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 7
Amanda wasn't sure why it surprised her that the ministry agents had a bullpen work area similar to the agency's. She and Lee had been allocated a table normally used for meetings to work at before leaving for the rally. The morning after their dinner with Steed and Mrs. Peel they took it back over to review the suspects' written statements. They had just gotten started when a young woman, brunette, with a compact, buxom build accentuated by a textured big hound's-tooth print suit and knee-high boots, strode purposefully through the doors and directly up the hall toward Mother's office. Curious, Amanda watched as the discretely attired guard outside Mother's door spoke to the woman. She looked annoyed, but turned away, striding back into the bullpen. She spotted Lee and Amanda and walked toward them.
"You're the American agents, aren't you?" she asked. "I'm Tara. Tara King."
"Yes," Lee replied, rising and extending his hand. "I'm Lee Stetson and this is Amanda," he paused and flashed his grin at the women, "Amanda King."
"No relation I'm sure," Amanda added, shaking Tara's hand.
"No, I'm sure," Tara said. Amanda wasn't sure if her icy tone was intended or just coincidental. "You were in the field on the Wentworth case, weren't you?" Tara asked, all business.
"Yes we were," Lee replied.
"Then you should know that I believe some improprieties have compromised the investigation. I am going to file a formal report. They will probably want your testimony."
"What sort of impropriety, Miss King?" Amanda asked, baffled. Lee cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Steed's behavior is very suspect," she replied curtly. "He's idolized around here. It's time to shed some light on the real John Steed."
"Oh dear," Amanda said to cover her surprise.
"Yes. I just thought you should know," Tara nodded curtly and turned on her heel, heading back toward Mother's office.
"And who, do you suppose, has been doing the idolizing?" Amanda said quietly when the other woman was out of earshot. Lee chuckled.
"Somehow I think that Miss King is no match for Lady Emma," he said.
"No, but Mr. Steed will have to handle this -- he can't function with a jealous partner."
"I think we're about to see," Lee said, nodding toward the door. Steed was just closing it. He paused to hang his hat and umbrella on a rack then strode into the room, scanning it as he walked. He caught sight of Lee and Amanda and angled toward them.
"Good morning," he said, "Have you by any chance seen an angry young woman . . ."
"She went that way," Amanda and Lee said in unison, pointing down the hall. "Good luck," Lee added. Steed didn't stop to respond.
"Steed!" the guard outside Mother's office door intercepted him. "Mother is in his gymnasium. He would like to see you. Immediately."
Steed nodded and went on down the corridor to a red door. He entered unannounced.
"Mother?" he said, stepping inside. The room was largely empty except for several ladders and a network of pipes and handholds hanging from the ceiling. Mother's wheelchair stood empty next to one of the ladders. Mother himself was standing awkwardly next to one of the other ladders supporting himself by leaning on it. One of Mother's assistants stood discretely against the far wall.
"Steed. Good. Come in."
Steed stepped further into the room, approaching his superior. Mother allowed very few agents to see him in his gymnasium, but Steed had always been in the inner circle.
"How's the workout going?" Steed asked, following his personal commitment to always be cordial, even under stress.
"Blasted exhausting," Mother groaned. "But my doctor is the only person I take orders from." He heaved himself away from the ladder, grasping the handholds. He pulled himself along, swinging his useless legs from the hips to work his way to the next ladder. Steed followed at a polite distance.
"Now, Steed, Tara King has been making some very disruptive assertions around here this morning."
"Yes sir. I --."
"She's jeopardizing her promotion behaving this way -- although she doesn't know it. I suspect the whole matter is of a personal nature."
"Yes sir. It is. I'll take care of it."
"Good. See that I hear nothing more of it."
Knowing he was dismissed Steed bowed out of the room as quickly as he could. He glanced up and down the hall and spotted Tara talking to the guard outside Mother's office door. The guard was telling her once again that Mother was still in a meeting. Summoning his courage, Steed strode up to them.
"Miss King, a word with you please," he said, prepared to drag her away from the guard, who was growing impatient.
"We have nothing to discuss, Steed," Tara hissed. Steed grabbed her arm, taking a chance that she would not physically resist right there outside Mother's door.
