JACK OF DIAMONDS

A PAID POST

1921 Daimler TS Tourer

Hello and welcome to another segment of my serial novel JACK OF DIAMONDS. Just to WARN YOU in advance, we will be putting “Jack” away for a time as we continue with THE SHIELD OF LOCKSLEY, my King Arthur tale of a young Knight coming to Camelot to take part in The Tournament of Youth. There will be one more chapter after this before my page goes on hiatus. A much needed, and much deserved vacation and family reunion.

CHAPTER 29

COUNTRY LANES

Agatha stepped out into the bright afternoon light, looking up at the azure sky. She saw a lark floating lazily in the air, and found herself watching it; remembering Vaughan Williams’s The Lark Ascending, she began humming to herself. It was the piece she’d been learning on Andrew’s violin, but that would be coming to an end now that the violin had been stolen.

She’d changed from the dress she wore at lunch — something more appropriate for the motor car she liked to think — a mid-length dress and jacket to match. She pulled her leather driving gloves on with practiced ease as she made her way toward the stables and garage out back. Adjusting her hat and tying it down with a length of lace, she held her hand out as Jack, the automobilist, held the key out for her. Tall and uncomfortably thin, he was dressed in a black suit and cap; his boots were meticulously clean as always, she noticed.

“She’s been filled up, so petrol shouldn’t be a problem, miss,” he said. “And I’ve put the top up as well, just as you asked, but it may be cold all the same. It’s not summer anymore.”

“I’ve dressed appropriately, thank you, Jack,” she smiled.

“Are you certain you don’t want me to drive, miss?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m taking Mr. Spencer into Chumley to look for a costume, so if there are any problems, I’m sure between the two of us we’ll be able to come up with a solution. Any ideas?”

“Pardon, miss?”

“For a costume?”

“I hear the moving pictures are a big inspiration for both men and women. Mary Pickford; Douglas Fairbanks; Charlie Chaplin, that sort. Tramps, scoundrels, and damsels in distress,” he smiled.

“Yes, I’d heard as much. Have you seen him? Mr. Spencer?’ she asked, looking into the garage. “He said he’d be out here waiting for me.”

“He went to the stables, miss,” Jack said, nodding in the general direction.

“Why? I told him I’d drive him into town.”

Artie came walking around the corner of the garage. He looked at the Daimler TS Tourer sitting out in the afternoon sun, and whistled softly. He stepped up to the side of the automobile, looking inside — both the front and back seat. A large automobile, the back bench was plush velvet, with more than enough room to serve tea.