The long, and slightly forbidding, black car picked them up almost at the crack of dawn. General Hopkins was truly sparing no expense on this training weekend, probably using a month's worth of gas rations just to get them to and from the palatial estate located several miles outside of London. Betty settled more deeply into the lush car seat, reveling in the sensation of not using public transportation, or walking, for the first time in months. The baby gurgled happily in her lap and smiling, Scott reached over to caress his son's cheek.
Betty returned his smile for only the briefest of moments before her attention was called away by their driver's announcement of, "Here we are. That's the house up ahead."
Eagerly, Betty turned toward the window, anxious for her first glimpse of an actual English country estate. An astonished gasp escaped her lips and she turned back to Scott. "That's a house?" she asked in amazed disbelief as the manor came fully into view across the glassy surface of a small lake.
Their chauffeur laughed. "Seems a bit large for one family, doesn't it? Still, it's been the home of Sir Reginald's family for the last three centuries, and they've always seemed cosy enough there."
"Yeah, if you think a home the size of the Glickman Building is cosy," Scott rejoined, his eyes glued to the massive structure.
"It is beautiful, though," Betty said admiringly, observing the warm, brick red stones which comprised the building's main structure. Two turrets towered over either end of the three story house, topped with white tiling and adorned with a plaster pineapple at the apex of each one. Enormous white framed windows dotted the front of the house at regular intervals and the main door was constructed from gleaming English oak. The entire effect was dominated, however, by six tall, graceful columns which aligned themselves symmetrically at the top of the stairs in true eighteenth century Georgian style. The house was rectangular and sturdy, having withstood the last three centuries in nearly pristine condition, an obvious testimony to the dedication of it's owners. Lovely and gracious as it was, Betty felt it couldn't compare as a home to her own family's farmhouse in Indiana, though she was sure Sir Reginald probably wouldn't agree.
"Sure it's a great place, but I wouldn't want to live there," Scott quipped, his eyes almost as wide as Betty's.
"Sir Reginald and Lady Margaret make it quite warm and livable, though they still retain most of the family heirlooms in their living quarters. The entire house is a showplace, really. We used to have tours before the war started," the older man announced with pride.
"You sound like you've been with the family for a long time," Betty observed at the note of proprietarial pride in the man's voice.
"That I have, ma'am. I was born on this very estate. My father was the game keeper and my mother was an upstairs maid. It was a lovely place to grow up." He smiled nostalgically as he came to a halt before the impressive staircase which lead to the main entrance. "Here we are then," he announced as he exited the car and leaned over to open Betty's door.
Gratefully, Betty accepted his outstretched hand as she too left the car, carefully balancing the baby against her hip. Scott soon followed and they made their way up the stairs, the chauffeur bringing up the rear with their bags. The massive oaken portals opened as if on cue as they neared it, revealing a tall, stately older man who looked down upon them all from the longest, thinnest nose Betty had ever seen. He was the very picture of a proper English butler right down to his properly reserved, yet dour expression and Scott knew the man would be counting the family silver the minute he and Betty left at the end of the weekend. With an ironic nod at the stoic servant, he followed Betty into the entrance hall then glanced around sharply when he heard her give an appreciative gasp.
The entry was impressive. It was large enough to comfortably accommodate both their flat in London and their apartment back home in Pittsburgh, he realized wryly. With a brief nod and a warm smile, the driver trudged up the massive, winding staircase to deposit their bags in the room which had been selected for them.
"I am Camden, the butler here at Alderly Park," the old man intoned, pausing importantly so the full impact of his pronouncement could be properly appreciated as it echoed throughout the hall. "Lady Margaret awaits you in The Morning Room." Betty suppressed a smile as the sonorous tone of his voice clearly implied the necessity of capitalization. With a slight bow, he indicated the door they should enter with his left arm.
Obediently, Scott and Betty entered the morning room through another heavy oak door that matched almost seamlessly the dark paneling that encircled the room. Glimpses of similarly colored wood flooring were visible between rugs, but the white ceiling, replete with delicately carved molding, kept the room from becoming gloomy and oppressive. Likewise, the furniture was light and delicate, the paintings dotting the walls pastorally bright, offsetting what would otherwise have been a heavy atmosphere. The slender, elderly woman who leapt up at their entrance and briskly crossed the richly-colored Aubusson carpet to greet them had clearly had a hand in the decoration of the room, Betty decided. Her obviously bright, enthusiastic personality was reflected in every aspect of it's design.