"It's an order, Tara," Steed growled, practically dragging her along the hall to another door. To his relief, the small regulations library was empty.
"You can try to silence me, Steed, but you won't succeed. That woman is a suspect. You have compromised the case."
"No, Tara, she is not as suspect. And you are compromising your career."
Tara's face colored. She shook her arm to remove his grip and glared at him.
"I have just spoken to Mother -- ,"
"How could you have, he's been in a meeting!"
"Nonetheless, I have. You are up for a promotion -- I recommended you. But if you continue to storm about like a jealous child casting ill-informed accusations, you will be drummed out of the corps."
Steed waited. Tara frowned at him, then her anger turned to surprise. Then it abruptly turned back into anger.
"Jealous child! How dare you!"
"Tara," Steed adopted his most soothing tone, "I have enjoyed working with you, but it's time to move on. If you stay on the straight and narrow, you'll have a brilliant career."
"So that's it? Just cast me away?"
"I'd hardly say that, my dear," Steed raised a hand to count his fingers, "you'll receive a salary increase, a higher security clearance, a posting in Paris, ministry car," he stopped and watched her expression brighten. He felt an inward flicker of satisfaction -- he always knew how to deal with women. Most women, anyway. Maybe that was what made Mrs. Peel so alluring. The realization made him smile. Tara, having no idea of his thoughts, smiled back.
The Lotus's tires crunched on the gravel drive as Emma slowed it to a stop in front of the Peel estate. She sat for a moment looking at the big, old house. She was quite fond of it -- fonder, she suspected, than her husband whose family had owned it for generations. Even so, she had no desire to live here. Whatever became of Peter, she would see to it that the estate returned to his parents' control.
But first she needed to move her own things out. With a sigh she opened the car do and got out. She had planned to return from the rally today, so Hughes, the butler, Anna, the maid, and Evie, the cook, should be here. She trotted up the steps and opened the big front door, which she was not surprised to find unlocked.
As she closed it, a figure holding a hunting rifle stepped out of the parlor. She froze, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim interior light.
"Oh, my lady!" Hughes said, lowering the gun. "Please forgive me! I did not know to expect you."
"Evidently. But just who were you expecting, Hughes?" Emma asked.
"Sir Peter's solicitor called and said Sir Peter had been -- apprehended. He asked me to guard the estate. I wasn't sure what to expect."
"I see. Why don't we go sit down and have a little talk."
"Certainly Madam."
Emma led him into the parlor and gestured toward the sofa while she sat in one of the wingback chairs. There was a copy of Peter's book about his adventures lost in the Amazon on the table between them. Emma picked it up and looked at the back cover.
"This is fiction, you know," she said, glancing up and Hughes. He looked puzzled. "Sir Peter was not lost in the Amazon. He was working with a Marxist regime there."
"I'm sorry, Madam. I have always made it a policy to avoid involvement with my employer's politics," Hughes replied. Emma wanted to laugh. English butlers were of a type, that was for sure.
"And you are a very good butler, Hughes. Unfortunately, you have had poor luck with employers. Sir Peter has been arrested for espionage."
Emma leaned forward to place the book back on the table. When she straightened, she found herself facing a pistol.
"I am sorry Madam. Sir Peter did try to convince you to see things his way. I'm afraid you're a liability now."
Amanda was beginning to think she was being too thorough reading through Sir Peel's deposition after so many Ministry personnel had been through it with a fine tooth comb. Good habits die hard, she told herself and turned the page. A name jumped out at her in the first line, and she realized she'd seen skimmed over it on the previous page, too.
"Who's Hughes?" she asked, then glanced up to see if anyone was listening. Lee was just returning to their table with a cup of coffee.
"Who's who?" he asked, taking his seat across from her.
"Look," Amanda held out Peel's deposition, finger pointing at the name. As he took it, she picked up the list of suspects and accomplices. Lee read the passages that had caught her eye. Peter Peel mentioned instructing someone named Hughes to put cash from a safe into a valise. It was clear from Peel's language that Hughes knew what the money was for -- to illegally purchase information.
"There's nobody named Hughes -- first or last -- on the list of suspects. He was not at the rally, or the estate where you were held," Amanda said, finishing her review of the list.
