat down.
Lee looked curiously from Mrs. Peel to Steed, who nodded slightly. Before anyone could speak, a waitress stepped up to their table and Steed ordered pints all around.
"I thought women weren't supposed to drink pints," Amanda observed when the waitress had moved on.
"Where did you hear that?" Lee asked, smiling indulgently at Amanda.
"In a Rough Guide -- they're very reliable for social tips," Amanda replied.
"Yes they are," Emma said, "my friend Alex has written sections for several of them. They're very up-to-date."
"So what about the pints?"
"That's mostly in the cities," Emma explained. "If a woman alone orders a full pint in a London pub, she's thought to be ‘rough.'"
"Rough?"
"Somewhere between an absolute lady and a loose woman," Steed said.
"She's liable to attract unwelcome attention from the other patrons," Emma said, giving Steed a little frown. "But if she orders a half pint, she's understood to just be, well, thirsty."
"That's pretty silly," Amanda said.
"Completely," Emma agreed and the two women shared a smile.
"So why did you order us pints, Mr. Steed?" Amanda asked.
"You ladies are clearly accompanied. None of the other patrons would dare behave inappropriately," he said.
Emma eyed the room appraisingly, then turned back to Steed, "No, I don't believe any of the other patrons will," she said.
Across the table, Amanda could swear that sparks arced between them. She impulsively sought Lee's leg under the table. Feeling her touch he glanced inquiringly at her. She smiled at him, and looked back across the table.
"So," Emma said, still looking at Steed, but then turning her gaze on Lee, "are you and Amanda here on business?"
Amanda was certain that Steed looked ever so slightly uncomfortable, although it was hard to tell.
"Yes," Lee said smoothly, "we're here scouting locations. For a documentary film."
Emma pursed her lips and looked to Amanda, who tried to look impassive. Lee had not given Emma the answer she wanted.
"I have worked with Lee several times in the past," Steed said, nodding at Lee, who looked concerned. He turned to Emma, "They are here on a case, Mrs. Peel. We are combining our resources. Regarding a matter of national security."
"Whose nation?" Emma asked coolly.
"Both," Steed replied. "It's all right, Lee. Mrs. King, Mrs. Peel worked with me for several years, a few years ago."
Amanda nodded. She'd seen the descriptions of Steed's various partners in his file. Emma Peel was not his current partner, but she had been. That, plus Steed's assurance, was good enough to let her hear their conversation this evening. But even though the nature of their meeting was now in the open, Amanda sensed that Mrs. Peel was not satisfied.
"So where do we stand?" Lee asked Steed.
"I've had men on him ‘round-the-clock," Steed said. "He has not made contact with anyone."
"Who are we watching?" Emma asked.
"Actually," Steed shifted on his chair and nodded toward the pub bar, "he's just come in."
Each of them tried to glance at the bar without being obvious. Emma's glance was shortest: she turned quickly back to Steed, eyes flashing.
"What has he done?" she asked.
"You know I can't tell you the details, Mrs. Peel."
"Then perhaps I should go," Emma scooted her chair back. Steed put his hand on her wrist, stopping her. She looked at him expectantly. Across the table, Lee frowned at the pair, then glanced at Amanda, who shook her head a little, indicating that he should be patient.
"Please stay," Steed said. "You may be able to help, if you're willing."
Emma continued to stare at Steed, eyes skewering him with a look that Amanda was glad wasn't turned on her. The blend of anger and disappointment belied a very complicated relationship between them.
"I'll arrange clearances with the ministry in the morning," Steed added. Emma seemed to relax a little. She scooted her chair back to the table, but avoided looking at Steed.
"Mrs. Peel is here writing an article about the rally for a magazine. She has complete access to the participants, including Sir Roald," Steed explained to Lee and Amanda.
"You were riding with him today!" Amanda said suddenly. Lee watched Mrs. Peel's reaction closely. She showed no sign of concern that her activities had been noticed.
"Yes," Emma said carefully, "he was hoping for extra exposure in my article."
"And did he drive the entire time?" Lee asked.
"Yes. He made no unscheduled stops. He made contact with no one."
"And the rally lasts two more days?" Amanda asked.
"Yes. Although the last day is short," Emma replied.
"He'll have to move soon, then," Lee said, watching Wentworth's back as the man talked with his mechanic.
"Have your folks or London come up with anything more about his possible customer?" Steed asked.