"You must be Scott and Betty. It's so lovely to meet you," she sang out as she grasped both their hands in her dainty but firm grip. "You must start right off calling me Margaret. I see no use for formality when I'm not even allowed to know your last name." Her musical laugh trilled softly, filling the room. "I'm quite enjoying the spy lifestyle. It's so much more friendly to start right off with first names than being so coldly proper all the time, though my mother must be spinning in her grave to hear me say so. Well, come in and have some tea. It's a frightfully long drive from London, particularly with all the speed restrictions. Of course, the food rationing is even worse, though I think we have it easier in the country than you do in the city, don't we? And when I think of what our boys go through at the front," she shook her head sadly, then brightened. "Did I ask if you'd like some tea?"
"Thank you, I'd love some tea," Betty answered with barely suppressed laughter. Scott smiled at her with amusement as they crossed the room and settled themselves on a comfortable sofa across from Lady Margaret, believing he'd finally met the one person on earth who could talk a faster game than he could.
"And who is this adorable little gentleman?" She asked, beaming radiantly at the baby.
"This is Scott. Well, we usually call him Scotty," Betty told her, with an indulgent smile for her son, whose gaze remained singularly transfixed on the dazzling Lady Margaret.
"You must let me hold him! You don't mind, do you?" she asked as she reached across the tea table.
"No, of course not." Betty laughed as she relinquished her hold on the infant.
"Well, hello there, Junior, how do you do?" Margaret cooed. Scott made a curious choking sound; he'd always hated that name. "We'll have to get your daddy some tea. All that dust out there is making him cough. My dear, would you do the honors? I'm afraid my hands are quite full. It really is too horrible to ask you all out here in August. Everything so dry and dusty. Though it's not so bad as it was earlier in the season, now that the crops have come in more. We've got land girls, you know, and they work hard as anything. I quite envy them their independence."
Scott latched on to one phrase from Lady Margaret's latest free-flowing stream of information. "All of us? How many of us are there?"
"Land girls?" Lady Margaret blinked owlishly for a moment when Scott broke into her speech. Her laugh suddenly pealed out again. "Oh, of course not! You're certainly not a land girl!" Reflectively, she looked at the ceiling. "Well, let's see. There's so many agents here this weekend to meet with the general and I haven't met them all yet, but there's you two, General Hopkins of course and, oh yes, that nice young man Alexander."
Scott groaned in earnest this time, causing Betty to shoot him a quelling look.
"Scott, you really must have some of your tea. I'm afraid our country dust has quite infected your lungs." Margaret urged, though an eyebrow arched in wry amusement. She leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, "Though I must confess I quite share your opinion of young Alexander. He always seems a trifle too...eager, I suppose is the word." She leaned back just as the door opened and the object of their conversation materialized, followed closely by General Hopkins and their host, Sir Reginald.
"Ah, Scott, Betty," the general spoke gruffly as they rose to their feet to greet him. "I'm pleased you're here." He was, as always, uncomfortable in social settings, making his speech as stiff as his military bearing
"As am I," Sir Reginald beamed at them genially. "It's a true pleasure to meet the couple who brought us such important information last year, especially as it was at such great personal risk," he added as he shook their hands.
Scott shrugged the praise aside though his expression was pleased. "It was nothing."
"Oh don't be so modest, Scott. The rest of us agents in Section N haven't done anything to top what you did...yet." Alexander's cocky grin flashed and a familiar irritation prickled along Scott's spine.
"And some of you probably won't ever get the chance," he observed cuttingly.
Arrogantly, Alexander crossed his arms, leaning a casual hip against a Chippendale armoire. "That's only because nothing of sufficient importance has come up yet that warrants sending out someone of my capabilities. As soon as some of the older," he arched a supercilious brow, "agents step aside, the younger ones will take over. Speaking of which, Betty, you look enchanting as always," Alexander crossed the room and placed a lingering kiss on Betty's hand, partly because he knew it irritated the hell out of Scott, and partly because he'd developed a genuine admiration for her over the last few months. He was rewarded with a menacing grunt from Scott and a smile from Betty.