"Could be an alias. A nickname."
"Hughes? Who has that as a nickname?" Amanda snorted. "And where's this safe?"
"Good question."
"Didn't the Ministry send a team to collect Sir Peter's papers this morning?"
Lee nodded, then rose and strode across the room toward Steed, who was speaking with two other agents.
"Excuse me, Steed," he said as he approached. The other agents discretely stepped aside and Lee held out Sir Peter's deposition to Steed.
"Was the team that went to the Peel estate prepared for a hostile reception?" he asked as Steed took the document.
"No, of course not. Mrs. Peel is prepared to hand over her husband's papers," Steed replied, his voice becoming a question as he spoke.
"Do you know who Hughes is?" Lee asked, pointing to the reference in the deposition. Steed skimmed the passage and frowned. His face tensed and he turned toward a nearby desk.
"Tara!"
The young woman quickly tore the paper printout off an adding machine she'd been using and crumpled it up. "Yes, Steed?"
"I want a sharpshooter team ready to go in," he paused to check his watch, "five minutes. You too."
He didn't bother to watch her implement his order. He reached for the nearest phone, picked up the handset, then stopped and looked annoyed. "What is the telephone number at the Peel estate?" he asked nobody in particular. Lee took the deposition from him, flipped to the first page, and pointed to the number that was included with other information about Sir Peter.
"Thank you," Steed said, dialing the number. He stood staring at the deposition with the phone to his ear for several seconds, then began to shake his head. Finally he hung up the phone. "No answer." He quickly dialed another number. This time he waited a much shorter period before hanging up. "She must have left," he said, not saying where he'd called to try to reach Mrs. Peel.
"Tara!" he turned back toward her desk just as she hung up her telephone and started to rise.
"The team will be ready in four minutes," she reported.
"Fine. Let's go. Lee? Mrs. King?"
Amanda grabbed her bag and followed as Lee beckoned to her.
Emma twisted her wrists against the lamp cord Hughes had tied them with, all the while trying to hide her movements from him. He had bound her hands while they were in the parlor, then walked her to Peter's office and ripped the cord off another lamp to tie her to a chair. She wasn't sure what bothered her more -- his treatment of her or of the lamps, which were made from antique Chinese ginger jars.
Hughes had removed all the papers from Peter's desk and packed them into two cardboard boxes. Now he was opening the safe concealed behind a modest Monet over the fireplace. Emma smirked. She didn't know the combination, but apparently Hughes did. The sound of the knocker on the front door echoed through the house.
"What?" Hughes jerked back from the safe and spun around. The knocker sounded again.
"Someone's at the door," Emma said helpfully. "That would be your job."
Hughes glared at her as he darted across the room, picked up the shotgun, and left the room..
Agent Tibbet struck the doorknocker one more time and glanced back over his shoulder at Weems and Plath, who were idly examining the sports car parked on the drive. Beside him Scott peered along the front of the house whistling tunelessly.
The door opened about half way, held by a slightly disheveled butler.
"May I help you?" he asked.
"Yes. Is Lady Emma in?" Tibbet asked.
Hughes looked out beyond Tibbet at the car and the agents in the drive. Without responding he slammed the door. Scott immediately drew his gun, but before Tibbet could react the door swung open and a shotgun aimed through it and fired. Tibbet was hurled back off the front porch, landing near the front of the Lotus.
"Gerald!" Weems dashed to the fallen agent's side. On the porch Scott flung himself to the side of the door as it slammed shut again.
Hughes threw the deadbolt on the front door and charged across the entry hall. The silk Oriental rug rucked up under his feet as he skidded around the corner and down the hall toward Sir Peter's office. Breathless, he set the rifle against the wall beside the door and slammed it shut. Emma watched, eyes widening, as he put his back to a huge highboy and slowly pushed it in front of the door. Next he went to the windows and yanked the drapes shut over them, darkening the room. He stepped back and eyed the floor to ceiling bookcases on either side of the windows. Emma cringed.
"I want to know how four of our agents who took Sir Peter's testimony and reviewed it did not question who Hughes is and put him on the suspect list," Steed said through a clenched jaw as he drove Tara, Lee, and Amanda out of London. The sharpshooter team followed in a black sedan.