Lee shook his head, "Not a thing. We think it's someone new. Someone we don't know about."
Emma bit her tongue. She was desperate to ask what Sir Roald was selling, but she would not give Steed another opportunity to refuse.
"The mechanic's leaving," Amanda, who'd been keeping an eye on the bar, said suddenly. The others glanced at the bar and saw the mechanic moving toward a back corridor. Without a word, Lee rose and walked casually toward the same corridor.
"We believe Sir Roald himself will have to make the contact," Steed said, watching Lee go.
"But the mechanic could be setting something up," Amanda replied. "Wentworth could have been instructing him."
"Do you have someone watching the mechanic?" Emma asked icily.
"Yes, Mrs. Peel," Steed replied. "Our men should be on the front and back doors of this pub, since Sir Roald came in."
"But have you had the mechanic tailed during the day?"
Steed nodded. "We've been on all of Sir Roald's party. We tailed Sir Roald's aid driving your car here and putting your luggage in your room today."
"Point taken, Steed," Emma replied curtly. Amanda wasn't sure if he'd been trying to embarrass Mrs. Peel, but if he was it hadn't worked. If anything she was just angrier.
Something beeped in Steed's pocket. He took out a small two-way radio.
"Steed here," he spoke quietly into the device.
"This is Polk," a thin voice came out of the speaker. The others could just hear it. "A car just came from around back, moving fast."
Amanda and Emma exchanged a worried look and Amanda started to rise.
"Wait here. I'll go," Steed said, rising, umbrella in hand, before she could.
The women watched Steed disappear down the corridor just as the waitress set four pints on their table.
Emma stared at the large glasses, then looked up at Amanda, her expression changing to a wry smile.
"Looks like we're drinking pints alone," she said. Amanda's head snapped around from where she'd watched Steed disappear. She looked at the glasses, then at Emma.
"Between us we can probably avoid any unwanted attention," she said conspiratorially.
"I'm quite certain that we can," Emma replied, raising her glass and taking a sip.
Lee pushed past two women waiting outside the WC and turned a corner in the dim hallway, suspecting the back door was just ahead. The blow to the back of his neck came out of nowhere. He felt himself sprawling forward, then felt nothing else.
A few moments later Steed found the rear door of the pub standing open. Umbrella held at the ready, he stepped out and to the side, scanning the area. There was one car in the shadows under some trees about twenty yards away, an interior light illuminating it from within. Frowning, Steed crossed the small yard to it and found the driver's door open and the car empty. He slammed the door angrily and turned back toward the pub.
"I saw your name in Mr. Steed's dossier," Amanda said, deciding an honest approach might be the easiest way to reach Mrs. Peel.
"I should think you would have found Tara King's name more prominently featured," Mrs. Peel replied. Amanda nodded.
"She's his current partner. Why isn't she here?"
Emma frowned. She had not asked Steed about his partner, mostly because she didn't really want to know. But it was a good question.
"I don't know," she admitted, finding that some of her anger was diffused as she considered this puzzle.
"So you're really here to write an article? And meeting Steed is a coincidence?"
"I'm really here to write. But I knew Steed would be here," Mrs. Peel admitted. Amanda smiled.
"It must have been hard to give up this work when your husband returned."
Mrs. Peel nodded. "Much harder than I expected. Are you divorced, Mrs. King?"
"Yes. My ex-husband is an attorney working in the diplomatic corps. His work, while we were married, took him to distant places for long periods of time. We both realized that he wasn't really being a husband or a father," Amanda glanced down at the table, remembered the pints there, and picked hers up.
"Mrs. Peel, Mrs. King, I have to go," Steed was suddenly there, slipping into his chair, but looking ready to spring away. "You two stay on Sir Roald."
"Where's Lee?" Amanda asked, looking very concerned.
"He's gone, and so are my man and Sir Roald's mechanic," Steed said cagily.
"Gone? Or been taken?" Amanda asked, glancing back at the bar where Wentworth still stood talking with other patrons.
"Probably the latter. My man's car is still out back. The door was open. There's no sign of him, or of Lee. I'm taking Polk from out front to go after them. You've got to stay on Sir Roald, I don't have anyone else to call in."
"We'll watch him," Mrs. Peel replied. Steed looked at her, eyes narrowing. She nodded reassuringly, "Go on. Shouldn't you hurry?"