"It's nice to see you too, Alex. How have you been?"
He rolled his eyes theatrically. "Perishing for the sight of you, my love. Being in your company quite restores me," he finished earnestly, studying Betty closely as a blush stole swiftly across her cheeks.
"How lovely. You ought to go on the stage, Alexander dear," Margaret enjoined a trifle dryly, though with the radiant smile that had allowed her to get away with many a verbal barb over the years.
"Preferably somewhere in Darkest Peru," Scott suggested brightly, picking up on Margaret's cue.
Betty sent him a disapproving glance. She'd always felt a little sorry for Alexander. He'd been orphaned at the age of fourteen, passed around from relative to relative and school to school since that time and had never found a real home to call his own. Though they were the same age, Betty felt almost maternal towards him. His love-starved, nomadic lifestyle reminded her of how Scott's life used to be and every once in awhile there was a flash of something in his face that was the very image of her younger brother. Given that, how could she fail to feel a little tenderness toward him, to make allowances where others might not?
"Yes, yes. Well, enough of the pleasantries, gentlemen. We all have work to do and I have to meet with a lot of people today. Mustn't get behind schedule." The general unintentionally, but successfully, diverted them all with the announcement. "Scott, if you'll just follow me to the library, I think I have some information that's of great interest to you. Alexander, perhaps you'd take Betty out to the range. I understand she's hoping to improve her marksmanship this weekend." Misunderstanding the source of the tension between his agents and therefore fondly believing he'd diffused that tension by separating Scott and Alexander, the general turned away, motioning for Scott to accompany him. Scott hesitated for only a moment, shooting Alex a quick murderous glance before complying.
With an amused grin, Alex turned back to Betty. "Right then. I'll just change and meet you out on the range. Half an hour all right?" Betty nodded in answer, and with a parting wink, he too left the room.
Margaret's laughter suddenly rang out again in undeniable mirth. "How the general can possibly succeed as a spy master when he's so socially inept is beyond me," she gasped. "He completely fails to grasp the fact that he's only made things between your husband and Alexander worse by pairing you off with Alex. Though I quite envy you your husband's jealousy. I can't recall how long it's been since Reginald scared off another suitor with such black looks," she said, sending an amused, but affectionate glance to her husband.
"You can't recall because it hasn't happened since before the Great War," he laughed. "Though as I recall, it was after Sir Henry Blakemore paid you a bit too much attention that I became so enraged with jealousy that you finally trapped me into proposing to you," Sir Reginald teased.
Betty couldn't stop herself from laughing with them at the idea of the benevolent and mild Sir Reginald enraged with jealousy.
"Oh, it's all very funny now, but it was quite serious at the time I assure you," Margaret protested as she chuckled. "But I've discovered that the rewards of having a passionate man's love, even if he is jealous from time to time, are innumerable," she gazed at her husband with open affection before her glance dropped to the infant she still held in her arms. "Well, I guess you already know that," she finished softly, her eyes seeking Betty, who nodded her silent acknowledgment. "Well, I suppose I should go and change to meet Alexander," Betty said briskly.
"Yes, I'll just ring for Camden to show you to your room," Sir Reginald offered graciously.
"And would you mind leaving Scotty here with us? It's been an age since we had a baby in the house and I'm not ready to let him go yet," Margaret cooed fondly to the baby again, whose gaze was still fixed, though drowsily now, on her face.
"I'd be thrilled if you'd watch him. I'll bring his things in to you on my way out. Thank you so much."
"You're entirely welcome, my dear," Lady Margaret said warmly as Camden entered the room. "Hurry now, we can't let the general fall behind schedule," she called mischievously as a chuckling Betty followed the butler's angular back to the stairwell.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Sight straight down the barrel. Raise your arms just a little higher. No, like this," Circling behind Betty, Alex raised his arms to cover hers, effectively bringing her back snugly against his chest. Too focused to be aware of the contact, Betty concentrated on the target, every ounce of her being centered on coming closer to the mark this time.
"Now don't think about the recoil this time. Nothing else matters but squeezing off the shot and hitting your target," his voice was low and breathy as it grazed her cheek, smoothly insinuating itself under her consciousness as he nestled his body just that much closer to hers.