"Do you think it's because he's the butler?" Amanda asked. "I mean, you just take it for granted that a Sir, I mean a knight, has a butler."
Steed grimaced, and Lee shook his head in a silent scold. Amanda shrugged at him. "Well, we don't have butlers, so I noticed it."
"British agents do not, generally, have butlers either, Mrs. King," Steed said.
Weems pulled off his coat and pressed it against the wound in Tibbet's chest. "Call for an ambulance," he shouted to Plath, who was already opening the door to the car they'd come in and reaching for the car phone.
Up on the porch Scott reached out to the door handle, keeping his back pressed against the solid stone of the house. He turned the big knob and pressed the door inward. It did didn't budge. He drew his sidearm and centered himself in front of the door, aiming and firing into the lock. The bullet shattered the old brass fixture. He pushed the door open and rolled into the entrance in a crouch, sidearm aimed into the entry. It was empty. He stood up and looked back at his companions.
"How is he?" he asked Weems. The other agent shook his head, still pressing his now ruined coat against his associate's chest. Plath hung up the car phone.
"Our people will get the local ambulance here shortly," he reported.
"Weems, stay with him," Scott said, "Plath, come with me."
The two agents worked their way through the ground floor of the house, opening doors and covering each other, until they came to the door at the end of the right wing. It wouldn't open, although it was not locked.
"Right, that's it then," Scott said. "He's barricaded it."
"We need to know what's in there," Plath said. "He could have an arsenal."
"Or a hostage."
"Ummmm."
Steed braked the Bentley in the gravely drive behind the first team's car, careful not to block the ambulance that was parked next to it. The sharpshooter team stopped behind the Bentley. Steeed bounded out of the car and approached Weems, who was hovering near the medics as they tended to Tibbet. Tara followed him, while Lee and Amanda moved more slowly, taking time to survey the house and grounds.
The large, stone house presented a balanced façade of four windows on each side of the large front entrance across the ground floor. The second floor had smaller windows directly above those on the first floor. The ministry agents' attention was focused on the last two windows on the right. The drive entered through an ungated opening in the surrounding wall and curved through sparsely treed grounds. It passed the front of the house, then curved around the left end of the building toward what must be a garage set behind and to the side of the house.
As Lee and Amanda approached, the medics loaded Tibbet on a stretcher into the ambulance.
"What happened?" Lee asked Steed. The other agent watched the ambulance doors closed, then turned to look at the house.
"Hughes answered the door with a shotgun," he said. "Our men went in and found the door to that room," he pointed to the last windows on the right, "barricaded. He's in there."
"Alone?"
In answer Steed nodded at the little Lotus.
"Emma's car," Amanda said.
"Yes," Steed stared at the car for a long moment, clearly lost in thought.
"How's your man?" Lee asked to distract him.
"Hanging on," Steed replied, "They were not encouraging -- nasty chest wound."
"Damn," Lee muttered, the team should have been alerted to the danger.
"Who are they?" Amanda asked, nodding at two women who were standing on the lawn separate from the agents. They were staring at the corner of the house looking frightened.
"Staff," Steed said. "They arrived a few minutes ago. Apparently Hughes had told them they could have the morning off, although Mrs. Peel had told them she'd be back and needing them."
"He must have planned to be gone before they got here," Lee said.
"Yes, but Mrs. Peel delayed him."
One of the agents from the original team beckoned to Steed. He'd laid a sheet of paper on the hood of the team's car. The others crowded around it to see the rough sketch of the ground floor of the house.
"He's in this room. The only entrance is here," Scott described the situation. "He's blocked the door with something -- probably furniture -- so our only way in is the windows. The curtains are drawn, so we don't know if he's moved furniture in front of them, or where he's holding Lady Emma -- if he is."
Amanda, unable to get a clear view, drifted away from the group. The two women caught her eye again and she walked toward them.
"Hello," she said as she approached. They both looked at her with suspicion in their eyes. "I'm Amanda King, I'm an American agent. This is all rather frightening, isn't it?"
"Is the lady in the house?" the older of the two women asked.
