Blaze of Glory by Michael Pryor Page A

waiting.
    Aubrey felt cold when he thought of it. He had so
much he wanted to do in his life that the idea of leaving
it now appalled him. He didn't want an obituary that
included phrases such as 'too young', 'cut short' or 'before
his time'. He smiled wryly. If nothing else, he was determined
to leave more than clichés behind.
    The trip took just over an hour and a half. They had
had time to visit the dining car, with George tucking
into a huge plate of scones. The landscape rushed by,
the steam whistle split the air and the deep-throated
chuffing of the locomotive underlined everything.
    The conductor was a roly-poly man who looked as if
he'd break into a sweat if he even thought about climbing
stairs. He assured Aubrey and George that Penhurst Estate
Station was not a regular stop on the line and it wasn't
to be confused with Penhurst Station. Penhurst Estate Station was actually part of the Crown Prince's Penhurst
Estate and only used for his business and guests. Anyone
wanting to go to the town of Penhurst had to get off
some two miles further down the track.
    As the train began to slow, Aubrey peered through the
window. 'No brass bands to welcome us.'
    George was struggling into his jacket. 'Just as long as
there's someone.'
    Aubrey looked again, with a level of careful appraisal.
'There is. It's a girl.'
    Standing alone on the platform was a girl. A young
woman? Aubrey found it hard to say, with the swirling
smoke and steam. She was dressed for the outdoors, with
leather gloves, a small cap, a tweed jacket and a heavy
skirt. Dark brown hair. The more she tried to wave the
smoke and steam away from her face, the more it seemed
to cling, attracted to her.
    George hurried to the window and joined Aubrey.
'Well,' he said. 'Charming. This weekend is looking more
promising all the time.'
    'We're here out of duty. Remember that.'
    'And it looks as if this duty may be a pleasure. Come
now, old man, the train isn't going to wait all day. Tallyho!'
He fairly bounded for the door of the compartment.
    Aubrey wondered if he should point out that they
weren't going fox-hunting, but shrugged instead. It
wouldn't make any difference.
    Once they'd alighted, Aubrey saw that the young
woman was closer to his age than he'd thought. 'Fitzwilliam,
Doyle? I'm Caroline Hepworth. I've been sent
to fetch you.'
    She held out a leather-gloved hand. George looked
nonplussed, but took it and she shook in a businesslike
manner. Before she could repeat the process, Aubrey held
out his hand first. 'Miss Hepworth,' he said, looking her
directly in the eye and smiling. 'Thank you for coming
out for us. I hope we haven't kept you waiting.'
    She hesitated, then took his hand. 'Not at all. It gave me
a chance to get out of the Big House and all the nonsense
that's going on up there.'
    Aubrey blinked. 'Nonsense?'
    'Politicians and diplomats. They love a chance to
scheme and plot away from the eyes of the public. They're
more excited than a class of schoolboys on a field trip.'
    'I see.' Aubrey was a little taken aback, but intrigued
all the same. 'I'd guess you're not a politician, Miss
Hepworth, so your role here is . . .?'
    'My father. My mother made me accompany him to
keep him out of trouble, but there's only so much guff
I can stand.'
    'I'm sure,' Aubrey said.
    At that moment the conductor appeared with their
luggage. George took his bags and placed them on the
trolley that was waiting for them. The conductor hurried
back for Aubrey's trunk.
    'Good Lord,' Miss Hepworth exclaimed. 'How long are
you staying? Six months?'
    Aubrey shrugged and spread his hands. 'My grandmother
packed for me. I could insist, but she feels I can't do the
job properly without her.' He paused. 'Miss Hepworth,
your father would be Professor Lionel Hepworth?'
    'Quite. And my mother is Ophelia Hepworth.'
    The name was familiar. Aubrey hazarded a guess. 'The
artist?'
    George looked from Aubrey to Miss Hepworth,
puzzled.
    'Sorry, George. Professor Hepworth is renowned for
some