He nodded. Amanda would swear he started to lean toward Mrs. Peel, then pulled back, rose, and strode away. Mrs. Peel sat half turned in her chair for several seconds watching him go, then turned slowly to the table and took a long sip of beer. Finally she glanced up at Amanda.
"He'll find Lee. He's particularly good at getting people out of jams," she said.
"Well, if he doesn't, I will," Amanda said firmly. Emma raised her eyebrows in surprise at the other woman. "Lee knows I'll come after him."
"It's good to be able to count on someone," Mrs. Peel said, almost wistfully.
Amanda took another sip of her beer and thought through what had just
happened. Lee might have followed the mechanic, and if he had he would find a
way to let her know. Presumably Steed's man out back had a radio, so if they'd
gone together, they'd call in. But would they have left on foot if the mechanic
left in a car? Not when they had a car. The car that Polk reported might have
been unrelated, but the more Amanda thought about it, the less likely she
thought that was.
Emma studied Amanda King while keeping an eye on Wentworth and sipping her pint. Amanda appeared to be a smart, professional agent, which contradicted the background she'd just described as a wife and mother. Emma was at a disadvantage: she had not had the luxury of reading the ministry files on Stetson and King. She remembered Lee Stetson. He had turned up toward the end of a case she'd helped Steed with not long before Peter's return. Steed had described him as a top American agent. Emma had found him charming, but distant. She had thought his experience in the field had made him somewhat cynical about people. But in their short conversation this evening she hadn't sensed that. Of course, she was quite preoccupied, so she wouldn't trust her judgment.
Amanda shifted on her chair, "Wentworth looks pretty occupied. I think I should go to the restroom now, just in case," she said.
"Good idea. You go then I'll go. I'll come bang on the door if he moves."
Wentworth remained at the bar while each of them used the facilities. Amanda had taken a moment while in the corridor to check out the back door, noting the British agent's car still parked under the trees. She'd hoped she might find a sign from Lee, but there was no hastily dropped token or message scratched on the wall.
Her anxiety grew as she contemplated the situation. She was fidgeting with a cardboard coaster, one eye on Wentworth, by the time Emma returned to the table.
"This could go on for hours," Emma said as she slid into her seat, "perhaps we should order some supper."
Amanda nodded, realizing that she was hungry.
Emma beckoned to the waitress, who came and took their orders for fish and chips. Emma made a vague excuse about their companions being called away by business when the waitress asked if the gentlemen were going to order.
"So you have children?" Emma asked when the waitress had gone. She could see that Amanda was becoming anxious. Most people were easily distracted by talking about themselves. She was a little surprised at how effective this was with Mrs. King.
Amanda rambled on about her sons, her mother, and their suburban Arlington life, Emma prompting with simple questions, until the food arrived. At the bar, Wentworth was engaged in telling stories that Emma recognized just from his gestures. She was grateful to be listening to Amanda instead. The life Amanda described was completely alien to Emma. She started to detect similarities between the boy's sports teams and her own childhood pony club, but her own adult life was nothing like Amanda's. Although Amanda had clearly been through some difficult times, she could rely on the support of a network of family and friends. Emma was feeling very alone: she was estranged from her husband, and her best friend had just lied to her in a way that revealed he did not trust her. Most of her friends were really just acquaintances, a hazard of her social class. Nobody really talked to one another about anything personal.
Their food arrived and they paid for it so as not to have to worry about it later. They were finishing it along with the pints abandoned by Lee and Steed when they noticed that Sir Wentworth seemed to be saying goodnight to his companions at the bar.
"My car is parked at the inn if we need it," Emma said as they watched Wentworth head for the door. They let him get out the door before following. Outside they saw him ahead of them on the road walking toward the inn. The hour was late enough that the village road was otherwise empty. It was a cool, clear night, and the moon had recently risen. Its dim white light cast sharp shadows. The inn yard was not walled, so they could see Wentworth get into a black sedan as they approached. They remained in the shadow of the neighboring house until he had started the engine and pulled out of the yard then they ran to Emma's Lotus, which had been left by Sir Roald's aid with the top down.
Amanda was concerned that they would lose Wentworth, but Emma's driving quickly proved her wrong. They soon caught sight of the black sedan ahead of them on the narrow country road. Emma stayed well back, only speeding up when their quarry turned. He led them along several wider country roads, and then turned onto a very narrow lane between fields of tall crops. Emma switched off the Lotus's headlights before turning into the lane. As they crept along in the gloomy shadow of the high crops, they saw the sedan come to a stop far ahead. Emma stopped too, and they watched as another car came from the other direction and stopped facing Wentworth's sedan.