"We think she is, yes," Amanda said calmly. The younger woman's eyes darted from Amanda to the group of agents by the car, to the house, and back to Amanda.
"I understand you work for the Peels," Amanda said.
"Yes. I'm Evie, the cook. This is the maid, Anna," the older woman said, nudging Anna with her elbow as she said her name.
"How do you do," Anna added, awkwardly holding out her hand. Amanda shook it.
"Anna, didn't Sir Peter have you pack a bag for Emma -- Lady Emma -- the other day?" Amanda asked, remembering it from Emma's statement.
The maid nodded, puzzled.
"So you must be surprised that she's here today -- I mean, if her husband said she was going to -- where were they going?"
"Spain, Sir Peter said. I tried to pack her favorite warm-weather things. But Sir doesn't approve of some of her favorites, you know. I think she's very fashionable, but he has his own opinions."
Amanda smiled at this flood of information. She agreed with Anna -- Emma was a very sharp dresser.
"To be honest, ma'am, it's a bit confusing," Evie said. "The lady told us when she left that she'd be back last evening, so we could have a long weekend off. But over the weekend Sir Peter comes home and has Anna pack that bag, saying they're both off to Spain. And she didn't have the nerve to tell him that she wasn't working -- that Lady Emma had given her the weekend off and she was only home because her sister cancelled their dinner. So she packs the bag and he goes off. Then Hughes tells us we can have this morning off as well so we went on into the village. And now this."
Amanda nodded sympathetically. "Did either of you see Lady Emma this morning?"
"No ma'am. But her car is there," Anna pointed at the Lotus as if revealing new evidence.
"Yes, so you think she's in the house?"
"Well, the men say they went through the house and didn't find her," Evie pointed out impatiently.
"But Hughes has her in Sir Peter's study!" Anna put in, her tone argumentative. Amanda realized she had hit on a sore spot between the women.
"So that's the room on the right?" Amanda asked, "Sir Peter's study?"
"Yes ma'am," Anna replied, glancing at Evie as if expecting a challenge.
"Now I know that some men are touchy about their space -- you know?" Amanda paused and the two women nodded, Evie smiling. "Is Sir Peter? I mean, did Lady Emma go into his study at all? Were either of you allowed in it? Or Hughes?"
"I stay in the kitchen, mostly," Evie said with a shrug.
"Lady Emma comes and goes as she pleases." Anna said, "I keep Sir's study tidy is all -- dusting and such. I don't touch none of his things."
"Do they spend time in there together?" Amanda asked. Anna chuckled, then blushed. "What is it?" Amanda asked.
"I shouldn't be sayin', ma'am," Anna said, ducking her head.
"It's all right -- I won't tell anyone," Amanda adopted her conspiratorial tone. She hoped the women had forgotten that she had introduced herself as an agent.
"Well, you know, Sir Peter and the Lady, they have their share of tiffs," Anna said, glancing nervously at Evie, who did look annoyed.
"All couples do," Amanda suggested.
"Well, yes and no, if you know what I mean," Anna said. "Sir Peter, he's mean sometimes. To the Lady."
"Does he yell at her?"
"Oh yes, ma'am."
"Hit her?"
"No ma'am, at least not that I ever saw. But I tried not to see, you know."
"You didn't want to be a witness?"
"Not so much that, ma'am, as I knew Lady Emma wouldn't want to fight in front of the staff."
"I see, so you didn't want to embarrass your employer?"
"Yes ma'am. I mean, I feel bad for Lady Emma -- giving up her life in the city because her man came back after so many years. It was in all the papers," Anna glanced at Evie for confirmation. The cook nodded. "And here he's just as mean to her as -- well, I don't know. And it's not like she needs him. Her own family's got plenty."
Amanda nodded. She hadn't thought about Emma's background, but it didn't surprise her to learn that she came from wealth.
"So I try to do what I can for her -- to make it easier. If I hear them fighting I make myself scarce. In fact, one time when I was straightening up in the study I heard ‘em coming up the hall. There was no place for me to go, there being just the one door. ‘There's nothin' for it,' I says to myself, and I ducked into the secret stair. At first I was afraid to go on up and get away, but they just kept fighting there in the study and I still had the bedrooms to do. So I climbed up and out. They never knew."