Still deeply immersed in her task, Betty again failed to heed the message his body was sending to her. Carefully, trying to remember all the instructions he'd given her over the past hour, she squeezed the sensitive trigger, sending a bullet careening through space to land with a dull thud in the target set up far across the field. Her entire body was jarred by the recoil from the weapon, but Alex's close proximity this time helped to absorb some of the impact.
"Did you see that?" she asked excitedly, turning her head towards him, her eyes sparkling. "It was almost a bullseye."
"Yes. Very nearly perfect," he answered, his voice softly and inappropriately intimate, snaking its way through her consciousness until she felt a prickle of unease. Her brows drew together in a frown as the disquieting feeling grew and the thought of their great distance from the house and its inhabitants jarred her. Wordlessly, she shook her head in denial and tried to move out of his arms. There was something in his pale blue eyes that was almost-
"Well, it's nice to see you're working hard as always, Alex," her husband drawled with false laziness from behind them. Betty shook her momentary distress away, the word she'd been looking for fluttering from her grasp like a mocking butterfly. The chill she'd felt a moment ago evaporated, chased away by her husband's sudden appearance while her eyes sought his in relief.
"Scott, I didn't hear you come up," returned Alex with affected nonchalance.
Scott gave a derisive snort, his eyes dueling with Alex's. "I'd say that's obvious."
Alex's hands came up in a gesture designed to profess his innocence. "Hey, I was just..."
"I know exactly what you were doing and I also know you're smart enough never to do it again," Scott warned him, the hard, menacing edge in his voice as unmistakable as the murderous glint in his eyes. "The general's waiting for you back at the house. I wouldn't keep him waiting if I were you."
Alex nodded, coolly accepting the implied threat. "I won't," suddenly his cocky grin flashed out again. "Looks like I'm finally about to get that chance to prove myself. Betty, a pleasure, as always," with a mocking touch of his fingers to his forehead, he strode off toward the house, Scott glaring at him all the while.
"I never have liked that guy," Scott half-muttered as he finally brought his gaze back to Betty. "And you," he began with mock sternness, "what do you have to say for yourself?"
"Me? I was only learning how to shoot," Betty protested as she bit back a laugh, blithely forgetting her momentary uneasiness in the warm glow she always felt around Scott. "I'm perfectly innocent."
"I'm not sure I'd go that far," Scott teased as his hands sought the lush curves at her waist. "I find you here in the arms of another man and you have nothing to defend yourself with?"
"I had a gun," she retorted with a look of blank innocence, then blushed at his persistent questioning look. "All right. I admit, Alexander may have a bit of a crush..."
"A crush?" Scott echoed in disbelief, insecurity suddenly making him serious as his hands tightened at her waist. "Betty, that guy is on the make."
"On the make?" Betty found herself fighting the desire to laugh. "Scott, I think you're exaggerating. It's just a harmless little crush."
Stubbornly, Scott shook his head. "He's trying every trick in the book. I oughtta know because I practically wrote it. I mean..." he stammered when he realized what he'd said and saw the outraged spark that suddenly ignited in Betty's eyes.
"You mean you're jealous and insecure," Betty insisted angrily, trying unsuccessfully to twist away from his confining hands. "And for absolutely no reason."
"No reason? Betty, that guy had his hands all over you!"
Betty groaned in exasperation. "Scott, it wasn't like that, and you know it. Besides, don't you think that if Alexander wanted to come on to someone, he wouldn't choose a woman who was already married? He must know hundreds of available women in London."
"Yeah, but none of them are like you." His voice was low and husky, matching the desire already kindling in his eyes.
"You're so sweet," Betty whispered, laying a hand against his cheek, "and so infuriating. I mean, even if Alex used every move in the book on me, it wouldn't change anything. I'm just not that kind of person. You know where my heart is."
"With me." His voice was soft, laced with unspoken meaning, and this time, when Betty looked up to see a man's heated, intense gaze, she found herself not only able to meet it, but return it with equal ardor.
"Exactly." She breathed the word, reassuring him with soft finality. His head lowered to hers for a long, searching kiss, answering the desire he'd seen glowing in her eyes.
"Betty, do you know where our bedroom is?" He asked, his eyes betraying a hint of his teasing grin.
Our Mutual Spy
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