Wentworth and the driver of the other car both got out and met near the front of Wentworth's car. It looked like they both carried satchels, although from so far back it was hard to be sure.
"We need to get closer," Amanda said.
"I can't let Sir Roald see me," Emma replied.
"Right," Amanda said, thinking fast. "Let me drive."
Slowly so as not to attract attention, Emma climbed up out of her seat while Amanda climbed over the stick shift into the driver's seat. Emma slid down into the passenger seat.
"Now look sick. Hide your face -- curl up," Amanda ordered, struggling out of her jacket. Emma did her best imitation of someone with a hangover, reclining the seat and curling up on it. Amanda spread her jacket over the other woman, concealing her relatively well. "Let's just hope he didn't notice us together in the pub," Amanda said.
"Probably not, or he would have come over," Emma's muffled voice replied.
Amanda eased the Lotus into gear, reminding herself that it was no different from Lee's Corvette, just opposite hand controls. She was surprised that it worked. She shifted into second gear with her left hand, managing not to grind the gears.
"Let's hope he just thinks were silly women," Emma muttered, "driving with the top down when one of us doesn't feel well."
Amanda smiled, thinking that that was quite likely. Then she switched on the headlights and accelerated. The men soon noticed the Lotus coming toward them. Amanda squeezed the small car along side the larger sedans in the narrow lane, nearly scraping the passenger side mirror against the stalks of grain. Face pressed against the far door, Emma moaned pointedly, but Amanda ignored her.
"Oh thank goodness," Amanda said, stopping the Lotus along side the two men, who were forced to stand with the backs of their legs pressed against the side of Wentworth's car. "I hope you can help me, because she's just too sick to navigate and I think I've gotten completely turned around. I told her we should bring the map, but oh no, ‘we'll be fine,' she insisted. And now look what happened. It's this English food. I just know it . . ."
"Excuse me," Sir Roald interrupted.
"Yes!" Amanda said, "I'm sorry. Can you help us?"
"You're on private property," Wentworth replied coldly, then scowled, "What sort of idiot turns onto a dirt road when they're lost? I recognize this car. Is that Lady Emma Peel?"
"Lady Peel?" Amanda scrambled, intentionally misusing Emma's title, "Yes, it is her car. She lent it to us for the evening."
"You know her?" Wentworth asked.
"Indirectly," Amanda drawled, speaking slowly to give herself time, "my cousin is a friend of her mother-in-law. We borrowed it to go to dinner in a village around here somewhere, but I don't know where, and I need to get Debbie here back to our room. I've just been driving around and around and all these lanes look the same --"
But Wentworth had stopped paying attention to her. The other man had edged out from between the Lotus and the sedan and was getting back into his car.
"Wait!" Wentworth called to him, but they could see him shaking his head through the windshield as he started his car and backed away. "Silly cow!" Wentworth hissed at Amanda. "Get this car out of my way."
"Well! I'll be reporting this to my travel agent, you can be sure!" Amanda harumpfed, throwing the Lotus into gear with a loud grinding of the transmission. She roared forward narrowly missing Sir Roald's toes with the Lotus's back tire. Emma uncurled, grinning.
"And what, might I ask, is your travel agent expected to do?" she asked.
Amanda stared straight ahead, concentrating on steering the car over the dirt road at relatively high speed. "It got us out of there, didn't it?" she said.
Emma laughed as she adjusted her seat to sit up. "I think I'd better tell my mother-in-law about your cousin," she said, not entirely joking. "Slow down, we're coming to the road."
Amanda complied, "Which way?" she asked as she realized the dirt lane ended in a T intersection.
"He went to the right," Emma said. Amanda swung the sports car around to the right on the paved road.
"What about Wentworth?" she asked, accelerating to catch up with the distant taillights of the other car.
"We interrupted his meeting. He'll have to reschedule it if he can. Let's hope his contact leads us somewhere interesting."
He did. Amanda kept back far enough to avoid attracting attention, handling the lotus well. Thirty minutes later the car ahead turned into a gated drive between walls that ran along the road. Amanda slowed down as they approached the car, until it moved forward again, disappearing through the gate. Amanda drove on past the gate, which was closed by the time she got to it. Once past it she pulled over on the side of the road opposite the wall. They could see the upper floor and roof of a very large house some distance from the road.