"Anna, are you saying that there's another way into that room?"
"Why yes ma'am. It's not a proper entrance or nothin', just a tiny little stair to the upstairs hall."
"Will you come over here and show me where it is on the drawing?"
Amanda led Anna over to the car where Steed, Scott, Lee, and Tara were still discussing a plan of action. The sharpshooters had spread out looking for vantage points.
"Excuse me," Amanda said. Lee and Steed parted so that Amanda could escort Anna to the drawing. "So Anna, can you show us where the secret stair is?" Amanda asked, catching Lee's eye as she spoke. The maid picked up a black marker that was sitting on the drawing.
"Secret stair?" Steed repeated.
"Well, there's the fireplace here," Anna said, drawing a line along the inside wall of the study. "And the stair goes up beside it. So the door is here," She placed an X to the right of the fireplace.
"And just where does this stair go?" Steed asked.
"To the upstairs hall."
"My dear, you may well have saved your employer," Steed said, taking Anna's hands in his and raising them to his lips. She giggled.
"Thank you sir. I'm glad to help."
"Now Anna," Amanda drew the maid's attention back from Steed's charming smile, "you call it the secret stair. So how will we find the entrance in the upstairs hall?"
"It's not too hard to find, ma'am. It's just beyond the little table with the candles. You can see the seams in the chair rail -- that's the handle. You just twist that part of the rail to open the door."
"And what about from the inside?" Lee asked.
"There's a regular knob on the inside -- it's hardly a secret if you're already in there, is it?"
"No, I guess not," Lee's eyes met Steed's and the British agent nodded.
"Thank you Anna," Lee said, smiling at the maid, but unable to match Steed's gallant gesture.
Emma kicked boredly at a book that had landed by her foot when the bookcase fell. She's been shocked that Hughes was able to topple the massive shelving unit -- she thought it was anchored to the wall. He had narrowly missed being trapped under it when it fell over spilling a ton of books all over the furniture and floor. Both the bookcase and the chairs it landed on were substantial, so, amazingly, nothing broke. Unfortunately for Hughes, the bookcase was so massive, he was unable to stand it back up or move it in front of the windows, which had been his plan.
So instead the curtains remained drawn, hiding the glass through which the agents outside could break. It made Emma mentally compare Hughes to an ostrich. She leaned against her bonds to read the title of the book by her foot. Something about Marxism. How appropriate.
Hughes had lit the kindling laid in the fireplace and started feeding the papers from the safe into the flames.
"They'll never let you out of here alive, you know," Emma said, boredom forcing her to take action. Hughes straightened and spun around, almost as if he'd forgotten she was there.
"If they kill me, I'll kill you!" he growled. Emma pursed her lips. Hughes was not going to be reasonable.
"If you stop burning those papers and turn yourself in, we can all go on living," she said as reasonably as she could.
"Hah," Hughes replied, grabbing another bunch of papers from the desk and turning back to the fire.
"Mister Hughes!" an amplified voice filtered through the curtained windows. Hughes spun away from the fire again.
"Come out now, Mr. Hughes!" the voice added. Hughes dropped the papers and scrambled toward the windows, picking his way over the scattered books and around the fallen bookcase.
"Mr. Hughes, surrender now or we will be forced to act!"
Hughes crouched low by the drapes and pushed them aside to reveal a tiny sliver of window, still protected by the shear under curtain. A single shot from outside was followed by the smash of shattering glass. The drape just above Hughes's head puffed inward. Hughes lunged away from the window.
As he did, a panel beside the fireplace swung open and Steed emerged, crouching low as he crossed behind Peter Peel's big desk. Tara followed, darting the other way. Lee came last, dropping to the floor, gun drawn.
Hughes slipped on books as he rose and aimed his pistol at Steed. In a sweeping motion Lee rose, aimed, and fired, catching Hughes in the right shoulder. The butler dropped the pistol and Steed rushed him. Tara made her way across the room to the chair that Emma was tied to. She stopped in front of it, eyes meeting the other woman's. Emma raised one eyebrow as Tara stared at her.
"Are you going to untie me?" Emma asked at last. Tara sighed, her mouth turning into a small frown. Then she stepped around behind the chair and found the knot in the lamp cord. By the time she'd gotten it undone Steed had bound Hughes's wrists behind him and was helping Lee to move the highboy away from the door.
Freed from the chair, Emma stood up. Sore muscles ached to be stretched. Her wrists were still tied behind her, but Tara hadn't noticed. The moment the first cord was off she'd gone over to help steady the highboy. Emma stood in front of the desk and watched the three agents. As soon as the door was unblocked Tara opened it. More agents poured into the ruins of the study. Steed paused to brush off his jacket, then looked around and spotted Emma standing with her hands behind her back. He walked over to her, a questioning expression on his face. She smiled back.
"Mrs. Peel, are you all right?" he asked.
"Pardon me if my reaction is somewhat restrained," she replied, half turning so he could see her predicament.
"Ah! Allow me!" Steed made quick work of the knotted electrical cord, and took the opportunity to caress her wrists once they were free.
"So," she said, sliding her hands into his for a quick squeeze, then letting go, "you found the secret passage."
"Mrs. King did," Steed replied. "While the rest of us were looking at floorplans, she talked to your staff."
Emma grinned, "Of course she did," she said.
"We're booked on the 8:20. flight," Lee said as he hung up the phone on the desk in Peter Peel's study. "We'll need to get to Heathrow by six."
"We'll be leaving soon to get these papers back to the ministry," Tara said from her position beside a box on the floor. They had called for a special team to salvage any documents they could from the fireplace after Steed threw the water from a flower vase into it to put out the fire. Tara was sorting and packing the undamaged papers that Hughes had dropped on the floor.
"Thank you, Tara. Is there anything we can do here?" Amanda asked. Aside from her outburst that morning, Tara seemed to be a competent, efficient agent. But Amanda couldn't help feeling some animosity toward the young woman on Emma's behalf. Tara rose and smoothed her skirt, then looked around the study.
"We can't do much here," she said eyeing the drifts of books and the pile of expensive furniture. "Our team will want it as is. You could carry these boxes out to Steed's car, though." She indicated the two boxes of papers that Hughes had packed and not burnt.
"Okay. We'll be out by the car, then," Amanda said as she picked up one of the boxes. Lee picked up the other one and followed her out of the study.
"I'm afraid we'll need to take Sir Peter's papers back to the ministry immediately," Steed said, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside Emma and squeezing her hand. She squeezed back. "You can come back with us."
"I can't," she said quickly, looking into his eyes. "I still have to pack here, and I have to see to the study -- when your team is done. And I have my article to write . . ."
"You're sure you'll be all right here?"
"It's my house --."
"It's his house. Mrs. Peel -- Emma -- you came to me. Let me help."
A little smile curled the corners of Emma's lips as she raised her hand to stroke Steed's jaw. He leaned into the caress, eyes locked with hers.
"You are helping, Steed," she whispered. "I need to take care of my loose ends before I move on." Her fingers pulled his face close to hers and she placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "I'll call you this evening."
"I'll look forward to it," he replied, then rose and started toward the door.
"Steed?" Emma rose and took a step after him. He stopped and turned. She stepped close to him, placing her hands on his lapels. She breathed in his scent, recognizing the sophisticated cologne he favored. His arms encircled her almost automatically and he held her in a comfortable, comforting embrace. She looked into his eyes, seeing affection in them that she never remembered seeing in Peter's. She wanted him to stay and hold her. But to ask him would be to test their relationship, and she did not want to do that. She couldn't bear it if he said no. Much better to test herself, to carry on through the day on her own. She pressed close to him, her mouth finding his, enjoying an almost aggressive kiss that he willingly participated in. At last she pulled back, breathing in his scent again, eyes meeting his.
"I'll have to thank you properly later," she said.
"I'll certainly look forward to that," he replied, eyes dancing merrily, "but you should really thank Lee and Mrs. King before they leave."
"Yes you're right. I do want to say good bye to them." She reluctantly pulled free of his embrace and they turned to leave the room.