"Wow," Amanda said, "that's some house."
"Yes," Emma agreed, although it was actually similar to her childhood home so she was not as impressed as Amanda. "And I'm sure Steed can find out who owns it. Let's get back."
"Did you bring a map?" Amanda asked pointedly. Emma smiled.
"Just go up to the next crossroads and turn right," she said.
"May I ask you a personal question?" Emma asked after Amanda had made the turn.
"Sure," Amanda said, glancing quickly at Emma, then back at the road ahead.
"Did you find it difficult, divorcing? Were you able to discuss it with your husband? Or was it his idea?"
Amanda was surprised. She'd sensed a great deal of emotional upset in the other woman, but she hadn't expected such a direct, searching question. It did fill in some of the blanks for Amanda. Lady Emma was unhappily married, and had sought out her friend Steed for advice -- maybe for assistance. But he had angered her somehow. In short, she needed a friend. It was not in Amanda's nature to deny such an appeal.
"It was my idea," she replied. "Joe was almost never home. I was raising our two sons on my own. At first I made excuses for him -- that his work was important, that he would come home after this assignment and we'd be a family. But gradually I just got angry with him. And then he didn't come home for Christmas and I lost it. I filed for divorce."
"And he came back?"
"He came back to sign the papers."
"That was it?"
Amanda shook her head as she stopped the car at an intersection.
"Which way now?"
"Left."
Amanda accelerated and turned. "Officially, yes. But ending a marriage is never simple. It wasn't that I had stopped loving Joe, but we had misjudged. Our lives were going different directions when we married, we just didn't realize it for several years."
Emma nodded thoughtfully, then sighed and looked out at the dark fields on either side of the road. Amanda glanced over at her, wondering what had happened in her marriage. Other than her husband disappearing for several years, then returning a hero. And what had Emma done during those years alone? Amanda felt herself nodding with understanding. She had become an agent. Working with John Steed. Amanda smiled a private little smile.
"What?" Emma asked. She had turned her head just in time to see it.
"Hummm? Oh, I was just thinking."
"About your ex-husband?" Emma sounded a little dubious.
"No. About Lee."
"Please don't worry. Steed's very good --"
"I can't help worrying. You see, Lee is -- Lee and I are --"
"Yes, I thought so."
Amanda glanced at Emma again, noting a sly smile.
"Lee recruited me to the agency," Amanda said. "About four years ago. I had never thought of this sort of work, but it turned out I have some talents that complement Lee's. Our supervisor kept putting us together on cases. Gradually we both realized there was more to our relationship than the work." Amanda stole a quick glance at Emma, who was watching her attentively. "You know what I mean?"
Emma swiveled her head to look straight ahead. When she spoke, her voice was unnaturally even. "Steed and I have always had a complicated relationship. He's a complete gentleman, and I am married, even though my husband had been lost for several months before Steed and I met. But, as you said, as we worked together we could not ignore the attraction. If anything it became dangerously distracting."
"So you gave in to it."
"And two years later my husband returned."
"Your husband who you no longer loved?"
"Who I no longer knew."
Amanda slowed the Lotus as the road passed between several buildings that she supposed constituted somebody's village.
"Turn right just after the last building."
"So you want to leave your husband for John Steed?" Amanda asked.
Emma shook her head, "No, I want to leave my husband because our marriage is over. And he's abusive and cheating on me. I suppose I did also hope to rekindle something with Steed," she lied.
Amanda made the turn Emma had indicated. "Steed isn't interested?" she asked.
Emma shook her head, "I don't know. He's never been one to make a commitment, and I think that's what I need right now."
"You seemed to be pretty angry with him this evening."
Emma sighed and looked at Amanda, then smiled ruefully. "I don't suppose you had to be a very good agent to figure that out," she said.
"No," Amanda smiled too.
"I am angry. He lied to me -- told me this was not a working weekend. There was no reason for it -- unless he doesn't trust me."
"You understand his work," Amanda reminded her.
"And I would have understood that he could not say any more if he had just told me he was here on a case."
Amanda shook her head, "You know it's an instinctive response," she said.
Emma sighed, acknowledging that Amanda was right. "See the village?" she asked, indicating shadowy buildings up ahead on the road. Amanda nodded.