At the bottom of the stairs Steed turned toward the study where the ministry's forensics team was already at work while Emma went on across the foyer and out onto the porch. Lee and Amanda were standing by the boot of the Bentley talking to Scott. Emma was about to join them when she noticed Evie and Anna standing near the other ministry car. They saw her -- she could tell because Evie pressed her hands to her cheeks as if to contain great emotion and Anna waved shyly. Emma trotted down the steps and across the gravel toward them.
"Anna, Evie, I'm so glad you're all right," she said warmly as she approached.
"Oh Lady," Evie said, nearly sobbing, "we were so worried about you."
"All's well now, Evie," Emma said reassuringly. "But I owe you my thanks for telling the agents about the secret stairs."
"You're not angry then, Lady?" Anna asked, "I mean, I just mentioned it in passing and the lady," she nodded toward Amanda, "started asking all about it. I know it's a secret and all . . ."
"No Anna, I'm not mad. They were able to get into the study and rescue me because you told them."
"Oh thank you ma'am," Anna sighed. Emma was amazed to realize the woman had actually been afraid she'd be angry.
"I'm afraid things are going to change here -- Sir Peter has been engaged in some illegal activities and he very likely won't be coming home any time soon. But please don't worry -- we'll see that you and the rest of the staff are taken care of," Emma was sincere in her promise -- she didn't want to live at the estate, but her inlaws would have a use for it, and if they did not need the staff Emma would provide them with suitable severance and recommendations. "Evie, why don't you make us some lunch -- these agents will be leaving soon and we can sit down and sort out what needs to be done here."
"Yes ma'am," Evie said, dropping an awkward little curtsey. Emma smiled indulgently as Evie took Anna's arm and the two women walked toward the house. Emma turned toward the Bentley. Amanda was watching her. Emma walked over to her.
"I'm sorry for staring," Amanda said, realizing that she had been, "you know how Americans are around royalty."
Emma burst out laughing, then stopped herself when she saw that Amanda looked quite embarrassed. She reached out and took her American friend's hand.
"Oh Amanda, I'm hardly royal!" she said. "Peter was knighted when he returned, so I'm ‘Lady Emma.' You know knighthoods aren't inherited, don't you?"
"No, I didn't. I thought knights were distantly related to the royal family," Amanda shook her head, "I guess I should read more of my mother's historical novels."
"Some are, I'm sure," Emma tried to reassure her, but she was still chuckling at the notion of being a royal, "But Amanda, I wanted to thank you for your detective work this morning. Steed told me that you noticed the references to Hughes in Peter's statement, and you talked to Anna to find out about the secret stair."
Amanda nodded graciously, "just doing my job -- being thorough."
"Nonetheless, I'm grateful. I'm sorry you have to leave so soon. When will you visit again?"
"Oh, well, I don't know when we'll have another joint case --,"Amanda stammered.
Emma shook her head, "Not a business trip. Come and visit. We'll explore London. Bring Lee if you like -- we can make Steed entertain him."
"So you expect to be spending more time with Mr. Steed?" Amanda asked, glancing toward the house where, coincidentally, Tara and Steed had just emerged onto the porch. Emma followed her gaze.
"Tara is getting promoted to a foreign posting," she said pointedly, then grinned at Amanda. "I plan to spend lots of time with Steed."
"I'm happy for you," Amanda said, reaching out to take Lee's hand as a way to get his attention. He finished what he was saying to Scott and looked at Amanda.
"Lee, it was a pleasure working with you," Emma said.
"Likewise," Lee replied. "Good luck with all this," he added, glancing toward the house.
"Thank you."
Steed and Tara reached the group, Steed stepping close to Emma. "We have everything," he said. "We'd best get going so Lee and Amanda can get to Heathrow."
Scott stepped away from the Bentley, "Lady Emma," he said, nodding to her as he went to the other ministry car where Plath was standing having a cigarette. Weems had gone with the ambulance and Tibbet. Tara also nodded, curtley, toward Emma as she opened the front passenger door of the Bentley. Lee and Amanda moved to either side to get in the back seat. Steed took Emma's hands and smiled at her.
"I'll speak to you this evening," he said, then released her and went to the driver's door. Emma stepped away from the cars and waved them away, then turned and walked into the house, closing the big door behind her.
fin